trace (vestiges)
It is like a dream, this slow, gentle awakening; in the wee hours of the morning, the light barely illuminating the edges of his south-facing bedroom window, his eyes peek open one after the other, blurry vision focusing upon what lays before him.
The fresh pillow upon which he had laid his head is no longer there. Blinking languidly, he focuses bleary eyes onto the expanse of taut skin before him.
Phoenix's arm isn't as comfortable as his pillow, he admits ruefully, a smile creeping unawares onto his lips as he nestles closer to the bare torso of the other man. It is far warmer, however, and in the early morn of the late winter, he shall happily take this pleasant, comfortable heat wrapped around his head, sprawled across his waist, tucked between his knees.
Unfortunately, the slight movement closer is more than enough to shock him, a jolt of pain racing up his spine causing him to stiffen; he freezes, face twisting into a scowl which is quickly followed up by sheer embarrassment. Gods, we really did that, he thinks to himself, a mixture of awe and mortified horror washing over him, heating his face to the tips of his ears. His thoughts stray over the aftermath of their night, to the peaks of pleasure he had achieved even after in the washroom with the other man insisting on making him crumble over and over again until he was utterly spent. We…
They are together. This is real.
A croaking, hoarse voice mutters into his hair, "You… you okay, Mi- Edgeworth?"
Miles raises a brow as he carefully shifts closer, relishing in the heat exuding off the other man. His deadpan expression only worsens as he feels a distinct pressure against his thigh, as he sees the rapidly-deepening flush growing upon Phoenix's cheeks. Dryly, he murmurs, "I'm alright, Wright. Just sore."
The tenderness in Phoenix's expression will never not catch him off guard, the dark-haired man's fingers gently combing through Miles' hair as he draws Miles closer. "I can't believe we actually did it," he laughs, almost to himself more than to Phoenix. "I can't believe it."
"That's because you're not the one in pain," Miles retorts wryly, hiding away his smile by pressing his face into Phoenix's arm.
To his eternal amusement, Phoenix's voice immediately hitches up anxiously. "Oh god- are you okay? I didn't overdo it, right? Damn, Edgeworth, I'm so sorry, I-"
Snorting, the prosecutor turns his cheek and gingerly slides up so he can look Phoenix dead in the eyes, one hand reaching up to cup the other man's face. Stubble greets his palm, catching his skin, sending a ticklish shiver down his spine. He does not pull away, however; instead, he settles into this touch, moving close, taking this time to savour the sensation of Phoenix's skin underneath his fingertips. "Why, what're you worried about?" he asks, morbid curiosity blooming.
To his utter disdain and amusement, Phoenix can only pout, looking down guiltily. "If… if you don't want to do that anymore, then that's alright," he says sadly after a moment. Resignation haunts every syllable. "I understand."
Chuckling properly now, Miles sinks into the pillow, rolling his eyes. "Perhaps- it is hardly going to be permissible before a trial-" The way Phoenix's face falls would have sent Maya into hysterics, he thinks, "-so perhaps we'll keep this kind of thing for after them."
Instantly, the attorney blinks deadpan at him. "Are… are you serious?"
"I've always been serious, Wright."
The softness which enters Phoenix's face as giddy relief takes over is priceless. With that boyish, youthful smile, the attorney murmurs happily, "I guess so. That's why I'm here." Then, without hesitation, he leans forward, pressing closed lips against Miles' for a long, quiet moment, the two men simply relishing in this contact.
Miles does not pull away. He stays there, content to give as much as Phoenix needs. His heart is calm, after all. He is calm, and the world is right, and this is the least he can do- ideally, this is just the start. He can give so much more from now on.
For now, though, this seems to be enough. As he drags his hand down to curl loosely around Phoenix's waist, the other man pulls a hairsbreadth away, lips moving, forming silent words against Miles' mouth before returning in this languid, contented union.
'I love you', he mouths against Miles' lips. He does not voice these words. Miles does not expect him to, nor does he need to hear it- this feeling, this motion, is enough.
But he does, Miles thinks. So, he clears his throat and murmurs once they break apart again, "And I, you, Wright."
Wide-eyed, Phoenix's mouth opens, closes, then gives up entirely, slack-jawed and shocked as he processes these words. Miles shrugs off this glance; although it is more than a little embarrassing, there is something to be said about finally, truly meandering around the words he has thought to himself for so, so long. I'll say it properly another day, he promises silently. This dumbstruck expression is more than enough to cause him to bite his tongue- the other man appears to be two seconds away from an apoplexy as he finally allows those words, the weight of it all, to sink in.
Finally, Phoenix manages to warble out, "What the hell happened to you in Germany?"
Flushing, Miles rolls over onto his back, wincing as his lower back twinges in protest. "Just work in the courthouse," he replies lightly.
His heart melts as that stubble-covered chin moves to rest against his own shoulder affectionately. "…but what if I want to know?"
Phoenix has not once asked about stories of Germany, of what Miles had done during his time away. The entire subject had always been too tender to touch. "…are you okay hearing about it now?"
Lips press against his collarbone. Miles' eyes flutter shut at the sensation, a small sigh of contentment slipping past his lips. "You proved it," Phoenix mumbles against his skin. "You're… really staying this time."
Miles nods sagely, but before he can respond, a loud gurgling sound cuts through the air. Raising a brow, he yawns. "We can save that for breakfast?"
Beet-red at his growling stomach's strength, Phoenix begins, "No, we can-"
"Make some tea for me?" Sucking in a haggard breath, he adds, "Nothing's moved since you were here last."
To his surprise, Phoenix says instantly, "No one else has been here, either?"
Who else would I want here but you?
His entire face heats up as he realizes these words have been spoken aloud, but despite his embarrassment, he does not regret this thought. He does not need to see Phoenix's face; the gentle touch tracing his cheek, his neck, his arms, ending in his hands and squeezing before the warm body by Miles' side slips out from underneath the sheets. "Of course, Mr. Edgeworth," Phoenix teases.
"Thank you, Wright," Miles responds, carefully leaning up onto his elbows. The movements are precarious- he is far more sore than he would have expected- but he pushes onwards anyways, following Phoenix's retreating figure out the door after donning a bathrobe. He has dreamt of seeing Phoenix making tea for him in his kitchen for too long. He is not going to miss it.
