Prompt: The current anime gave me so many feels. Especially how adorable and so fresh looking Phoenix is. Haven't been able to post a request for two years, if I may suggest the following prompt.
Kinks: Seme Miles, uke Phoenix who is a virgin, nipple play, orgasm denial, forced orgasm, a very sensitive and moaning Phoenix being helplessly played on their wedding night by Miles.
Please anon writers, I hope someone would write this prompt, after hearing Miles deep anime voice, I can imagine how he would torment his Feenie and completely deny him to orgasm, despite Feenie's begging.
Nothing heavy stuff - just a devious and naughty Miles marking Phoenix as his on their honeymoon. Please anon make this prompt come true.
Prequel to More Than Words (Chapter 7)
The Internet Is Really, Really Great
As they check into the hotel together, Phoenix can't decide which he's having more trouble believing — that he and Miles are finally married or that they waited this long. After pining for this man for the better part of his life, it feels a bit surreal to see the white gold wedding band on his finger, to be entering the honeymoon suite of this luxurious hot spring resort, to have "move into Miles' house" on his post-vacation to-do list.
Surreal but amazing.
Miles is never going to tell him the cost of this trip, but Phoenix can guess he wouldn't be able to afford it in this lifetime. The tastefully furnished room opens into an open air patio where steam rises from their private hot spring. There's champagne waiting for them in an ice bucket by the inviting king-sized bed, chocolates on the plush pillows and fluffy robes and slippers waiting for them at the foot of the bed. It's only early afternoon, so he supposes most tourists would go out for a bit of sightseeing before dinner, but they have the rest of the week for that.
Tonight is for them, just them, and maybe they'll finally…
"Phoenix?"
"Hm? Oh!"
He moves out of the way, setting his suitcase down on the provided space, and Miles sets his own down beside it, looking unfairly sexy in his tailor-made dress shirt and trousers. Miles without his suit and ruffles is a rare sight, and the thought that Phoenix will finally see him without any clothes… Miles turns, catches him staring and raises an eyebrow in question.
"Y—you're gorgeous," Phoenix blurts by way of explanation. "Without your stuffy suit and cravat, I mean."
"Funny how you fell for the stuffiness then," but there's only warm amusement in his eyes as Miles brushes the pad of his thumb over Phoenix's cheekbone and tilts his chin up.
"Well, if we're getting into specifics, then technically, I fell for you in shorts and a bow tie back in fourth grade, so…"
Grey eyes widen, then Miles gives him a look of mixed exasperation, trepidation and chagrin. "We are way past the age for shorts and bow ties, Phoenix. Tell me you didn't bring any of those with you on this trip."
"Only for sleeping!" (My fashion sense isn't that bad! You're just always perfectly done up!)
"Tsk tsk tsk, Phoenix… Phoenix." Miles waves a finger in his face with a smirk, much like he does in court. "Did you really expect to wear clothes to bed this week? Surely you didn't think I'd let you off that easy after waiting all these years."
(Oh.) Phoenix bites his lip, feeling a bit bashful, but loops his arms adoringly around Miles' neck. "How long again?" He leans up for a chaste kiss.
"Hmm… I must say you had me when you came to my desk crying during that class trial you remember so fondly." Another peck on the lips. "Will you cry for me again tonight?"
His cheeks blaze. "I— I should have known you'd be mean."
"Hmph. Let's clean up before dinner."
His blush deepens as Miles begins to undress —after all the years of fantasizing about what lay hidden beneath those layers, he's finally going to see— and asks, "M—may I?"
Still smirking, Miles stops at the second button of his shirt and reaches for Phoenix's blue sweater instead. As he tugs it up, his knuckles brush over Phoenix's nipples through his white undershirt and a strange tingle takes Phoenix by surprise. Still, he lifts his arms to let Miles remove it before continuing to unbutton his spouse's top. The sudden cool air on his skin makes him self-conscious, and the realization that his nipples are visibly pert through thin cotton makes him feel exposed. This will be the first time Miles sees him naked too, and Phoenix focuses on the buttons to keep from worrying whether Miles likes what he sees — he knows he doesn't have Miles' broad shoulders and perfectly rounded ass, but he's never felt so shy before.
Miles only obligingly shrugs the shirt off and slides his hands down Phoenix's back to ease the hem of the undershirt out from under the waistband of his jeans as Phoenix unbuckles Miles' fine leather belt.
"Someone's in a hurry," Miles teases, and Phoenix moves to the other's silk undershirt instead.
"I just wanted to make this easier," he protests defensively, but Miles only arches his eyebrows and slides his hands over bare skin to push Phoenix's undershirt up. Phoenix's brain has barely caught up to the reality of Miles' hands on his skin when warm thumbs run over his nipples, and this time, the breath hitches in his throat.
"Oh, here?"
Miles' thumbs return to flick them, and the jolt goes straight down. Before Phoenix can protest, they're chafing the tips, and he bites back a whimper as his cock stirs. The other's smirk has turned predatory, and he's never seen this heat in those familiar grey eyes — at least he knows Miles doesn't mind the view. He tugs at silk, and Miles lifts his arms, so they can remove the garment for each other, but then Miles immediately resumes playing with his newfound targets, and Phoenix tries to pull away, but with the heat pooling in his groin, his legs seem to have forgotten how to move.
"Ngh…"
Fingertips trace his areolae, pushing the sensitive nubs around in circles, a bit of nail scraping the sides, and his breath quickens. Then they're held lightly between two fingers, and his hips jerk as the tips are skimmed again. He's never touched himself there before, but his cock throbs with every featherlight swipe over the tips, and his jeans are getting tighter. Miles does a light pinch, twist and pull sequence then, and strong arms quickly catch him as his knees buckle, his hands flying to the other's sides. The toned torso under his palms and creamy skin dusted lightly with silver are more beautiful than he imagined, and he longs to run his hands all over his beloved's body.
"Weren't you the one bemoaning the long, exhausting journey to get here?" It was his first time on a long haul flight, there was no way to get comfortable, and his only consolation was being able to snuggle into Miles' side the entire way.
"F—funny. I remember it as you complaining about the number of hours left to go every time the flight hit a spot of turbulence." As soon as the plane started shaking, though, it was Miles hyperventilating in his arms instead. "I'm glad though," he adds hurriedly, leaning into the other, to preempt any prideful protests. "It means you don't think I'm going to laugh at you anymore."
Miles kisses him, and his eyes flutter shut, just like at their wedding the other day — he's waited so long to do this. Their lips brushing, he nips at Miles' bottom lip before opening up to let Miles entwine their tongues. Then Miles is rolling a nipple between his fingers, and Phoenix can only moan into the kiss as his insides clench with desire.
"I wonder… Will you be able to wait until after dinner?"
As Miles very slowly eats his share of their full course gourmet dinner, Phoenix thinks he might go mad. Miles has been teasing him all evening — in the shower, in the hot spring, while drying off… playing with his nipples, whispering suggestive promises in his ear, or just otherwise being infuriatingly sexy. Phoenix has been touching Miles, too, of course —the other's neck is pretty sensitive— but it also fuels his own arousal, so that hasn't helped. He's grateful for small mercies — dinner is served in their room, so he doesn't have to figure out how to hide being half hard in a public restaurant. Now that he's finished all his food and relaxed in the hot spring, though, he doesn't have hunger or tiredness to distract him from how damnably horny he is anymore, and the bed is right there, but no, Miles is just taking his own sweet time with his dinner.
He wonders if he can tempt Miles or at least take the edge off for himself.
Looking around, he catches sight of the still unopened bottle of champagne. They refreshed the ice bucket when they brought dinner, so it should be nice and cold. It reminds him of a video he once saw online… maybe it will get Miles' attention?
The fuzzy fabric of the robe shifts as he stands, and he winces — his nipples are still erect and sensitized. He unties the sash as he fetches two champagne flutes, then sets them down on the nightstand, grabs the bottle and sits on the bed facing Miles. Gripping the bottle between his thighs to free both hands, he hisses as the cold glass brushes against his cock, and that gets Miles' attention all right. Still, he pretends not to notice and twists the cork out.
"Aahh!"
He snatches up the small towel hanging off the ice bucket as some champagne bubbles out onto his lap. It's cold and wet and, hopefully, not gross now that he's wiped it off, but Miles is just giving him that Look —fond and condescending all at once, a look reserved for him even in court— so that's all right. With a sheepish grin, he manages to pour them each a glass without spilling any more and bring it over to where Miles is still sitting by the table.
"To us?"
Miles takes a champagne flute and clinks it against Phoenix's. "To us," he agrees with a rare unguarded smile.
Phoenix leans contentedly into his beloved as they sip the refreshing beverage, wondering when it'll sink in, when he'll get used to having Miles as his spouse finally being reality instead of mere fantasy. Then Miles is stroking his cock, and his instant reaction is visceral and embarrassing — he almost drops his glass as he thrusts into Miles' hand.
"You like it cold here?"
"Ah, no…!" No one's ever touched him there before, and he's so hard it hurts all over again. "Miles…"
"Excited, aren't we?"
"Give me a break, Miles. It's my first time."
Miles stops. "Ever?"
(Is that disbelief a compliment? Or should I be ashamed that everyone else got laid first?) "Y—yes…?"
"Weren't you and Iris—?"
"We never got that far. She just… never seemed ready. And now I know why."
"And before? After?"
Well, Phoenix is definitely flattered now — Miles isn't even considering the possibility that, maybe, the reason he fell so hard for Dahlia was because she was the only girl to have ever shown any interest in him.
"Well…" There had been a few back in high school that he'd thought to ask out, but "it seemed disingenuous to be with someone else when I only wanted you." And not too long after Dahlia, Miles was back in his life and making him wonder how he ever even looked at anyone else.
He glances up to meet heated grey eyes and gasps as an arm snakes around his waist to draw him close. "So you've been saving yourself for me?" The kiss he's pulled into is fierce, searing, possessive, and he hisses into it as cold glass is pressed to his chest. "I… wish I could claim the same level of restraint." Miles twirls the flute, condensation easing the way as it rubs against the sensitive nub, and Phoenix sets his own drink down before he drops it.
"At least that means we're not both clueless…?" he replies breathlessly with a grin. He's not that disappointed, he tells himself — it's not like he expected Miles to stay celibate or anything when they were never even together. But since Miles never initiated sex before this, even after they decided they were going to commit, he'd assumed Miles was waiting for marriage… and the hopeless romantic in him would have liked that to be true.
Smiling wistfully, Miles' hand on the small of his back slides up to cup his cheek and run a thumb gently over his bottom lip. "No, I… always missed you," he admits, holding them cheek to cheek and closing his eyes, a quiet desperation in his voice as he murmurs into his lover's ear, "enough to attempt actualizing my fantasies. Youthful, sentimental folly," Miles turns to press his lips emphatically into Phoenix's skin, "but at the time, I believed I'd never see you again." He drains the champagne flute and sets it down to free his hand. Sliding it up Phoenix's thigh, "Allow me to make it up to you," he whispers, fingertips glancing teasingly over that untouched entrance as he palms the other's ass, and Phoenix cries out — he'd always thought "weak with desire" was just a metaphor, but when Miles half-carries him to the bed, he can barely even think from the hot want suffusing his body.
He fumbles with the sash on Miles' robe as his mouth is plundered, pushing it off broad shoulders and moaning as skin presses on skin. Miles' mouth trails hot and wet down his neck and chest, hands sliding down his arms to pin his wrists to the bed, and he arches up into the contact, shuddering in anticipation as it inches ever lower.
Then, just as he's about to reach, Miles drops a kiss on his hip instead.
Phoenix groans, frustrated. (M—more teasing?!) "How is this making it up to me?!"
Miles smirks, pulling Phoenix along as he sits up. "Tsk tsk, which adage about virgins do you want to prove, Phoenix? No patience, no stamina or both?"
"D—don't talk to me about patience. How many years— ah!"
Miles has bound his hands behind his back with the sash of his robe. "—have we both waited?" There is such tenderness in their kiss this time. "And to be completely fair, seeing as these," Phoenix yelps as Miles taps his right hand and cock with two fingers, "are the only parts to have seen any action, we are going to leave them out tonight."
"Wh—whaaat?!" He doesn't hide his dismay.
"Oh? Do you doubt that I am perfectly capable of making you come untouched?" Miles asks, rubbing and twisting both nipples at once.
"Mng-ahh!" His arms being bound behind his back thrusts his chest out and inexplicably heightens their sensitivity. "N—no, hngh, M—Miles!" he whines when the other stops just as he's getting close.
"I'll have you know," Miles continues in that tone he uses in court to explain self-evident facts, "that it's much better when you wait. I promise, in the end, it will be better than any fantasy or quick release, and you'll want me to keep you waiting next time too."
Experience, Phoenix reflects, is recognising an argument he can't win, so he only dips his head and peppers Miles' neck with kisses. The other embraces him as his lips trail down, and he flicks his tongue at a dusky nub before sucking a mark right over Miles' heart. Miles isn't as sensitive here, but he moans when a tongue traces his collarbone, licks the salt up over his jugular and dips into the shell of his ear. Phoenix nips at an earlobe, presses his lips into the pulse point behind Miles' ear and inhales deeply of fine shampoo and clean musk.
As he shifts onto his knees, Miles kisses him again, and he only has a brief warning clink of ice cubes before the champagne bottle is wedged between his legs. "Sh—ahh!" He flinches away, but Miles presses it in, and the cold is almost painful on such a sensitive area.
"We shouldn't waste the champagne," Miles says with a peck to his brow, then leaves to… get the flutes they left at the table, and Phoenix has to grip the bottle with his thighs to keep it from spilling. Miles also stops by his suitcase, though, and by the time he's found whatever he was searching for, Phoenix is growing numb.
He whimpers when Miles sits down and takes the bottle away to pour them another glass, blinking tears out of his eyes and panting as he falls pliant into the other's arms.
"Phoenix." Blue eyes snap to grey as gentle fingertips wipe tear streaks away. "Am I really hurting you? Do you—" Miles bites his quivering bottom lip. "Do you want to stop? We don't have to do it like… like this, if you don't want to."
As he sips the offered champagne, Phoenix considers it —it's strangely good, this extended pleasure-pain, this push-pull from the edge— and shakes his head. "I trust you."
Voice thick and eyes damp with sudden emotion, Miles insists, "Do you promise you'll tell me?"
"Yes. I promise."
And it's as if all the tension in Miles' body drains away as he clasps Phoenix to him for a dizzying kiss. Then Miles finishes off the glass and pours lubricant —that must be what he fetched from his suitcase— onto his fingers.
The breath hitches in Phoenix's throat. He's never even touched himself there before —he's always been too shy despite seeing it in videos— but it makes the blood rush to his cock anew, makes him drip with want as warm, tingly lube trickles past and those slick fingers circle, part, press, rub — all short of actually pushing in. "Hah-hngh…" He spreads his legs wider to sink down, but the touch retreats, then he's crying out as the cold bottle returns, and he can't decide whether it's in pleasure or pain. "M—Miles," he hisses as another feint has him rutting into freezing, wet glass that he feels down to his core. "Please!"
"Don't spill it, and I'll reward you."
Miles pops an ice cube into his mouth, then bends to close his lips around a nipple, and Phoenix shivers, gasping, eyes stinging from the sensory overload — the heat of Miles' mouth, the chill of the ice cube, the friction of his tongue and the suction; the hot tingle behind, the cold throb in front and the pressure just under. A finger finally, finally breaches him, and his hips buck between the sharp pleasure and the numbing pain. Miles moves to the other nub as the finger slides slowly in and out, and Phoenix trembles as the pressure mounts in his painfully cold balls and more precum leaks from his aching cock.
"Do you like chocolate?" Miles asks conversationally, sounding too damned cool and collected for all this as he takes one piece from the pillow and opens it. "Hm?" He scrapes the corner of the chocolate square on a nipple, and the prickling sensation makes Phoenix's cock twitch against cold glass.
"Yea—hnngh!" Miles sucks the sweet speck off, hard, and Phoenix ruts helplessly into the bottle. "Miles, please!"
The other takes the chocolate between his lips, and Phoenix eagerly bites off half as they kiss — it's good dark chocolate, too, not the cheap waxy kind used in some candy bars. He sighs as Miles takes the bottle away, but then another digit pushes in alongside the first. At his sound of pain, Miles' fingers still.
"Phoenix?"
The sweet concern in his voice always melts Phoenix inside, even back when he'd asked if Phoenix was okay after that class trial so long ago now. Phoenix had hugged Miles and thanked him, and when Miles gingerly returned the hug a bit later, it felt like belonging.
It feels like belonging now, as a warm hand rubs his back soothingly while he breathes through the pain. He can hear Miles' heart pounding, feel the rising anxiety in his lover's body, and he's about to reassure Miles, but the other beats him to words.
"My apologies, Phoenix. I shouldn't do this on our first night together. Without even discussing—"
"Miles, I'm fine," he interrupts firmly, planting another kiss on his spouse's mouth. "And I never knew sex could feel this good for this long, but… I—I need…" Now that the pain has faded, Miles is pressing into… a place that's begging for more, and he bites his lip to keep from doing just that. "It aches. So don't— don't stop? Don't— We can discuss whatever you want tomorrow. Just please, Miles, please…" So much for not begging. "Let me—!"
With a sigh of relief, the smile returns to Miles' face. "Then relax," he murmurs, watching closely as he carefully scissors his fingers inside.
Closing his eyes, Phoenix struggles to force muscles he's rarely used consciously to obey. It does hurt less, and then he's moaning Miles' name like a prayer as that place inside is stroked, and nothing he's read or watched could have prepared him for the reality of this. Pleasure flows like lava through his veins, and he can't control the snap of his hips — he's almost—
"Hng-ngh!"
His heavy, aching balls are grabbed, and the edge of pain as hypersensitive flesh is fondled roughly breaks the high. The keen that escapes him as slick fingers withdraw sounds pitiful, and even the precum flowing down to Miles' hand now feels embarrassingly arousing on his neglected cock.
"M—Miles," he whimpers as the hand on his balls tightens. "Y—you said—"
"Without me?" Miles asks, breathless, as he spreads lubricant on himself, and his cock is so beautiful, full and glistening in his hand as he thrusts up into it. "Are you certain?"
Hurriedly, Phoenix shakes his head, licking dry lips, eyes transfixed by the languid strokes of slender fingers that had just been "I—inside me. Plea— ah!"
In a quick move, he's flipped face down with his ass in the air. "Here?" Miles sucks a mark into the flesh just beside his opening, and Phoenix can only writhe wantonly, grunting as the comforter chafes his sore nipples.
"Ah, yes!"
"After all these years, finally, mine." Another mark, on the other side, and the warmth that rushes through him isn't purely physical.
"Always," he breathes, "I've always been yours."
Searing hands run up the back of his thighs from his knees, leaving electric sensation arcing over his skin in their wake. "And look how hungry you are for it."
"O—objection! I've never even— Y—you made me— ah-ah-ahhn!" (I—is that…?)
Miles is circling his tongue inside, and those insides are coiling up for—
He stops.
He just fucking stops, and if Phoenix could talk, he'd be screaming curses, but the only sound that escapes is a pathetic sob.
Then he's rolled onto his back, and his anger dies. The open love in grey eyes floors him, ties his tongue as he finds his hands freed, and Miles has never looked at him like this before. Not even when they were exchanging rings the other day.
"Did you truly think," Miles asks gently, crawling between his legs with unbelievable grace, "that I would be so cold as to take you from behind on our wedding night?" and it sends a shiver down his spine.
His lover lifts his legs to hook them over his shoulders, and (This is it,) he thinks. (He's finally going to…) He reaches out to bury his hands in silver-grey hair as Miles gets into position, and his spouse turns to pepper his wrists with tender kisses.
"I told you I'd reward you."
"By untying me?"
Miles covers Phoenix's hands with his own, pressing in slowly, and he remembers to relax, but it still hurts — Miles is so big.
"I've never performed anilingus before, but after that response, it is now how I plan on waking you up."
Phoenix flushes, and he didn't think that was still possible. "I—if you're eating me for breakfast, what will I…? Ngk."
Miles' knowing smirk breaks into concern. "Relax, Phoenix. Do you need me to slow down?"
"J—just give me a minute," he manages between harsh breaths, and even as he tries to get used to the extra stretch, he takes a moment to admire Miles' self-control — Phoenix doubts he'd be able to hold still if their positions were reversed. Heck, he'd probably have come by now. The thought of Miles coming inside him seems to do it, though, and he nods as the pain recedes. "Okay."
It returns full force when Miles starts moving again, however, and Phoenix's hands drop to grip Miles' shoulders as he struggles not to tense up. Then gentle fingers are caressing his areolae, and when they sweep, featherlight, over sore nubs, his cock still throbs as if from direct contact, and just as he thinks he can't take anymore, Miles bottoms out with a shuddering breath and immediately leans down to kiss him.
"You're amazing, Phoenix," he whispers, cradling him close like something precious. "So much better than I imagined, so good for me. This week, I'm going to make you forget there ever was a time when you had to touch yourself because I wasn't there."
Well, if Miles is always so effusive during sex, Phoenix will happily do whatever his spouse wants in bed. "I can't wait," he replies with a smile, reaching for another chocolate square and unwrapping it. The pain has faded now, and the pressure and fullness is almost too much to bear. "And I've always loved you, Miles. Please, don't tease anymore."
He places the chocolate between his lips, and Miles takes the other half as they kiss, limbs winding tightly around each other. It's sweet and creamy as their tongues twine, with nuts this time, but then Miles rolls his hips, and everything else becomes secondary. They moan as one, then Miles is twining their fingers as he pulls out to thrust in again, and Phoenix's back arches as he cries out, eyes all but rolling back in his head.
It's so good, everything he's needed for so long now, and "Haahh… I— I'm almost—!"
"Yes, look at me, Phoenix." As if he could look away. "Let me see you." Miles sucks on his bottom lip as the thrusts speed up, looking and sounding utterly wrecked, and he's lost. "Come for me, Phoenix. Come for me right now."
Phoenix screams.
Pleasure erupts, and he's falling helplessly into the raw need in hypnotic grey eyes. Miles' hips stutter, wet heat searing into his soul, and the deep voice chanting his name is like the litany of the angels in heaven. Heaven, heaven with Miles, and he lets himself fall.
When he blinks to clear his vision, Phoenix is half-draped over Miles under the covers with a comforting arm around him and feeling surprisingly clean. His spouse looks lost in thought, eyes unfocused despite the book in his hand.
"How long was I out?" he asks, sitting up blearily.
"Approximately an hour." Miles shuts the Steel Samurai manga he's reading, and that's the surest sign they're on vacation — every other time they've travelled, Miles has read law books. "There's still champagne left if I haven't ruined it for you," and his beloved's voice sounds rueful, tinged with hope.
"Water seems wiser right now," he replies, crawling out of bed for it. "Would you like some?"
"Please."
Phoenix downs a glass of water at the mini bar before bringing a full glass back for Miles. His Miles who is never going to lose that nervous tic of gripping his elbow. He sits on the edge of the bed and pries Miles' hand away to wrap it around the glass of water, then leans in for a kiss, watching as Miles' eyes flutter shut.
"If it didn't taste so overrated and overpriced," he murmurs when they part, "you might have made champagne my new favorite drink." He waits for grey eyes to widen, then soften before turning away to fill the two flutes on the nightstand. "But that's why we shouldn't waste it."
"Indeed," Miles agrees, clinking them, and sipping some. It's not as cold as it was anymore, but there's still a bit of carbonation left.
"What's on your mind?" Phoenix asks, watching him closely.
"Gnk… I was worried. No one's ever blacked out on me before."
"Objection!" He taps Miles on the nose and grins at the other's frown before pouring the last of the champagne. "I've seen you worry. That's not it. And you don't have to tell me, but…" He laces their fingers, so their wedding bands are side by side. "This means you don't have to do or bear anything alone either, if you want."
Miles smiles wryly and sighs. "I was… reflecting. Every time my living situation has changed, my life seemed to spiral very quickly out of control shortly before or after." He squeezes Phoenix's hand. "It makes me wonder what will happen next."
Chuckling, Phoenix squeezes back and drains his flute. "It'll probably be my fault, too. My life seems generally beyond my control anyway. I can't even choose my own cases half the time or, heck, my own lunch." He returns the empty glass to the nightstand.
"O—oof, objection!" Miles sits up and sets his empty flute down as well. "I didn't mean to imply—"
"That's not what I meant either." They move as one into an embrace, and Phoenix smiles as he rests his head on Miles' shoulder. "We should have done this years ago." (Control, huh? I wonder, is there any way I can help?)
"Yes." Miles buries his face in surprisingly soft hair. "I realize now that it was foolish of me to worry that you might be… repulsed by my proclivities. Your inability to appreciate my interests has never prevented you from at least trying to understand them."
(H—he was worried? That's why he held back — he was afraid of scaring me away?) Suddenly, Phoenix sees Miles' earlier confession from a new perspective —(He experimented with people he wasn't afraid to lose)— and it feels rather romantic now. (Well, yeah… I guess not everyone is into this sort of thing, but…) It was good — he can still feel the bone-deep contentment, the feeling of being utterly sated, yet still looking forward to Miles' promise of more. "I enjoyed it," he says honestly, straightening to look Miles in the eyes. "If you want, we can keep going."
Miles looks abashed but happy. "W—we should discuss this in detail — mutual expectations, boundaries and so on. E—even if I'm going to be in control of this, I have no wish to overstep any limits with which you are comfortable."
Phoenix smiles helplessly — it's adorable how carefully and considerately Miles wants to go about this, and Phoenix wants to say something sappy, like "you've always been the boy I loved in fourth grade at heart," but that sounds maudlin and uncomplimentary. He's touched by the affection and concern, though, and he wishes he knew how to express it.
"Miles…" (Wait, did he say "control"?) Maybe this is it. Maybe this will help. "I trust you," he says again, pressing his lips to the white gold ring on Miles' finger, and he doesn't know much about this, but if the stuff he's seen on the Internet and tonight's preview are any indication, he's definitely up for trying some things. And if Miles being in control always feels this good, Phoenix is more than happy to let him have it. Holding Miles' gaze, he decides to try something he once watched that seems relevant — he sinks slowly to his knees. "And I'm really looking forward to that discussion… Master."
Well, given that Miles seems to have forgotten how to breathe and is visibly ready for round two, Phoenix will vote that the Internet is really, really great for some things.
