Phoenix Wright's office was small. No…that wasn't the right word. His office was minute.
His knuckles rapped sharply on the windowed door. The glass was frosted with bold, black letters declaring the name of Phoenix T. Wright, Defense Attorney. There were a few scratch marks and a ghost of the name Mia Fey, the late lawyer holding the office prior to the upbeat rookie and his various…assistants. He waited impatiently for a few minutes before knocking quite soundly, noting with a small amount of satisfaction that there were now noises of stirring from within.
He couldn't blame them, really. It was 7:00 at night. He hadn't really expected to be met by anybody, and rather had planned to simply leave the folder under the door, but it seemed as though his luck was intact. What—rather, who—greeted him, however, was certainly a surprise.
"E-Edgeworth…? What are you…?"
"Hello, Wright."
"I…it's…why…"
"Clearly you are as eloquent outside of the courtroom as you have demonstrated yourself to be within trial. May I come in?"
"Y-yeah, sure. Um, sorry it's so messy. I wasn't exactly expecting anybody."
The truth was, Miles Edgeworth could have simply given him the folder at the door and made his way out on his own quite sufficiently. However, he had held a certain curiosity about his rival from their first trial together, and couldn't pass up the opportunity to see Wright in his natural habitat. What he saw within the office, unfortunately, was no shock to him. While it was obvious that Miss Fey had kept the office in utmost order, Phoenix had had his way with the space. Papers were scattered haphazardly, dirty coffee mugs sat, forgotten, on the desk… Edgeworth sighed. How anybody could produce such fierce preparation for court in a veritable sty was beyond him.
"You left this in the lobby after the trial today. It isn't exactly…decisive evidence, per se, but you should be sure to take care not to act so carelessly." He waved the manila folder with an air of indifference.
"Oh! Uh, wow. Thank you. You can set it on the desk there. Coffee?"
It was clear to him that the defense attorney was out of his element having his rival in the office. Phoenix was hastily fumbling with the coffee maker, cursing quietly as it seemed determined to thwart his efforts to entertain. Truth be told, Edgeworth was much more of a tea man, but he was enjoying the discomfort he caused the other attorney. It was frustrating to him that Wright's luck drove him to win cases with a confident visage.
Phoenix was dressed in a simple pair of gray sweatpants and white socks that were twisted on his feet. The man's hair was mildly disheveled, causing a few wan spikes to fall alongside his face. It framed his complexion nicely, and Edgeworth briefly considered commenting on it before dismissing the notion. Although he did enjoy bringing out the bumbling fool hiding within Wright, he didn't want to give him the wrong impression. Edgeworth was not there with the intention to make a new friend.
A few graceful steps carried him to the couch. It was an interesting piece of work, as it didn't quite match the contemporary décor of the rest of the office. The frame was of fine mahogany, though the nicks and scratches marring the grain proved that it had certainly seen better times. The couch was finished with black leather and seemed as though it might fold out into a futon, and the small assortment of laundry kicked underneath, as well as the pair of glasses and assorted toiletries collected on the side table, spoke volumes as to what the couch was used for. He sat gingerly, absently running his fingers over the arm rest. Surely Wright didn't…didn't sleep here?
Two mugs of coffee were set on the side table (next to the toothbrush, behind the glasses) and Phoenix flopped onto the couch next to Edgeworth. His limbs spilled comfortably across the black surface and he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. It seemed as though waiting for the coffee to brew had allowed him a bit of time to regain his composure, and this displeased the prosecution. It was clear that he had awoken the man from a sound nap, and he decided to use it to his advantage.
"Wright."
The man jumped. "Yeah?"
"Surely your salary provides adequate resources to live elsewhere than your office?"
Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Ah, well, I wasn't actually paid for Larry's or Mia's defense, and I missed my rent twice because of it. My landlord was really mad about it, so I moved my couch here and sold most of the rest." He threw his arm casually over the back of the couch and shrugged. "It isn't so bad. Besides, with the fight you put up in court, I probably would have had to start sleeping here anyway."
Edgeworth narrowed his eyes at his rival. It was a compliment, he supposed, and a bit of a relief that Wright's big breaks in court weren't entirely the result of dumb luck. His eyes traveled down the defense attorney's body, scrutinizing the man. He was muscular, but not overly so. His suit and tie made him seem a lot bigger. He snorted.
"Er, Edgeworth?"
Phoenix was squirming. He realized that his gaze had made the man quite nervous, and he smirked, driving his intimidation home. "Yes, Wright?"
"Well, I don't mean to be rude, but uh, why…why are you here?"
"Am I making you…uncomfortable?"
The response was immediate. "No!" And then, bashful: "Er, well, I mean, I'm kind of glad for the company. You just never seemed to be the, ah, well… The um—"
"Company type?"
"Er, yeah, heh."
He made a show of getting comfortable. He hadn't intended to stay for this long, but although he wouldn't admit it, he was, in fact, enjoying the other man's presence. He liked Wright, was often jealous of his spark. His troubled past had formed him into a man uncomfortable with close relationships, but it wasn't to say that he didn't want at least a few. He supposed he could call Detective Gumshoe an acquaintance. There seemed to be…potential here, however. He wondered if forging a tentative friendship (something more?) with his biggest rival was a good idea.
"Perhaps not. However, we are only human, Wright, no matter what kind of robot you might think I am."
Phoenix chuckled, then. It was a deep, warm sound, and Edgeworth found himself drawn to the comforting noise. He watched as the defense shook his head and grabbed the two coffee mugs. "Robot? You think of the strangest things sometimes. Here, your coffee is getting cold."
The mug was lukewarm and contained black coffee. A whiff of it made his sinuses tingle, and while Wright was content to chug the bitter beverage, Edgeworth set his on the floor, out of the way. "Perhaps I was wrong to listen to the gossip, then. After all, rumors are just rumors, I suppose."
Phoenix was trying particularly hard to contain his mirth, but the flush on his cheeks and his quaking shoulders told otherwise.
"What are you laughing at, Wright?"
"You could be the Steel Attorney!"
"…"
"And I'll be the Evil Defense, thwarting you at every turn!"
Edgeworth stared at him in disbelief.
"Aw, come on. Not even a tiny smirk? A smirklette?"
"A…a what?"
Phoenix pivoted easily, his pajama pants providing no resistance against the leather of the couch. His head landed neatly in Edgeworth's lap, causing the man to visibly tense, and the dark-haired man slid into an easy grin. "You know, Worthy, you really should loosen up once in a while. It might do your health some good."
"I'll have you know, Phoenix Wright, that I am quite sufficiently loose."
Another snort of laughter erupted from the rookie lawyer. "Oh, believe me, the rumors have that pretty well covered too."
"What are you talking about, Wright?" Edgeworth's tone could have frozen the sun solid.
Apparently, Phoenix noticed this. His body tensed immediately and his eyes widened as he realized his mistake. "Well, that is, I mean, you're an attractive guy, and all. It's only natural that—"
"Attractive, Wright?" A comfortable smirk curved his lips. Now this was an interesting development, indeed. Naturally, the man could have simply been repeating what he'd heard, but Edgeworth didn't think so. His gut told him otherwise. "Is that so?"
Phoenix sat upright hastily. So much so, in fact, that he nearly head butted Edgeworth, who had been looking down on him in amusement. He kept his back to the prosecution attorney and stuttered for a minute, before settling on, "Well, you know very well that you're not unattractive, Edgeworth."
It was true, he pondered. Even since grade school he had been the target of affections from both genders, but he had never paid them much mind. He'd never had the time or interest to devote to a relationship of sorts, and he was quite sure that von Karma wouldn't have approved, anyway. All of that aside, however, he was intrigued by Wright. Making a bold decision and hoping the other man's erratic movements might calm down as a result, Edgeworth reached over and gripped his rival on the shoulder before gently tugging him backwards.
When Phoenix landed back onto the prosecution's lap, his joyful expression was gone. Instead, his face was taut with reprimand, and Edgeworth could only imagine the thoughts flying through his head. "You know, I can actually hear you tying yourself into knots, Wright."
"I'm sorry, Edgeworth. I'm sure that comment was pretty out of line."
"No matter. It's rather refreshing to hear an innocent compliment." He tugged lightly at his cravat to attempt to put Phoenix at ease. "After all, from what I hear, I seem to be a bit of an abomination lately."
"Yeah, well, they're all full of it." Phoenix folded his arms and glared at Edgeworth, though it contained no hostility. There was a comfortable silence as both men looked at their surroundings before the prosecution attorney felt a light pull at his neck.
"What—what are you doing, Wright?"
"Hold still." Clumsy fingers pulled awkwardly at his cravat until it loosened, then removed the small cloth from his shirt. A quick flick flung it to the floor, and Edgeworth found himself under great scrutiny. "How come you wear that thing so much?"
"…"
Phoenix ran his thumb over Edgeworth's pulse. "It makes you look stuffy. You should try a turtleneck or something if you want your neck to be covered."
"You do think I'm attractive."
"Er! Well… I, ah, yes. I guess, I mean, I won't—"
"Shut up, Wright." Silence. "I'm not going to attack you up for saying that you're attracted to me. You're not the first, and I sincerely doubt that you will be the last." He shook his bangs from his eyes and looked down at a speechless Phoenix Wright. "Isn't the fact that you're currently settled on my lap evidence enough for you?" He leaned in closer and narrowed his eyes. "Or do you have an objection?"
Edgeworth noticed that Phoenix had his thinking face on. He got that face right before his big break in a trial, when he tied all of the seemingly loose ends together in a tidy bow. The defense attorney's chest rose as he inhaled deeply, and Edgeworth noticed once more that the man was bare-chested. As he was admiring the smaller man's light tan, however, an opportunity to slip fingers into the hair on the back of his head was seized.
"Wri—mmmph!"
Phoenix kissed him. And it wasn't just a peck, either. It was an honest to god, full-lipped, teeth nibbling, masculine, delicious kiss.
They parted with a wet noise and both of them gasped quietly. He hadn't closed his eyes, was too shocked by the sheer impossibility of the situation—not that Phoenix had kissed him, but that for a moment there, he had enjoyed it—but Phoenix had. In fact, his eyes were still closed, and his chest was heaving. There was a slight sheen across his lower lip; his jaw was slack with awe. All in all, Edgeworth would have testified that the man was the very embodiment of "satisfied".
"I…don't have any evidence to base an objection on, I'm afraid." Dark blue eyes gazed up at him with mild trepidation. "But I will say that I've wanted to do that for a while now."
Edgeworth didn't say anything. What could he say? Thanks, Wright, but I've had better? He hadn't. He'd never kissed anybody before. Although he felt rather desperate to shove the man off of him and go back to his apartment, he also found himself wanting to experience that kiss again. And again.
Oh, you tightassed bastard. It's about time you do something for yourself once in a while.
Edgeworth leaned down and, feeling awkward for the first time in a great number of years, paused before he made contact. "Perhaps, then, you should do it again."
"E-excuse me?"
"Don't make me repeat myself, Mr. Wright."
Once Phoenix got over his initial shock, he spared no time crushing his lips against his rival's. The kiss was fevered, though Edgeworth was making what he was sure were awkward attempts. His back was beginning to hurt from the awkward angle, but he paid it no mind. His brain was scrambled between figuring out why on Earth he was doing this and whether it was right and what would the office say and God Phoenix was hot and the kisses felt so good but seriously—
"Miles…" It was a whisper. He barely felt it brush against his swollen lip, but it deafened him. He hadn't been called his first name since his father was alive, and the tone that the heated defense attorney used was like a sick serum that made his body shiver violently. "Are you alright…? You're trembling." Phoenix turned, then, and leaned on his elbow. His eyes were wide and innocent, and for once, Edgeworth found himself without a retort. "You know, you don't have to. I never expected to—"
"Wright," though his mouth was electric, he managed to bark the name of the man beside him, "I'm…not good with these kinds of things." He fisted the vibrant material of his suit pants. "If you're going to do it, just do it and spare me the small talk." A wince nearly made its way to his face at how harsh the words sounded, even for him, but damn it, he was completely out of his element, here!
To his relief, Phoenix chuckled lightly and twisted a section of silvery bangs. "Miles Edgeworth, you are positively the most unbreakable man I have ever met." The tables had turned, much to his dismay, and now Wright was the confident one. Were he honest with himself, he might have admitted that he was grateful for the other man's bravado. Although he would have liked to be in control, he was like a fish out of water (or an attorney out of trial, he mused), and so when Phoenix cupped his chin and guided his body to stretch across the couch, he complied.
The defense attorney was predictably gentle. It was obvious that the man had a genuine desire to help and comfort others, though he often did so through comically fumbled words and exaggerated actions. Though his touch was soft, it left liquid fire in its wake, and Edgeworth was briefly concerned that he would begin to smell foul from sweating in his treasured suit.
His cravat was gone already, and thus the defense paid close attention to the vest and shirt underneath, making short work of the pearly buttons keeping them fastened. A few solid tugs brought them from their final confines of a tight waistband and the vest, shirt and jacket were all discarded onto the floor. On display now, Edgeworth fought a blush. He had never bared much flesh to anybody save for von Karma, and even then it was from the waste up and to a seasoned old man. Phoenix was looking at his body as if to devour it, and although he was flattered, he felt a strong urge to roll onto his stomach and cover himself.
"M-m… Edg—You're… wow."
Feigning confidence, he stretched his arms above his head and smirked. Though his stomach was quite upside down, thank you, he hadn't been a prosecution attorney for nothing. Bluffs were something he mastered for a living. "What was that, Wright?"
"You should be a model. A statue. A painting." Phoenix ran his fingers delicately across an alabaster collarbone. His touch was akin to that of a butterfly's wing brushing against a child's hand, and for a moment, the blue-eyed attorney looked as if he were going to bolt. "I can't believe I'm doing this."
"Mm. Perhaps you should take advantage, then, instead of stumbling through your words." His heart was pounding.
Phoenix's hands were strong and lightly calloused, the result of what Edgeworth could only assume were sports throughout schooling. He realized then that he knew next to nothing about the other man, but his thoughts were scattered once more when a thumb brushed gently against an unsuspecting nipple. He grunted and arched, drawing his brows together at the unfamiliar feeling, but needing more of it. Was this what he had been missing out on?
A set of plump lips caught his again, and he darted at them, wanting to taste the innocence of Phoenix Wright.
…the innocence of Phoenix Wright tasted like cheap coffee and cigarettes.
Strangely enough, it didn't shock or bother him at all.
Hands were everywhere. His own were somewhere on Phoenix's body, clutching at warm flesh and working on autopilot. The lights of the city snuck in between the blinds and hit them both, drawing thick lines of shadow across boyish muscle. Neither of them had ever been very broad, always remaining on the slender side of boyhood, but he took a small amount of pleasure in the fact that he had just a bit more body mass than his opponent.
Phoenix's skin was taut and delicious, and though he felt like he was clumsy and fumbling, he stretched to press a few wet kisses against the pulsing neck that was bared to him. Everything was moving, heated, real, and he felt close and confined, but welcomed. It was unlike anything he had ever imagined he'd feel, much less with the very man in his arms.
Unfortunately, he hadn't thought his pants could feel quite so tight, either.
"Wright," he gasped, feeling irritated with himself, "my pants—"
He would have marveled at the other man for such fluid movements, hands pressing into the dips and few curves of his chest before sliding to his belly to unbutton his pants. However, a very hot, very slick mouth had closed in on his right nipple and began to lightly suck, and he was left with the single thought that if he opened his mouth to say anything more, what little air was left in his lungs would leave him. Unfortunately, he gasped loudly anyway, and fisted the thick, soft mass of hair crowning Phoenix's head.
A deep chuckle forced a few small puffs of air across his now budded, tight flesh, and he gritted his teeth, attempting to come down to reality and compose himself. "Bikini briefs, Edgeworth? Really?"
His eyes shot southward and a very deep blush crept onto his cheekbones. He didn't know quite what to say. He didn't know quite how Wright had made such quick work of his pants—where were his shoes?!
Phoenix drew himself upward and put his hands on his hips, and he reminded Edgeworth of a tomcat trying to impress. "The defense approves of this unexpected evidence!" His voice was comically deep and his face was over-serious.
It caught Edgeworth off guard, and for a moment, he chuckled. "Evidence of what, exactly?"
The playful attorney slung a pale leg over his shoulder and smooshed his face into a hairless thigh. Wide ocean eyes playfully met his from under deceptively innocent brows, and through his awkward shock, he felt a bit of amusement and awe bubbling from his gut. "Why, evidence of the prosecution's rather…constricted lifestyle, of course. The defense proposes that the prosecution should party a bit more."
"What?!"
Phoenix ignored him. Instead, he began brushing light kisses over the smooth skin presented to him. Edgeworth then realized that in an unfortunate set of circumstances, his amusement and awe were not, in fact, because he happened to find Phoenix Wright to be a very handsome man, but because his thighs were apparently very, very ticklish. His pride drove him to fight the urge to squirm, but once his rival reached the groove between thigh and groin, his body jerked violently and he stifled a laugh.
"Edgeworth?" The hands and mouth on his body and all of their ridiculous torture had stopped completely. Phoenix had mistaken his actions for those of reluctance.
"I, er…" He scowled and attempted to curdle the paint on the far wall. "It appears as though I am a bit…" he couldn't believe he was about to say this, "…ticklish."
The room was pregnant with silence. He chanced a small glance in the opposing attorney's direction.
Phoenix was staring at him.
And he was thankfully withholding his hysterics.
"You can'tbe serious. You can't be!"
"Exploit it and I'll have your head, Wright."
"Oh, believe me, Edgeworth. There are many other things that I'd rather exploit right now."
"What? What are you—ooh!" His groan caught in his throat as what seemed to be an expert hand glided easily over the line of his manhood. Instead, he gaped at the ceiling, feeling his chest heave with the sudden assault to his body. "Phoenix!"
Though the dark-haired man was secretly thrilled by the sound of his first name, he didn't pause in his handiwork. Miles Edgeworth was positively godly, and by some stroke of sheer genius luck, he was all for the taking. The man smelled like detergent and sweat and musk, and it was obvious to him that although Edgeworth was clearly enjoying himself, Phoenix had caught him off guard. If he stopped now, the man might regain his composure and slip back into his everyday self. If that happened, Phoenix was sure he wouldn't get this opportunity again.
A few delicate fingers gripped the back of his neck as he spread kisses across a dampened abdomen. He had no idea where this confidence had come from—perhaps it was that Edgeworth had finally relaxed a little, and he didn't feel quite so intimidated. Whatever it was, combined with the movements of the body beneath him, it was delectably empowering. He slipped his fingers into the only thing between him and his goal, but a harsh whisper stopped him.
"Wright." Edgeworth propped himself on his elbows and looked at the man pinning him to the couch. Phoenix was struck dumb by the spectacle, and a slow, easy smile slipped onto the sweat-slicked face of the prosecutor. "This is hardly fair, wouldn't you agree?"
"Er…what? What's wrong?"
"Clearly this situation is a bit…one-sided." He retrieved his leg from its support, flexing his toes to get blood flowing to them once more. Placing his hands on rippling shoulders, he applied a bit of pressure, feeling his familiar confidence return to him once more. Running with it, he continued until Phoenix was forced to swing his legs underneath the advancing attorney, and soon, Edgeworth had him pinned. "I believe it's my turn to have my way with you."
"You're like a predator."
"A predator? Perhaps. When presented with such an effortless hunt, what else am I to do?" He could feel the evidence of Phoenix's advances beneath him, and although it was a foreign presence, he found it rather encouraging. An experimental thrust presented him with a boneless lawyer, and he smirked. For once, he was having a great deal of fun.
He leaned over his opponent and nibbled lightly at an ear lobe. Easier access followed immediately as Phoenix's head lolled away from him, and for a moment, he was unsure of how to continue.
A small grin consoled him. If there were anything that the defense attorney could do effortlessly, it was smiling. He was always, always smiling. "You can start with my neck. It's pretty sensitive."
He snorted. He was always offering assistance, too, no matter how much Edgeworth refused it. Although he was moderately grateful for it now, he still wouldn't admit it. He'd never hear the end of it.
Instead, he tentatively pressed his lips against the curve of Phoenix's neck, relishing the heat of the man's skin. Edgeworth's life had been cold, especially so after his father's death, and this new feeling of impossible heat against his entire body was almost dizzying. His actions snowballed, graduating from shy touches to fervent grasping and rough kisses. Phoenix's body responded marvelously, arching and twisting beneath his own. His fingers clenched clumsily into the waistband of the attorney's sweatpants, and he tugged at them in frustration.
Warm (everything about Phoenix was warm, he noticed) laughter sounded from beneath him. "You might have better luck if you tug down instead of out."
"I can handle myself quite well, Wright. You'll do well to remember it."
"Mmhm." Phoenix laced his fingers behind his head and watched Edgeworth contentedly. He knew that his sweatpants did nothing to hide his obvious desire for the prosecutor, but he had yet to have his arms broken for his advances, so he relaxed a bit. His pajamas were slid gracefully from his body and he suppressed another laugh at the look on his newfound lover's face. If he never saw anything again, he'd be grateful to remember that face.
"You—you're not—you don't have…!"
"Underwear?"
"Wright!"
"Right," he echoed mirthfully. "You did wake me up, after all. Or do you sleep in," he tugged playfully at the elastic of Edgeworth's undies, "these?"
Edgeworth sputtered indignantly. Certainly, biologically, it was nothing he hadn't seen before, but when presented with… And expected to…?
"Here." Confident once more, Phoenix gently snagged one of Edgeworth's wrists and used the momentum to guide him into a slow kiss. He grunted quietly as his erection was caught between their bodies, but knew that he had to tread lightly lest he screw this one up. "God, Edgeworth. Are you sure you're ready for this?"
A strained look met his words, and for a moment, Miles Edgeworth looked like he was ready to bolt. Or vomit. Phoenix couldn't figure out which.
"Wright, I—"
"Hey, look. It's fine." He smiled genuinely and kissed the prosecution's knuckles. Edgeworth seemed to be highly irritated, though whether it was with himself or with Phoenix, the defense attorney couldn't say. He imagined that Edgeworth was upset with himself for what he might call falling short, and so he took the broad torso in his arms and nibbled on a shoulder. "It's not like I'm going anywhere, you know. There's always a next time, if you'd like that."
"..." Their legs tangled for a few moments before they found a comfortable sprawl.
For longer than the prosecutor would care to admit, he was content to simply lay and enjoy the close contact of his biggest rival. He was grateful for the other man's strength, though embarrassed of his own lack thereof, and attempted to calm his body down by listening to Phoenix breathe. There would be a next time (many, he added, if I have anything to do with it), but for now he presumed that the best course of action would be to take small steps. It would make adjusting a lot easier.
For the both of them.
However, the easy quiet was disturbed eventually as the breathing of his fellow attorney hitched uncomfortably , and although it was subtle, Edgeworth's senses had long since been honed to notice even the most minute detail in his opponents' reactions. "Problems, Wright?"
"I…It's nothing, Edgeworth."
He propped himself on his elbows to examine the man. Phoenix was staring hard at the ceiling, no longer the loose, comfortable man he had been mere minutes ago. "You're a terrible liar, you know." He took the liberty of running a fingertip over a few ribs. "You'd never make it in prosecution."
"Is this it?"
"Hm?"
"This. With you. I…I don't want—"
"Wright." He slid into a comfortable arrogance. Though he could guarantee a veritable war within his own mind, especially concerning…well, everything, he knew that he wasn't simply going to give up the opportunity that he had been given. It was certainly unexpected, and more than peculiar, but Miles was a fluid man, contrary to popular belief. It was in his nature as a lawyer. Forcing his body to move from where it had settled languidly on top of the other man, he nestled instead into Phoenix's side and allowed the man a rare smile. "I am not a stupid man, Phoenix. I…like this. And I believe you owe me a bit of reciprocation, anyway, as not many have been able to find me in such a weak position. I expect my debts to be repaid, Mr. Wright. In full."
Phoenix's relief was nearly tangible. Edgeworth expected (and dreaded) something flowery after that, as Wright seemed the perfect type for cuddling and sweet talk, but he was surprised when he was greeted with silence. After patting Edgeworth's face in cheerful annoyance, the defense rose, then, and pulled a thick comforter from a small cupboard beside the couch. He made his way to the makeshift bed as the fairer of the two paid much more attention to wrestling with the overly large blanket. Phoenix oozed onto the couch once more, and his easy spill across the black leather was displayed for his rival a final time before it was covered in soft fabric.
Edgeworth frowned, confused. Not only was he just very rudely pushed aside, but there was a bit of a problem with this situation, namely in the form of a spunky young woman.
"Your assistant—"
"—doesn't have a key. It's Friday, and you're heavy. Here." Edgeworth was once more shifted to the side, and Phoenix's usual smile twinkled at him in the dark.
"You're positively insane, Wright." His limbs refused to cooperate gracefully, but he settled into the other man's embrace without any major consequences. A strong arm and a plush blanket curled around him protectively, and he settled in with a content sigh. Phoenix chuckled behind him.
"It's one of my best features."
