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Love on Amphoreus was never considered a matter of celebration, or a one-day celebration to be exact.
The citizens of Okhema celebrated romance on a daily basis, worshiped Mnestia, with some of them going as far as praying for the titan’s blessings twice a day. Even more so during the two-week-long festival during the month of weaving.
As for love, as in between two individuals, there was no need for a special occasion for that. With the black tide looming everywhere outside of Kephale’s dawn device’s reach, no one waited for a special occasion. If you love someone, you confess. Simple.
“So, to sum up Dan Heng’s explanation, because I didn’t follow it either,” Caelus gathers everyone’s attention with a laugh, and Mydei is thankful for that. The black-haired trailblazer had been rambling about love and traditions across the universe for the good part of the past quint.
“On the fourteenth day of the Month of Balance, people confess to each other by giving chocolate, or any other gift of choice. And the person they gave the gift to will give them a gift back a month later.”
“That sounds lovely,” Aglaea’s voice chimes in from the bath she’s been soaking since Dan Heng started talking, “Celebrating romance outside of the yearly festival is a great idea.”
“But how should we call this day? It might be hard explaining the concept behind…” Castorice looks at all the scribbles in her notebook, “…Valentine’s Day, to the people of the city.” She asks, adding a few more notes immediately. If Mydei has to conclude by the sound of pages turning, Castorice is the only one who had listened to Dan Heng’s lecture without zoning out mid-way.
“I think the original name should stay,” Hyacine interjects, hushing little Ica as the little Pegasus trills happily. “Just explain it simply, unlike Dannie did," she completely ignored Dan Heng's unimpressed gaze. "You give chocolate or other gifts to the people you appreciate, it can be a love confession or a friendly gift, as simple as that.”
“We are sure Snowy would receive so much chocolate! He is loved by everyone in Okhema!” Tribbie laughs, poking the white-haired Deliverer’s cheek.
“Haha… I doubt I’ll get that much, but the idea sounds fun.” The mentioned ‘Snowy’ rubs the back of his neck, “What do you think, Mydei?”
Mydei opens his eyes slowly, looking at Phainon with the same blank face he reserves for most things that don’t involve the black tide or smashing titankins. Velvet Day, or whatever the outlanders called it. Sounds “ridiculous.”
His eyes widen for a fraction of a second before looking away. He did not mean to say it out loud, but the statement stays true regardless. Kremnoans celebrate victories in battle, not something as mundane as falling in love. Romance and love confessions are for maidens, not battle-worn warriors.
“De…”
“Mydei…”
“Mydeimos…”
Three pairs of eyes look in his direction with a sad puppy expression. Well, technically there are two sad-puppy look-alikes and one actual puppy, sitting in the corner with glassy blue eyes and a pout, staring directly into his soul.
Unfortunately, Mydei is not immune to Phainon’s silent pleas—how can he when he loves the man so dearly? —And although the idea of seeing half of the Okheman’s lining up to confess to the Deliverer makes his blood boil, he sighs, defeated.
“You all should throw this celebration thing as the trailblazers suggest.” Mydei leans against a pillar, arms folded, watching Phainon’s expression change within seconds into a happy grin.
A smile sure suits the man better, he concludes.
Mydei’s gaze lingers on Phainon’s lips a moment longer than it should. Then he pushes off the pillar and leaves without a word.
━ ⟡ ━
In the next days, “Valentine’s Day” is all Mydei hears about.
The citizens of Okhema seem beyond eager to throw an extra festival in the name of romance or have a reason gift treats to their one and only Deliverer. Mydei isn’t sure which option is more accurate here.
Not that it matters. He has no plans of taking part in such a pointless event.
In fact, he has no plan to take part in any of the upcoming festivities. Not even when Trinnon asks him shyly what kind of chocolate he’s getting for Snowy— he scowls, baffled that the small demigod thinks he’s planning to get his rival anything— and he reacts the same way when Castorice shows him a few recipes for sweets that Phainon mentioned enjoying, like white chocolate and caramel-covered almonds.
First of all, he’s not getting Phainon anything.
And second, if he wanted to confess his feelings one day and possibly pursue something despite the fate awaiting them – Mydei would not need a special occasion to do it.
But he doesn't. He plans to keep those feelings he has been harboring towards a certain Deliverer a secret for as long as he lives, and bury them in the river of souls once the prophecy does its job and he dies for good.
Yet, the more he tries to go on about his day, the more he keeps hearing about love and gifts. No matter where he goes, everything is about the approaching celebration. Every last thing.
A maiden asking her friend for a sweets recipe, a little girl begging her mother to buy chocolates to gift others, two soldiers discussing whether honeycakes can be a decent enough substitute... Even Demetria, the fruit vendor, smiles at him when he buys his usual pomegranates, offering a gift bag for no extra cost. Mydei scoffs, saying there is no need as politely as possible, and stomps to his chambers.
It doesn’t help that people keep bothering him about it too. From young women asking for his opinion on what would the Deliverer likes—why would he know—to Kremnoan soldiers confiding him about their own crushes—he’s a king, not a therapist—and even to Caelus; who shows him a red collar with a matching leash with the absurd question of “do you think it’s too much for a friendly gift?”
Mydei does not want to know where the gray-haired trailblazer had gotten such a thing or why does he think it’s an appropriate gift to convey friendship, but the point stands. Everyone is preparing to celebrate the day in their own way.
Everyone except him.
He tells himself it doesn’t matter, he’s still firm about keeping his feelings to himself and not getting Phainon anything. Or so he thinks until he hears another man talking with someone in the baths about confessing to the Deliverer during the one-day festival.
And suddenly it matters.
A lot.
Mydei isn’t one to be afraid of anything, laughing death in the face on the daily. But for the first time in his life, he is genuinely afraid to lose something he never allowed himself to have to begin with. And as greedy as it sounds, he really wants to have his rival-slash-equal-slash-crush to himself.
He decides to get Phainon at least something, but it would not be chocolate or sweets like everyone else. It has to be something subtle enough he can pass as friendly if his feelings are one-sided.
As for what would it be? Mydei chooses to ask the man himself.
A simple solution.
He finds Phainon at the hero’s bath the next entry hour, relaxing in Phagousa’s blessed waters with both Castorice—far enough for her death touch not to affect him— and Caelus, chatting about something that seems to fluster the white-haired man more than anything.
The sudden jealousy bubbling in Mydei’s chest is an unfamiliar one. Out of all the places, the Deliverer is in the baths. Without him.
That’s new, an unpleasant new, if you ask Mydei, who is used to being dragged to the baths at least twice a day by Phainon. Unless the conversation is about love interests—
Shaking his head before he sours his own mood any further, Mydei steps closer to where the Deliverer is sitting and asks loudly, “What do you want?”
Phainon turns around so fast Mydei swears he can hear his neck snap, practically jumping out of his skin. “Oh Mydei… Fancy seeing you here, we were just talking about…” He averts his eyes not finishing the sentence, face flushed so red it’s concerning.
“I was not asking what you’re discussing. That is none of my business. I asked what you want to receive.”
“Want?”
“For Valet-Valentine’s Day.” The word is still hard to pronounce on his tongue. “Is there anything you want other than chocolate?”
Phainon looks at him, mouth open and eyes glazed, and for a second, Mydei feels like he’s about to be consumed by the hunger hiding behind those blue eyes. The same eyes that are raking over his body with no shame or remorse.
Why is the Deliverer looking at him like that?
His thighs squeeze together subconsciously, wetness gathering between his legs under the lustful gaze, and perhaps it’s his own fault for wearing less than normal at the moment— maybe he should’ve worn his usual armor rather than staying in a light chiton.
Behind the dazed Deliverer, Caelus whispers something Mydei cannot hear and pats Phainon’s back hard enough it echoes throughout the baths, distracting the white-haired man from practically undressing Mydei with his eyes.
Phainon blinks, looking away, and Mydei wishes it wasn’t his imagination, wishes that Phainon’s gaze was as hungry as he interpreted it, that he wants him just as badly. And Nikador help him, Mydei wants.
He wants for those strong arms to lift him up, toss him on the nearest bed and spread his legs… Fuck. He’s getting distracted.
Mydei coughs, thanking the titans for the shorts he’s wearing under the chiton, or otherwise Phainon would be able to see how embarrassingly wet he is, slick soaking through the fabric at the thought of the Deliverer claiming him.
Speaking of the Deliverer. The man’s expression is no longer dazed but a smug one, eyes shining and lips curled into a wide smile that means nothing good. “Oh, Mydeimos, are you planning to confess to me?”
Maybe he got excited too early. Mydei feels like the only thing he’s going to get out of this conversation is a headache. “As if. It’s simply a friendly gesture. Or did you forget that was an option?”
“Friendly huh,” the white-haired man’s smile is still there, but it no longer reaches his eyes, “then I’m not sure I want anything.”
Then? Then implies he wanted something if it wasn't friendly…
“Phainon.” Caelus hisses next to him. He sees the weird look Phainon gives the trailblazer, before sighing and looking back at him with the same smugness from moments ago.
“Okay, okay, I guess if I have to pick something,” Phainon points at him, “Can I have you?”
Next to them, Castorice lets out an inhumane shriek he chooses not to address.
“I can arrange for it.”
Phainon almost chokes on his breath like he was not expecting a positive answer. He lets out a short, awkward laugh and fiddles with his choker, the one Mydei really wants to pull like a leash so badly. Suddenly he can understand the appeal of Caelus’ gift of choice.
“Don’t get it the wrong way... I was jo—” The white-haired man mumbles, weaker and less certain.
The wrong way? What wrong way can Mydei get out of it? Phainon asked to have him as a gift, and all he has to do is get his mind out of the gutter and figure out what that means.
Because Nikador save his sanity, his thought immediately trails off to a very scandalous way his equal might want him: naked and spread and taking his cock so good— which is exactly what Mydei should be doing right now. With a fake cock. In the privacy of his own room.
He’s too horny to think clearly.
It is probably Eras away from what Phainon had asked for anyway, but that’s for future Mydei to figure out. For now, he gives Castorice a polite nod and walks away.
“Wait Mydei!” Phainon calls his name behind him, but Mydei doesn’t wait; he can’t. Or else everyone in the baths would figure out what kind of scandalous scenarios are running through his head from the mere thought of Phainon wanting him.
━ ⟡ ━
Half a quint and two orgasms later, Mydei emerges from his chambers clear headed and properly dressed, ready to figure things out without thinking about his rival’s muscular body or strong arms, or…
Fuck. He’s getting distracted again.
That HKS said he wants him, in a friendly way—since Mydei was stupid enough to say it’s a friendly gift— and he shouldn’t get this wrong. Yet, none of this makes sense. Does Phainon simply mean he wants to spar together? More than that? Less?
He needs insight.
Mydei’s first destination is Hyacine, as he believes her woman's intuition, or whatever she called it in the past, could help him understand the Deliverer’s request better.
The pink-haired heir is finishing bandaging a young Okheman soldier as he enters the small place, greeting her politely. He sits at an empty corner and waits until she is done and they are alone, before jumping straight to the question that has been bothering him. “The Deliverer said he wants ‘me’ as his gift, but in a friendly way, what does that mean?”
Hyacine does not answer him, her head turns slowly, mechanically slow until her bright eyes meet his. If looks could kill, Mydei swears he’d lose a life or two on the spot. She looks at him like he fat-shamed little Ica, or committed a war crime – he’s not sure which option is worse in her eyes.
“Lord Mydei,” Hyacine grits between her teeth, giving him a smile that feels more like a threat than anything. “I do not know, nor wish to know what does lord Phainon mean by that. My day was perfectly good until I heard this nonsense.” The pink-haired woman faces away from him, deciding that petting her Pegasus is more important than his crisis.
“Now, unless you have any relevant questions, I suggest you go seek Dannie or Grayie, it’s their tradition.”
Not helpful, but at least he knows his next destination.
Dan Heng. He seems to be the one who does the thinking between the trailblazers, and he’s certainly more proficient in all the different ways of celebrations, so he must know a thing or two about gifting “himself” to the Deliverer.
“Friendly.” His mind mocks him.
Mydei finds Dan Heng in the Garden of life, writing something into his teleslate as he idly pets a chimera.
“Dan Heng,” he calls the young man’s name, arms folded tight across his half-bare chest. “The Deliverer said he wants ‘me’ when I asked him what he wishes for, what does that mean?”
Dan Heng looks up slowly, puts down the device, and considers Mydei for a long moment.
“I’m sorry what?” he asks, calm despite the obvious strain in his voice.
“I asked the Deliverer what he wanted as a gift instead of chocolate, and he said he wanted me.” Mydei repeats, in case he was not clear enough the first time. He’s pretty sure he was clear.
The man in front of him changes colors in record time, face going from paler than Castorice to deep red that can rival the ink across Mydei’s chest. He coughs loudly, muttering “…You should probably ask Caelus, or Miss Castorice.”
Mydei takes a deep breath and leaves without another word.
Castorice definitely knows something, based on the surprised noise she had let out earlier, but he has no idea where the maiden of death might be by now.
The gray-haired trailblazer on the other hand… He finds Caelus exactly where he knows he’ll be – lounging in his room and shouting at his teleslate; immersed in whatever game he’s playing there.
Mydei knocks on the partially open door, polite as ever, before stepping inside.
“Caelus,” Mydei greets him, as if he did not see the young-looking man barely a quint ago. “Dan Heng mentioned that you’re more knowledgeable on the topic of the Deliverer’s gift of choice,” the trailblazer lifts his head from the game with a curious look, gesturing for him to keep going, so Mydei does.
“What did he mean exactly by 'you' and 'don’t get the wrong idea?'”
Caelus’ eyes light up instantly, brighter than a chimera that heard the word ‘treats’. He tosses his teleslate away, mid-game nonetheless, and runs toward the door, grabbing his gauntlet-clad wrist. “You have come to the right place! Let me show you exactly what Phainon meant.”
He does not think Caelus understood what the Deliverer meant. At all. Because less than a minute later Mydei is standing in the middle of the room, holding a scrap of fabric that might generously be called clothing. It is light blue, lacy, and consists of far less material than anything he has ever worn—and Mydei wears very little to begin with.
“I’m not wearing this,” he declares flatly, even if his pussy twitches pathetically at the thought of Phainon seeing him in something so… revealing.
“Then at least let me tie a ribbon around you and make you look like a gift!” Caelus insists with a dramatic pout, showing him a pale yellow, silky-looking strip of fabric.
“No.”
The trailblazer lets his shoulder sag dramatically, and Mydei can tell his next words would be complete nonsense like most of the things he says. “Do you really want to disappoint Phainon? He asked so nicely…”
“We were talking about a friendly gift. Surely this is not what he wants.” Mydei can feel the headache from earlier returning in full force.
“Don’t get your hopes up, don’t get your hopes up, don’t get your hopes up.”
“Trust me,” the gray-haired man steps closer to him, poking his uncovered pectoral accusingly. “This guy cannot shut up about your ‘absurd body’. His words, not mine.” He emphasizes by making quotation marks in the air, “this is exactly what he wants.”
Mydei tilts his head in confusion. The idea of Phainon speaking about him—about his body—to the citizens of Okhema, or anyone, is not something he ever considered. He makes a mental note to punch the Deliverer for doing that, even if he quite likes what he hears.
“And for the record, none of this is friendly. This man is so down bad even I can see it, and Dan Heng claims I’m the most dense man in the universe.”
Maybe he should punch Phainon twice, just because.
Heat floods Mydei’s face so fast he feels lightheaded. He knows he should take the trailblazer’s words with a grain of salt as it could all be one big misunderstanding, but still, he can’t help but hope.
“None of this is friendly.” If only Caelus had an idea how right he is.
Mydei glances down at the “lingerie” as the trailblazer called it again, imagining how little it would leave hidden, imagining Phainon’s hungry gaze from the baths as he trails his eyes across his barely covered body.
Titans, he can feel himself getting wet from the mere thought.
“You are making this up.” Mydei folds his arms across his chest with a huff.
“Am I?” Caelus' grin widens. “Would you prefer to ask the man himself?”
He absolutely doesn’t.
“Fine. I’ll wear it.”
“Perfect,” Caelus pats his shoulder, “message me when you get all dolled up on the festival day, I’ll tie the ribbon around you and send Phainon your way.”
Dolled up… Mydei grunts in response, turning on his heel before the trailblazer says any more nonsense and beelines to his own chambers, both to try this lingerie thing, but mostly to rub a third orgasm out. The promise of Phainon wanting him as much as he does is enough to make Mydei crave something inside him again.
━ ⟡ ━
The day arrives faster than Mydei would’ve liked. Between distracted sparring, to distracted bathing, to distracted… You get the point. He was beyond distracted.
Outside the marmoreal palace, the streets are full of Okhemans and Kremnoans alike; exchanging gifts, laughing over chalices full of ambrosia and frequenting the various stalls at the market. But Mydei hears none of it directly from Phainon’s private chamber, where he’s standing next to the man’s bed, trying to convince his heart that he still needs it beating, preferably inside his chest and not in his throat.
One more look in the full-body mirror once he’s done adjusting all the straps, and his heart almost fails for good this time.
He looks sexy, stunning, attractive, ridiculous, all of the above.
The baby blue lace is sheer and hides nothing, the color a perfect contrast to his crimson markings. The fabric is clinging to his chest so hard it digs into his muscle, pectorals straining against it – which he expected, since Caelus is smaller than him, but he did not expect the lingerie to enhance his features so much.
His chest looks bigger thanks to the generous window, the golden ribbon at the middle cinches his already narrow waist, and the small frills at the bottom add more volume to his hips, making them look bigger than they actually are.
Mydei lets his eyes travel to the center of it, to the narrow strip of lace that is supposed to cover his pussy in theory, but hides nothing in practice. There is so little fabric his outer lips are half uncovered – too plump to be contained by the tiny strip, and the lace digs into the soft mound like everywhere else, outlining his already swollen clit and making it look like a small bulge instead.
And don't get him started on how wet he is, just from wearing the stupid thing…
He messages the gray-haired trailblazer quickly and sits down on the edge of the bed, thighs pressed together and arms folded over his chest as though that could restore any modesty.
Another look in the mirror while he waits, and Mydei is ready to reach for his teleslate and call the whole thing off.
“What happened to ‘there is no word for fear in the kremnoan language’” Caelus mimics him as he enters the chambers without bothering to knock, startling Mydei. His chest is puffed like he’s proud of himself for saying it, smirking at Mydei’s defensive body language.
Great. Now Mydei wants to punch both Phainon and the trailblazer.
“There is no such word. But this is ridiculous. I look ridiculous.” Mydei hmph’s, allowing Caelus to tie the gold ribbon around his wrists despite the verbal protests.
“Nah, man. You look incredible,” Caelus says, grinning at him. “You look better than I would in this. Phainon would lose his mind once he sees you.”
“If he doesn’t—”
“Trust me.” It’s the gray-haired man’s turn to fold his arms, unimpressed. “He wouldn’t be asking every second person if they saw you if he wasn't head over heels. Now, let me go call him.”
The mental image of the Deliverer looking everywhere for him like a lost dog looking for its owner is endearing enough to make Mydei feel like he can do this again. He waits until Caelus leaves the room and sits more comfortably on the bed, struggling to balance himself a little thanks to his tied arms.
And waits… And waits more…
He’s not sure how much time passes until he finally hears footsteps approaching, followed by Phainon’s voice – apologizing to someone about being extremely busy and unable to hear them out at the moment. Excitement coils low in Mydei’s stomach, sharp, hot, and tangled with anxiety.
Would Phainon appreciate this? Would he even understand what Mydei is offering? They have fought side by side for years, shared secrets and fears on long missions and dawn-lit nights, seen each other naked, bleeding, dying... They are rivals and friends, but can they also be lovers?
The door opens slowly, and Mydei shifts, biting back on a groan as the lace presses harder into his cunt.
Phainon steps into the room and closes the door behind him, back facing Mydei the entire time. "Caelus told me it’s a gift, so should I close my eyes when I turn around?”
Ever chivalrous for asking.
“No.” Mydei grunts, averting his eyes to look at Phainon’s reflection instead.
Phainon turns slowly, freezing immediately with a high-pitched gasp. Mydei can see his eyes widen, lips paring around words that do not come out, hand clutching the door handle so hard the stone might crumble.
“Look at me, Mydeimos.” He finds his voice, pleading quietly, and Mydei does – ignoring the way his ears burn when he looks at the blue orbs staring into his soul.
The Deliverer's gaze is as hungry as it was the day prior in the baths, trailing slowly, traitorously slow from Mydei’s face down the line on his throat, across the lacy fabric covering his pectorals, to his tied arms and crossed legs, raising a challenging eyebrow as if saying "Going to hide that from me?”
He wants to hide, wants to press his thighs closer, but the dare is there. Even at moments like this Phainon makes it feel like he has to prove himself, like he’d lose a challenge if he doesn't. And Mydei hates losing. He ignores the desperate pulse of his pussy, opening his legs wide enough to let the Deliverer see how darker, soaked, the fabric between his thighs is.
“Happy now, Deliverer?”
For a long moment Phainon doesn’t move. The only sound in the room is the rustle of his clothes as his shoulders rise and fall a little faster with every breath.
“Titans, Mydei. Is that…? Are you…?” Color rushes to his face, spreading all the way to his ears. Phainon takes one step forward before catching himself, hand rising as if to rub the back of his neck, then dropping again— like he’s not sure if what he’s seeing is real despite his eyes being glued to Mydei’s cunt.
Mydei forces himself to look as unaffected as possible under the heated gaze, refusing to squirm or show any sign of weakness. “You said you wanted me as your gift.” His own voice comes out steadier than he feels. “So here I am.”
A low, broken whine escapes from Phainon’s throat. Like a man possessed, he crosses the room in record time, dropping on his knees between Mydei’s parted thighs. His hands find their home on Mydei’s knees, looking up to meet his face.
“You seriously wrapped yourself as a gift.”
Mydei swallows hard. “That I did.”
Phainon laughs in disbelief, allowing his palm to slide higher up a naked thigh, then higher – fingers trailing across the sheer lace, until they stop at the ribbon around Mydei’s wrists and his smile is gone, as if realizing there is no way Mydei could tie his hands like this by himself.
“Who else has seen you like this?” The words are muttered out like poison, full of possession that would leave Mydei’s knees bucking if he wasn't sitting already. And if he feels more slick leaking out at the sight of the Deliverer being so possessive—he hopes the man won't notice it. Not that it’s difficult to see his pussy fluttering with need when the fabric can't even contain it properly.
“The trailblazer. He’s the one who gave me this ridiculous thing to wear.”
“Ridiculous? I might have to thank him personally after this. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Phainon whispers, animosity all gone at the mention of the gray-haired outlander, but Mydei can barely pay it any attention.
How can he, when hearing the man he loves saying things like “most beautiful thing” makes his clit throb so hard it physically twitches under the tight fabric. He feels the heat crawl from his ears all the way to his neck, mortified and dizzy with it.
“Beautiful? Are you blind, Deliverer?”
“I can see perfectly fine, and if you cannot see how beautiful you are like this…” Phainon stops and leans in, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the soft skin of Mydei’s inner thigh, gentle at first, then harder, teeth grazing hard enough to sting. Mydei’s hips twitch upward before he can stop them, betraying his attempts to act unaffected, and Phainon smiles— trailing his lips higher and higher until they reach the edge of the lace.
“Deliverer—”
“Then I'll show you, Mydeimos.” Phainon’s warm breath scorches his skin. “I'll show you how beautiful you are in my eyes.”
He drags his tongue along the crease of his thigh, then finally finally turns his face and kisses over the soaked lace, right where Mydei’s clit is straining for attention.
Mydei’s head tips backward, body tensing. The heat of Phainon’s mouth is everything he needs and not enough of it at the same time, but he’s not granted more than a teasing kiss. Before he can close his thighs around the Deliverer’s head and keep him there, Phainon tugs him up by his bound wrists, until Mydei is standing right in front of the full-body mirror, with Phainon right behind him..
The new position is scandalous, beyond scandalous actually. Mydei has nowhere to look but at his own reflection, his amber eyes flicking between his own body and the predatory gaze of Phainon’s eyes, who is murmuring right into his ear.
“Look at you, Mydei. So tall and muscular, yet you look like a princess covered in lace.”
“I’m no princess, Deliverer.”
Phainon ignores him.
“And your chest, have you seen how big it is? It’s absurd. This little lacy piece cannot contain it at all. ” He chuckles, proving his point by cupping Mydei’s chest, digging his fingers into the softness of his pectorals. It’s true, his chest practically spills from the cleavage each time Phainon presses his pecs together.
“Your waist too, it’s so small, smaller than mine.” Phainon presses Mydei’s back flush to his chest to show the difference, yet all Mydei can focus on is the clothed hardness digging into his ass cheek. Phainon is big, not that Mydei hasn't seen him naked before, but not like that, hard and straining and barely contained by his pants.
Titans help him, he needs this man’s cock inside him already.
“Stop teasing.”
“So impatient.”Phainon kisses the red marking on his shoulder. “I can’t help it, though…” He whispers, one hand reaching Mydei’s jaw, tilting his face so he can’t look away from the mirror while the other slides lower, down Mydei’s chest, abdomen, and all the way to his aching core.
“How can I not when you're so beautiful here.” Phainon hooks two fingers beneath the fabric between Mydei’s legs and pulls it aside, proceeding to rub the two digits against the soaked folds with a touch that makes Mydei thrust his hips for more and bite down on a moan.
Satisfied with the reaction, he meets Mydei’s eyes in the reflection, holds the stare, and brings the slick fingers to his mouth, licking them clean.
“Tell me, Mydei,” the white-haired man’s sinful tongue is trailing up his neck now, “have you thought about me doing this to you?”
“Every day.” “Don’t flatter yourself, Deliverer.”
“Am I now? Is that not why you're so wet?”
“Just fuck me already—” Mydei feels himself getting more and more frustrated. He already gifted himself to the white-haired man. So why is he taking his damn time and not fucking him!?
“Now now, Mydeimos.” Phainon tilts his head to press a quick kiss to his lips, eyes still on their reflections. “You were so thoughtful with your little gift here,” he tags the ribbon tying Mydei’s hands together. “At least let me enjoy it.”
Mydei would. Mydei would gladly let Phainon enjoy anything, as long as it involved more than edging him into the next era. He doesn't think he can take much more of it.
“Then get on with it and enjoy it properly.”
“What a needy partner I have…” Phainon chuckles, and Mydei did not expect this kind of answer—brain short-circuiting successfully.
Partner. He shouldn't take it seriously, the Deliverer calls others ‘partners’ all the time, but he can't help the butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the possibility of this being more than a one time thing.
Graciously, his crush finally grants him mercy by guiding him back to sit on the bed and kneeling between his thighs, peppering kisses anywhere but where Mydei aches for him. Or maybe it was too soon to speak of mercy. He can only blame himself for falling for this smug bastard out of all people.
“I want you to look at yourself as I pleasure you.” Phainon licks his lips, leans forward, and thank every fucking titan under Kephale’s dawn, seals his mouth around Mydei’s clit.
Mydei’s eyes close instinctively at the white-hot pleasure surging through him. Phainon’s mouth is hot, wet, and he’s sucking him so eagerly—doing things with his tongue that Mydei could only dream about.
Until it stops just as fast as it started, and Mydei has to bite down his lip to prevent a frustrated groan from leaving his throat, hips bucking in search of any friction.
“Open your eyes,” Phainon orders, trailing his callused thumb against the soft flesh of his inner thigh. With more effort than it should take, Mydei opens his eyes, looking first at Phainon, then at the mirror as he’s told, breath catching in his lungs.
Fuck. He looks so out of it already.
“Much better,” the Deliverer hums, satisfied with Mydei’s obedience and returns his attention to the pussy; eating him out like he’s been the one starving. He keeps Mydei’s legs open with one hand, finding his entrance with the other, easing one finger inside the tight opening, then two, stretching him for what is to come.
It’s so good. Better than any toy he could ever use. And he doesn't think he can last like that, not when Phainon curls his fingers just right and—
Mydei cums before he can warn the Deliverer.
He falls back on the mattress with a broken moan, wrists straining against the bindings, thighs clamping on Phainon’s head so hard he thinks he might crash the man’s skull. Wetness gushes out of him, and there is so much of it that it trails down Phainon’s chin, the bed, the floor… Everywhere.
He had never come this hard before.
“Beautiful, Mydei. So beautiful,” Mydei can hear Phainon’s voice somewhere in his vicinity, before feeling the mattress dip next to him and two strong arms pull him to sit on the Deliverer’s lap. “I want you to see how perfect you look like this.”
“No.” Mydei refuses to look at the mirror even after his vision stops blurring. He doesn't think he can look at himself at the moment. It’s embarrassing, possibly humiliating. He’s being held open on Phainon’s lap, and the second he would do as the man asks him, he’ll have to see not only his post-orgasmic expression but also how much of a mess his cunt is.
A sight like that would feel more vulnerable than being seen naked or eaten out.
“Don’t get all shy on me now, princess” Phainon leans to kiss the corner of Mydei’s mouth, guiding his head to look in the reflection the same way he did earlier, refusing to take no for an answer.
Nikador strike him down.
Yeah… Mydei was not ready.
His reflection stares back at him, wrecked and wanton in a way he never allowed himself to be seen by others. The baby-blue lace clings to his heaving chest, nipples hard against the mesh. His thighs tremble where Phainon holds them spread wide, keeping his pussy on full display—wet and dripping and fluttering around nothing. The golden ribbon around his wrists looks at him mockingly, a pretty bow on a gift that’s already been thoroughly unwrapped.
He looks like a mess, a fucked out mess, and he hasn't been fucked yet. Unbelievable.
What is the Deliverer waiting for?
“Are you going to keep staring all night, or are you going to put your cock to good use?” Mydei manages to grunt, forcing himself not to let the heated gaze of his rival? lover? —what are they at this point?— affect him.
“Still so needy,” Phainon searches his eyes in the mirror, manhandling Mydei off his lap to free himself from his trousers, before pulling him back on top of his thighs. And Mydei can’t help but stare with no shame at the thick length pulsing right next to his cunt. Phainon’s cock is thick and veiny, bigger than he remembers from the glimpses he had stolen. It nudges against his entrance, hot and flushed beautiful red, and Mydei bites his lip to stifle a whine.
He doesn't care if he never taken an actual cock before, he needs it inside him. Now.
“I… before we actually do it,” Phainon stills again, and Mydei is ready to scold him, punch him maybe if he doesn't get on with it and fucks him, but the man’s next words render him speechless.
“I hope you do not mind the lack of experience, since I've never really done anything like this with others...” The Deliverer confesses, looking and sounding far too nervous for Mydei’s liking. “Until you, it was only the flame chase on my mind. No one made me want as badly as you do.”
The vulnerability of the confession almost makes Mydei forget their current position, almost. Seeing the ever-confident Deliverer like this, wanting but scared, pulls at his chest strings. He wants to reassure him, wants to tell him he’s already amazing and has nothing to be afraid of.
He meets Phainon’s eyes in the mirror with what he hopes is a tender enough gaze. “HKS. I’m not exactly proficient in the real thing either. So it makes both of us.”
“Mydei,” Phainon practically sobs, “but what if I can’t make you feel good enough or mess up or…”
Mydei takes a deep breath, patience running thin. As much as he wants to reassure the deliverer, he wants to be fucked stupid just as badly.
“I swear on Nikador’s name, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae, that if you don't fuck me right now, I'll flip you over and ride you until your cock will no longer be able to stay hard.”
Maybe that's a little too excessive, or maybe his lover is a freak, but Phainon only grins at him, no longer nervous. “Is that a promise or a threat, my prince?”
“Do you want to try and find out?”
Phainon exhales, chuckling under his breath once more and aligns them better, slapping his length on Mydei’s cunt a few times to gather some of the slick, leaving both of them gasping when the cock-head rubs directly on his clit.
Mydei is ready to urge him again, threaten, plead… Well, maybe not plead, but he’d do anything else if it meant the Deliverer would stop teasing him already. “Get on—”
He doesn't get to finish the sentence, Phainon’s cock catches on his entrance, and he pushes the thick length inside in one go, bottoming out with ease thanks to how wet Mydei is, and all Mydei can do is groan at the exquisite stretch and clench around the girth.
It’s so good he’s not going to last.
“You feel so good, Mydei,” Phainon moans in his ear, lifting Mydei almost all the way off his cock only to push him down again, filling him up better than his toys ever could. Way, way better.
“So hot, so perfect, so… Fuck—” His words cut off, and Mydei repeats the mistake of looking at the mirror, seeing where Phainon’s eyes are.
The Deliverer is looking at the spot they are connected, where Mydei’s pussy stretches around his cock, mesmerized by the sight of his length being swallowed by the tight cunt. And Mydei can’t tear his eyes away either, a fresh wave of heat rushes to his face as he watches the thick cock disappear inside him. It’s intimate, raw, leaving him so exposed his core clenches involuntarily, drawing a loud whimper from the man behind him.
Phainon’s hands grip his thighs harder, angling Mydei’s body to give them both the perfect view as he continues to pick up his pace. “You feel incredible,” he rasps, “squeezing me like that… You’re ruining me, Mydei.”
If you ask Mydei, Phainon is not the only one who is getting ruined. His body feels on fire, hips rocking down to meet each relentless thrust, even if he can barely move, being held by Phainon’s strong biceps. His clit is begging for attention, and he’s so wet it should be humiliating.
He never felt so impossibly turned on in his entire life.
But as pleasure builds, and the constant abuse of his sweet spot brings him almost there – Phainon stops. The Deliverer lifts him off his cock with a quiet whine—Oh, how Mydei wants to whine at the loss too—and he’s being laid on his back so gently, like he’s a porcelain doll and not a warrior who faced death too many times to count.
Something about the gentleness makes his eyes well with tears, and Mydei forces them shut. He promised not to cry again, no matter the reason.
The mattress dips as Phainon looms over him, coat gone, and he tugs the gold ribbon free from his wrists, freeing Mydei’s hands at last.
“Hold on to me, Mydei.” he urges, leaning down until their mouths press together in a soft kiss that tastes of love and yearning. Like all the feelings they harbored but never said. Mydei’s arms wrap around Phainon’s neck, legs doing the same to his hips, urging the Deliverer to fill him again, to finish what he started.
He’s quite sure he’d lose it if Phainon doesn't make him cum again, preferably on his cock.
“Never knew you could get this impatient, princess,” the Deliverer presses a quick kiss to the red mark on his cheek, and sinks back inside him with one powerful thrust, bottoming out.
Mydei cries out at the fullness, nails digging into Phainon’s shoulders and leaving angry red lines there before he allows himself open his eyes slowly, meeting pools of blue that stare down at him with so much adoration he thinks he might cry for real this time.
“There you are,” Phainon whispers, cupping his cheek lovingly. “I wanted you to see yourself break apart, but I can’t mydei… I can’t. Only I should be able to see your face as you cum.”
The confession is possessive, even for the man saying it, but Mydei is only a man. A weak, weak man who can't help himself but fall in love a little harder after hearing these words.
“That’s a new level… of obsession… even for you, Deliverer.” He manages to grunt between Phainon’s relentless thrusts, not realizing it’ll be so hard to speak while his pussy is being battered. But at least it seems like the mentioned Deliverer is in no better shape.
“I… Can't help but feel greedy… when it comes to you.” Phainon’s forehead presses to Mydei’s, eyes never leaving him as one of his hands slides lower between them, until he finds Mydei’s clit – teasing the sensitive flesh with strokes of his thumb and light taps, coaxing whimpers from Mydei’s lips at the electrifying touch.
“You’re truly stunning... Let me make you feel good, Mydeimos, let me love you like this.” Phainon babbles against his mouth, barely coherent, kissing him between words and swallowing his moans.
It’s too much, the tenderness. Mydei never thought that what would make him truly shed tears at the end wouldn’t be another death or injury, but the tender touch of the man he loves—and loves him back.
He covers his eyes with his palms, wiping the wetness with no use as more and more tears roll down his face with every kiss and confession. He’s really not used to being treated so gently.
“Mydei, you're crying,” Phainon’s hand rests on his cheek, and his pace slows down to a gentle grind – mouth moving from his lips to kiss his eyelids instead, whispering something fevered he cannot comprehend. “Am I too rough? Does it hurt?”
“No.” He grits between his teeth, averting his gaze. “Stop looking and keep moving, I'm close.”
Thank the titans, Phainon chooses to grant him actual mercy this time and doesn't say anything else. The Deliverer picks up the pace again, until it becomes brutal and he’s slamming his hips so hard Mydei thinks he might re-arrange his organs if he keeps going like that. Phainon’s hand returns to his clit too, rubbing the engorged nub until Mydei’s back arches and he comes with a quiet sob.
His thighs tremble, pussy clenching around the length still thrusting inside him as gush after gush of cum squirts out— soaking the mesh, Phainon’s torso, everything. Phainon groans at the vice-like grip around his cock, pace turning erratic and uneven as he fucks Mydei through the pleasure, chasing his own orgasm.
At the last moment, he pulls out—stroking himself as he follows too, painting Mydei’s chest in ropes of pearly white cum.
Mydei wants to cry again.
Ever the responsible Deliverer, pulling out instead of filling him…
Spent and content, Phainon falls on the mattress, breathing heavily as he pulls Mydei closer until his face is buried in blonde-red hair. His arm drapes protectively around Mydei’s waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns on the lace-clad skin.
“What… what are we now? After this?”
Turning his head slowly, very slowly, Mydei forces himself not to punch Phainon. Is he really asking this now? After confessing his love and fucking him so good he knows he’ll be craving more for the rest of his life?
“Did you hit your head, Deliverer?” He sits up despite Phainon’s sad whine, arms folding against his chest— the movement catching his attention in the mirror, and he repeats the mistake of looking.
The lace is ruined for good, torn in some places and stained irrecoverably in others. His pussy peeks from under it, red and abused and still gaping once mydei spreads his legs a little to get a better look despite himself, already imagining how he’ll look with Phainon’s cum leaking out of him.
“I did n—” Phainon pouts, words cutting off as he seems to share the same train of thought as him, eyes half lidded as he stares hungrily at Mydei's body in the mirror. “You are the one who said it’s a friendly gift.”
Nikador give him strength. Mydei really has to hold back from punching the man.
“You really think any of this is friendly!?” He can’t help but raise his voice a little. “Or do I have to spell it out?”
“Can I get the spelling out option?”
Bastard. Smug and lovable bastard.
Mydei forces his voice to sound as flat as possible, even as his heart races. “I wish to stay by your side, Phainon. Until the day I draw my last breath. Not as a fellow heir, not as a rival, but as a lover.”
“Mydeimos…” The look Phainon gives him is nothing short of a hopeful puppy – eyes big and watery, mouth partially opened like he can’t believe Mydei’s words.
“And according to the trailblazers, you have to give me your answer in a month, so you better take those words seriously and start thinking.”
Phainon pouts, exaggerated and too adorable for his own good, before his lips curve into a mischievous grin. “But I love you already! So how about I give you my answer every single day from now on?”
“Insatiable dog.” Mydei sighs, although there is no bite to it, just fondness. Lots and lots of fondness. And maybe some other feelings too, especially in his lower half. “It’s not how the tradition works.”
Phainon leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Mydei’s lips, hands already trailing to the string holding the lingerie together, fully intending to strip Mydei completely and have his way with him again. “Who said we have to follow a tradition from another planet to the last detail?”
Mydei lets him, just as greedy for more now that he finally got a taste of what loving Phainon feels like.
Maybe those outlandish events aren’t as ridiculous as he initially thought…