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This wasn't his sort of hotel by any stretch of the imagination. Indeed, the kitschy "rustic" cabin, complete with splintering picnic table and surrounded by redwoods with low branches growing into the roof, shouldn't even inhabit the same universe as his sort of hotel. He even felt sorry for his car, taking it to a place like this--as ever, when he parked next to that ridiculous cabin, a tree immediately began shedding needles across the immaculate paint job.
Still, this sorry excuse for a woodland paradise was not without its benefits. It was, after all, exactly Wright's sort of hotel. Phoenix had always been fond of that warm, homey, cheap look. But more importantly, as encroaching as the redwoods were on this particular cabin, the building was in nearly complete isolation.
Pulling the key from the ignition, he glanced at Wright. Phoenix had been uncharacteristically quiet the whole drive from Kurain to the "resort", silently watching the passing scenery when not asleep. It wasn't something Edgeworth was likely to admit, but he missed Wright's terrible passenger behavior: his misguided attempts at backseat driving, his nervous glances at the speedometer, his irritating and childish habit of calling Miles' attention to out-of-state license plates. Even now, as Phoenix reached for his bag in the backseat, Miles could see the strain of an undeniable tension in his shoulders and arms.
Miles had not been entirely surprised when Wright "casually mentioned" the idea of coming out here for a weekend. Even when first seeing Wright in the airport two days ago, he'd noticed a higher-than-usual ratio of rueful half-grins to lazy, contented smiles, and he'd been severely annoyed to find that Wright's mood was compromising their usual banter. Matters had apparently become dire enough in his absence that even Mr. Hat felt it necessary to insist Miles take Wright on vacation.
Bizarre as they were, these vacations little resembled anything Mr. Hat had in mind.
As Wright stepped out of the car and gave an exaggerated stretch, Edgeworth smirked. "You forgot my suitcase, Wright," he called.
Phoenix turned back and grinned. "Have you forgotten the terms of your own contract, Mr. Edgeworth? You're on your own until we're through that door."
He managed to muster up a scowl for Wright's benefit as he grabbed his bag, but the return of some of Wright's usual charm was a welcome sight.
Perhaps he spent a little too long locking up his car and fumbling with the cabin's key, but Wright had seemed distracted enough to permit a little time for preparing some excuse to start roughing him up. Yes, maybe Edgeworth had always played the part of the perfectionist a little too well, even in what he couldn't help but think as--no matter how much Wright wanted it--beating his boyfriend, but he hated to do anything poorly.
Eventually, Wright leaned back against the doorjamb and just smirked at him. "You're stalling, Miles."
"I am trying to prepare myself for those appalling gingham curtains," he said irritably as he finally went to unlock the cabin. As he opened the door, his arm brushed lightly against Wright's stomach, and he felt Phoenix tense. He narrowed his eyes at Wright. "As little as you seem interested in it, please remember that you do have a safeword."
Wright only gave a short laugh and stepped back into the cabin. "And maybe one day, I'll actually need it. But with you... I kind of doubt it."
Stepping forward, well into Wright's personal space, Edgeworth set down his bag and locked the door behind him. Then, just as methodically, he turned back to Wright, pulled off that ridiculous hat, and tossed it aside.
"And maybe one day," he said casually as he gripped the spikes on the back of Wright's head and yanked him harshly down, "You'll stop making such obvious bluffs."
Wright was obviously unprepared for the move, and he fumbled to keep his balance, falling to his knees with a loud thud. As bruising as the fall had sounded, Phoenix only shook his head before smirking up at Edgeworth again. "I'm amazed you forget how many times you've lost at cards, Miles. You wouldn't know a blu--"
The sharp crack of Miles' backhand startled them both, and Wright trailed off with a soft curse, apparently no longer interested in provoking Edgeworth. Reflexively, Wright rubbed his jaw where he'd been struck, but Miles knew--given his worrisome amount of experience in pulling blows--that the slap had been more loud than painful.
"Enough of that, Phoenix. If I wanted you to embarrass me, I'd take you out in public." Gaze flickering over Wright's tense body, he was amused to see that Wright was predictably half-hard already, cock pressing no doubt uncomfortably against his jeans. Moving closer to rest his hands on Wright's shoulders and place his foot between Wright's knees, Miles began gently pressing his leg against the bulge. Though Wright looked tempted to hump against it like some common dog, he managed to hold himself silent and still as he watched Edgeworth.
"Now, it's been a long drive," Edgeworth continued, using his grip on Wright to make him rock against his leg, "and I don't care to be interrupted later. Quit lazing on the floor like a mongrel in heat and go to the bathroom."
The words seemed to take a moment to sink into Wright's more-addled-than-usual brain. When they finally did, he frowned up at Edgeworth and shook his head.
"No, it'll be all right. I won't interrupt anything." From his glazed expression, it was abundantly clear Wright was still concentrating on Edgeworth's leg and not the conversation.
This predictability of Wright's was almost charming. Edgeworth dug his fingers into the tight muscles of Wright's shoulders, pressed him firmly downward as he shifted his leg upward. It was a gradual move, and Miles smirked as the noise of Wright's panting breaths turned slowly from aroused to agonized.
Finally, Phoenix struggled against him with a desperate and pained plea. Though he was fighting to pull away, Edgeworth could feel Phoenix' erection was harder than when the pressure had been pleasant. Miles stopped forcing him down, but held the uncomfortable pressure steady.
"I'm sorry, Phoenix. Did something in my tone cause you to believe that I was merely making an idle suggestion? I assure you, that was very much an order, and loathe as I am to repeat myself, I will for your benefit: I do not want to be interrupted. I do not want you to be in any discomfort, save for what I choose for you. I do not want you to be distracted. So, please," he finished, pushing Wright coolly away, "Go to the goddamn bathroom."
He kept his expression dispassionate as he watched Wright falter before standing, and walk unsteadily to the bathroom without a word. Although he tried to hide it, keeping his head bowed placatingly as he went, Edgeworth could see that Wright was heavily flushed. Whether it was from irritation, arousal, or embarrassment--and it was likely that ideal mix of the three--didn't matter. It was often so troublesome to get Wright into that submissive mindset he seemed to need on these trips, and Edgeworth was pleased whenever he could throw Wright off balance so easily.
With Wright in the bathroom--no doubt just standing around seething before flushing the toilet only to appease Miles, but it was the intention that mattered--Edgeworth went quickly to work. Moving the suitcases from where he and Wright had so carelessly tossed them, he pulled a blanket from his own. Fastidiously, he tucked it over the hotel bed's existing sheets. His hurried explanation, when Wright had first caught him packing his own sheets to go on vacation, was that there was nothing more deplorably filthy than hotel sheets. But he knew Wright had always understood the real reason. Just the thought of someone else having to wash sheets after he and Wright were done with them was unbearably mortifying.
At first, Edgeworth ignored Wright when he returned to the room. Though he was pleased with the way Wright knelt without prompting at his side, he had more important matters to attend to--namely, obsessively smoothing the blanket. Miles smirked as he tucked the corners meticulously. It was always entertaining to hear Wright struggle to suppress annoyed complaints and impatient sighs. When he was satisfied, Edgeworth turned back to look down at his indignant lover and ruffled his hair condescendingly.
"I'm going to excuse myself now," he said, smirking at Wright's under-the-breath 'oh, come on.' "When I come back, I expect to see you naked, on your hands and knees in the middle of the bed." Giving Phoenix a light shove to get him moving, Edgeworth headed for the bathroom. Before closing the door, he added casually, as if it were an afterthought, "Oh, and Phoenix. Difficult as this may be for a desperate slut like you, do try not to jerk off or 'accidentally' hump anything. It's distasteful."
Door closed, he sighed. He couldn't help feeling absurd delivering such hackneyed lines. The things he did for that idiot...
Leisurely, he washed his hands and face before taking off his shirt, folding it precisely. Removing his shoes, socks, and belt, needlessly adjusting his hair--he made sure to take plenty of time. Once he felt Wright would be reaching the point of developing convenient memory loss about the parting order, he grabbed the belt and returned to the bedside.
Despite nearly tripping over Wright's hastily-discarded pants, he couldn't help feeling a sharp shock of arousal at both Wright's position and his obedience. Amazingly, somehow the impulsive 'let's-think-about-the-consequences-later' creature had managed to follow orders. Quietly holding position, he didn't so much as turn when Edgeworth entered the room.
Still, Edgeworth mused as he ran an appreciative hand down the long muscles of Wright's back, Phoenix could do with a bit more training. Without warning, Edgeworth curled his hand into a fist and struck Wright viciously in the shoulder. Immediately, Wright lost his balance and crumpled forward, sprawling stunned on the mattress as he moaned.
Putting his arm around Wright's neck in a tight chokehold, Edgeworth wrenched him up. "Do you honestly think I should put up with your slovenly behavior on vacation?" Miles hissed, holding Phoenix unyieldingly as he struggled to push away for air, "Your clothing may be trash, but I don't enjoy tripping over it." Dropping his hold suddenly, Miles stood back as Wright gave a hoarse cough and rubbed his neck.
"Pick up your things, Phoenix," Miles ordered, crossing his arms.
Though Edgeworth doubted his furious act was remotely convincing, Wright still glanced cautiously up as carefully stepped from the bed. Still seeming astonished--yet distinctly pleased--by Edgeworth's move, Phoenix started for his clothes.
Edgeworth stopped him with a warning hand on his throat.
"You presume too much. When did I ever say you could stand up?" He could feel Wright swallow, nervous and aroused, under his palm. "Hands and knees, if you will," he said, stepping away and crossing his arms again.
Phoenix slowly went down, watching Edgeworth warily, and crawled to where he'd strewn his clothes. Sitting back on his heels, he did what appeared to be his best attempt at folding. Miles nearly sighed--it was a pity this wasn't actually a lesson in housekeeping. It was appalling that a man of Wright's age still did not know the proper technique to fold a pair of pants. Having gathered the clothes, Phoenix held them awkwardly and began trying to walk on his knees to where Edgeworth had put the suitcases.
"I said hands and knees, Phoenix. Pay attention."
Phoenix paused mid-stride, looking aggravated and torn. Edgeworth could almost hear the thought process: the realization he'd likely have to carry the clothes in his mouth, the accompanying thought that he couldn't possibly hold everything like that, the confusion on how many trips he was allowed to take.
"You're a smart boy," Edgeworth said, tapping his arm impatiently, "Hurry up and figure it out."
At least Wright understood Miles wasn't willing to wait all day. Cautiously, Phoenix held himself in an awkward half-bowed position, fumbling to get the clothes to balance on his back. Somehow, he managed it. Miles smirked at Wright's self-satisfied grin, and watched him start to crawl to the suitcases.
When he was halfway there, Edgeworth interrupted again.
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
He could almost feel the irritation coming off of Wright in waves.
"Shoes, Phoenix."
As ridiculous as Edgeworth felt saying these things, Wright looked several times more absurd trying--clumsy with frustration--to keep the clothes on his back steady while getting his shoes up with them. He quickly gave up on that tactic, and Edgeworth had to give him credit for only hesitating a moment before taking a shoelace from each in his mouth. It took him some time, moving slowly as he held his back still, holding his head high to keep the shoes from knocking against his arms, but he did get to the suitcases without anything falling.
Neatly stacking everything on his own bag, Phoenix attentively knelt beside it when done. Though he was blushing fiercely, and while--even at this distance--Edgeworth could see that Wright's motions had inadvertently resulted in a line of sticky precome getting wiped onto his stomach, he glared up at Edgeworth with an irate expression which clearly said, "Is that all, your Highness?"
Edgeworth ignored it. "Good job," he said, in the sort of disinterested tone he'd use on a waiter. "Now, get up on the bed again."
Despite his annoyance, Wright clambered eagerly up onto the mattress and back into position. Watching the firm lines of Wright's muscles flex as he shifted to splay his knees further apart, to arch his lower back--just begging for it, Edgeworth thought, mouth going dry--made Miles realize that, only two days back in the country, he had not yet had the opportunity to properly reacquaint himself with Wright's body. Still, it wouldn't do to inflate Wright's ego. Reaching into his bag, Miles pulled out a length of dark cloth and looped it loosely around Wright's head. He tied off the blindfold carefully.
"I intend that to be comfortable," he said, smoothing the cloth where it pressed against the bridge of Wright's nose, "I trust it is?"
He was unsurprised that Wright's answer was so breathless. "Yeah. Er, yes. It's perfect," he whispered in a tight voice. Wright had always possessed such an absurdly deep weakness for being blindfolded.
"Good," Edgeworth said, fussing over the cloth one final time. "Now, I don't particularly desire to restrain you today, Phoenix, so I will trust you to only take what you're given. Don't thrust back, or, god forbid, beg for anything. It makes you look cheap." Drawing his hand along Wright's spine, curving down to stroke his fingers over Wright's tense ass, he laughed. "Though we both know you are."
Phoenix bowed his head and groaned, his body shaking from the effort of not pressing back against the tease of Edgeworth's touch, brushing maddeningly light from tailbone to balls. He seemed a little less than thrilled when Edgeworth pulled away altogether.
Sitting back, Edgeworth idly rubbed a hand over his own clothed erection and just admired Wright. While the man's brain could be lacking at times, he'd always had a simply gorgeous body. Miles had been with other men before Wright, but never had he considered himself capable of being so completely enamored with one individual. Wright's broad shoulders, his lean stomach, that thick cock... Edgeworth was completely taken with him from the beginning, to a degree he found embarrassing when he allowed himself to think of it. Even now, he loved nothing better than to spend a night slowly mapping the inhumanly-sensitive skin on the inside of Wright's thigh with his tongue; to take that dick into his mouth limp, and work Phoenix gradually in a languid, hours-long blowjob; to just give in and blush madly as he pressed his face close to Phoenix' armpit, breathing the thick, sharp scent of his sweat.
Physically, when they first got together they evenly matched--whatever Phoenix lost in eating those deplorably sodium-laden noodle dishes, he made up for by not owning a car--and some nights their foreplay consisted entirely of a violent, usually bruising, wrestle for dominance. But since Wright had lost his badge... Well, if Edgeworth had ever been worried this would result in Wright becoming sedentary, he was proven quite wrong.
His attraction was only moderately tempered by jealousy--though he was admitably more than vain enough to stay fit, constant international travel wasn't exactly an ideal lifestyle. Wright had not only been spending part of the last three years lifting crates of grape juice (even through that ratty sweatshirt, Miles could see the ripple of muscle that showed for it whenever Wright displayed his old nervous habit of rubbing the back of his head), but he'd become increasingly loathe to waste money on public transit. Edgeworth stroked deliberately down Wright's leg, from the curve of his ass to his ankle, quietly savoring the feel of Wright's taut thigh, his hard calf muscle. Fuck, did Wright have the body to show for all that bicycling.
Keeping his hands on Wright light and teasing, Edgeworth found it necessary to clear his throat before speaking. "I'm sure you're aware," he said, kneeling close enough now to brush his erection against Wright's tensing thigh, "that you have an amazing body. Tell me, what are your PTA meetings like? Should I be envious about ravenous packs of lonely divorcee soccer moms?"
Wright's laugh was low and breathy. "Please. They look at me like I came in off the street."
"Oh, I'm sure not all of them. I can just imagine: handsome, attentive single father, wheeling his Bianchi in to the science hall... Surely, you've had some looks."
"Well, maybe, but... Come on, Edgeworth. You bought me that bike."
"Only as you seemed to have sorry enough luck to wreck your old one. Besides," he added, leaning forward to sharply bite the lobe of Wright's ear, "I like all my possessions to appear at least halfway respectable, and you happen to look good on it."
Phoenix snorted, sounding amused and cocky. Miles grinned, brushing a parting stroke down the back of Wright's leg.
"I do know, however, that you have at least one admirer," he said, sounding bored, as he surreptitiously reached for the belt at their side.
Oblivious, Phoenix was still smiling slightly as he shook his head. "You're really going to make me regret mentioning Trucy's math teacher, aren't you?"
As silently as possible, Edgeworth pulled the end of the belt through the buckle, fashioning it into a loop. "I wonder..." he mused, pausing as he slid the makeshift collar over Wright's head. He ignored Phoenix' questioning murmur and continued calmly, "Would the charming Ms. Gina Metry still ask you on one-on-one parent-teacher camping trips, should she see you on your knees, begging for a cock in your ass?"
Edgeworth pulled the slack from the belt, and Wright fingered the band of leather curiously before replying. "Actually, it might still make talking about long division less awkward."
"I'm not certain about that, Phoenix. Perhaps when she saw how responsive you are," he said, almost clinical in the way he tapped the damp head of Wright's cock with two fingers, "how ridiculously hard you get from being told to pick up your dirty socks, she might be even more tempted to drag you out in the woods for some private tutoring."
He was somewhat surprised that the only response he got out of Wright was a pleading moan--brief as the touch had been, he knew Phoenix was desperate for any stimulation. Smirking, Edgeworth deliberately stroked a finger firmly down the underside of Wright's cock. Sure enough, the action shook Wright's resolve. With a curse, he thrust his hips mindlessly toward Edgeworth's fleeting touch.
Just as quickly, Phoenix was gasping ineffectively for air, hands instinctively tearing without success at the belt around his throat.
"However, it appears you have a number of lessons you need to learn here. I just told you to take only what you're given, and you immediately do this--you start rutting like a whore."
Edgeworth slackened the belt again, watching as Wright finally got a hand underneath the leather as he collapsed, pulling it loose to cough and catch his breath. But even as he lay panting and gasping for air, Wright made no move to actually take the belt from around his neck. Unsurprising, Miles felt, given how thoroughly he'd enjoyed that chokehold.
Nevertheless, Edgeworth was wary of using the belt too roughly--at least in this fashion. Once Wright had slowly shifted back to kneel on all fours again, Edgeworth again held the belt taut, but short of choking.
"Tell me, after acting in such an unbecoming fashion," he said, forcing his thumb suddenly into Wright's tight ass, "Do you think you deserve to be fucked?"
It was hard to tell if Wright was whimpering about the intrusion or out of desperation, but from the way he arched back pleadingly and clenched around Miles' pressing thumb, Edgeworth had his suspicions. Grinding his hand more forcefully against Wright's body, crooking his thumb to drag hard over Phoenix' prostate, Miles gave the end of the belt a warning jerk.
"I asked you a simple question, Phoenix, and I'd rather not repeat myself."
Moaning, Wright shook his head. Obviously, there was no correct response to the question, and Wright ultimately tried a frantic "Edgeworth, please."
Miles yanked at the belt again, forcefully enough to wrench Phoenix back, but not holding it long enough to choke him. "Don't be so pitiful. Please, what?"
"I..." Wright trailed off nervously, tensing as Miles thrust his hand viciously once more.
"Phoenix, you're far more articulate than this. 'Please,' what? 'Please fuck me, Edgeworth?' Is that all you're struggling so pathetically to say?"
"God, Edgeworth... Yes, okay? Just fuck me--hell, choke me already, you--oh, come on, Miles," he pleaded, sounding on the verge of sobbing with desperation. Calmly, after Phoenix' stumbled demand, Edgeworth began slipping the belt from around Wright's neck. Though Phoenix attempted grabbing at the leather, and he sounded well-prepared to plead a case for leaving it on his throat, it was far more amusing to hear Wright swear as he pulled it--and his hand--easily away.
Choking Wright wasn't what he was planning when he brought the belt in the room, and now he used it as he'd intended. This was exactly why they had to rent this abysmal cabin. Wright could be astoundingly loud, and his language...
He idly fingered one of the three marks, already welting heavily on Wright's upper thigh. Beneath him, Wright made a broken, sobbing moan.
"You really should be more careful. Did you think there weren't going to be any ramifications from trying to influence my actions?"
When Wright only shuddered beneath him, he slapped him sharply across the welts.
"Augh, fine, I'm... Shit, Miles, stop it. Fuck, I'm sorry."
It wasn't much of an apology, but Edgeworth leaned over Phoenix and gently massaged the back of his neck, musing his hair. "Good boy," he muttered. Wright seemed to just stop short of shrugging off his patronizing touch.
"Obviously," he began, glad for Wright's fetish for being blinded, as it was impossible to deliver lines like these without wincing, "Your behavior leaves much to be desired. On the other hand, I was pleased that you finally revealed the fact that, despite your appearance, you get off from menial cleaning." He gripped roughly at Phoenix' neck, and yanked at him. "So turn around."
It wasn't as if Phoenix was exactly coordinated to begin with, but he fumbled more than usual as he rushed eagerly to follow the order. Edgeworth smirked as Wright knelt in position before him, rubbing his face blindly against Miles until he was pressing needily against his erection. Wright was so close; Edgeworth knew he'd likely come without being touched.
Coldly, he pushed Wright back. "You could show some restraint," he scolded, unzipping his pants and pulling them down slightly. As he thought, Wright was a bit far gone to listen to orders, but he let Wright crawl back to nuzzle against his cock through his boxers and soak the fabric with his panting breath and demanding tongue. He had to bite his lower lip to maintain his composure and not thrust forward. Though Miles was certain Wright hadn't always been this good at fellatio--certainly not through a layer of fabric--but he'd had so many opportunities to practice. Phoenix knew exactly what Edgeworth liked: that maddening way he'd suck hard at the head, the slightest hint of teeth through the fabric...
When Wright started to pull at the band of the boxers with his teeth, trying to yank them down with only his mouth, Edgeworth snorted with amusement and shoved him away. Predictably, Wright just moaned lowly and tried to press close again. Miles pulled back, held Phoenix still with a hand to his shoulder, and slapped him firmly in warning.
"Will you just wait one damn second, Wright?" he asked, falling short of making himself sound even remotely irritated. It was always so difficult to keep up this act, with Wright so endearingly enthusiastic. Phoenix even whimpered as he held back, licking his lips as he waited attentively. Smiling slightly at Phoenix' eagerness, Edgeworth carefully pushed his boxers down over his straining erection.
It was tempting to just let Wright have at it, do whatever he pleased--it always proved to be such an enjoyable time for both of them when he did. But if it was subjugation Phoenix wanted, Miles was certainly going to do his best to provide. As he handled Wright roughly, forcing him into a position with his head awkwardly bent, he asked--again glad for the blindfold, as he became flustered even thinking of the words--if Wright really wanted to be choked.
He could tell by the way Wright shuddered, forgetting what little control he had and pressing close, that Phoenix knew exactly what he meant. "Yes. Fuck, Miles, yes."
Keeping his hand firmly gripped in Wright's hair, Miles held the base of his cock with his other hand and guided himself into Wright's mouth. Immediately, Phoenix was moaning around him, like he would come just from finally getting a cock in his mouth, his tongue flickering rapidly on the underside as Edgeworth pushed deep.
It wasn't an easy angle, and Wright was only able to take him comfortably with a very shallow thrust. Heedless of Phoenix' gasping, Miles pushed forward and pressed hard against the back of Wright's head, forcing him, gagging, to take the intrusion.
It wasn't meant to be comfortable.
Edgeworth wondered absently if he ought to feel guiltier about enjoying this: the tight clenching sensation of Wright's throat choking and coughing around the head of his prick; the way, after Edgeworth cruelly pinched off his ability to breathe through his nose, he struggled more desperately for air, hands clenched at Miles' thighs. Wright's mouth was increasingly wet and sloppy as Miles thrusted, drooling helplessly from gagging so heavily. As Wright began to panic, fighting more fiercely against the harsh grip--hands scratching and pushing at Edgeworth's thighs--Edgeworth gave one final, ruthless thrust against the back of Wright's throat, and abruptly let go.
He'd been prepared for the way Wright pushed away, heaving and wheezing for air. He'd been prepared for the way Wright collapsed, coughing wetly. He was not prepared--and neither was Wright, if the surprised, cough-broken low groan he gave was any indication--for the way Wright's hips jerked reflexively only once, and the way he came, suddenly and violently, across the blankets.
Stunned--he'd thought Wright was close, but not on the edge of an orgasm like that--Edgeworth instinctively reached out to brush the sweat-damp hair from Wright's face. Reluctantly, he just managed to hold himself back. While it may have been an intense orgasm, Wright slumped boneless and trembling in the pool of his own come, they'd done this often enough for Edgeworth to know that often an orgasm like that still wasn't enough for Wright.
He sat awkwardly, watching Wright's back heave, waiting for him to make some motion beyond panting harshly. Enough time passed for Edgeworth to nervously move closer, convinced he'd injured Wright, before Phoenix finally stirred. Wincing as he rolled on to his side, Phoenix curled away from the cooling mess. Though Wright seemed well enough, Miles couldn't resist reaching out then, stroking his hand firmly--a move he knew Wright easily took as either affectionate or possessive, as his mood demanded--down Wright's side.
"Well, Phoenix?" he asked quietly, slightly amused at Wright's complete exhaustion. Perhaps, he thought, it had been enough after all. Tired as Phoenix seemed, he started to go for the blindfold, but Wright shifted against him.
"Fuck, that was..." he started, only to trail off. Apparently, even Wright didn't have adequate words for the experience, and--as if to make up for his sudden lack of vocabulary--he rolled quickly back to his knees.
Letting Wright fumble to bow his head and try going down on Edgeworth's now half-hard dick, Miles only allowed Phoenix to get in one good suck to the head before he forced him roughly off, again. Phoenix groaned in disappointment.
"Miles, what the hell? Please, I'll do anything. Please, please just let me finish sucking you off," he begged frantically. Though the pleading was as flattering as ever, Edgeworth winced at the too-rough edge in Phoenix' voice.
But Phoenix seemed happy enough for a choking victim. Despite that orgasm, Phoenix had plenty of energy for attempting to escape Edgeworth's grip, apparently determined to suck Miles off whether he liked it or not. Smirking, Miles held him easily away.
"No. I told you earlier--" Phoenix tried ducking from Miles' arms, and Edgeworth paused to lean over his back, smacking him hard across the bruising welts. "Stay still. I told you earlier, I'm not dealing with your disgusting messes. Clean it up."
Wright paused, head held at a comical tilt, calculating. "Is this some game to see how competent I am at getting a towel blindfolded, on my hands and knees? Because I can tell you right now that would take all night and..." the rant trailed off suddenly. Phoenix went still and flushed, belatedly realizing exactly how he was meant to 'clean' that particular mess. Taking the opportunity to grab his hair, Edgeworth roughly shoved his face to the sticky blanket.
Balking, Wright fought to pull away. "No. No way. You can't be serious."
Edgeworth paused for a moment, but kept holding Wright firmly. He personally thought it was a little... excessive, certainly. He didn't know if he was serious, himself. Yet he felt as if Wright had asked for repeat performances of acts which were far more unusual. Additionally, Wright always seemed to complain about the same thing in the morning. Constantly hearing the phrases "You're too proper about it, Miles. You're supposed to upset me," and "You could press me a lot further, you know," was getting old.
So--trying for insensitive, pushy, improper jerk--he pressed Wright's head forcefully towards the lukewarm come. "Given how much you're always whining for a mouthful of ejaculate, I fail to see the basis of your hesitation. But if this is so repugnant to you, Phoenix, you know exactly what to say."
Phoenix paused, and Edgeworth wondered, worried, if he'd finally gone too far this time. He'd finally done it--Wright would actually need to use the safeword, and Edgeworth nearly pulled back with a hasty, embarrassed excuse. But ultimately, all Phoenix did was tilt his head and say, with all his usual bravado, "You promise to stop being such a prissy cock-tease, and actually let me suck your dick after this?"
He smacked the back of Wright's head. Idiot. "I don't think you're in any position to bargain," he said, grinding Phoenix' face into the sticky mess.
He could feel Phoenix hesitate for another moment before he submitted, and slowly began licking away the evidence of his own release. Though he had also thought it an unusual demand, and though he could tell from Wright's expression that he certainly found it a less-than-appealing experience, Edgeworth couldn't help but feel strangely aroused by the sight. He realized he wasn't the world's best sadist. Sure, he enjoyed any excuse to get Wright moaning beneath him--or, almost better yet, getting him to properly fold laundry. But rarely was he particularly aroused by injuring or humiliating Wright. This, however. This was undeniably appealing, the way Wright blushed so furiously as he lapped the mess up, the shiny gloss of come catching in his stubble.
When Wright had cleaned the majority of it--the blanket was more damp with saliva than with semen, but he continued to obediently swipe his tongue over the spot--Edgeworth nudged him gently.
"All right," he said, surprised at the sudden huskiness of his own voice, "I believe that's adequate."
Still deeply flushed, Wright tried keeping his head bowed, but Miles harshly tilted his chin up. "Your face is simply coated in semen," he commented, lazily swiping his thumb over Wright's stubbly jaw, "It's a look that suits you." When he passed his thumb across Wright's lips, he had to swallow back a groan as Wright, without the slightest hesitation, opened his mouth to draw in Miles' thumb and lick it clean.
"Whore," he said affectionately, stroking his thumb over Wright's tongue as he drew it slowly out.
He shook his head, trying not to let Wright break what little control he had here. It was difficult, with Phoenix groaning low and disappointed like that, and licking at his still-sticky lips so shamelessly. Shifting to kneel closer, Miles threaded his fingers gently in Wright's hair.
"You know, as entitled as you seem to believe you are, I should hardly agree to this," he muttered as he pressed his cock to Wright's lips.
To his surprise, Wright pulled back slightly. "No. Please... I want you to do it like before."
Gripping those dark spikes harder, forcing Wright into that impossible position, he wanted to wonder why Wright craved this sort of treatment. But, as familiar as he was with this aspect of their sex life, and as intensely aroused as he was, all he could think of was his need to thrust deep into that hot, talented mouth. Absently, he knew he'd feel guilty about this later, but for now, his only concern was feeling that tight clench of Phoenix' throat.
As he forced Wright's head down, felt Wright swallow eagerly, he could only manage to brokenly gasp (surprised, even as he said it, at his own language), "You--You kinky slut."
Wright just moaned in what sounded suspiciously like agreement, and when Edgeworth shuddered, Phoenix began humming lowly, deliberately teasing.
It was good, and he knew he'd come soon from it, but Miles wasn't doing this for himself. A little more pressure, and abruptly the sound was cut off.
That feeling of Wright gagging hard against him was almost enough to make him need to close his eyes and thrust blindly. Shaking with restraint as he watched Wright carefully, Edgeworth wondered what was wrong with himself. Getting off on danger was Wright's problem, not his. But the sensation of Wright's ineffectual gasping, of his saliva slowly trailing from his mouth and down around the base of Edgeworth's cock--it was all so erotic, and so intrinsically tied to Wright's illogical, unshakable trust in him.
He felt alarmingly close. Wrenching Wright back again, he let him catch his breath in long, frantic, shaky gasps before leaning forward, crushed a biting kiss against Wright's already-bruised lips. He all but growled that he was about to come, and he was not going to be pleased if Phoenix lost any of it, as he didn't wish to spend all night watching Phoenix lick a blanket.
Forcing Wright down one more time, he pumped his hips in long strokes, no longer nearly as concerned with Wright's distaste for oxygen as he was with his own pleasure. Wright was encouraging and enthusiastic below him--Edgeworth was constantly wondering what he'd done right in life, to find someone who adored sucking cock as much as Wright--and Phoenix began moaning again, creating those steady, amazing vibrations that made Edgeworth's breath catch.
It was all over in an unsurprisingly short time. Thrusting too deep one last time, Miles pushed Wright's head roughly down into the motion, and Wright--apparently no longer expecting that treatment--coughed heavily and helplessly against the intrusion as Edgeworth came. When Edgeworth's hand immediately slackened against his head, he pulled back flushing, seeming upset from having failed Edgeworth's last order so miserably, his face an even greater mess than before.
Coughing again, flecking the sheets with semen, Phoenix cleared his throat a final time as he slumped exhaustedly against Edgeworth's knees. For some time, all Edgeworth could only find the energy to throw his arm over Wright's shivering back, but when he finally looked down to see Wright collapsed, fatigued and content, he grinned. The blanket (and for that matter, he and Wright) were a horrendous mess, but it was an acceptable loss. With a wince, he moved away--Wright apparently oblivious enough to not even notice--and awkwardly pulled his pants and boxers completely off, stretched a little to try and work out the strain in his lower back. Sure, a bout of rough sex was great now and then, but sometimes he wondered if it really need be this hard on his clothes and spine.
Aiming for a non-sticky kiss, he eventually settled on brushing his lips against Wright's forehead before removing the blindfold. "We're absolutely unsightly," he said, not expecting much of a response. "I'm going to run a bath, and so help me, you're taking one. I don't care if I have to throw you bodily into the tub."
Wright just yawned and made an idle move that might have been a shrug, but could as easily have just been a sleepy nuzzle into sweat-drenched sheets. Wishing he could lounge around passing out while people ran him baths, Edgeworth reluctantly left Phoenix, heading to scrutinize the resort staff's cleaning job on the bathroom fixtures.
A few minutes later when he went to fetch Phoenix, he was not entirely amused to have to perform several juvenile acts--such as trying to yank the blanket out from underneath Wright's body--to get him off the bed. Still, it was nothing shocking to essentially carry Wright to the bathroom. By now, Edgeworth realized that after a scene such as that one, Wright was usually as cooperative and competent as a bag of wet sand.
Not as if he was ever terribly more so, Miles mused as he carefully steadied Wright to negotiate them both into the water. Wright mumbled something unintelligible as he tried to lean against Edgeworth, who promptly scowled and prodded him into leaning forward so he could wash his back.
"Honestly, tying you up outside and using a garden hose would be more effective," he said, "barring, of course, the fact that it would likely get you off."
Though he felt Phoenix laugh a little under his hands, for the most part Wright remained lethargic and unresponsive. Just as well: while he was off wherever he went in that strange spiky head of his, Edgeworth could wash the thin film of sweat off his skin and studiously inspect the extent of the damage he'd inflicted. The first few times they had done this, Wright's total quiescence had startled him (indeed, it took what had to be the most awkward conversation of his life with the only expert he knew in these matters--his sister--to be certain that such a response was entirely healthy), but by now, for the most part, he appreciated the opportunity to collect his own thoughts.
Although, after what they had just done, he soon found himself wishing Wright was back to dithering on about his idiotic poker games, PTA meetings, or the more annoyingly sensationalistic episodes of Nova already. As he dabbed cautiously around where he'd struck Wright on the shoulder--he could tell it would be an unsightly bruise in the morning, and regretted not pulling the blow--he wished he didn't possess such a strong imagination. Despite his earlier conviction to not feel guilty, despite his intimate knowledge of Wright's body and limits, and despite his obsessive need maintain a current CPR certification, he couldn't help considering the worst case scenario of what he felt could have happened.
He was well into the part of his future where he was calling Maya Fey from death row, telling her she'd have to take care of Trucy because he'd asphyxiated Phoenix Wright with his penis, when Wright finally yawned widely and stretched in a move that resulted in a nauseating percentage of his joints popping.
"Wright--"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. 'If you never crack another knuckle again, I'll die a happy man,'" Phoenix said. His voice was nasal and still too rough for Edgeworth's comfort, but he suddenly seemed much more lazy, aggravating, idiotically contented--in short, more himself--than he'd been for days.
"Hmph." He tried to ignore the new series of cracks that accompanied Wright's experimental roll of his bruised shoulder. "How do you feel?"
"Like you came in my sinuses."
"You have such a way with words when you try."
"Uh... Unfortunately, I'm serious. Can you, ah--"
Closer to the tissue as he was, Edgeworth wordlessly reached out to grab some to pass Wright.
"Oh. Well, I... Um, I apologize about that," he managed to say, wringing out the cloth again, returning to his gentle washing of Wright's back. "But if you do that disgusting throat-clearing thing, I can promise you now that we will never come out here again."
For a moment, Wright paused as if he was going to argue, or just go ahead and try the throat thing anyway, but he eventually settled for carrying out the longest, loudest, and most overly dramatic act of blowing a nose Edgeworth had ever heard.
"Please tell me you weren't aiming when you threw that, Wright."
Shrugging as if to say 'Well, I'd like to see you do any better,' Phoenix flopped back to lean against Edgeworth, heedless of his protests. Edgeworth could only sigh and shift his position, resting against the back of the tub, tangling his legs comfortably with Wright's. When Wright moved to kiss him, Edgeworth playfully shoved him away to roughly scrub his face.
Laughing the entire time, Wright's smirk could still be felt through his kiss. "You know, Miles, you're pretty prudish for a guy who makes folks eat their own come."
Edgeworth blushed heavily. Even if he'd kind of done just that, Wright really shouldn't say such things. "Please don't make it sound as if it's my career, Wright. But if you honestly have any complaints, well... Now's the time to make them," he finished severely. If they were going to do this, they may as well continue to do a proper job of it, and Wright's input was crucial.
Phoenix just smiled in his infuriatingly lazy way. "Complaints? Honestly, Miles--that crazy shoe thing? You were inspired tonight. Thanks." He paused, looking blank for a moment, as if formulating something more to say. Finally, he tilted his head to give Edgeworth a calculating, inquisitive look. "You know... Being in control is kind of what you do, Miles, and you do it well." At his scrutiny, Edgeworth had to look away, relaxing only when he felt Wright rest his head on his shoulder once more.
"You probably didn't have to do your whole 'how can this situation become the most disastrous event of my life' thing," Wright added, "But still..."
For a moment, Edgeworth faltered in his idle washing of Wright's arms, panicking. He had no idea what to say or how to react, should, god forbid, Wright apologize. As articulate as he might be, there was no way he could say all those things he'd agonized over so many times: the fact that Wright's demands weren't that unusual in the scheme of things, that as much as he may worry it was always enjoyable on some level to do this for Wright, that all this was the least he could do--because he should have been there in that damn courtroom.
Then again, maybe Phoenix was correct. Maybe he did worry too much. As, ultimately, the completion of Wright's thought was an eloquent snore.
Splashing Wright, watching him startle and grin stupidly, pretending he'd been awake all along, Edgeworth had to smirk. "Really, Wright. I'm inexplicably compelled to do a great many things for you, but even I draw the line at drowning you in a bathroom with wood paneling."