Disclaimer: Ace Attorney and its characters are properly of Capcom.

Warning: Contains graphic descriptions of violence and explicit sexual content.

Into the Dawn - Chapter One

The bottom of the glass clinked lightly against polished wood, the small amount of red liquid still inside sloshing briefly. His fingers maintained a loose grip on the stem, prepared to lift it again should the desire strike him, but for the time, the sunset held his attention.

Miles Edgeworth sat alone in his study, cradled in a plush red armchair that faced a set of windows opposite the door. The blinds were up and the curtains tied back, giving him a view of the western sky above the roofs of nearby suburban homes and distant city buildings. It was a view he had rarely taken the time to appreciate throughout his life, but lately, he had learned not to take such things for granted.

Phoenix had taught him that.

Summer had just begun, so it was already past nine o'clock in the evening as he watched the sky fade from light blue, to pink and orange, to dark blue. It was a beautiful sight, and the red wine at his left hand was making it a little easier to simply sit and enjoy. Miles rarely drank. He had been raised in Germany where alcohol was much more casually served than in the United States, but he had been taught to keep his consumption to a minimum. Mostly, he only drank during certain social functions where having a glass of fine wine or champagne was part of protocol, and even then he did not allow himself to relax. He had never liked the idea of giving his mind over to the influence of any external substance. He always meticulously managed what he said and how he behaved in public, as one careless word or misstep could spell disaster for someone of his notoriety.

During the past six months, his caution and careful control had become so much more imperative. Now, not only was he maintaining appearances, but he carried with him deadly secrets that so constantly nagging at the back of his mind. It had even become difficult to relax and just be comfortable with himself in the privacy of his own home.

Tonight, he was trying to change that, if only temporarily. This was his second glass of wine, and the bottle waited for him on the kitchen counter. He had no intention of becoming intoxicated by any means, but what he did intend would require him to be more relaxed and free of his tight, self-imposed restraints.

Well, that and the fears gnawing insistently at his insides. The wine was beginning to numb him, but something told him that no amount of alcohol would quell them completely.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by the realization that the only color he could see now was a steadily-darkening shade of blue, dotted here and there by stars he was fortunate to see living this close to a major metropolis. The wine glass was at his lips and he briefly held it there after draining the dregs. He felt warm and just a bit less stressed than usual, but no more ready than he had been when he'd poured his first glass.

Slowly, he stood, feeling the slightest of rushes that made him stay in place for a time until it passed. Perhaps just one more glass... a half glass, and he was as ready as he'd ever be. Once he was steady again, he padded across the carpet to the open door, leaving his study and heading into the hall, past the stairs leading up to the master suite, and into the kitchen. He flicked on the light with a gesture and made for the bottle on the counter.

"You just get off work?"

Miles lurched so badly he nearly dropped the glass to shatter against the linoleum. He wheeled around, eyes wide for the briefest of moments before his mind caught up with the situation and he took a deep, calming breath. "Is it not possible for you to make any noise to alert me of your presence?! For the love of... No, I have been home for a couple of hours."

Phoenix stood leaning against the side of the archway into the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest and a little smirk resting on his lips. "Seriously, I feel like you're trying to make some kind of statement to me when you walk around the house with that frilly thing around your neck."

Miles felt a heat in his cheeks that wasn't entirely the alcohol's doing. He was still wearing his work suit, sans his shoes and jacket. "N-no, I merely... hadn't thought to change." Seeing that smirk started to make him feel a bit self-conscious and defensive. "B-besides, how is it any concern of yours what I wear in my own home?"

"Whoa, I'm just teasing," Phoenix said, holding up a hand to stay the glare he was now receiving. "No need to get all touchy. And sorry for sneaking up on you again. It's just... Well, it just feels natural for me to move silently. I'll try to stomp around more if it'll make you feel better."

Miles let out a harsh breath and turned his back in order to pour himself that third glass of wine, filling it to the brim despite his earlier thoughts of limiting himself. "Don't be absurd..."

"Something wrong?" The question came from right beside him, making him wince slightly; he wondered if he would ever get used to the way Phoenix could move so quickly and silently. "Not sure I've ever seen you drink before, Edgeworth."

Miles waited until he'd taken a sip before answering, setting the glass down and going to store the bottle away. "No, nothing is wrong." Nothing in particular, anyway. Nothing new. "I partake on occasion. I've just not made a habit of it."

Phoenix quirked an eyebrow, leaning a hip against the counter. "Okay then. What's the occasion?"

Miles froze for an instant, mentally kicking himself. The alcohol was most certainly getting to him, else he would not have made such a careless slip of the tongue. Then, he scolded himself: he was drinking for a reason, and that reason was to stop worrying about every little word he said or every little thing he did! Tonight, he wanted to let himself go, to let his guard down... at least a little. He reached up to place the bottle in the liquor cabinet and close the latch. "Nothing special..."

"...Yet?"

Slowly, Miles turned and met intense blue eyes that were fixed on him, watching, measuring, reading his every move. It was the gaze of a hunter, but there was something familiar in it, too, something from the man's days behind the defense bench as he relentlessly pressed witnesses, ready to pick up on any little mistake that would reveal what he knew they were hiding. It was unnerving to be under that gaze, and Miles wondered if this was similar to how people felt when he himself set his sights on them.

After several months of this arrangement, he could tell when Phoenix was hungry. He was hungry now, and Miles had been expecting that. What he had not expected was how easily Phoenix would pick up on what was going through the prosecutor's head, for he hadn't been at all aware he'd given any indication whatsoever. He felt even more uneasy and had to take another drink of wine - drink, not sip - before he could bring himself to say anything.

"I... suppose anytime can become an occasion given the proper conditions." He saw Phoenix's fingers flex, gripping the sleeve of his black sweatshirt for an instant. The undead man was having trouble keeping his distance: Miles could tell. While there had been a few scares and close calls, Phoenix had yet to completely lose control of himself during his time as Miles'... roommate? Still, he struggled, and Miles had learned to read his body language, to interpret when he needed to tread more carefully and avoid provoking the man's predatory instincts. It got easier every day, came to him more naturally as time passed, and Phoenix openly expressed his appreciation for his attentiveness. Phoenix had also done his best not to get overly-familiar, but he tended to get more... invasive and 'hands-y' when he was hungry. Apparently, this was only really a problem because he was attracted to Miles; he had claimed that - under normal circumstances - feeding didn't arouse him.

Being the exception to that had been a source of both intrigue and discomfort for Miles during this entire ordeal, the latter magnified by ever-present memories of his first few days with the new Phoenix Wright. Tonight, however, he wanted to try acting on the former, to allow things to go beyond the boundaries he had been doing his best to enforce. He was nervous as all hell, but wasn't that natural? Most people weren't entirely comfortable when heading into such an unfamiliar situation, and he had more cause than most to be anxious.

Phoenix stood rigid to keep himself from advancing as he watched MIles nurse his glass of wine. Miles was trying to relax, but it was difficult while Phoenix was looking at him like that. "Perhaps we should move to the living room instead of standing here awkwardly," the prosecutor suggested before heading off to do just that. He could still feel those eyes on him, and shortly after he lowered himself onto the sofa, Phoenix took the cushion beside him. He kept about a foot of space between them - at great personal strain - and sat just as rigidly as he'd been standing. Miles took up what he hoped looked like a relaxed position and took yet another sip of wine before setting the glass on the end table. He reached over to touch the base of the lamp until it reached an appropriate level of light, recalling how Phoenix had amused himself with the touch-sensitive lamp for an entire evening upon first arriving here.

"What're you smirking about?"

"Mm?" Miles turned his head to meet Phoenix's gaze, only now realizing the memory had brought a tiny grin to his own lips. "Ah... Just..." He worked to return his expression neutral and changed the subject. "You look tense. I didn't think you would be that starved so soon."

A dark chuckle came from the other man's throat as he turned his face away. "Miles, if you only knew... I don't think you've ever tested me like this before. It's actually kinda' cruel."

Miles sucked in his lower lip slightly. "Testing you was not my intention." He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing to make this so difficult for Wright, but there was a mischievous part of him that wanted to see how much teasing he could get away with. He buried that urge, knowing it could easily lead to disaster, and reached up to begin untying his cravat. Phoenix turned to watch him do this, lips slightly parted.

"You might wanna' change first," the former attorney suggested, the reluctance to delay this any further clearly heard in his voice. "Doubt you want to risk having to get bloodstains out of a white shirt."

Miles said nothing. He was focusing hard on controlling his breathing as he carefully folded his cravat, set it aside, and then moved to start unbuttoning his black vest. His fingers seemed suddenly much less dextrous than usual, and though he wanted to blame the wine, he knew that wasn't the whole truth. God, he was nervous, so much so that he was having serious doubts about his decision.

He froze stiff when a cold hand came to rest atop his and he felt the cushion shift beneath him. Head tilted against the backrest, Miles did not move a muscle as nimble fingers worked loose the buttons with which he had struggled. There was a weight against his shoulder, then lips on his neck, kissing, kneading, promising teeth: fangs.

"Damn, Miles... You smell amazing right now... even better than usual..." Phoenix's voice was rough, a slight growl hidden just beneath the surface that never would have been there in life. It caused Miles' pulse to quicken with both excitement and fear; he was very aware that he was taking a risk, and at some point, there would be no chance to change his mind and turn back. It may have already been too late.

His vest fell open as Phoenix unfastened the last button and then got to work on his dress shirt; the prosecutor was grateful he still had enough patience not to just tear the clothing away. Worried that this might change, Miles returned his hands to the task, starting to undo the buttons at the bottom. However, with a quick motion, Phoenix pushed his hands away, making it perfectly clear what he wanted. Miles let his hands drop to his lap, unsure of how to interpret this behavior and what it meant for things to come.

When his shirt opened to expose his front, Phoenix placed a palm against Miles' flat stomach, occupying himself with kissing his way from the side of his neck, to his throat, and then down toward his chest. Miles stayed completely still as the other man's mouth explored him, worried that if he moved, some measure of aggression would be triggered. His breath hitched in his throat when Phoenix found one of his nipples and began paying the sensitive area special attention. Lips and tongue worked eagerly, and Miles found himself starting to enjoy this a little more. However, when he felt teeth scraping his skin, his muscles instantly tensed, bracing for what he feared was about to happen.

It didn't happen. Instead, Phoenix drew back and looked at him, studying him as he often did. Without saying anything, he leaned past the prosecutor and picked up the forgotten wine glass, pressing the rim of it to Miles' lips. "Drink." The word wasn't spoken harshly at all, but it was very clearly more of a command than a request. That stubborn part of him that was still fighting against this protested angrily at being spoken to in such a way, but as Miles watched the expectant look on Phoenix's face, he decided finishing the wine would probably benefit him.

Miles parted his lips and Phoenix tilted the glass, slowly pouring the alcohol past them. Instinctively, Miles reached up in order to take a hold of the glass himself and control the pace, but with his free hand, Phoenix gently yet firmly pushed it back down. For the thousandth time, the silver-haired man questioned whether or not he could really go through with this, whether he would come to regret this in short order. Meanwhile, he was being made to drain the rest of the glass, feeling heat spread through him and leave him somewhat light-headed. He could not recall the last time he'd drank so quickly, and it was causing this last half-glass to have a much stronger effect on him than the other two and a half.

When the wine was gone, Phoenix set the glass aside and leaned in to lock Miles in a hungry kiss, tongue exploring and tasting the wine indirectly. Using the kiss as something of a distraction, he worked on pushing the shirt and vest from Miles' shoulders until the garments were uselessly hanging between his back and the couch. Only then did he break the kiss, sliding an arm behind the prosecutor and shifting their position so that Miles was settled more in his lap instead of against the armrest.

Miles was now acutely aware of how aroused Phoenix had become, and he shivered at how exposed and vulnerable he already was. Strong arms wrapped around his middle and Phoenix leaned in to press lips to his ear, speaking in a sultry tone, a deeper register than he normally used. "Miles, I need you to tell me right now if this isn't what you want," he murmured, his voice sending chills through the man in his grasp. "If this goes any further, I don't think I'll be able to stop myself if you change your mind."

So, this was it: his last chance. If he was going to back out, it had to be now. The fact that Phoenix had hesitated enough to give him this chance served to sooth some of his doubts, but they weren't completely gone - far from it, in fact. Miles tried to swallow down his anxiety and took in a shaky breath. "Do you... believe you can avoid injuring me...?" He trusted Phoenix, mostly, but he had to know if the former attorney trusted himself.

"I'm going to be as careful as I can," Phoenix assured him, the fingers of one hand absently stroking Miles' chest, "but you have to promise me something: if I'm hurting you, you have to tell me. I might not be able to stop completely, but I'll do my damnedest to ease up. I want you to enjoy this, too. Just... don't try to physically resist me or... things might go badly. I think you know that already."

He did, quite well. He had learned very quickly that he had much better luck with words than pushing or pulling away. Struggling prey only provoked a predator, but when he spoke, it seemed to get past the bestial instinct and reach Phoenix, reminding him of who he was, who they both were.

As apprehensive as he still felt, Miles knew he did not really want to bow out of this; he had already committed himself to it. Maybe he wasn't entirely ready, but the best way to adjust to freezing water was to simply jump right in and get it over with all at once. He would never come to trust Phoenix in this way if he did not give the other man a chance to earn that trust.

His confirmation of understanding and his consent came in the form of a single nod. The deal and the exits were sealed with that gesture, and without wasting another moment, Phoenix hooked an arm behind Miles' knees and effortlessly lifted him from the couch. He moved at a brisk pace, but in the sense that a human would consider 'brisk'. Miles was grateful for this, too; a sudden rush upstairs and to the master bedroom would probably have made him sick.

Phoenix deposited him on the queen-size bed and was on him instantly, lavishing him with kisses.