The night was cold and a gentle and constant breeze was drying their lips and cheeks, but everything had been worthy.
Seeing the clear sky, the glittering starts, and the moon playing hide-and-seek among the buildings were enough to bear such little annoyances. That without counting the delightful sight of the disappointed fancy boy. For Lang, it had been more than worthy.
"... T-This is... the mighty castle... of Zhin Lau Shi?" the profound disillusionment was impossible to hide in Edgeworth's voice.
They were in front of a quite accurate miniature which depicted the Zhin Lau Shi castle. A perfect replica of the mighty structure, whose characteristic architectural features, proper of the Zheng Fa culture, were the main attraction of that park, hidden in the middle of the City.
"Yeah. All people here know this park as Zhin Lau Shi."
"I thought we would visit the real version."
Lang snorted. "A huge castle with several hectares all around it in the middle of the city? And that's called logic. Hah."
"It... well." Edgeworth was ashamed.
He had expected to see the historical castle in its whole magnitude. Despite remembering how extensive was shown in the special miniseries, he never paid enough attention to the fact that an enormous castle, in middle of the city, could not make sense at all. It seemed he had been carried away. His pride as a sensible man had been wounded.
As if the mockery were not enough, he remembered Pesu. He had angered her just for... this. It was unacceptable.
"The real Zhin Lau Shi is placed in the south of the country", Lang said adding a bit of more misery into Edgeworth's life.
Arranging the collar of his coat, the prosecutor sighed, falling in his strange melancholic mood.
Probably the fancy boy was thinking too much about... who-knows-what. Lang smirked at him for a while, until the joke got old, and he started to feel guilty. But just a bit.
That childish desire of seeing a castle from a TV show was something that really had stimulated the prosecutor. It had been the first lively emotion that he had seen on the prosecutor since his arrival to the country. Maybe fooling that man to that extent was not wise. Some limits were better to never cross. "Well, don't make that face. If you are a good boy, I'll take you to visit the fancy castle some day."
Edgeworth hardened his face under the patronizing tone; he had forgotten his ward for a brief moment during his short enthusiasm, and now he was paying for it. Putting the small camera in his pocket, he wore his usual cold, frowning mask and kept silent.
"Hey, no hard feelings-" Lang insisted, glancing at the prosecutor for a second, and turned over his heels to walk across the park grass, despite the concrete path decorated with stones, "-the pub is a bit far away."
"So, may I ask, why are we not getting there by car?"
"You'll see", Lang added, and kept walking away.
Both men walked through the streets in silence. With icy eyes fixated ahead, Edgeworth was a step behind the agent, following him, his mind filled with worries about what could his dearest pet be doing.
On the other hand, Lang was relishing the sky. The moon and stars were unique in his country, indeed.
However, their peaceful walk was interrupted by a strong rumble coming from Edgeworth's stomach. The prosecutor kept his usual neutral face, unable to control the slight blush on his cheeks. He lowered his head a bit, only to hide the reaction by using his fringe, making it fall over his face.
Lang could not help but being delighted by the small gesture. "You didn't grab anything for dinner, did you?"
"I had no lunch either... I believe I lost the track of time."
"Huh. Like always." Lang put his eyes on the sky, avoiding that odd pulse he had just perceived a second ago. "Were you working?"
"Yes. I asked for some historical archives at the prosecutor's department, but... things did not go well."
"Mn. Did you sleep?"
"..." Edgeworth was tired, and his mind numbed, but he was aware enough to understand where things were going if he dared to leak more information.
"You didn't." the agent answered aloud with a triumphant tone in his voice.
"I did."
"Huh?... outside your apartment?. Hey, look at the cub." Lang laughed openly, feeling an abrupt wave of curiosity hitting his guts.
The tired man got his guard down, and he was going to exploit that, in order to satisfy his doubts. He was already tasting it in his fangs: finally, an open gate to look into the prosecutor's animal nature. It was not unexpected, because after all, every human had that wild side. Whether the killing instinct or the savage lust, part of the intrinsic predatory nature was always there, inside people, waiting to break free in, sometimes, the most terrible ways. And the prosecutor's concern was confirming his guess. He could not be more satisfied to rip off those secrets from a man pretending to have icy eyes. Little cubs are so funny.
However, Edgeworth's worries were far away from what Lang was wondering about. The prosecutor was entirely mortified to be forced to confess that he had wasted the whole day sleeping over his desk. It was unacceptable, from any point of view. "Think what you please, agent. However, I did take care of many useful matters today" he said, hoping to change the main topic of the conversation in a sneaky way.
"Uh-huh?. That sounds interesting. What did you do?" Lang dared him, smirking wider and wider at each word.
"Uhm. Well. I found a book I had been looking for a while now."
"Mn?. Which one?"
"In a Grove."
Lang remembered that book in the prosecutor's briefcase, two years ago. It seemed old enough to assume it had been the boy's favourite book, "You read it?" he said in a casual way, as he was completely unaware of the answer.
"I've just bought it"
"So, you didn't spend the day reading a book" he laughed openly.
"Agent Lang..."
"What?. I'm enjoying seeing how bad of a liar you are"
Offended, Edgeworth frowned. "I'm not lying."
"You sure?"
"And what is that supposed to mean, may I pray?"
"Look at you, little cub, so sure of yourself, thinking you can fool your elders?. Tch-" He was too much pleased with the secrets he had already found by just upsetting the prosecutor. It was a small revenge for the misunderstanding they got into an hour ago. And after all, both men were going to drink and relax. He had enough of their typical arguing every day at work. So he went smooth and cheery on him, just to see the troublesome face Edgeworth was going to make. "-That book was in your briefcase, before coming to Zheng Fa. It seemed you've already read it many times."
Surprised, Edgeworth turned his face and squinted him. "You!. You rummaged in my briefcase without my consent!?"
"Welcome to the wildness."
"Preposterous!" His frown went deeper.
"Like what you enjoy to do, let's change the topic; you didn't spend the day reading, so, why?"
Annoyed enough, Edgeworth only seethed, "Think as you wish."
Lang shook his shoulders in a extremely open laugh, "C'mon, Mr. Prosecutor, go easy on this one."
Edgeworth's stomach rumbled once again, amusing the agent for the rest of the walk.
Finally, they reached a zone which was known as «the dark town». It was the forgotten and apparently forbidden part of the city. The streets were lightened with several colourful neon posters, in a language that was not Borginian, nor another one that Edgeworth could identify.
Several groups of women and men wearing leather jackets and spiky hair were gathered at the street corners, hands in pockets, and a few of them were holding chains. They were talking to each other until the intruders' presence broke their chat just to scrutinize them thoughtfully. Lang relaxed them by waving his hand in the air, changing the atmosphere in the blink of an eye.
"What language is this?" Edgeworth asked as they were walking in front of a shop that seemed to be a restaurant.
"The old language of this country. It was forgotten by most people. Lang family and its branches have learnt it generation after generation, as guardians of our ancestral traditions."
"Hmph. I could infer, by glancing around, this might be the underground you had told me about before; is it accurate?"
"Yeah. So sharp like usual-" Lang said sarcastically "-but don't let the surface fool you."
Deeper into the town, the lights lost their glamorous touch and were reduced to their most basic function: lightening nameless entrances. Many doors were protected by guards that looked as aggressive and dangerous as those people they found through the streets before. Edgeworth was sure this environment was anything but legal.
They stopped in front of a dark entrance which had a twinkling bulb pending on a side. Its doors had many graffiti on them, and a couple of silent guards with crossed arms were observing them like watchdogs. Lang spoke to them in an unknown tongue, and immediately, they answered with a bow. That was even more suspicious.
The guards looked at the prosecutor from head to toe, scanning him in such a grotesque way. There was no place they did not observe with those piercing and distrusting eyes.
A restrained shiver crossed Edgeworth's back, remembering Manfred for a second. The old man had scrutinized him in that disgusting way the first time he wore his usual red-wine suit and a cravat. Back then, Edgeworth was a nine-year-old kid, and had treasured the dry, yet penetrating phrase of the old man. A phrase he never stopped to recall from time to time while growing up.
"There is nothing in you which resembles Perfection. You are unworthy of being protected, yet still you are. Never forget it, and do not dare to be ungrateful".
He glared at the guard, as the guard glared back at him.
"Come in, we are among friends." Lang said and touched Edgeworth's shoulder, breaking the glaring fight.
Behind the dark door there was a spiral stair, leading down into a noisy place. Electric guitars, drum-like rhythms and strident sounds penetrated his brain and resounded into his ribs.
Lang saw the prosecutor when the softy rubbed his temples, pressing his ears in a concealing way while clenching his teeth.
What could he expect, coming from a man who used to listen to Mozart at a ridiculous low volume in his apartment. Knowing the sound inside would be like a hell for the fancy boy's ears, Lang stopped him with a gesture of his hand, asking the prosecutor to await him there.
Doing so, Edgeworth remained in the place, squinting around as he resisted the piercing sounds that were stabbing his mind.
Meanwhile, Lang went straight to a small cubicle made of glass aside from the tables and seats. He spoke with a man who was wearing glasses, nodding several times. It did not take much time for the music to change into a completely different style; a smooth rhythm combined with saxophones at a lower volume. Lounge. The music of human pleasures.
Relieved, Edgeworth's frown smoothed. He could not miss it had been a really nice detail coming from the agent.
The whole atmosphere of the pub changed into a tranquil one, with a calm murmur spreading all over the place.
Lang's hand in the air caught his attention. The agent, smirking as always, was inviting him to come in and approach the table he had just chosen. In doing so, Edgeworth could smell the environment's scent, which was clean and fresh. There were no traces of smoke or ashes, and the only spicy scent he could perceive were those coming from the several bottles of mixed drinks.
They sat in the table placed in a corner of the big room, one in front of the other.
Despite trying to display tranquillity, Edgeworth could not help but feel himself out-of-place. People around looked at him from time to time, and whispered something in the closest person's ear. This was not new for him, of course, but it brought him many unpleasant memories. For that reason, he stared at Lang, observing the man who was unexpectedly happy. In fact, too happy for being him; but it was hard to deny: Lang was almost a fish in the water in such environment. Since they had entered into the pub, Lang had been greeted by every person that crossed his eyes with him.
He was cheerful, lively, full of energy. At some point, the resemblance with Pesu in her most frantic days made Edgeworth chuckle.
But the agent was not that way usually, could it be a façade?.
Why?. Edgeworth squinted at him.
"LANG!" a loud call coming from his back frightened him. It had been an old man who was approaching their table, followed by many young men and women. Lang spoke with him in that strange language, until they switched it again, including him into their conversation.
"He is my team worker-" Lang moved his chin towards Edgeworth, without averting the old man's eyes "-we are working hard for Zheng Fa, Uncle."
"Nothing would please me more than knowing your name." the old man added, extending his hand towards Edgeworth. Awkwardly for the unexpected situation, he stood up and bowed before the man, accepting his hand with a polite shake.
"My apologies, I'm Mi- Manfred Wolff" Edgeworth cleared his throat to cover the previous hesitation.
The old man smiled uncomfortable, and glanced at Lang, asking in silence for a clarification. The awkwardness only stopped when Lang chuckled shaking his head.
They spoke a little more in their language and with an elegant movement of his hand, the old man left the place with the rest of people who were behind him. A cold sweat was covering Edgeworth's back. The place fulfilled every Mafia stereotype. There was no logic argument in the world that could change his mind about it.
"What was that?." the prosecutor asked as both of them were sitting again in their seats.
"Nothing to worry about, trust me." Lang smiled relaxed. He looked at the barman, whistled at him by using two fingers in his mouth, and made some gestures with his hands, as if he was explaining something about numbers and drinks.
The whistle, as unexpected as everything in that place so far, made Edgeworth tense all of a sudden, pressing his ears for the second time since he had entered into the bloody lair of mafia wolves.
"You won't believe that this kind of drinks exist in this world, you'll see."
"I am already unable to believe anything I've seen here so far actually exists, agent."
"Like I said, go easy, relax. The music is not good enough? I can ask him for another one if you want-". Lang said, full of enthusiasm and put his fingers in his mouth, almost ready to whistle again.
"Nou! Wait! Wait! The music is quite well.-" he immediately stopped the wild man, concerned for his own ears. "-Just explain to me what had happened with your... Uncle?."
"Don't worry about it. He's an old friend of my family".
"This is the real face of the Lang family?"
"You could say that... but you still know nothing."
"For what I've seen so far... all in here smells dangerous."
Lang laughed openly, shaking his shoulders. Then he slammed the table as he placed an arm over the backrest of his own seat. "Like the wise Lang Zi said: «All men are brothers. And all friends become family.», there is nothing dangerous here."
"Hmph." Edgeworth lowered his face a bit and, by using part of his fringe to cover his eyes full of suspicion, looked around.
The gesture made Lang feel a tickle in his belly, absolutely pleased for what he was reading in that behaviour. The lonely wolf had learnt to defend himself and distrust even the pack that was eager to share its hospitality with him. Not all cubs are touchy-feely, uh?.
Even with the ambient music, they heard Edgeworth's stomach rumbling again, breaking his mysterious and, at some point, dangerous demeanour.
With a slight blush on his face, Edgeworth crossed his hands and put them on the table, pretending nothing had happened. Lang chuckled, and looked at the bar one more time. Without whistling, he made some movements with his hands and a boy walked towards the table, holding a tray with many snacks on different plates.
"Go ahead. A day without giving a bite, at least once, is a wasted day" Lang said, smirking, but the man at his front put his eyes on the bar, waiting for something to come."What's wrong?"
"There is no cutlery."
Lang could not restrain himself, and once again laughed openly. "What? They're snacks. The smarty cub can't use his paws?"
"We are not animals, there is no need for getting our hands dirty"
A man approached the table again, placing two glasses, several bottles, a pair of jugs and a bowl with ice. He spoke with Lang in that unknown language, and after a look of disbelief towards Edgeworth, he went to the bar, returning later with a fork.
The prosecutor started to eat as Lang mixed drinks in jugs.
Curious, Edgeworth watched him in the process. The main thing that caught his attention were the bottles. They were written in that language, so he could not understand anything in there.
Bored on this restriction, Edgeworth observed the glasses which were made in an interesting curving form, but nothing more. He needed something challenging, something to appreciate from an aesthetic point of view. And that was when he found himself enjoying... Lang's hands.
The left one showed many teeth marks on its back, and a scab with Lang's mouth shape.
Lang had rough hands, with raised veins on their back and prominent knuckles, probably as a result of the many punches he threw over his life. His nails were extremely short and had a saw-like shape. So his teeth were not only damaging his skin.
Unlike his hands, Lang's hands seemed forceful and overpowering, almost wild with those marks. They were not caressing a bracelet, they were shaking bottles, opening the hard sealed ones, breaking ice by using the ice axe.
Then, Edgeworth frowned. "Could I ask you what is it you are doing? This is supposed to be the job of the man behind the bar, is it not?"
"Ah, my pretty ignorant boy. What he prepares is stronger that anything you've tasted in your life. I'm doing the light versions, suitable for fancy prosecutors. I don't want to make you lose your stomach after the first drink."
Edgeworth raised an eyebrow as his worries increased all of a sudden.
***double space [Go AO3 for a better format]***
When Lang ended the preparations, Edgeworth had just finished eating. Mentally, he thanked for the fork. There was fried fish in the snack that he would have been unable to eat by using his hands. The stink in their fingers would have lasted for days otherwise.
"May I ask you about that man you greeted a moment ago?"
"Uncle?... what about him?" Lang said placing the jugs in the middle of the table and the glasses in front of them.
"You've said he was a friend. For what I know so far, Lang family had lost... many friends when they had that issue with the government."
"Hah. Such a spoilsport you are. Talking about that in a night made for relaxing".
"You brought me here because you were going to speak about it."
"Bah. That naughty attitude of yours..." Lang sighed, and sipped his drink, which was a stronger version than the classic one. "...Uncle and most people you will see here are Lang family's branches. Uncle was related to an ancient merchant family, now so poor and ruined; like mine. That happy man in the corner who controls the music, is the leader of a family that built the first theatre company of this country, in Emperors ages. His family knows everything about any kind of entertainment business... the old and the new entertainment generation."
"Hmph?" Edgeworth raised an eyebrow, glaring at Lang. "New generation? And by that you wouldn't mean... drugs?"
"What?!" Lang almost choked with his drink. "What's wrong with you?. The new entertainment generation is something related to virtual reality and theatre, from what he told me. Stop your damn suspicions, cub. Tsk..." he drank the whole glass all at once. "...I'm in a good mood, don't make me angry, pretty boy; you'll never know how angry I can get when you mess with my family."
"My apologies for the misunderstanding." What more could he say?. He was trained to doubt everyone, everything. Edgeworth remained silent, and sipped his drink, tasting with surprise the different flavour tones and textures it had.
"Tsk." Lang filled his own glass again. "Families with deep duties towards our country, all of them betrayed by those ridiculous courts and its fancy prosecutors. Lang family was the only one who kept its name... the rest of the branches changed their own. I cannot blame them. All the doors were shut after the scandal. They had to quit their proud name and change it... to survive. We are in the wildness, after all, huh?."
"Only your family remained as Lang?"
Lang observed at the prosecutor, smile fading "You could say that."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm the last Lang standing. My blood family changed their names too. Lang was the most tainted name from them all-" he stopped and drank the whole glass, drying his lips with the back of the marked hand. He bit that place again, just for a moment, and poured more beverage. "-I was going to recover our honor. Lang was starting to be well known outside the country, with my men's help... and her... All was going so fine..." Lang averted Edgeworth's eyes, and sighed or snorted. It was hard to decide.
"And everything fell into the well of chaos because Shi-"
"Shut up. Don't say her name."
Edgeworth was surprised on the reaction, but he could not blame the agent. He could understand very well the pain of an unexpected betrayal. "Very well. You told me earlier this place was ancient. I was expecting... a museum section, to say the least." Edgeworth changed the topic in his usual smooth way.
Having a museum in a place like that was such a bizarre image that made Lang chuckle, recovering part of his previous mood.
He was not going to let her destroy the last thing he had: his pride. "You always so educative... that must be a lawyer-thing, I guess. Like I said earlier, Lang family came from Emperors ages. This was a hotel made for the Imperial court. It was full of the finest entertainment and many fancy things that probably you would have enjoyed. Hah.-" pleased with the story as well as the drinks, Edgeworth finished his glass and filled it again. "-When my family fell from grace, this place was burned. Some branches of the family repaired what they could. The place where art and literature bloomed, had to survive in the underground circles. Only the families related to it know about this place." Lang glared straight into Edgeworth's eyes, who understood the message immediately.
"Do not worry. I won't say a word."
"You bet."
"I believe those times should have been quite difficult"
"They were, and they are. Now my name is dirty again, after the smuggling ring issue. But my family don't care, they are here, with a different name, but they are the same. It is a good pack. As Lang Zi said: «The pack that runs together, stays together.»"
At that time, both men remained in silence until their glasses were empty one more time.
***double space [Go AO3 for a better format]***
"So, do you like the drink?" Lang smirked at the prosecutor.
"Indeed. And its low graduation of alcohol pleases me"
Lang snorted without saying a word. He took the jugs and filled both glasses, waiting for the exact moment. "So, you already know about my family, what about yours?"
"Hmph." Edgeworth sipped. "You already know everything about it as well, and the whole case related to it. You read it."
"Yeah, I know the names, the dates and the facts. I would like to know what you think about them."
Edgeworth was going to take another sip, but he stopped midway, and glared at Lang. The agent could not be more satisfied, maybe due to the drinks, or maybe due to that man who was there, looking at him like an alpha, but also, as a lonely wolf, as a mere cub, the fancy boy, the damn prosecutor. How could such amount of paradoxical sides not make a man feel so pleased of observing?. And now that man was also glaring at him, so wild and rebel, but at the same time so naive and young.
"I believe it's not required for me to provide an explicit opinion about facts that made my life a living hell."
"Yeah, I get it. But I was asking about... your mentor."
Edgeworth tensed, hardening his glare even more. "What about him?"
"I've never listened you saying anything about him".
"I... It's not a pleasant topic. I'd prefer to avoid it."
"That's not fair..."
"You did the same right about now"
"Tsk, smarty cub."
But Lang waited two more glasses before recharging. Edgeworth did not know that Zheng Fa's light drinks were potent drinks after all, and the only difference with the strong versions was the time of starting to feel the effects, making them more progressive on a body not accustomed to them. Lang was going to rip off all the secrets from that prosecutor. That was for sure.
"Sis is always remembering her old man..."
"She is his daughter. It seems only natural"
"That man raised you for more than ten years too-" Edgeworth rolled his eyes, and the gesture made Lang completely aware that, finally, alcohol was taking control of the stoic prosecutor. The inhibitions were starting to loosen up, giving him access to his deepest thoughts. The hunt had just begun. "-you don't hesitate to bite the hand that fed you?" Lang knew that those words were dangerous as if he was putting a sparkle in a room filled with gas.
"He killed everything I had. My father, my dreams, myself. He ruined my life. I always remember the man who raised me as rotten as him... Of course I remember him too!," he put a bit stronger the glass on the table, recovering his control afterwards. "I have to remember him more than I would like to, thanks to this stupid name in this country." Edgeworth clenched his teeth. Those things were supposed to be unspoken issues. Or perhaps he could only talk about them with him, and nobody else. Perhaps he had drunk enough. Despite the dim alert in his mind, the drinks' taste in his tongue was so delightful. Another glass was not going to make a big difference, after all. So he poured another one, and took a sip before continuing, "As rotten as him, but not worthy enough of perfection..." he sipped "Curse that man. I hate him, every time, every year, every..." he finally restrained himself, and sighed.
"Why did you never say anything?"
"I was just a kid. He was the only person I had, back then. He could not be like a father, but he was the only person who never abandoned me... Until I knew his reasons. I hate him."
"Reasons?"
"His ridiculous revenge against my father by upbringing his son to be as similar as his killer..."
"What a twisted man... Sis knows all about this?"
"Of course."
"Then why she-"
"What she does or feels is none of our concern, nor our right to question her."
"Tsk. I know... now that I think about it, maybe it's natural, she was treated better than you, I guess"
"No. In fact, he was focused on me, on his revenge. She was always... left behind-" Edgeworth drank again. "-Back then, I thought he was just a man incapable of understanding how to deal with kids. Sadly, Franziska was always hurt by his acts, yet she never said a word about it."
"That's why you don't say bad things about his father?"
"Manfred Von Karma is... a complicated topic between us. As for myself... I'd prefer to avoid it. That man does not deserve any more time of my life."
"Huh. I got it... then, let me apologize-" Lang said looking at him serious and concerned. "-I... suggested that name in your fake identity. I thought it would be a good way to annoy you... I'm sorry"
"Hmph. Indeed it is. But now it's quite useless. There is no way to change it without putting unwanted attention on me." Edgeworth sighed and filled the glass. This would be the last one. Or perhaps the last one had been the previous one?. Why was he feeling so forgetful?.
"Family can be a problem as a kid. But... did you ever consider to make one of your own?"
Edgeworth glowered at him, and part of the drink spilled out from the glass. His whole body tensed all of a sudden under the effect of the adrenaline rush that such simple question had produced.
"N-Nou!, that's unacceptable."
"Huh? Why so touchy?"
"A family? That's madness. There are things some people are not meant to be"
"Tch. Do you really think you can't make one?"
"I'm aware of my own limitations, agent" Edgeworth drank half of glass at the instant. The jugs were almost empty.
"Being part of a family is not about limitations, cub.-" there you go again, the lonely spiky wolf, the agent thought, just before feeling tickles in his belly. "-families are like packs, and they are diverse. You can choose your pack, too...but you can't deny it's part of life, a natural thing; you must accept it. As Lang Zi said «One should always know one's place in life»."
"Well, mine is not being part of a family."
"Why?"
"I do not believe that's any of your concern" Lang could not be more surprised. Both men were starting to feel drunk, but even in that state, that man had a barrier. A barrier under a barrier. It was the first time Lang saw such peculiarity, and so, the cub turned into a more intriguing wolf than before. "And speaking of which... I recall you told me Lang Zi's words were lost... and yet, you are forcing them into our conversation since... well, since I've put a foot in this country." Edgeworth finished off, dryly.
Those words destroyed all the tickles in his belly, all the desire that was growing inside him, and like fire reduced into ashes, his thoughts were invaded by her. At that moment, he knew he was already drunk, yet nothing would stop him to keep drinking. He made a movement with his hand towards the barman and asked for more bottles.
"Huh. They are lost-" he continued with a serious face "-the scrolls were destroyed. A few were saved, but most of them are here" he said pointing his temple with his forefinger, hand resembling a gun.
The gesture gave Edgeworth a strong hit in his gut, like a poisoned knife stabbing him deeply, but as usual, he remained immutable, "destroyed?"
"She burned them down."
"Hmph. Such a despicable woman." His words were immediate as it was the thought of Kay in that fateful day of her life.
"Shut up." Lang said, hitting the table with the glass, "You didn't know anything about her past."
"And do you think you do?"
"... I don't know. What I know for sure is that she was going to recover the lost flame of Lang's name. And make larger the Lang's family... She and I..." suddenly, Lang closed his eyes, regretting those words. He swore at himself for being so careless, but in the end he could not blame his mind for what the drinks were doing to both of them. It was the price for uncovering Edgeworth's secrets. Besides, to be fair, he needed to vent it. And by saying it to one of those culprits that gave her the worst was, in some way, a profound relief. Lang sighed deeply, giving up his restraints. "... she was such a wonderful woman. I didn't care about her past. I can't tell apart what was the truth from what were lies, but... whatever it was, it's lost now."
"Was?"
"Yesterday, at night, I got a call. Her defense attorney had appealed time ago, and she was awaiting a resolution. They got it, and that trial's date was set to take place next week. But yesterday morning... they killed her. Without giving her the damn trial."
Only then, Edgeworth understood the whole strange and cheerful attitude that Lang had been showing the whole evening. It had been anything but genuine.
However, the Truth had to be told, despite any sentimentalism. "She was not innocent, agent. She murdered the father of a girl who had no other person in this world but him. She killed several innocent people."
"Innocent?. Hah. I will overlook that... The point is, they allowed her to appeal. They were going to play that ridiculous thing of trials and courts... If they wanted her dead in the first place, why give her the option? Huh?." he lowered his look "They fancy to play with empty hopes..."
"Hmph... I had to accept that's quite an irregularity..."
"I don't care about your fancy words. The irregularity killed her. That's the fact. Now you know about the reason why half of Lang family is dead or erased."
The man behind the bar approached them with new bottles, jugs and ice, taking off the empty ones and left.
Both men kept silent while Lang was preparing new jugs, probably a bit stronger than the former ones. They were already drunk anyway.
"What about your father?" Lang asked, filling the glasses with the same drink for both of them.
"There are many things to talk about him, and none of them is bad."
Lang snorted, and drank in silence. A defense attorney with so many good things?. Not in this world, for sure. But he knew it was pointless to voice his opinion. After all, it was a father's image from his son's point of view. "He was relentless in pursuing the right thing to be done. In a sense, that was what killed him-" Edgeworth sighed. "-defending people was always his priority... same as him". Edgeworth frowned, and hid the trip by drinking.
"Uh? Him?"
Edgeworth cursed to himself. How was that half drunk man still sharp enough to get the smallest details?. "I would like to ask you, agent, what had happened to your men."
"Well, you lost the smooth way for changing topics, I see." Lang smirked, but overlooked it again. He was in a tired mood. Bless Zhen Fa's drinks. "-what about them?"
"More than two years had past from that case. Why couldn't you gather them again?. From what I know, all of them would be pleased to follow you"
"I know. But it's not easy, cub. They were reassigned all over the world... strangely."
"Strangely?"
"I know this was not made by chance. They don't want me to recover my pack. Maybe they really gave up on Lang's name..." Lang placed his elbows on the table, folded his fingers, and put his mouth on the back of his left hand. Then, he started biting that place, alternating it with a drink.
"They?, do you mean Interpol?"
"Yeah, I gave them many problems with that fucking case..." Lang bit stronger his hand. Several memories about his men and her were flitting in his mind. He did want to stop them, but... he was feeling those nervous tics all over his body. A muscle contracted on his back, a little pull close to his nape, the slight yet constant movement of his right leg. The drink was not helping either. Those wild red lips, those dangerous eyes, that dominating style apparently hidden on the surface. He was feeling so uneasy. "Hey, Mr. fancy boy. I'm done with that topic, got it?. Let's talk about something more... interesting. Let's talk about... your country."
"Which one?"
"Uh?." Lang squinted at him.
"I spent half of my life in Germany, raised as a German..."
"Oh, I see... Sorry, excuse this man too centred in his own country. To me, it's hard to think I could feel another country as my own besides Zheng Fa..." Lang drank a bit. "I was talking about your birthplace, you said earlier you left things there... I was just wondering-"
"It's not of your concern."
Lang clenched his teeth. Smarty prosecutor. How could that man be so focused despite being drunk?. Lang filled both glasses again. "Oh, c'mon. We came here to drink and talk..."
"We are doing so."
"Those things are related to the book?" Lang shot straight, smirking, looking at Edgeworth's eyes. As if he was too aware of the most jealously hidden secrets of the prosecutor. He was going to obtain his answer, even if both of them were getting smashed.
"What book?" Edgeworth had to force all his will to keep concentrated in the talk. He was feeling so relaxed. Dangerously relaxed.
"The one you 'bought' today".
"That was my father's favourite book."
Lang lifted his chin and looked at the prosecutor, face squinted. That did not seem a lie after all. How could he stop his wild desire of knowing more and more about the cub?. How was he going to force him to spit every secret out?.
The image was clear. Both men were like wolves walking around each other, looking straight into their eyes, defying the other's territory, growling, thinking when one would tumble, so the other would jump over him and rip the truth off.
"What is it about?" Lang was going to find it. As always, using his own ways.
"The story symbolises the many faces a simple situation can have. The process to understand the truth is not easy nor beautiful."
"Hah, the fancy-court-thing... so prosecutor"
"Very well, agent. Laugh all you wish, but this book had helped me out in my darkest moments. When I was less... respectable, this book and the letters were the only things that made me reflect from time to time-" Edgeworth drank abruptly. He had leaked more information without perceiving it until it was too late. He was so relaxed. Many alerts showed up in his mind.
"I got that. That was written in the files. The demon prosecutor, huh?-" Lang smirked, but he had not perceived the real meaning of the words. For him, everything was related to the dead old man. "-so, those things saved you."
"The letters..." Edgeworth sighed and drank again. He lowered his head a bit, and looked at his glass and his own hands surrounding it. They were there. Those unnecessary feelings again, growing inside, too free to do what they wanted to him now he was so dangerously relaxed. "...he saved me many times..."
Lang was going to drink, but stopped halfway, frowning at the man. Far from his former attitude, the prosecutor seemed now like the little cub resigned to his lonely walk through the hill. Lang tried to think fast, to tie up loosen ends, but the alcohol was there, making the task so complicated. It was his father's spirit what he was talking about?. Something was off, he could smell it. "Who?" he continued his movement for drinking.
"Phoe-" abruptly, Edgeworth stopped his word, raised his eyes, and glowered at Lang. "-Why are you so concerned about this topic?" he pretended to be stoic, projecting a scary image of his persona, but he only received the agent's grin. More than a wolf, he looked like a hyena.
"Well, look at you, cub. That man causes this reaction on you... I'm curious, what can I say?"
Edgeworth averted his eyes and drank. He needed more alcohol in his system. To actually stop drinking was the wisest decision, however, he could not do it. Perhaps there was something of self-punishment in it. Whatever it would be, he had decided to drown himself into the sadness and the infinite ocean of feelings his simple memory was invoking, accepting the suffocation of inked words written in old letters.
That, probably, was the meaning of being intoxicated, almost poisoned, rotten. Oh, how many twisted things he was, how many of them would last the morning after, how many would remain in his soul forever?.
He had been the man who had run away into the night. He still was. So coward, and at the same time, unable to perceive what he was scared of.
Bad habits died hard.
When the empty glass rested in the table, he had accepted his defeat, overwhelmed by the silent emotions. For him, there was not any salvation. Only running. And he was tired of it. He had been so tired since... childhood.
Pressing his temples with his fingers, Edgeworth lowered his face just a bit in order to conceal part of his face with his fringe. It was the steel curtain he had learnt to use over time outside the prosecutor's bench. However, and despite the efforts, his body language was crystal clear for Lang.
The little cub was there, laid on the ground, averting the alpha's glare, entirely resigned to his fate. Lang dampened his lips. If he could push a bit longer, the name would come out.
Dry throat, tickles in his belly, predator's pulse, everything was pushing into the charming rhythm beating through his veins.
Lang leant over the table, close to the defeated prosecutor, and hissed, "cub, there are some sorrows that Nature knows how to get numb."
Edgeworth raised his face and looked straight into Lang's eyes, with a slight frown, "drugs?"
Lang snorted shaking his head, then leant a bit more, getting closer, "My ignorant pretty boy... what part of 'Nature' you didn't get?. Nature is wise, you know."
"Umh..." Edgeworth lowered his eyes and observed Lang's hands. Rational thoughts, excuses, sentiments, wishes, none of them appeared in his drunken and slow mind. He needed a clarification for a situation that seemed strange for him, and so he did, in the sneakiest way, "What is that supposed to mean?"
Yes, that was brilliant, he added cynically, looking straight into the agent's eyes that were tingeing with a tone of wildness he never saw before.
"We have a lot of alcohol in our bodies... we are totally free, boy. We could use it for some kind of relief."
"Hmph? Are you suggesting what I can barely understand?"
Lang dampened his lips in a slow and predatory way, and smirked. That wild bright in his eyes got intenser, because the idea, not so clear before, not even thought until that moment, seemed so interesting and rude right there. He was needing something to forget her. Something completely different, something rough and tamed... well, at least he could give a try to that man in front of him. But he could not deny it was going to be different. A good remedy for his own wounds, and probably for Edgeworth's too.
"I'm waiting for a clarification..." Edgeworth insisted.
"You are a prosecutor and you read body language that bad?". He was a bit disappointed. Had the little wolf put his tail between his legs?.
"What? How is that related to...?"
"Look-" Lang was tired of wasting time. "-we can make us feel a bit better. After all, we are two lonely wolves. We can lick each other's wounds." Lang drank the last glass. "This place has small rooms on the first floor. We can use them to just sleep... or something more. I guess you won't like me driving in this state."
"Indeed."
"So... you agree?"
Edgeworth blinked twice, "Seems fair."
Completely satisfied of his own ability to tame another wolf, Lang smirked. He looked at the barman once again, and gestured at him with his hands. Then, he stood up, and tottered a bit. Zheng Fa's drinks turned stronger over time. Supporting his balance on the table, he shook violently his head. He was accustomed to being smashed sometimes, thanks to long nights of celebrations with his former men after a successful investigation.
Trying to follow him, Edgeworth also stood up, but he would have fallen into the ground if it weren't for Lang's quick grasp. Thanking the gesture, Edgeworth tried to walk a bit, but he kept in the same place, feeling the world turning around.
"Don't worry, pretty boy. It's normal. You are feeling dizzier than what you'd feel with any other drink you will taste in your life. That's the charm of Zheng Fa's drinks."
"Are you sure they do not contain drugs?"
Lang laughed openly, taking Edgeworth's arm and putting it around his neck, helping the prosecutor to reach the first floor. After walking through a long corridor, and many stairs that were hard to climb for both of them, they reached a door.
Lang opened it, and let Edgeworth step in first.
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The prosecutor felt a bit better when the scent of lavender reached his nostrils. The room, dark and quieter in comparison with the ground floor, was almost Heaven for his confused mind. It was like his drowsiness had decreased quickly, recovering control over his thoughts. Or that was what he believed. Such a fool.
The first thing he noted in the new environment was the lack of any windows, and therefore, of curtains. A room without curtains was almost a sin.
There was no more furniture but two little bedside tables and the bed, and there was a door close to them that probably would lead to the bathroom.
This is so disgusting.
The room was simple, and so lacking of style, same as his own office.
Why does this country hate inner decoration so much?. Shameless.
His thoughts about curtains stopped when he felt hands slipping through his waist and Lang's face rubbing his nape.
They were going to lick each other's wounds, like old wolves. Something was objectionable in such statement that was still flitting in his mind, but he could not process it. Perhaps after all, his thinking skills were completely drowned after such an amount of drinks.
He looked down, observing those fingers that had started to unbutton his waistcoat. They were so different from his.
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Licking wounds.
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Having tamed the lonely wolf, it had been enough for Lang to set free his hunting inner animal. Awakening from his drunken lethargy of memories, devoured by his growing appetite, he dampened his lips, tasting the incoming enjoyment.
He buried his face into Edgeworth's hair, and its shampoo perfume made him stop. Could it be the same damn smell than hers?.
Annoyed by it, he lowered his face and licked the prosecutor's neck. But it was worse. He wrinkled his nose, drawing back immediately. "What the hell is this?" he had lost part of his wild desire with such cherry-like stink.
"Hmph?" Edgeworth blinked.
Lang frowned a bit more. The pretty boy was not paying attention?. "The stench..." he added.
"It's a German perfume."
"How can you wear that thing, you smell like a candy." Lang walked in front of the prosecutor and faced him, chin lifted, observing each part of his silhouette. He was a bit disappointed on that childish smell, and on being fooled by it. From that distance, it was a completely different smell, more like rustic trees. He smirked; fancy things that only a person like the pretty boy could use.
"It is not candy-like smell. It has several tones of wood scents combined with citrus remnants and-"
Edgeworth's words were interrupted by a rough kiss. A determined hand had slipped behind his head, grabbing his hair a bit brusque for his own taste, as Lang forced the approach, devouring his mouth.
The gesture had nothing to do with smoothness and quietness, or a blooming, shy sentiment increasing over time. It was wildness. Certainly it fitted Lang's style after all.
Edgeworth tried to contribute to the action somehow, and moved his lips. It was all that Lang needed to attack him with his tongue. A deep kiss, full of hunger and lust, pressing each other's bodies, nailing his fingers into the fabric and the hair.
Unsure what to do with his own hands, Edgeworth lifted them in the air. But it took him a while to place them on Lang's back. For some ridiculous, and why not, naïve reason, he wanted to ask permission for such invasion of personal space; but the stupid idea disappeared in a second, when he realised he was starting to think weirdly.
Weird for usual parameters.
Weird for a natural worthy human.
He could not avoid the small uneasy sensation inside him, something so old like himself, something he decided to forget when he was a teenager. Probably, he had to think about this a bit more before going ahead. And talk to Lang. And explain to each other...
"What's happening?-" Lang broke the kiss and observed him with concern, still grabbing his hair in such tough way. "-we can stop if you..."
"It's not necessary. I-I was... thinking." Edgeworth averted Lang's eyes, and cleaned his lips with the back of his hand, placing his arms aside his own body again.
"Huh? Thinking?. This is not the time for that."
Lang took his jacket off, and did the same with Edgeworth's, finishing to unbutton his black waistcoat.
While doing so, the prosecutor took advantage of the situation and scrutinized the agent closer. That man was eager, smirking and tasting the experience in anticipation. Those wild eyes fixated on his chest, the smirk dampened by that red tongue, that fear under the pressure of being devoured by the other man's presence. Everything was strange, but at the same time, intriguing.
Is this Nature itself?.
It was supposed to be something that everyone does from time to time. It was the form to let problems away, to relax, to find meaning in the flesh, to enjoy while sharing. He had read so many things about that kind of experiences and its meaning.
«The expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight,
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had
Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell. »*
It was natural, it was desired by everyone, it was needed.
However, it looked so pointless for him...
Perhaps his isolated teens did not help him to develop such "natural" part. Perhaps Nature had forgotten him, after all. He tried to focus in the sensations, but nothing was working.
Is this Nature itself?.
Predator and prey. A twisted game.
So many years working together and yet, they could find another way to dare each other. Such strange relationship he had with the agent. Complex, explosive, unpredictable. And so, they reached to that point. Sharing the incoming result did not seem a big deal, however, what was the point?.
He always lacked of those kinds of needs. They always seemed so unnecessary... like those feelings.
For a second, his image appeared in his mind.
"Stop thinking, Miles" a husky voice close to his ear surprised him.
Then, he realised his waistcoat was on the floor, and the man in front of him was pushing him towards the bed.
Lang's presence was intimidating. Edgeworth only could obey the silent orders that man was giving him with his body and smirk. After all, he was a cub pretending to be a wolf, walking in that man's territory.
"Stop thinking. Let Nature flow..." the man repeated.
Edgeworth bit his lower lip, and raised an eyebrow.
Letting it flow...
That was the problem. He was sure. Nature had forgotten what he needed to just let it flow.
He had read so many things about lust. The whole classic literature was made of it. A desperate need demanding satisfaction, breaking any control over oneself; emotions so deeply unrelated to him.
It was true; he was not feeling them, he was thinking about them, and recalling everything related to them:
That old book of Freudian sexuality hidden in the big library of the Von Karma residence that both of them, Franziska and he, had read.
Those endless web pages describing positions, wild feelings and uncontrollable pleasures, showing a collection of disgusting videos that, for him, were no different than any other mating animal documentary.
And it was expected from him to enjoy that sweaty friction, that amount of disgusting body fluids over his skin, the tough and violent invasion of his own personal space and body.
Disgusting.
There was no better word to describe his opinion.
How to enjoy disgusting things?
"Stop thinking, pretty boy-" Lang pressed Edgeworth's chest to lead him over the bed, sitting astride on his hips. Once again, Lang dampened his lips, and started to undo the cravat. "-I'm gonna wipe all that stench."
Gathering strength, and once Edgeworth's neck was finally nude, Lang leant over him, licking it, opening more and more his shirt.
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Edgeworth could not help but perceive the whole situation like those with Pesu, after a long day of work, resting in his bed. The little dog used to approach him and lick his neck and cheeks, and sometimes even bite his nose softly.
Then, the main topic in his mind was Pesu. And the worry caught his soul. What kind of revenge that little monster would have done to punish the terrible man that let her crash into that door. Damn those Shiba Inu.
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"Are you here?-" Lang was feeling a bit strange as well. Something was not right. He had already used many pleasurable tricks and that man under him had not moaned, or sighed... or something. He felt himself uneasy... had he lost his touch?. "-What's wrong? Are you worried about something? Be honest. Like I said before... we can stop."
"My apologies... I-I was thinking of Pesu." Edgeworth said completely honest, but Lang's reaction made him frown.
The agent stared at him with a twisted smile in his face. "Well. That... that was unexpected. But if you enjoy it more with her instead of with a human... well"
"W-W-W-What!? What on Earth are you suggesting?! That's an utterly disgusting thought" Edgeworth said loudly, close to have a heart attack.
"Well, what can I say?. You have a man over you and you are thinking of your pet. Where is your fancy logic, my smarty prosecutor?"
"Nghoh. It has nothing to do with it. I would like to explain it to you: Pesu is fond of licking my neck, that's why-"
"I feel for her, licking you with that stench all over your neck..."
"Agent..." his words stopped midway. There was something so intimidating in the way the other man was seated on his hips, making him unable to move his legs, looking down at him, showing his canines in that grin. So mighty.
Lang chuckled, and held Edgeworth's hands, caressing them for a moment, just to put them on his own thighs. Then, he leant over his prey, arms placed both sides of the prosecutor. It was the alpha breathing over the defeated cub.
"Have you ever done it before?-" he hissed. Edgeworth swallowed and tensed his hands, small gesture that Lang perceived on his thighs. Then, he smirked, triumphant, daring. "-It's okay, I'll be nice, you'll like it..."
The smallness that Edgeworth felt when Lang kissed him again, feeling another body on him, made him tremble. It was like an accomplished desire, the end of the curiosity, but at the same time, the revolting taste of the usability.
And beyond the mixed feelings, there was, at some point, a resemblance with Pesu.
The weight and warmth from another creature.
The kiss was the new thing. The usable thing. The detail that had to provide him the rest of the sensations.
Trying to focus, Edgeworth closed his eyes and moved his lips awkwardly. Encouraged, Lang's canines caressed his lips as the eager man lifted his shirt touching his skin. He could not help but frown under the roughness of those fingers. They needed some kind of lotion to make them softer, and probably, more enjoyable.
Then, that image appeared again, familiar fingers caressing a bracelet. Would his hands be the same as the agent's?. He groaned.
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It was all that Lang needed to deepen the kiss, turning it into a suffocating predation, as he kept unbuttoning the prosecutor's shirt.
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However, Edgeworth was far away, intoxicated by the reminiscence of the secret path he had followed with his eyes, from that hand holding the bracelet, along the arm to the shoulder, until reaching the face. And then, his incantation turned even more defined, fixated in that face smiling at him sheepishly. He moaned into the kiss, and his fingers nailed the thighs.
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This time, Lang grinned full of confidence. That was the kind of reaction he was expecting before starting the aggressive hunt. He had slipped a hand under the prosecutor's side, tracing the ribs with his palm, rubbing, pressing, twitching. Probably he was hitting the right points there.
Lang broke the kiss and looked at the pretty boy, whose eyes were closed, and was deepening his frown more and more. Such a weirdo the smarty-pants resulted to be. It seemed that frowning was part of him in every aspect of his life.
Focused again in the neck, he sought any possible reaction for speeding up the situation. The small variations in the heavy breath were important, but not enough. He wanted that man loosened up, relaxed, wild, before setting free his looming inner animal.
Instead of the prey begging to finish his suffering, this time had been the predator, asking to reach the point into the climbing race towards the pleasurable end. There was not enough naked skin yet.
He kissed the prosecutor's jaw, enjoying the clear difference in comparison with hers.
Everything was so different. The breath, the size, the movements.
It was so frustrating that man was not her, that never in his life he would touch her skin again. It was so unfair, so deeply damaging.
The tension betrayed his mind, and without understand how, he sank his fangs into the fake replacement's neck he was licking, deep and roughly. He could not stop it.
Unique, forever.
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Edgeworth screamed and pushed him away. He lifted a bit from the bed, but was strongly restrained by the other man who kept seated astride on him. "What on Earth has happened with you, Agent Lang?" Edgeworth shouted at him, rubbing the zone, feeling blood coming out from the bite dampening his fingers.
For a second, Lang was frozen, "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Let me take care of it, please."
The humble tone in his voice, as if it were an apology, made Edgeworth trust him enough to allow him to approach his neck again, feeling the submissive wet tongue on the wound.
This could not be more disgusting.
Then, a hand reached his nape and rested there, caressing while the other hand pushed him gently towards the bed.
"Let me ask for your forgiveness..." Lang whispered, but it was so low that it seemed to be said for another person. The tongue stopped licking the wound, and turned into a strong kiss all over the neck, marking a path. "...forgive me, dear..."
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Edgeworth frowned even more. Uneasy, so deeply uneasy. But that was Nature. That was how things should work.
He let a sigh out, knowing the other man would misunderstand it, and closed his eyes, trying to focus in something that could help him to relax, to feel less odd. The beating pain in his neck was making things harder, and that without counting the tension he was dealing with since Lang had slipped a hand into his pants, grabbing his hipbone in such invasive way.
Enjoy, you must enjoy.
«[..]All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.» Edgeworth kept repeating to himself many sonnets more.
He needed to loosen up.
The train of thoughts started to work again, leading him to the only way he could relax: logic.
The sonnets were talking about Heaven. An intoxicating heaven.
Many baroque paintings appeared in his mind, and among them Caravaggio's, depicting many sides of Heaven and also Hell. Places controlled by Gods.
However, from the list of images running through his mind, only one was highlighted: The sick Bacchus*.
The God fond of drowning people into the faint sensation of happiness by providing them wine, erasing any restrictions. The freedom of the famous Bacchanalia; the pleasure of the body at its finest.
But only remembering how many atrocities used to happen at those orgies, in ancient Rome, forced him to change the train of thoughts. That was not the step to take into the right direction towards relaxation. He had enough of wickedness in his work.
However, the paintings were still there, in his mind, reconstructing their beauty and relating one to another, into a chain of logic that only he could understand. In doing so, he could not overlook the resemblance of Bacchus with Cupid, in a painting where that god, with black wings, was laughing victorious* as stepping on the symbols of humanity's endeavours: science, laws, arts, everything .
It was so full of nonsense and at the same time so challenging. The picture had something familiar, so defying, something like... him.
The paintings, the museums, the files related to cruel cases; everything scattered around his mind, and the sole image of him, at his front, in a table of a noisy coffee shop, holding a bracelet, was all that remained. Those hands that, for an instant, he felt on his chest and hip. He groaned.
More images of him showed up, starting the deadly process of paradoxical nonsense: Those moments at trials, when he was there, standing up with that fake pose of certainty, looking at him, daring him. That sheepishly smile, scratching his nape when his bluff had not worked. That bright in his eyes every time he found the truth beyond the limits of logic.
Wright, Wright, Wright.
His hands lifted again, this time to rest on Lang's back, pulling him closer.
Unexpected as it might be, he had found a way to relax while the situation advanced to its natural flow.
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The reaction was welcomed by the agent, who taking advantage of the given forgiveness, placed a leg among the prosecutor's, increasing the pressure still trapped in his trousers, kissing his neck, biting it softly, exploring every point in his chest. Soon, he would let his wildness out, preying on everything at its path.
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Lost in memories, Edgeworth was unable to stop.
Relaxing was the priority, so he kept setting free more fragments of small details that he was not aware how worthy they were, until that time:
His surprised, yet bitter silence when he faced him once again after that long absence, after the note, after his almost deadly mistake. Those warm brown eyes and his concern when the earthquake hit at Hazakura. That voice making fun of him.
Something inside his chest made him writhe, cut off his breath, and forced him to shiver under that man, embracing him.
"Phoenix..." he whispered in a deep tone he did not know he could make.
Freezing his movements, Lang let a sigh out. That had been the first and last clue to tie up the loose ends all at once.
He lifted, but remained seated astride on Edgeworth's hips, looking down at him, serious.
Trying to cover up the burning in his cheeks, Edgeworth concealed his face with his crossed arms, exposing all his bare chest through the open shirt.
"M-M-My apologies... I-I...didn't, I mean... I-"
"Look, relax. It's okay. This is what I've told you before, we are licking our wounds. If you want to do this thinking of another person, it's okay. I'm fine with that, believe me. I'm doing this because I fancy you. And to be fair, you are way different of what I got used to; and I like it, of course. But I'm not going to do this if you are forcing yourself. Got it?"
"M-My apologies... I believe-" Edgeworth recovered part of his breath, still with some childhood memories of him crossing his mind that compressed his voice "I-I should go... I'm really sorry, agent Lang, I didn't mean..."
"No hard feelings. It's okay. Go easy on yourself." Lang sighed slowly, and lifted his whole body from the cub, sitting at the edge of the bed.
Annoyance, frustration, grumpiness. So many irritating feelings were running all over his body, tensing him more and more. He had been almost sure that he was going to taste that flesh.
Only disappointment. But he was not the only one tortured there. By looking at the fancy boy, still in the bed covering his face, he got enough info to understand that he was not the only one disappointed.
Lang rotated his head, and inhaled deeply. So, that had been what the smarty-pants had on his mind all along?.
He chuckled at himself, knowing that both of them had reached the highest point of alcohol in their blood. Losing control on one's own mind was a funny thing to experience from time to time, though. And probably, it was the first time that the pretty boy had lost it.
Damn prosecutors.
"Fancy boy. What's wrong? Are you feeling bad?, beyond the drunk thing, I mean."
Edgeworth uncovered his face, redder than before, and looked at the agent. "My deep apologies... This. I-"
"It's okay, like I said. Get over it. But who is Foenix?" He finished it off. Neither his mood nor his mind were good enough for beating the brushes.
"I think I need to go." Edgeworth stood up, and tripped over the bed.
Amused, Lang laughed at him without helping him. After all, something in his alpha pride had been hurt, and the cub should be punished for it.
Those damn prosecutors, always so problematic.
"Miles, let's sleep, we are not thinking straight. Just sleep, we can leave tomorrow."
Lang laid on a side of the bed and fell asleep quickly.
But Edgeworth was incapable of such a task. He was tortured by his memories, and surprised by the effects they had on him and where they had lead him to.
Unnecessary, useless whisper.
Forcing himself to focus beyond his limits one more time, Edgeworth stood up again, took all his clothes scattered around, and wore his coat.
Immediately, he left the room, too ashamed to sleep there, knowing what he had done to Lang and to his own self.
The wisest decision he could have taken was locking himself up at his apartment during a whole year.
******Notes******
*The fragment is sonnet 129 from Shakespeare.
*The painting described in the chapter are these, if you are curious.
[Links in AO3, because fanfiction is an asshole]