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“Huh,” Mydei mutters.
“Huh,” Phainon echoes.
Together, they stand in front of the clearest window and watch a snowstorm unfold outside.
Barely a minute passes before Mydei turns to Phainon and offers a resigned, “Okay. We'll be staying for a while.”
“Sure looks like it.”
“I’ll unpack.”
“Sounds good.”
Phainon, admittedly, is a lot happier than he'd dare to show. His face (uneasy, guarded) and inner world (pleased, relieved) tell two different stories. And as his back hits the windowsill, blue eyes following Mydei's moving figure, he reminds himself:
This is the final alone time he will have with his dear friend. Because the moment they return to their ordinary lives, Phainon will kill himself.
Knowing that, he can't help thinking the sudden extension of their stay is a sign of the gods’ pity – unlikely, though if true, a real testament to their cruelty.
But, he quickly realizes he doesn’t care. Phainon’s never been one to worship the gods or let their plans dictate his life, after all. Slowly, assuredly, he walks over to the kitchen and turns on the kettle. Some tea should help lighten his mood. Every second he gets to spend with Mydei is precious, and Phainon can’t afford to sully a single thing due to his…
He’s not sure what to call this, exactly. Self-doubt? Cynicism?
The whistling wind from beyond the cabin gives him a familiar answer: fulfilment. Phainon is so very oddly content. Sometimes, the contentment even borders on apathy, which puts his relationships in jeopardy. Probably.
He would like to avoid experiencing that with Mydei, today. While the blond has always been on the more understanding side, Phainon isn’t feeling particularly confident.
When Mydei returns in a change of clothes, Phainon is quietly seated at the table.
“I turned up the heating, just in case,” he informs, sitting across from him. His gaze drifts toward the window on Phainon’s side, above the sink. “It’s not looking like it’ll let up anytime soon. I’ll call the others. You should change, too. Be comfortable.”
“Aye aye,” Phainon says, idly swirling the black abyss of a tea his eyes are staring into. He accidentally made it too strong again. “I’ll have you know I’m already comfortable, though. Being in your presence gives me such great comfort…”
Mydei stops fiddling with his phone to level him a skeptical look. Then, he returns to the device, leaving the other man with no reply. Figures. Phainon tries to initiate conversation again by asking if he’d like some tea as well, but all Mydei does is glance at his cup and say, “No thanks.”
“Suit yourself.”
Six or seven seconds later, the blond is off to make a phone call. He exits the kitchen, golden irises swimming with singleminded focus. Phainon’s always admired that about him – that natural inclination to stand on business. Even if it makes him a bit hard to chat with sometimes.
Phainon sighs.
He’s known good ol’ Mydeimos for a long, long time now.
So, when he considers their current situation, he unfortunately wonders if it’d be acceptable to… to demand more, for the first and last time. Phainon questions whether he’s subconsciously trying to take advantage of Mydei’s kindness, because Mydei was there for him back at church, and confessing his homosexual impulses to the blond felt far more freeing than going anywhere near a priest. Is he simply reaching for the one male friend he’s out to – the one who’s made him feel safe right from childhood?
“I’ll alert your father, then,” he hears Krateros’ voice all the way from Mydei’s phone. “Stay sharp, Mydeimos. This is nothing you can’t handle. I’ll see to it that the meeting is postponed.”
Phainon takes a sip and winces at the bitterness coating his tongue. How selfish of him to remain so focused on himself, when the weather has ruined Mydei’s far more important plans.
He doesn’t give himself the opportunity to dwell on it, though, because soon enough Phainon is dumping his unfinished tea in the sink and heading to the bathroom. They’ll most likely be cooped up here for the next two days, so he should be able to shower without any issue.
Or so he thinks.
You see, Phainon has a bit of a problem – one he loooves to ignore. The main reason he even came out to Mydei back then was that he’d been caught with a serious erection. He is, and he believes this is a very hard pill to swallow, a bona fide pervert with an overactive imagination.
Therefore, once inside the bathroom, he does what’s most expected of him: furiously palming his cock, stroking the thick length from base to tip.
Phainon pants, breath visible. The heat from the hot water reddens his pale body and makes him almost lightheaded, especially with the movements of his hand. Calloused skin repeatedly meets sensitive flesh, drawing out a quiet groan from him. Phainon’s legs wobble. He braces his free hand on the dripping wall for stability.
What kind of face would Mydeimos make, speared on his cock? It’s probably getting late. He should text Cyrene, tell her he’s alright – no, don’t think about her. Not right now. Trapped in a cabin with Mydei for days? How can he abuse this privilege? While coming here, he walked past Mydei, who was yawning with his arm raised, and Phainon simply hasn’t been able to get that image out of his sick head. It’s a shame the blond had a jumper on, because Phainon remembers his hairless armpits – oh, yes, the north remembers. If the gods would just give him one chance to run his tongue over that smooth surface…
Would Mydeimos yelp the same way he did as a child, when a bee stung him in the church garden?
“Did you slip and fall in there? Hit your head, perhaps?”
Phainon blinks.
Mydei is seated on the sofa, lazily basking in the TV’s glow. The main light is off, framing Phainon as the gatekeeper of the still-burning bathroom light. Water droplets fall from his white hair, pattering across the floor as he stays still, towel wrapped around his waist, taking in the sight before him.
The snowstorm carries on outside – white calamity. There’s no need to pull the blinds.
“Lost your tongue as well?” Mydei asks, rubbing his eyes. “Tragic. You can sit and watch this movie with me, then. Dry yourself first.”
Once again, the question presents itself to him: would it be acceptable to demand more, for the first and last time?
Slowly, Phainon turns his head toward the TV. DVD player’s out, and what he believes to be that movie about Alex the lion, or whatever, has been paused. He smiles.
“Mydeimos,” Phainon starts, gingerly sitting beside him. “Still a big fan of those cartoons, hm?”
The blond doesn’t look. “Phainon, dry yourself. Don’t get me wet.”
“...That’s the goal, isn’t it?”
He earns a sidelong glare for his cheekiness. He knows he deserved it.
Mydei’s hand, which is wrapped around the remote, moves to resume the movie. His hand is better suited wrapped around my dick, Phainon thinks intelligently. The more he considers everything, the crazier he feels. On the screen, Alex can be seen hungrily chasing a zebra – his friend.
Again and again, he asks himself: is he trying to take advantage of Mydei’s kindness?
No? Then why is he conflicted?
“You must think I was born yesterday.”
Mydei’s pointed statement drags Phainon out of his spiraling thoughts. “Weren’t you?” he asks, attempting to regain his bearings as he meets the blond’s gaze head-on.
“Says the naked man currently dripping all over the couch.”
A branch loudly snaps somewhere. Phainon glances down, cheeks warming. The cushion beneath him is soaked. Okay, well, if luck chooses him tonight, he won’t need to get dressed at all. That was his split-second reasoning, anyway.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” is Phainon’s response, his bare hands clasped together as suspicion twists Mydei’s tired expression. “I want to make a confession. Will you hear me out?”
“Phainon…”
“Do you remember when I told you about my… desires?” he continues, breaking eye contact to stare forward. “Mydeimos. What if I were to tell you right now that those desires, those impulses… involved you?”
Finger taps against knuckle. He wills himself to keep it cool.
When Mydei doesn’t comment, he feels the need to explain further.
“Of course, it didn't start out that way, and I'm not saying this to make you uncomfortable. I hope you're not uncomfortable. It's just… you were always there for me, so I tried to be there for you, and then I realized I liked you, and that never faded, and I never liked anyone else, so now that we're alone here…”
Phainon's eyeballs have been fixed on the TV for the past minute. He’s not processing a thing.
“I guess what I'm getting at is…” he finally tears his gaze away. “Mydei, do you–?”
Phainon stops. The blond's appearance deepens his frown, turning it more disapproving than strained. Mydeimos is watching him with pursed lips, brows slightly furrowed. He looks bothered.
“It's fine if you don't reciprocate, dude. I don't wanna force myself on you. I'm just coming clean because I’ve had my fill of this world. I'm ready to leave.”
Is it acceptable to demand more, for the first and last time?
Phainon's decided that yes, it is. He’s also fully aware that revealing his suicidal ideation might invite emotional manipulation. Frankly, he no longer has it in him to care. Perhaps this is that relationship-jeopardizing apathy taking hold. He wanted to avoid letting it surface around Mydei during their stay, but what's the point? You only live once.
“Ah, don’t try to change my mind, though. It’s not your responsi–”
Suddenly, Mydei cups the back of Phainon’s neck. He leans in, causing Phainon's hands to come apart and immediately settle on the blond’s waist.
“...Mydei?”
“I didn’t know you liked me,” the man in question starts, visibly exhausted, his voice falling to a whisper. It’s not often one gets to see him this way. “I said, ‘You must think I was born yesterday,’ because I sensed you were troubled. I knew you were burdened by something you were withholding.”
Phainon makes a mental note to apologize later for getting Mydei’s jumper wet. At least the cabin’s heat has practically done all the drying for him.
“It’s not that I don’t reciprocate,” Mydei mutters, dull eyes boring into Phainon’s soul. He inches even closer, as if wanting to fuse bodies. “We could’ve sorted things out if you’d told me sooner. You wish to die? You’re certain?”
Phainon smirks, removing one hand from Mydei’s waist to ruffle his strawberry-blond hair. “I wished for you to love me back, and you’re talking like you do. I’m the happiest man in the world.”
“Is that so?” Mydei asks wearily. “You’ve made up your mind, then. No going back.”
“No going back,” Phainon confirms with a humble nod. This is good.
“And when… when do you plan to…?”
“You’re being unusually tentative right now,” Phainon chuckles before pulling Mydei into his embrace and patting the side of his leg, urging him to sit on his lap. “Not sure how I’m gonna go about it yet. But I was thinking I’d do it once we got home.”
“Got home? From this trip?”
“Yes.”
“So… are these our final days together?”
Phainon hums, tightening his hold. “I’d say so, yeah.”
A moment passes in silence. There’s nothing heavy or loaded to it. Mydei’s understanding nature has helped place them on common ground. Honestly, looking back now, Phainon is embarrassed by how much he beat around the bush. He should’ve just confessed right away. Hell, maybe they would’ve become a couple years ago. Missed opportunities everywhere, all over his life.
Realistically speaking, he knows this doesn’t have to be the end. Anyone else would’ve viewed tonight’s events as something akin to winning the jackpot. Why kill yourself when you've finally got the girl? Questions like that. If only it were that simple. His desire to leave is deep-rooted, fundamental – a bone-deep calling from beyond, as though there is somewhere else for him to be. After a while, Phainon stopped questioning it and began listening instead.
If he can receive one final treat before departing, then he’s incredibly lucky. Phainon’s gratitude knows no bounds. His family, his friends… his lover. Truly, he couldn’t have asked for better companionship on this planet. His heart is full. He is so content.
Right on cue, Mydei presses a finger under Phainon’s chin, gently tilting his head up.
“Sup?” Phainon greets, fond.
“Yo,” Mydei greets back, solemn.
Wordlessly, his arms wrap around Phainon’s shoulders as their lips meet. Mydei’s mouth is so warm, so insistent – or maybe that’s the air? Whatever the case, man could Phainon melt into this kiss. Three smooches later, his tongue eagerly traces the line of Mydei’s lips, coaxing them open, and the blond surrenders with an even warmer exhale.
The moment their tongues come into contact, Phainon goes crazy with lust, base instincts completely taking over. He licks into Mydei’s mouth like a starved man, lapping up all the saliva and drinking up the soft noise. His hand splays across Mydei’s back, pushing the blond more toward his chest, causing his head to fall a bit while the other man holds him steady on his lap – a cage of Phainon’s own making. He adores Mydeimos.
When he pulls back with a pop, a strand of saliva stretches between them, glistening in the TV glow. Mydei is breathing through his nose somewhat heavily, hands pressed on Phainon’s chest like a cat about to start kneading.
“...You left the bathroom light on,” he informs, still catching his breath.
Phainon throws a quick glance over his shoulder. “My apologies.”
They regard each other for a few seconds. Eventually, Phainon asks, “Are we going all the way?”
That cracks Mydei up. “Why not?” he answers, amusement washing over him. “I doubt you’ll be getting any action after killing yourself.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
Within seconds, their positions shift, Mydei’s back hitting the seat cushion and Phainon hovering above him.
Mydei hums, tugging Phainon down, and Phainon leans in, planting soft yet insistent kisses along the curve of his neck as their stomachs brush. “You’re a good boy who knows what he wants.”
“I’m a good boy,” he quietly agrees before moving on to Mydei's jaw. The blond tilts his head back, lips parting around a pleased sigh.
Phainon sucks a few kisses into his skin, then returns to his mouth, taking advantage of the opening. He sucks on Mydei’s tongue, which causes the blond’s eyes to roll back before fluttering shut, and that does amazing things to Phainon’s cock. He settles onto his knees, undoes his towel, and tosses it to the side, laser-focused on the feast in front of him: Mydeimos, lying down for Phainon’s loving with his hair spread out behind him like a halo.
“...You’re big,” the blond observes, staring at Dawnmaker.
“Bigger than you, I hope,” he replies modestly.
“I don’t have a dick.”
“Oh.”
Mydei takes off his jumper, arching his back while reclining, and drops it behind the sofa. Phainon salivates, sharp gaze utterly suffocating as he stares at the smooth, hairless armpit on display, all for his viewing pleasure. Not that he’d mind some hair – smoothness is just a part of the appeal.
“Mydei. Can I smell your pit?”
The blond gives him a questioning look. Phainon’s not sure why he’s even surprised at this point. “My armpit…? What are you, a dog?”
“Maybe. Are you a dog fucker?”
“Nikador forbid.”
Phainon leans down, placing his hands on either side of Mydei’s head on this honestly not-very-wide couch, and deeply sniffs one of his armpits.
“Hah,” he shakily lets out, smiling like an absolute freak who’s landed in heaven. Surely Mydei isn’t judging too hard.
Of course, simply smelling isn’t enough. Phainon sticks his bastard tongue out and starts licking Mydei’s armpit, leaving him no reprieve. He sucks and sucks on the skin, practically making out with it, while somewhere in the back of his mind, he hopes that Mydei is just as aroused as he is.
His answer comes sooner than he expects. Mydei grabs him by the hair, lifting his head and creating eye contact that Phainon returns shamelessly.
“Y-you…” Mydei stutters, brows drawn together, face visibly red even in the dark. “You’re worse than I thought. You’d rather violate my armpit like an abused dog, while my pussy sits empty and waiting? Are you deranged?”
Phainon wonders if that’s a trick question.
“Hurry,” Mydei smacks the back of his head before pushing him down to look at his… bare, spread legs? When did he undress? “Get to it. I’m sleepy.”
Everything becomes a blur after that, call it divine retribution. Phainon eats him out, sucks on his clit, rubs on his clit, pinches his clit, squeezes his clit – there’s very little he doesn’t do to Mydei’s clit that night. He fingers him good, until he squirts for the second time, then plunges his cock inside, impatient in his ministrations.
“What a trial,” Mydei babbles every time he hits a good spot, the blond’s walls clinging to Dawnmaker, as if loathing the notion of him leaving. One of Mydei’s muscled legs is draped over the couch.
Phainon lasts a total of two minutes. He’s determined to make it a six next time. Or seven.
“I would kill myself too if I couldn’t hold back an orgasm for at least twenty,” Mydei shares helpfully, once he’s done laughing in Phainon’s face.
“Easy on Dawnmaker. He shoots fast but can go for hours.”
“What?”
Phainon realizes he shouldn’t have said that. He must look like a dweeb – and not just any kind of dweeb. The one that sniffs armpits and beats it to innocent memories. “Dawnmaker: this guy,” he explains anyway, pointing at his quickly hardening cock. “Dawnmaker, ‘cause he makes your dawn. You know, in bed.”
Mydei stares, lips forming a thin line. “Hm.”
He cannot take this embarrassment anymore. Phainon leans down, blocking any future mockery with a punch in the form of a wet kiss.
When morning arrives, it’s pretty subtle. Like a burglar. The windows remain plastered with white, perhaps even more so than last night. Phainon’s starting to think they’re stuck here for more than just another day. He reaches for his phone and checks the time: quarter past seven. He has two missed calls and around eleven messages to reply to. Early bird gets the worm…
The other bird is still sleeping soundly beside him, buried in a blanket. Phainon affectionately rubs his cheek. ‘Twas a long night indeed. What did they have for dinner, again? He’s starving. Phainon faintly recalls feeding Mydei a sandwich mid-fuck. Was that all they ate?
Fascinating. He’s gonna miss this.
He quietly leaves the bed, butt ass naked, and stretches, a deep yawn escaping him.
Every second he gets to spend with Mydei is precious, and Phainon can’t afford to sully a single thing. So, he decides to shower before the blond wakes up.
It’s time to officially start the day.