Work Text:
Knee-deep into his 33rd tab, Phainon came to a chilling conclusion: Either his poor, poor laptop would pass away after being asked to display too many pages, or Phainon himself would drop dead onto the library floor.
Some of the students around him looked at him like he already had. When he first walked into the library, some hours ago, the staff member at the counter did a double take. Dan Heng likely only meant well, but it almost made Phainon backtrack out the door. Almost. It was just too hard to focus when he wasn’t actively putting himself in locations where he wasn’t incentivized to fall asleep.
Suffice to say, Phainon was not at his best during his midterm seasons. If anything, they felt worse than finals. When finals came around, his professors were about as tired as he was, and it all boiled down to memorizing information for testing. But midterms meant papers, ones with word lengths and premises with far too many citations. He could only hope he looked similar to a reanimated corpse, now. That way, nobody would recognize him, and his respect and dignity on campus would be spared.
As he was in the midst of reformatting a document (in dark mode, of course), the familiar outline of someone with a long mane appeared in the reflection of his laptop.
“I brought you a coffee,” Mydei said, once Phainon turned around. He handed over the warm cup before he took a seat next to Phainon at the otherwise vacated table. Phainon inhaled, the aroma of the elixir wafting through him. The mere scent allowed his brain cells to retrieve their withered capabilities.
God bless his saviour. A gorgeous and muscular blond man. Coffee. Phainon had a brief spurt of energy as he processed what he was seeing. Oh yeah. It was Mydeimos. With coffee.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you. You have no idea how badly I need this right now,” Phainon said, looking over at the other man as Mydei began to pull his own notebooks and readings out of his backpack. It was sort of sweet how Mydei insisted on writing everything by hand, but it also seemed really inconvenient. At least his data tabs were all centrally located. If he used physical sources, he’d be pointing at a black covered with papers and red string between them, a madman in no time.
“I think I have a pretty good idea, actually,” Mydei replied, giving him a once-over. “You look worse for wear.”
Rude. Phainon wouldn't take back the previous description, but he’d add to it: His saviour and tormenter. Gorgeous and muscular and intelligent and unquestionably evil Mydeimos.
He sighed, vowing that he’d win the unspoken competition by bringing Mydei two coffees next time.
“Wow, thank you. I had no idea, really. It means so much to me that you’d walk over here just to tell me I look awful, Mydei.”
“Deliverer, did you even wash your face today?”
Barring the use of that horrid nickname, no. No he did not.
Phainon swallowed around the sudden, very real lump in his throat. The past few days had blurred together into a haze of half-read articles and obscure statistics that refused to make sense unless he stared at them and reread them ten times. “Ah… haha, I kind of forgot?” he admitted, voice thinning at the end.
Mydei made a quiet hmph, but there was a small smile tugging at his mouth as he flipped open one of his notebooks. “I can tell.”
Phainon chose to ignore that. A moment passed, filled only by the faint scratching of pen against paper, fingers on a keyboard, and the distant hum of the library. Then Mydei spoke again, almost casually.
“You missed the gym, Haikas.”
Phainon winced. “Yeah. Sorry. These midterms are trying to kill me.”
“They are evidently succeeding.”
“Wow. Encouraging.” He sighed, then tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling for a second before adding, “I’ll make it up to you next week. I’ll even beat you into the floor of the ring to compensate.”
Mydei scoffed, turning a page without looking at him. “You’re getting delusional. That’s never going to happen.”
“Oh, it absolutely will.”
“You should focus on surviving your papers first.” A pause. “And take better care of yourself.”
Of course he was right. Annoyingly, predictably right as usual. Phainon groaned and leaned back in his precarious chair, balancing on two legs in a way that would probably get him scolded by staff if anyone cared enough to look over. He dragged his hands down his face, then let his head fall into his palms. “I hate midterms,” he mumbled into his skin.
Silence. Then, after a moment, he straightened again, blinking away the fog in his vision. As he did, he caught a small, suspicious movement out of the corner of his eye. Mydei was sliding his phone away a little too quickly.
Phainon narrowed his eyes. “Mydei.”
No response.
“You didn’t take a picture, right?”
Mydei just continued writing into his crisp, unlined pages.
Phainon leaned over and poked his arm. Firm. Unfairly so. “Mydei. Did you.”
That finally got his attention. Mydei looked at him, entirely unbothered, and then nodded.
Phainon stared at him in horror. “No,” he said, immediately pressing closer, half draping himself against Mydei’s arm like it would somehow undo the crime. “No, no, no. Please don’t send it to Cipher. At least, okay? Have mercy, I’m already suffering.”
Mydei considered him for a second, then gave a short nod.
“Fine.”
Phainon sagged in relief. “Thank you. You’re slightly less heinous than I thought.”
“Only slightly.”
Before Phainon could retort, Mydei reached out and caught his face in one hand.
“Hey, what are you—”
His protest died instantly as Mydei squished his cheeks together, turning his head this way and that with clinical focus.
“…Mydei.”
“Hold still.”
“I am holding still.”
“Not enough.”
Phainon went quiet. Mydei’s thumb brushed lightly along his cheekbone as he examined him, eyes narrowed in concentration like he was studying a particularly puzzling text. Up close like this, Phainon could see the faint crease between his brows, the way his golden gaze flicked over every detail with careful attention. Phainon’s mind, already fragile from sleep deprivation, went completely blank.
“…Your skin is dry,” Mydei concluded at last, still holding on. That was it?
“My skin is dry,” Phainon repeated.
“Yes. Your stubble has also never gotten so bad.”
“You kidnapped my face for that?”
Mydei hummed noncommittally. “Would you have listened otherwise?”
Phainon opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. “…Okay, that’s fair.”
Mydei released him, though not before giving his cheek one last, absentminded squeeze. Phainon sat there for a second longer than necessary, staring at nothing, trying to remember what he had been doing before his brain short-circuited.
“I was working,” he said eventually, more to himself than anyone else. The thought of data entry crept back into his mind, and he wanted to melt away.
“Then continue,” Mydei replied, already back to his notes.
Phainon turned slowly toward his laptop, the glow of the screen reflecting faintly in his tired eyes. Right. Work. Midterms. Citations. He took a long sip of the coffee Mydei had brought him, exhaled, and began typing again, acutely aware of the quiet presence beside him. A few minutes passed in relative peace.
Or, as close to peace as Phainon ever got during his education. His fingers moved in uneven bursts across the keyboard, pausing every so often when his brain lagged behind the sentence he was trying to form. It was getting to the point where he didn’t even know if his consciousness was on the right planet to receive the information. Beside him, Mydei turned pages at a steady rhythm, occasionally taking a sip from his coffee. Phainon glanced over at it once, mildly horrified. It looked more like melted medley of dessert than anything remotely resembling coffee.
“How do you drink that?” he muttered.
Mydei did not look up. “It tastes good,” he said simply.
Phainon had a bit of a penchant for debates. “It tastes like sugar with a vague memory of coffee,” he replied.
“And yet,” Mydei said, taking another completely unbothered, terribly joyous sip, “I am enjoying it.”
Phainon shook his head and went back to his document, taking a much needed drink of his own. The caffeine was starting to settle in, just enough to keep his eyes from closing against his will. For a little while, things were quiet again. Phainon was just getting back into the data sets.
And then Mydei spoke.
“Hey.”
Phainon hummed absently, still typing.
“Want me to give you a facial?”
—pulling Phainon’s head away by tugging at his hair, Mydei looked down at him. He took his length into his own hand, stroking once, twice, and then groaned deeply as he began painting Phainon’s mouth white with his—
Phainon’s hands froze on the keyboard. Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head. “What.”
Mydei finally looked at him, expression perfectly neutral. “A facial,” he said again, in that deep, rich cadence of his.
Phainon stared at him, feeling something twitch in his boxers. Then he glanced around the library. Then back at Mydei. “You cannot just say that,” he whispered harshly. “Here.”
Mydei frowned, and he had no business looking attractive when he was frowning. “Why not?”
“Because it sounds insane,” Phainon hissed. “And not in a normal way.”
Understanding clicked a second later. “Oh,” Mydei said. A pause. Then, completely unrepentant, “I meant skincare.”
“I knew what you meant!” Phainon whisper-shouted, pressing his fingers to his temple. “Eventually. But you need to phrase things better before I die of embarrassment in public.”
“Hm. I think you’ll ruin your reputation on your own.”
Phainon eyed him. “You’re not even sorry.”
“I’m offering to help you.”
“With my skin.”
“Yes. You can shave the stubble off on your own.”
Phainon leaned back in his chair again, considering. His face did feel… tight. And Mydei had just diagnosed him like a specimen five minutes ago. “…Do you even have anything for that?” he asked.
Mydei tapped his bag with his pen. “I took Aglaea’s aesthetician course. Did you forget?”
Right. How could he forget? Of course Mydei, who looked like a living sculpture dedicated to the very concept of human strength, had also taken a course in skincare. Not casually, either. Properly, under Aglaea, who taught at the college near their university. Just because some of their friends had been too busy drowning in assignments and exams to take care of themselves. Because someone had complained, offhandedly, about dry skin and stress breakouts. Because Aglaea had mentioned her class in passing. Mydei wanted to help, so he signed up. Of course he did.
Beneath the whole intimidating, broad-shouldered, could-bench-press-someone-with-one-arm exterior, Mydei had the unfortunate habit of being relentlessly, inconveniently thoughtful. Except for when he was choosing which words to use. That just made him a nuisance.
Phainon squinted at him, then sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “You know what,” he said, giving in far too easily, “fine. If it makes me look less like I crawled out of a grave, please go ahead and give me a facial.”
Then, faintly amused, Mydei said, “Okay. After you finish your paragraph. And your boring plain coffee.”
Phainon groaned. “Cruel.”
The library air felt oppressive when Phainon shut his laptop, like it was reluctant to let him go. Or maybe that was just his brain lagging behind reality again. Either way, he gathered his things in a slow, slightly uncoordinated haze, blinking down at his bag as if it might bite him.
Mydei was already standing, waiting. “Come on,” he said, adjusting the strap of his bag over one shoulder. “Before you fall asleep on the floor and prove my earlier point.”
“I would never,” Phainon muttered, immediately stifling a yawn.
The walk to the parking garage passed in a blur of fluorescent lights and echoing footsteps. By the time they reached his car, Phainon had just enough awareness left to fumble his keys out of his pocket and head straight for the driver’s side. He didn’t make it. Mydei caught his wrist mid-motion, swift and unyielding, and plucked the keys clean out of his hand.
“…Hey,” Phainon said, blinking at him. “What are you doing?”
“Preventing an accident,” Mydei replied, already stepping around him.
Phainon followed, slower, watching as Mydei opened the driver’s door like he owned the vehicle. “Really? You want to drive my crappy car?” he asked, incredulous despite the fog in his head. “What happened to that fancy ride you had?”
Mydei slid into the seat, entirely unbothered. “That wasn’t even mine, Haikas. Get in and stop talking.”
Phainon huffed, but the protest didn’t have much energy behind it. He circled to the passenger side and dropped into the seat, letting his head fall back for a second before pulling the door shut. “…Rude,” he added, belatedly.
Mydei started the engine. The old car hummed to life, headlights cutting through the dim concrete as he guided them out of the parking spot with ease. Phainon watched him for a moment, then slouched further into his seat, the exhaustion settling back in now that he wasn’t actively fighting it.
They moved through the winding levels of the garage in relative quiet before Mydei spoke again. “You missed class today.”
Phainon groaned softly, dragging a hand over his face. It was their shared elective, a class he’d only taken knowing he’d be able to spend more time with Mydei.
“I know. I meant to go. I just… didn’t.”
“I noticed.”
There was no judgment in the tone. That made it worse.
“What did I miss?” Phainon asked, squinting at the passing walls as they neared the exit.
“An uninteresting lecture, mostly. Some discussion at the end.” Mydei paused, then added, “I’ll send you my notes.”
Phainon turned his head toward him, sudden, genuine relief cutting through the fatigue. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“I’m aware.”
“I could kiss you right now,” Phainon said, without thinking.
Mydei’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. It was subtle, but Phainon caught it. The way his shoulders went a fraction more rigid, the way his gaze fixed a little too firmly on the road ahead. He didn’t say anything.
Phainon blinked, then huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Relax. That was my honest gratitude… Though if you keep doting on me and rescuing me academically, I might have to reconsider.”
Mydei exhaled through his nose, the tension easing just a touch. “Focus on passing your midterms first.”
“Tragic. Rejected in my time of need.”
“You’ll survive.”
Phainon smiled , letting his head tilt toward the window as the car finally emerged from the garage into open air. The dim gray of early evening stretched out ahead of them, and for the first time all day, his thoughts felt like they might settle into something manageable.
The space Aglaea used for her course was, categorically, exactly what Phainon expected. Soft lighting and clean surfaces, shelves lined with bottles and jars, all labeled in Aglaea’s precise handwriting. And, of course, the bed in the center. Basically, it was a spa like any other. At least, Phainon assumed so. He hadn’t really been to a spa before, not beyond dropping Cyrene off outside them.
He hovered near the entrance for a moment, glancing around. “So no one’s here today?”
“No one,” Mydei said, setting his bag down like he’d been here a hundred times before. “Aglaea gave me permission.”
Of course she did. She was the first person Mydei would’ve sent that horribly unflattering picture to, so she probably jumped at the opportunity to allow Mydei to restore life into his skin and soul.
Phainon stepped in, boots sounding louder than they should’ve. “This feels illegal.”
“I’ve borrowed the place before. It isn’t.”
“Then it feels like it should be.”
Mydei ignored that entirely and led him towards the back, into a small room behind a curtain. He nodded toward the bed in the center. “There’s a robe. Change into it, then lie down.”
Phainon followed his gaze. Then he looked at the spa bed again. “Will that even carry my weight?”
Mydei paused, then raised a brow at him. “It was fine when I used it when people practiced on me,” A beat. “And we both know I have more muscle than you, so you will be fi—”
Phainon shoved him out the door. “Out.”
There was a very brief silence, then a quiet huff from the other side that might have been amusement. Phainon waited a second, just in case, then moved quickly. Boots off. Shirt off, placed on the hooks on the wall. He hesitated at his pants, then frowned. He was pretty sure those were supposed to stay on. Mydei wasn’t a chiropractor. He slipped the robe over his shoulders, pressed the velcro together over his chest, and climbed onto the bed, testing it with a bit of suspicion before fully lying back.
It held.
“…Alright,” he muttered. He adjusted slightly, sinking into it, and only then did he really notice the smell of the place. It was nice, soft and floral, but not in an overwhelming way. It reminded him a little of whatever Cyrene always sprayed herself down with, except greatly toned down. Less like being attacked by a bouquet and more like just being near one.
Phainon exhaled slowly, staring up at the ceiling. Okay. This wasn’t bad at all.
The door opened again after a moment. Mydei walked in, pushing a small cart with him, already lined with bottles, towels, and things Phainon definitely did not recognize or utilize himself. “You ready?” Mydei asked, already reaching to dim the lights a bit.
Phainon blinked at that. “You’re committing to the atmosphere, huh?”
“It helps. You’ll thank me later.”
“…Sure,” Phainon said, settling back again. “Yeah. I’m ready.”
Mydei nodded and rolled the cart closer, the quiet clink of glass and plastic filling the space for a second. “Close your eyes.”
Phainon did, though he added, “If this somehow makes me break out—”
“It will not,” Mydei assured him.
“I’m trusting you.”
“You should.”
Phainon huffed softly but didn’t argue further, letting his shoulders relax into the bed. Then Mydei’s hand touched his face, gathering his hair back as he slipped a headband-like towel around his forehead and behind his ears.
Phainon swallowed, then let out a slow breath, tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding easing out of him. Or into him. He didn’t know how he was feeling other than eager.
“…Okay,” he admitted quietly. “This is weird.”
“I’ve barely touched you yet.”
Phainon suppressed a low noise. He wasn’t sure why that choice of wording got to him, maybe it was just the promise of Mydei touching him more, but he felt electric sparks fly up his back. It was not a good time for him to be lusting after his best friend. There was never a good time, and he always felt a little guilty, but Mydei was like a magnet, or a drug, or an ugly t-shirt Phainon knew he needed to have.
So what if he rushed home after the gym to rub one out to the thought of the man who was spotting him? That was his own business. Even if it happened every time. Besides, it didn’t mean Mydei reciprocated. Maybe that was for the best. What they had was solid, if not a little flirty, but that was another facet of their competitions.
Mydei turned to the cart, clicking on something. After a few seconds, warm mist began to hit Phainon’s face. There was the sound of an uncapped bottle, followed by the soft sound of a pump, preceding the faint scent of something like citrus.
“Alright,” Mydei said, his voice lower now, as though matching the dim light. “Step one is double-cleansing. Try not to flinch. And keep your eyes shut”
“I’m not going to flinch,” Phainon said automatically. Then Mydei’s fingers brushed against his jaw, and his vow immediately felt optimistic.
The cleanser was cool at first touch, spread in a slow, even motion as Mydei’s thumbs worked in small circles along Phainon’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Every stroke was methodical, unhurried, but firm enough to command his full attention. Phainon’s chest rose on a slow exhale he hoped didn’t sound as shaky as it felt.
“Pressure okay?” Mydei asked, running his hands over his wet forehead in careful, swiping movements.
“Mm-hm,” Phainon managed, though the sound came out more like a hum than real speech.
Mydei chuckled quietly, probably having caught the dazed tone. “You’d tell me if it wasn’t, Haikas?”
“Sure,” Phainon said. His hands were clenched in his lap under the robe, holding onto the last shred of dignity he could find.
Mydei dragged a warm towel across his face then, letting it sit before lifting the cleanser away, and for a second the world narrowed to that. Heat, scent, touch.
“See?” Mydei murmured. “You’re already relaxing. Told you it helps.”
He switched bottles, the faint click of the cap followed by a richer, creamier scent, something like green tea and earth after rain. Phainon didn’t open his eyes but he could picture it anyway, could almost see Mydei’s focused expression, the slight furrow between his brows that always appeared when he was concentrating.
The second cleanser felt warmer and softer. Mydei’s palms moved with slow precision, thumb tracing along Phainon’s jaw, fingertips sweeping down the sides of his throat. There was no talking now. Mydei seemed to fall into a practiced rhythm, and Phainon couldn’t bring himself to break it. His mind buzzed. The warmth of the large hands, the ghosting pressure of nails against skin. They were setting something alight in him. He wanted to stay still forever just to keep being touched like this.
Mydei’s breath brushed his cheek briefly as he leaned in to reach one side, and Phainon had to bite the inside of his lip. Every nerve felt tuned to the smallest movement.
Don’t get hard.
Another towel pressed to his skin, and the lingering oil slid away easily under Mydei’s patient movements. The cloth left his face flushed and clean, tingling where Mydei’s fingers had just been.
“Then, next is…” Mydei murmured to himself, not for Phainon to answer, just an absent note of preparation. Mydei paused mid-motion, voice breaking the soft rhythm of towels and water. “...should’ve asked this at the start,” he said, tone dipping toward sheepish. “Is the temperature in here okay for you?”
Phainon made a small, noncommittal sound, something between a grunt and a hum. The truth was, he hadn’t noticed anything beyond Mydei’s hands for minutes now.
“Alright,” Mydei continued, half a smile audible in his voice. “And do you want a blanket for your legs?”
Another grunt.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Mydei said, stepping away for only a moment. Something soft and heavy settled over Phainon’s legs, the faint rustle of fabric marking its placement before warmth began to build through it, another layer of comfort he didn’t need but also didn’t want to move to correct.
It was a no, Phainon thought, but Mydei’s quiet satisfaction at tucking the edges in made the argument feel like a breach of peace. Mydei lingered just long enough to smooth the blanket once more before returning to the cart, entirely unaware of how much space his absence had briefly left behind.
The quiet sounds of movement returned, bottles shifting, a lid twisting, the faint clink of something against the cart. Then came the scent of something faintly sweet and mineral, like sugar steeped in citrus peel.
“Exfoliant,” Mydei murmured. The word swam through Phainon’s half-focused thoughts before being replaced by the soft, grainy texture touching his skin. Mydei’s fingers worked in delicate circles across his chin and cheeks, using just enough pressure that Phainon could feel each fine grain move across the surface.
Don’t get hard.
Phainon breathed out through his nose, slow and even, fighting the urge to tilt into the motion. The warmth of the blanket at his legs added to the heavy calm flowing through him, grounding him even as his thoughts tried to scatter.
Without his sight, all of Phainon's other senses grew stronger. Somewhere above him, Mydei hummed under his breath, low and tuneless, the kind of sound he only made when deeply focused. It traced along Phainon’s nerves like invisible fingertips. He could feel that hum through the air more than he could hear it.
When the motion finally stopped, the soft drag of another towel followed, wiping away every lingering trace of the exfoliant. “There,” Mydei said quietly. “Like new.”
Phainon’s throat tightened so he said nothing, letting the silence answer for him.
“Alright,” Mydei said, voice low but steady. “Extractions next. And don’t start to squirm.”
Phainon swallowed, fingers curling into the fabric of his robe at his lap. “I won’t.”
“Good,” Mydei spoke softly, already reaching for the tool, a small metal extractor with a looped end. After a moment of doing something, a hand braced lightly on Phainon’s shoulder for balance as he positioned the loop around a clogged pore just beside his nose.
Phainon flinched hard. It fucking hurt.
Mydei snorted under his breath. “Relax your face or we’ll be here all night.”
Oh, shit. All night?
Wait. Stop thinking.
“I’m perfectly relaxed.”
“No, you’re not,” Mydei said flatly, switching to another spot near Phainon’s chin with slow precision. This one took more coaxing. He adjusted the angle carefully and applied pressure again until there was another quiet release. Another twitch down Phainon's body, one he couldn't hide even if he wanted to. Then came another few extractions along the ridge of his nose. They all followed the same pattern: gentle positioning… steady press... release, again.
Mydei sighed above him. “Cur semper tecum ita sum…” He spoke in Kremnoan. He obviously didn’t mean for Phainon to understand what he said, but the sound of Mydei’s mother-tongue always did… things to Phainon.
Mydei paused when he felt Phainon's shift on the bed. “Still alive?”
“Yeah”
“Good,” Mydei replied, setting aside the extractor. “After extractions comes a massage… you'll actually enjoy this part.”
Phainon just swallowed and nodded a little.
“Mm.”
Mydei’s thumbs pressed at the center of Phainon’s forehead again, slower this time, anchoring there before gliding outward in long, even strokes toward his temples. When he reached the sides, he lingered, working small circles into Phainon’s temples with steady pressure. Phainon exhaled, deeper this time, the sound leaving him before he could think to hold it back.
“Yeah,” Mydei murmured, almost to himself. “There it is.”
His fingers shifted, bracing lightly along Phainon’s hairline as his thumbs traced down along the sides of his face. Over cheekbones, then lower, following the natural line of his jaw. When he reached the hinge just below his ears, he pressed in gently.
Phainon’s breath hitched.
Mydei noticed that one. “Too much?”
“No,” Phainon said quickly, voice quieter than before. “No, that’s—fine.”
A soft hum of acknowledgment, and then Mydei adjusted, not easing off but refining the pressure. His thumbs worked slow circles just under Phainon’s ears, right where the tension gathered, before his fingers slid back—
—and tucked behind them. Mydei’s fingertips pressed into the space behind Phainon’s ears, massaging in small motions, working down slightly along the base until they met skull. It wasn’t something Phainon had ever paid attention to before, but now it felt like a switch had been flipped somewhere deep in his nervous system. His shoulders sank further into the bed.
“Relax your jaw,” Mydei said quietly.
Phainon hadn’t realized he was clenching until then. He let it loosen, lips parting slightly as he exhaled again.
“That’s it.”
Mydei’s hands moved again, one sliding under the base of Phainon’s skull while the other stayed braced at his temple. Then both shifted, cradling his head just enough to tilt it slightly to one side.
“Tell me if anything hurts,” Mydei added.
Phainon made a soft sound of agreement. Then Mydei’s fingers found his neck.
Firm, warm pressure pressed in along the side, starting just under the ear and working downward in slow strokes. His thumbs followed the line of muscle while his fingers anchored behind. Then Mydei shifted to the other side, repeating the motion, just as slow, just as thorough. When he reached lower this time, his hands didn’t stop at the neck. They continued, sliding to the tops of Phainon’s shoulders.
There, the pressure deepened.
“Alright,” Mydei murmured, more focused now. “This is where you’re actually having a problem.”
Phainon huffed faintly, but it came out weak. “I’m not—”
“You are,” Mydei cut in easily, thumbs pressing into the muscle where the neck met shoulder. “Hold still.”
As if he had a choice.
Mydei worked in slow, firm circles, digging into the tension built up along Phainon’s shoulders. His grip was steady. Never rough, never gentle either. The pressure bordered on uncomfortable for a second before melting into something else entirely.
Phainon sucked in a breath through his nose.
“Breathe, Haikas,” Mydei reminded him.
“I am.”
Another press, slightly deeper this time, and Phainon’s shoulders dropped further despite himself.
“Better,” Mydei said, quieter now. His hands moved outward along the shoulders, then back in, kneading and releasing in a steady rhythm. Occasionally his fingers dragged lightly up the sides of Phainon’s neck again before returning to the heavier work at his shoulders, keeping everything connected, fluid.
Phainon had completely lost track of time. Regretfully, Mydei’s hands slowed, then lifted from his shoulders, the warmth lingering for a second before fading entirely. Phainon exhaled quietly, something in his chest pulling tight in quiet protest.
“Don’t get too attached,” Mydei said, like he could read it anyway.
“I’m not,” Phainon muttered, though it lacked any conviction.
A soft snort. Then the faint sound of movement as Mydei stepped away again, back to the cart. Bottles shifted, something ceramic clicked lightly against another container.
“Mask next,” Mydei said.
Phainon, against his better judgment, cracked one eye open just slightly. He caught Mydei in profile, standing by the cart, scanning over the options with that same focused look. His fingers hovered over a few jars before picking one up, turning it to read the label, then setting it down again. Phainon shut his eyes before he got caught. That shouldn’t have been as endearing as it was.
There was a quiet hum before Mydei finally seemed to settle on something. A lid twisted open, followed by the faint, smooth sound of the product being scooped. “Alright,” Mydei said, returning to his side. “This one’s supposed to calm everything down after I just bullied your pores.”
“You did,” Phainon replied, glad that Mydei could admit it.
“I also improved you, for everyone’s sake,” Mydei corrected.
Then the first touch came back, different this time. Cool. The mask spread across his skin in smooth, even strokes, Mydei’s fingers moved gently as he worked it over his cheeks, his forehead, down along his jaw. It was thicker than anything before and it cooled wherever it touched, a sharp contrast to the lingering warmth in his skin.
“Try not to move too much,” Mydei added. “It needs to set.”
“Mm.”
Mydei finished along his chin, smoothing the last bit into place before stepping back again. “Give it a few minutes.”
Then. Hands. Not on his face or throat or collar this time. They settled back onto his shoulders, firm and warm, like they’d never left. Mydei eased back in, thumbs pressing into the tops of his shoulders, working into the muscle with slow motions. The rhythm came back easily, like he hadn’t paused at all. Phainon sank into it immediately.
“Still so tight,” Mydei muttered.
“You just—” Phainon started, then exhaled when Mydei pressed in again. “—worked on it.”
“Mhm. And it’s still tight,” Mydei said simply. His hands moved upward this time, sliding from shoulders to the base of Phainon’s neck, thumbs pressing in just beneath the skull. The angle shifted slightly, more precise now, working smaller areas instead of broad muscle.
Phainon went very still. Mydei didn’t seem to notice, as his fingers pressed in behind the neck, right where everything seemed to meet. Slow, steady pressure, held for a second before releasing, then repeating.
Fuck.
Phainon’s grip tightened faintly in his lap.
“Relax,” Mydei murmured again.
That was exactly the problem.
His thumbs pressed in again, just a little higher this time, a little firmer, and something in Phainon’s brain stopped. Every thought he’d had, every attempt at composure, snapped clean through under the weight of it. His breath left him in a quiet, unsteady exhale.
“Oh,” he groaned, barely audible.
Mydei hummed softly, like that confirmed something. “Yeah. Found it.”
Phainon didn’t answer. Couldn’t, really. Because now Mydei was alternating. Pressing at the base of his skull, then dragging his thumbs down along the sides of his neck before returning up again, keeping that same steady, grounding rhythm. And Phainon was gone. Completely, utterly gone under his hands.
He wasn’t sure whether it would be manlier to groan like it didn’t affect him at all, or to stay completely silent. Staying silent felt like denial, like he wasn’t acknowledging just how stupidly skilled Mydei was with his hands. But making noise felt risky, something Mydei might find distracting. Or worse, annoying.
Phainon swallowed, trying to hold himself somewhere in between. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like that decision was going to be his to make. Mydei pressed down on a particularly tender spot, and Phainon’s body betrayed him, a soft gasp slipping out before he could stop it.
Shit.
For a split second, he thought about correcting it. Swallowing it back, pretending it hadn’t happened, dragging himself back into something quieter, more controlled. But like a tormentor, Mydei pressed in again, right at the base of his skull.
A low, broken sound slipped out this time, closer to a groan than anything else, and he couldn’t stop it even if he tried. His fingers tightened in the fabric at his lap, breath catching unevenly as his head tipped back just slightly into Mydei’s hand.
“—there?” Mydei murmured thoughtfully.
Phainon didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
Thumbs worked that same spot again, slower now, dragging down along the sides of Phainon’s neck, only to return and do it again. Another sound spilled out of him, quieter this time but no less helpless.
“Bene factum,” Mydei said under his breath. “mihi bonus esto.”
Phainon’s jaw slackened despite himself, breath coming slower, heavier now. Every time Mydei pressed in, something in him reacted before he could think. It was humiliating.
It was—
Mydei shifted slightly, changing the angle just enough—
—and Phainon made a sharper sound, half gasp, half groan, his shoulders twitching under Mydei’s hands.
“Stay still,” Mydei said, not unkindly, but firm.
Phainon huffed out something that might’ve been a laugh if it had any structure to it. “You—”
Another press. His words dissolved completely, replaced by a strained exhale that broke at the end. He was so hard it hurt, shifting his hips in a desperate attempt to hide it.
Mydei hummed again, quieter now, like he was settling into it. Like he’d figured something out and was intent on following it through.
Phainon was losing this. Badly.
Every pass of Mydei’s hands pulled something else out of him, another breath, another sound, another crack in whatever composure he’d started with. His grip had gone slack at some point, fingers barely holding onto the robe anymore.
“Didn’t think you’d be this responsive,” Mydei said, almost absently.
Phainon managed a weak, “Shut up,” but it lacked any real bite.
Mydei didn’t.
If anything, his thumbs pressed in a little more precisely after that, like he’d taken it as a challenge. Phainon’s answer to that was another low, helpless sound, completely unfiltered this time.
And then it stopped. The pressure disappeared all at once. Mydei’s hands lifted. There was a shift beside him, then fingers at his jaw, catching at the edge of something.
Oh. Right. The mask.
Phainon felt it lift in one smooth pull. Not crackling, not flaking, just a slow, even peel, like something soft and set being lifted cleanly from his skin. It stretched slightly as Mydei pulled, thick enough to hold together, coming away in one piece. It was satisfying, the way it separated so cleanly, leaving cooler skin behind in its wake. Mydei took his time with it, keeping the peel even so it didn’t tear.
Phainon cracked an eye open partway through. Mydei was right there, leaning over him, focused in that way he got when he was working. Brows drawn in slightly, blond hair tied back.
Phainon watched him for a second. Then Mydei glanced down and caught him.
“Close your eyes.”
Phainon blinked at him instead, a little gone, then muttered, “But you’re taking forever.”
“I’m not rushing it just because you’re impatient,” Mydei said, unimpressed. “Hold still.”
Phainon huffed quietly but didn’t argue, letting his eye fall shut again. A few seconds later, the last of it lifted cleanly from his jaw.
“There,” Mydei said. “Done.” His hand stayed there for a second, thumb brushing once along Phainon’s cheek like he was checking the surface.
Mydei pulled away after that, efficient again now that the mask was off. The humming of the steamer machine cut out a second later, the soft hiss fading as he switched it off.
There was the faint clink of bottles shifting. “Last step,” Mydei said.
Phainon barely managed a hum in response.
Then Mydei’s hands were back on his face, and—fuck—that was different again.
The moisturizer spread easily under his fingers. His palms moved over Phainon’s cheeks, thumbs sweeping along the sides of his face before gliding up toward his temples again, like he couldn’t quite help but turn it into another massage.
“Still with me?” Mydei asked, quieter now.
“Mhm.”
“Barely,” Mydei concluded.
Phainon didn’t argue.
Mydei worked it in properly, not rushing it, fingers pressing in just enough to make sure it absorbed, tracing along his jaw, his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose. His touch drifted lower for a second, smoothing along the sides of Phainon’s neck before returning upward again.
Phainon’s fingers twitched faintly against the robe as he carefully moved his thighs. Hopefully Mydei would walk out to let him change again, and he’d be able to adjust himself alone.
“Don’t start dozing off,” Mydei said.
“I’m not gonna—”
Mydei’s thumbs pressed lightly at his temples. Phainon’s words fell apart.
“Right,” Mydei murmured. He finished a moment later, hands slowing, then easing off completely. Then he reached over to the wall and turned the brightness back up.
Even through closed eyes Phainon felt it, the dim warmth giving way to something clearer. He blinked a few times as he opened them, vision taking a second to catch up, the room coming back into focus in pieces instead of the soft blur it had been before.
“…Too bright,” he muttered.
“You’ll live,” Mydei said.
Phainon squinted up at the ceiling, still adjusting, when the blond moved again. And before he could stop him, Mydei leaned over him, reaching across his body.
“W-Wait–Uh–”
The blanket shifted, then lifted, pulled away in one smooth motion as Mydei stripped it off without much thought. The sudden loss of weight and warmth made Phainon’s body react immediately, a subtle tensing he couldn’t quite hide.
Mydei stared directly at the incriminating bulge under the robe.
Silence stretched, brittle as Phainon’s breath stalled in his chest, searching Mydei’s face for a sign of any reaction, anything at all. But Mydei didn’t move. He just looked, kept looking, and straightened up, arms crossing over his chest.
“Um,” Mydei said finally, voice flat but low, dangerously close to amused. “Guess you really liked the facial.”
Phainon opened his mouth, but the use of that word was really starting to bother him. Or make him harder. Nothing came out but air and shame.
“I—wasn’t, I mean—it’s not like I tried to get this way—”
Mydei held up one finger, not even glancing his way as he turned back toward the cart, already tidying up with sharp little flicks of his wrists.
“Don’t,” he said simply. “Don't explain it, Haikas.”
Phainon froze mid-stammer.
“You’re human,” he muttered. “Even if you pretend otherwise sometimes. I know what touch can do.”
Phainon sat up, pulling the stupid towel off his hair. “Wait, seriously, I didn’t… I’ve been losing my mind since you offered at the library, okay? I’ve just been on edge all week and that proposition was the breaking point.”
Mydei glanced back at him, eyes narrowed. “What proposition? When I offered you a facial?”
“Y-yeah,” Phainon stammered. “That. That was a lot to think about, all of a sudden.”
Mydei snorted, tossing a used towel into a bin with unnecessary force. “You’re telling me that sent you spiraling like this? Titans, Haikas, what kind of fantasies have you been feeding yourself all week?”
Forget the past week, Phainon had months of fantasies about Mydei. Mydei pressed into the backseat of Phainon’s car, tasting like the overly sweet cherry slushies he secretly liked. Mydei muffling himself with a hand while Phainon reached over into his lap, the last time they’d gone to the movies together. Mydei on his knees under the table in the study room they sometimes reserved, Phainon’s hands buried in his hair.
So he couldn’t bring himself to say that it was a physical reaction. That it was the nearness.
It had always been him.
“I didn’t— It wasn’t just you saying the word, Mydeimos. But I’ll agree that your hands are disarmingly good at this.” Phainon muttered, avoiding eye contact as he tugged the robe tighter around his waist.
“Oh?” Mydei turned fully now, leaning back against the cart with one eyebrow arched high. His smirk was slow-burning and infuriatingly smug. “So it’s not just magical skincare turning your brain to mush?”
Phainon didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The flush creeping from his neck up into his hairline said everything.
Mydei pushed off the cart and took one step forward, then another, until he was close enough that Phainon could see the tiny flecks of gold in his irises beneath the harsher light. “You know,” he sighed, voice dropping low again, the same tone he’d used when talking himself through familiar steps. “if you wanted my hands on you this bad, you could’ve just said so.”
Phainon swallowed hard. He looked for sincerity in those golden eyes, but he needed it said out loud.
“I’m not following.”
Mydei stepped back, grabbing a fresh water bottle from his bag and tossing it at him without warning. “Hydrate first,” he said flatly.
Phainon uncapped the bottle as asked, bringing it to his mouth. Only when he began doubling did he realize that the steam had done a number on him, and he really was thirsty. He finished it in no time, wiping the droplets off his lip. His eyes darted up as he caught Mydei watching silently.
…He needed to say something before his brain melted completely. He needed to change the subject.
Mydei beat him to it.
"Come over here."
There was no mistaking the intention behind it, and Phainon found himself moving before he could talk, slipping off the bed and standing on shaky legs.
He crossed the small space in just a few steps and stopped right in front of him, fighting the urge to fidget when Mydei tilted his chin up again.
“Can I touch you?” he asked.
What?
“What?”
“I wanted to help you relax. That was the point of,” he gestured at the room around them. “all of this.”
“I know that.” Phainon’s voice cracked slightly. But he still nodded.
Mydei reached for his arm, turning it so the inside of his wrist was exposed. His touch was warm, thumb skimming over the sensitive skin. Phainon inhaled sharply without meaning to, and he couldn’t help the shudder that followed when Mydei leaned forward on the exhale. Then everything in that room narrowed—the scent of him, the sound of his breathing, the heat in his body.
“Deliverer. Can I touch you?” Mydei repeated.
Phainon grabbed the hand on his pulse point, steadying himself for what he knew he had to say.
“I want you to put your hands on me. But I need you to know that it’s not enough for me. I haven’t been greedy like this before, but I want whatever you have to give. I want you so badly I think I’m crazy sometimes.”
Mydei’s skin wasn’t immune after all. High on his cheekbones, a red flush began to form, complimenting his tattoo. “It was yours all along. If you paid any attention, you would've noticed.”
So Phainon did the only thing he could think of. He leaned in and kissed him.
Mydei inhaled sharply through his nose, eyes fluttering shut for a second before he leaned into it with bruising pressure. His hand came up to cradle the back of Phainon's head as he tugged him even closer, his other arm sliding over his waist to pull their bodies flush. Phainon stumbled slightly, caught off guard, but Mydei caught him easily and deepened the kiss.
He tasted faintly like the sweet coffee. Phainon chased the flavor without any preamble, licking into his mouth with a ragged sound as Mydei tugged at his hair.
Phainon gasped into the kiss when Mydei tugged harder, his scalp burning in the best way, hips jerking forward instinctively. He could feel Mydei’s smirk against his lips—the smug bastard—and it only made him push closer, pulling Mydei’s hands to undo the damn white robe still hanging off one shoulder.
Mydei broke the kiss with a slow, wet pull of their mouths, both of them breathing hard. He kept Phainon close, forehead resting against his, eyes dark and blown wide.
“Greedy now?” he murmured, voice rough like gravel wrapped in velvet. “Wait till you see what I’ve been saving.”
Phainon didn’t have time to ask what he meant, because Mydei dropped to his knees in one smooth motion.
The robe fell open fully as he knelt there between Phainon’s thighs. His fingers hooked into the belt loops of Phainon’s pants and he tugged, enough to make him step forward. One glance up before undoing the zipper and button: gold eyes sharp with promise.
“Relax,” Mydei whispered. “I told you—I know what touch can do.”
He pulled the boxers down without ceremony and took Phainon deep into his mouth in one slow slide, sucking like he’d been starving for it all week too.
The sharp inhale above him dissolved into a shuddering moan, Mydei’s name said in a half-broken gasp.
He pulled off completely with a slick noise, hand taking the place of his mouth as he sucked in a ragged breath. He didn’t move for a moment, just looking up at Phainon and memorizing the way he looked. Mouth red and eyes dark, flushed down to his chest and trembling without any support to cling to, other than Mydei himself.
In a different context, maybe Mydei would’ve taken his time making him squirm, but he only tightened his grip on the base of the cock, thumb swiping over the slit just to hear that broken whimper again.
Phainon’s eyes just couldn’t leave Mydei’s face, the way his lips parted, how his lashes fluttered when he dragged his tongue up slowly, teasing the underside before taking it deep once more. He’d only ever dreamed of the sight.
“You’re already leaking,” Mydei remarked, and the words were still low, but his tone was amused. Like Phainon was a science project.
He pulled off with a wet noise. Phainon opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he was about to say died on the tip of his tongue when Mydei pressed an open-mouthed kiss just above his thigh. Phainon’s breath hitched, his thighs trembling as Mydei lingered there, lips teasing the sensitive skin like a promise. Then he moved back down with agonizing slowness, swirling his tongue around the head before sinking down again, his hand working the long shaft in rhythm with his mouth.
Phainon’s fingers finally found their way into Mydei’s hair, pulling the elastic out. He fisted blind locks gently while his hips twitched forward on instinct. And Mydei, who he was starting to suspect had just as many fantasies as he did, looked up at him slyly. With his grip sliding over Phainon’s thighs onto his sides, he tugged, causing Phainon to fuck into that wet heat just once.
“—Mydei,” he whispered when he steadied himself, pleading without meaning to. “I won’t last long this time.”
A low hum vibrated around him in response. Mydei pulled back with a little cough.
“Then make it worth my while. Fuck my face.” He didn’t even look up when he said it. Maybe he already knew the effect he’d cause, so he just kept his hand steady on Phainon’s hip, fingers pressing hard enough to leave bruises.
And it was that look he wore. The quiet challenge in the set of his jaw, the tilt of his lips still slick and swollen. It shattered whatever restraint Phainon had left. He gripped Mydei’s hair tighter and pushed forward with a shaky thrust into that perfect heat. Mydei took it without protest, gagging slightly but not pulling back, and instead hummed again, low and greedy around him as if he meant every word. As if inviting him deeper inside.
“You asked for this,” Phainon panted, voice breaking as he started moving in earnest. Shallow rolls at first, testing the waters, then deeper when Mydei opened wider for him. His hips stuttered each time he hit the back of that throat, the wet noise unbearable now, the sound of his want made physical.
Mydei responded by sliding both hands onto Phainon’s ass and pulling him down harder onto each thrust, one hand even giving a sharp squeeze when he tried to pull out too far.
There was no rhythm anymore. Phainon couldn’t speak, he could only gasp out syllables between moans.
“I’m close—I’ll—”
But instead of stopping or slowing, Mydei tightened around him with one final suck, and licked down on the length before pulling off entirely. Phainon cried out and came hard as his orgasm hit, painting those full lips. Mydei didn’t move away from it, opening his mouth inviting warm strands painted over gold-touched skin even as Phainon’s hands tightened in his hair:
He leaned forward to take the tip into his mouth, sucking through every pulse until Phainon was drained and shaking on unsteady legs. Only then did Mydei pull off slowly, licking his lips like he savored every drop.
Then slowly, with deliberate impassivity, the blond ran his thumb over one cheekbone where a ribbon of cum painted him. He looked up through those thick lashes again. Then, finally:
“Still want that facial?” he asked.
Phainon let out a broken laugh, breath still uneven, legs trembling like they might give out at any second. “I’ve been holding my breath for months,” Phainon admitted quietly. “Didn’t know what I’d do if you said no. And look at you now.”
Mydei huffed as he finally stood up. “You should’ve asked sooner,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“How was I supposed to know? If it was any clearer that you reciprocated, I wouldn’t have settled for my palm after the gym, you know.”
“You’re disgusting.”
Phainon smiled, latching onto Mydei’s hips to prevent him from turning away. “And you like me. What does that make you?”
Mydei rolled his eyes. “Miserable. Come here.”
“I’m noticing you're kind of a brat,” Phainon murmured, wrapping his arms around Mydei’s waist.
"Haikas, are you going to deny me when I've done nothing but try to be nice? You're impossible," he complained, his thumb sliding over Phainon's bottom lip like he was memorizing every detail. Admiring his own work.
Phainon leaned into the touch unconsciously, mouth opening just enough to suck in that thumb. Mydei inhaled a little sharply, the sound barely audible. Phainon’s grip on his hips tightened. He bit into the thumb as Mydei pulled it out.
“I think I want that facial after all,” he declared, smirking. “do you have any availability?”
Mydei let out a scoffing sound. “You're lucky I happen to be free,” he replied, leaning in for a kiss.
The kiss was deep and slow, like Mydei had grown possessive in a way that made Phainon’s stomach do a flip. Mydei tasted like salt now, his tongue sliding against Phainon’s like his perfect match. When he pulled back just enough to speak, his voice dropped low.
“Lie down on the bed.”
Phainon raised an eyebrow but turned and did as asked. It was weird being on it without any form of clothing or covering to speak of, but Mydei soon joined him, taking his rightful place standing behind Phainon’s head.
“Scoot a little farther up,” he said, beckoning Phainon closer. Phainon did as asked again, until his head was hanging off the spa bed, neck still supported by the plush headrest.
Mydei leaned over, adjusting something until the bed squeaked and lowered. Phainon came to eye-level with the tent in Mydei’s joggers, looking up at its owner expectantly.
“I’ve never heard of a treatment this intimate.”
Mydei's smirk widened. “Mhm. This is a special treatment, exclusive to my worthiest client,” he explained, hand trailing down the palm himself. His gaze stayed locked on Phainon’s, watching every reaction as he placed the other hand next to Phainon’s head. He stepped forward, until his knees brushed the edge of the bed. “You should feel privileged.”
"I do," Phainon replied. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips in anticipation.
"Good," Mydei rumbled, voice thick with intent. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his joggers and slowly pushed them down just enough. He was freeing himself, letting Phainon see exactly what he was about to take. It throbbed slightly at the base as it sprang free, flushed dark at the tip and already glistening with want.
Mydei gave a lazy stroke to the shaft and leaned in closer, bracing one hand beside Phainon’s head again. He gave a final glance at the position, ensuring it looked safe. Once he was satisfied, he locked eyes with Phainon.
“Open,” he demanded.
And when Phainon obeyed without hesitation, Mydei slid forward into that warmth, one smooth glide down until his hips met soft lips, and let out a low groan.
“Fuck... knew you'd be good at this.”
Phainon's throat strained, eyes nearly rolling back at the new sensation. “Mmf.”
His fingers went white gripping the bed, his lips hollowing; he felt completely exhilarated at the way he could draw small shudders of pleasure from Mydei as the man made good use of his mouth. He’d keep Mydei here forever, if he could, enveloping him in a haze of pleasure and steam. He wasn’t touching himself, but it felt almost as good as the previous act had.
Mydei moaned as Phainon tightened around him, throat fluttering in a way that made his hips jerk forward on instinct. He braced harder against the bed, knuckles whitening as he fought to keep control.
“Look at you, Deliverer,” he muttered darkly, watching Phainon take every inch without protest. “Swallowing my cock like you were made for it.”
One of his hands slid from the bed to cup Phainon’s jaw, fingers pressing gently. “That’s it,” he breathed. “feels so….” He pulled out slowly and watched himself glisten before pushing back in with a shuddering gasp. His hips rolled forward on instinct, chasing that heat.
Phainon could practically feel his pulse thundering in the tip, and could feel Mydei’s hands trembling. The man was close. He pulled off slowly, tongue tracing along the underside in a trail, watching exactly how much it took to make Mydei come apart.
"Fuck," he said once he'd found his voice. "Mydei, you taste so good."
Mydei’s hips bucked forward on instinct. A low groan tore from his chest, something desperate beneath all the facade of control he tried to keep. “Phainon—“ he gasped. The hand on Phainon’s jaw tightened as he pulled him back onto his length in one smooth thrust. Phainon could feel how close he was, could sense how Mydei would cum down his throat with any thrust, now.
But he wasn’t lying when he said he wanted that facial. With a final little suckle and a smooth pop, Phainon let go, reaching back his hands to stroke quickly.
“Sweetheart, please cum for me,” he begged, fixed in concentration.
“Sweetheart?” Mydei parroted, voice breaking on the word like it was a sin. His hips stuttered. “You don't get to call me that now and expect—”
But then Phainon squeezed just right, thumb swiping over the slit, and Mydei shattered. With a guttural groan he came hard across Phainon’s face, one hot stripe after another painting pale skin, some catching over his cheeks, others sliding down toward the edge of his lips.
Mydei leaned down until his forehead rested against Phainon's, still trying to catch his breath.
“Look at you,” he said after a moment, voice rough as gravel. His thumb swiped the edge of Phainon's lip, catching the last of his release. “You look good like this, but my hard work on your skin was all pointless.”
Phainon sat up and pushed himself off the bed, turning Mydei around and guiding him down to the bed’s edge in a swift movement. Mydei went with it, the muscles in his chest jumping as he tried to keep his expression neutral. Phainon ignored him, stepping closer as he settled between his spread knees.
He swiped a thumb through the mess across his face, bringing it to his mouth. He sucked the pad into his mouth, tongue circling with quiet indulgence before pulling it free with a soft pop. “Tastes like you,” he murmured, voice low and velvet. “Still hard… still want you,” Phainon leaned in closer, one hand grazing up Mydei’s thigh. “Let me have another round, please?”
“You're asking for a lot today,” Mydei said in response, leaning back on his elbows. He tilted his head back on a shrug.
Phainon's fingers hooked under the hem of Mydei’s shirt, tight, barely containing that sculpted torso. He tugged up slowly. “Let me see you,” he murmured, voice thick with want. “All of those pretty red tattoos. I know they go everywhere. Let me worship them.”
His thumbs brushed just beneath the fabric, feeling the heat of his skin, the ripple of muscle as Mydei exhaled sharply, his cock starting to fill up again, matching Phainon’s own want. “Come on,” Phainon whispered. “Humor me. I know you can finish one more time for me.”
Mydei let out a low, rough chuckle, golden eyes darkening as Phainon’s hands crept higher. He lifted his arms just enough and let the shirt be pulled over his head. The moment it was gone, Phainon devoured the sight of crimson tattoos that coiled over his chest, down his abs, curling along sinewy thighs and powerful arms.
It was like the Titans themselves had carved those markings. Yet here Phainon was: breath catching at the sight of them.
Mydei shifted slightly, the newly revived length of him twitching against fabric as Phainon's palm flattened against warm skin above one hipbone.
“Do you want me to last longer this time?” Mydei murmured, arching a brow. “Or do you just want another mess on your face?” He leaned forward close enough for their breaths to mingle
“Is it too much to ask for both?” Phainon breathed back, leaning into the touch. He pressed a few kisses against the underside of Mydei's jaw as he spoke, lips trailing down along the line of his throat. “You've given me something to keep me going,” he whispered against golden skin. “So let me return the favor.”
“And here I thought you were always the selfless one.” Despite the edge in his voice, Mydei couldn't quite hold back the shiver that ran down his spine at each kiss. His fingers curled at his sides.
Phainon slid his hand lower, slipping beneath the waistband of Mydei’s joggers until his fingers brushed hot skin, already half-hard, already twitching at the touch.
“Mmm, so responsive,” he murmured against Mydei’s throat, biting down lightly before pulling back to watch him. He stroked slowly, one hand gliding up the ridges of taut abs, the other wrapping firm around Mydei’s length, pumping with teasing precision. “But I don’t want to rush this,” He shifted closer between Mydei’s thighs. “I want you shaking. Want you spilling over me… onto me.”
With that, he leaned in and pressed their bodies flush, bare chest to bare chest, tattoos smudging against pale skin as their cocks aligned: slick tip to tip. Phainon rolled his hips forward with a low groan. He started slow, grinding into Mydei with shallow circles, precum leaking between them both as their rhythm built.
They exchanged breaths and bitten-off moans. Mydei braced a hand behind him on the bed, head tipping back
“You really are insatiable,” he gritted out as Phainon twisted his grip just right while grinding down hard.
Phainon watched as the man's breath grew shaky, the beautiful way his chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, his heart thudding almost loud enough to drown out their harsh panting in the small room. He leaned in even closer, lips hovering just above Mydei's ear, voice a velvety whisper in the hot and heavy air.
“You have no idea,” he admitted. He could die right now and be happy with how he’d gone out.
“Fuck, faster. Go faster,” Mydei demanded, his hips arching up off the bed to press closer, sending a jolt of pleasure through each of Phainon’s nerve endings.
He nodded as he began to pick up the pace, angling his hips just right to drive over and over into that needy heat, as Mydei tried to match his movements. They sighed into each other’s mouths, alternating between pecks and needy noises. Mydei was always jawdropping, but this was a side Phainon got all to himself. He leaned in so their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling. “Dei, so good… Gonna cum soon.”
He could feel the way it was beginning already, the tension coiling low in his stomach again, like a spring pulled too tight and about to snap. He chased the high with his hips and hand, though it was impossible to fully wrap his fingers around both of their members.
“Phainon—“ Mydei reached between them, fingers curling around their lengths where Phainon couldn’t reach. His wrist twisted in quick, jerky strokes while his face buried in the crook of Phainon's neck, teeth sinking into his shoulder. “Gonna—“
And just like that, Mydei found his release. A shudder ripped through him as he came between them, sticky streaks painting Phainon’s stomach and cock with reckless warmth. His thighs trembled as Phainon worked him through it, approaching his own orgasm.
“Don’t you dare stop,” Mydei growled against damp skin, biting again before lifting his head to lock eyes with Phainon, golden gaze hazy but still sharp with command. “Finish it.”
He didn’t have to say it twice.
Phainon moaned at the sight, or the feel, or just the sheer possession in Mydei’s voice even in surrender. He redoubled his pace, grinding desperately against that spent heat. Every slide was slicker now, every thrust sending sparks up his spine.
He dropped one hand back to brace on the bed while the other kept working them both and then a cry tore from him as pleasure detonated low and bright behind his ribs.
Warmth pulsed over Mydei’s still-twitching length and stomach, a second joining the first, and their mingled breaths turned ragged as they rode it out together. Their hips jerked uncontrollably until there was nothing left but trembling flesh and quiet panting in a room thick with steam.
Mydei exhaled sharply through flared nostrils, a sound almost like laughter. His chest rose and fell fast as he tried to regain his breath. “You’re gonna pay me extra for that,” he muttered. Affectionately.
Phainon smiled against sweat-slick shoulder. “That would only be fair after you took such good care of me.”
Mydei rolled his eyes, but his mouth curled up in a gentle smile. He looked down at the mess they made, growing red again. “You’re spoiled, you know?” he said.
Phainon laughed. “I had a lot of tension to relieve. I’m sorry if that made me an unruly client.”
“No. It was well worth it,” he Mydei agreed, leaning over to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to Phainon’s shoulder blade. Both a wordless thanks and promise for many more exclusive treatments.
Phainon walked into the library with a lot of pep in his step. He had not gone through with the idea of bringing Mydei two coffees. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to win the unspoken competition, far from it. He had just realized, while staring at the dessert menu, that there had been a better option.
“Here,” he said, sliding a box and a cup over to Mydei as he sat down next to him.
The library was barren now that midterms were over. Even Dan Heng had made himself scarce somewhere in the back, supposedly reorganizing the shelves.
“This is..?” Mydei asked, staring at the little white box.
“Open it and find out for yourself,” Phainon replied, leaning back with a small, expectant smile.
Mydei shot him a look. “If this is another one of your kitchen experiments with pre-workout, I am not eating it.”
Phainon scoffed. “You wound me. I have excellent taste.”
“That remains to be seen,” Mydei muttered, but he opened the box anyway. Inside was a delicate pomegranate tart. The crust was golden and crisp, cradling a smooth, pale cream filling. On top, glossy ruby seeds had been scattered in careful clusters, glistening like little jewels. A light glaze had caught along their surfaces, and a faint drizzle of syrup had traced thin lines across the top.
Mydei paused, his expression softening. “You remembered.”
Phainon tilted his head. “I remembered a lot of things.”
Mydei huffed out a quiet laugh, picking up the fork. “And the coffee?”
“I figured I’d repay the favour,” Phainon said, nudging the cup closer. “I was not completely reckless with the order.”
“Shocking.”
“Careful,” Phainon added, watching him. “You were starting to sound fond of me.”
“Don’t push your luck.”
But Mydei had already taken a bite. He went still for a moment, then hummed, low and thoughtful. “...Alright. This is good.”
Phainon grinned. “Just good?”
“Very good,” Mydei corrected, though he did not look up, already going in for another bite.
Phainon’s eyes tracked downward then, slow and unhurried. Down Mydei’s throat as he swallowed, to the line of his chest, and further still, all the way to his lap.
Phainon bit his lip.
“Hey,” he said suddenly, voice dipping just slightly, “need a helping hand?”