Chapter 4 - Impulse
The day after, court seems to go on forever. Phoenix has never been more grateful for the moment the judge pronounces his client "not guilty." He bolts immediately after congratulating his client, leaving Maya to deal with the aftermath. The bike ride to Wright & Co. Law Offices goes by in a blur; he hardly even registers the cold weather. He locks the door to his office behind him as he steps inside. Immediately, he throws his coat and jacket off and plops into his office chair. His dick is in his hands before he can even think about it.
He can't stop thinking about how Miles gripped his hair and pulled for all he was worth, or how deep and guttural his voice was when he moaned. He throws his head back, imagining his first name coming from those lips once more, coaxing him to the edge. He tugs hard on his own member, thinking about how uncharacteristically rough his voice sounded when he swore, and just how fucking hot it was.
Hand continuing to work, he thinks on it more. Miles hadn't specifically said he didn't want a relationship, which was good. But it hadn't been just a blowjob. Phoenix remembers vividly what Mile's lips had felt like, how his breath mingled hotly with his own and how he tasted as he lapped at their combined fluids. Phoenix stifles a moan, practically shoving his fist in his mouth and biting down to keep quiet.
On top of all that, he had basically offered to return the favor. God, Phoenix had wanted to take him up on that. He pictures it: Edgeworth's lips tight around his cock, eyes shyly looking up at him, begging for approval. He pants hard, imagining Miles pulling it out of his mouth with a pop and giving him a good lick from base to tip, then asking with that nervous, quiet tone of his; "Is this good, Phoenix?" Before he can stop himself, he lets out a cry and comes over the white hem of his button down. He huffs, half in exhaustion and half in annoyance, though he's glad he has his blue suit jacket to cover what will probably be a stain on his shirt.
Shoulders slouching in his office chair, he sighs. No matter what happens, he is perpetually glad that he got to have last night with Miles. He wipes his hands off on his already ruined shirt. The possibility of something happening again, he realizes, isn't too low. Miles had thanked him, but he seemed more than just grateful. He rubs a finger over the spot on his cheek that Edgeworth had kissed before bed, smiling. Given the chance, he would love to pursue a relationship with that man. To call the beautiful and elegant Miles Edgeworth his own would be a pleasure, and the greatest opportunity he could ever hope for.
To his chagrin, his mind brings him back to how he had accidentally hurt him last night. He knows that Miles isn't in a good place right now, and while he doesn't know the full extent of it, he can confidently say that he knows most of it. Phoenix also knows that being in a relationship with Miles wouldn't be easy, that he would have to do a lot more of what he is doing now to ensure Miles' safety and happiness. All this in mind, Phoenix thinks that he would take Miles Edgeworth regardless of all that.
Phoenix glances at his watch and groans. It's almost 7:00. He should be heading home soon, and he needs to go back to the courthouse to get some files from Maya, who he knows stayed with their client. He needs to fill out his paperwork, and he needs to be at Miles' soon after that.
He knows it's not fair to expect anything more from Miles tonight, or ever. He knows that there is a chance that Miles will completely disregard it and act like nothing ever happened between the two of them. He imagines Edgeworth panicking over having sex with him and grimaces at the thought of being the cause of his anxiety. He also knows that the chance of Miles being in complete denial is slim, especially with how close the two of them are, as professionals and as friends. He chuckles, thinking how the two of them have grown closer in the last two weeks. Sure, it's added a new level to them that's been rough to deal with and required some adjusting to, but Phoenix really doesn't mind the inconvenience, not since it's clearly helping Miles. He knows without a doubt that no matter what happens, their friendship might strain from these new aspects of their relationship, but neither of them can afford to lose the other. They are too ingrained in each other's lives, and Phoenix sees now that he loves Miles too much to let him walk away. He stands up, shaking his head lightly with the same smile still stuck on his face, and bikes back to the courthouse in the snow.
Alone in his office with only the sound of his steady breath to keep him company, Edgeworth scowls down at his thigh. He traces the red lines on his leg, the ends of the scabs curling up around the edges where the blade had tapered off. He thinks back to just a few days ago, how suffocated he had felt. Today had been a good day for Edgeworth. It hadn't been so hard to get through the simple things. Miles knows he has Phoenix to thank for that. However, he can't help but feel pride blossoming in his chest. It is him, Miles Edgeworth, and only him who has refrained from injuring himself. He smiles, rubbing a thumb along another scab.
At the same time, though, he's ashamed. His fingernails grip the edge of the crusted skin. Lost in his thoughts, he peels it back, the wound reopened. While he has made an effort, he hasn't done his best. He could be trying harder, could be doing better, but can't seem to give himself that extra push. He tears the scab free, a slight sting tugging at the crease of what now looks like a fresh cut. He grimaces, fists clenched with the base of his right hand pressed down hard into the exposed flesh.
Miles Edgeworth, esteemed Prosecutor. He sighs, thinking over the word: Prosecutor. Is he satisfied with this? What has he become? How has he allowed himself to take this path? He asks himself this, questions it all in his head. The only conclusion he can come to is so simple, yet so complicated. "I don't know," he sighs aloud, hands coming up to his face. Instead of overwhelmed, he feels numb. It makes him crave the solid feeling of instability, and he can feel himself flush with shame.
There is one thing, however, that stops him from reaching into the back of his desk drawer. He thinks of Phoenix. "It hurts to see you so distressed. If something were to happen…" He remembers Phoenix's words, clearer than he wants them to be, reverberating in perfect verbatim through his head. It stops him in his tracks, and he freezes, not trusting himself to move.
He bites his lip, squeezes his eyes shut, and pushes his palms into his eyes until the tears that he knows he's crying cannot possibly come out. Against what he has knowingly conditioned himself to do in times of stress, against his own clawing impulse, he does not cut himself. Instead, he shucks his pants up, relishing the sting of the cloth chafing his thigh. He picks up his pen and finishes his paperwork.
He finds the stairs calming. Yes, the alternative is less than desirable, as Edgeworth would rather shoot himself than take an elevator, but still. It's about 7:30, and Edgeworth is done for the day. He starts down the stairwell, pace slow but steady, and his lips pull into a small smile. He clutches the documents in his hand to his chest, paperwork for the next day, and he breathes deeply, enjoying the sense of calm he feels. He delights in it while he can, knowing it doesn't always come this easy. His pants slide smoothly against his legs as he walks, stinging only a tiny bit. Edgeworth ignores it.
He stops short at the second to last step. Wright is standing across from him, leaning against the wall, coat thrown hap-hazardously over his shoulder. He looks up as Edgeworth comes into view. "Hi," Phoenix smiles.
"Wright," Edgeworth replies, still with the same expression as before. Anyone else might call it a grimace or a frown, but Phoenix recognizes it as his neutral face. Not particularly happy, but content. "What are you doing here?"
"I had to go back to the courthouse to grab some papers, and I figured you'd still be here."
Miles allows himself a chuckle. "Can't get me off your mind?"
"Well, no," Phoenix admits, smiling nervously and giving the back of his neck a good scratch. "Also, it's only five minutes away and I wanted to make sure you still wanted to see me at your place later."
"Why wouldn't I?" Miles seems completely serious upon asking this. Phoenix would say oblivious, but he knows him better than that.
"Come on, Miles. I just wanted to respect your privacy if you wanted it."
Miles pauses at this. "I appreciate it." He takes a step closer.
Phoenix breathes in his scent and sighs. The gray-haired man in front of him notices, observant as ever, and steps closer. "You really couldn't get me off your mind today, could you?" Phoenix flushes but maintains eye contact as he continues calling him out. "I could've sworn I caught you staring at me in court today, but figured I was imagining things."
"You weren't," Wright blurts. He feels incredibly selfish afterwards but disregards it. Edgeworth knows him too well for him to keep secrets from him.
Miles laughs. It's soft and brief, but Phoenix doesn't miss it. "Good." Miles looks down for a moment, then glances over his shoulder. "I hope you know how much you've done for me as of lately," he says, just above a whisper. Phoenix can tell he's a bit nervous, but he has his usual cool demeanor about him, for which Wright is overjoyed. It makes talking to him seem a little safer, like Edgeworth won't break down on him, even if the words he's saying aren't as normal as his tone. As if he can tell what Wright is thinking, he adds, "I know I don't talk about myself, and I'm grateful that you've persevered for me. I owe you my thanks."
Wright simply stares for a moment. He is shocked, but also very proud that Miles has brought himself to say it for himself. After a minute of cherishing the look in Edgeworth's eyes, he smiles. "You don't need to thank me. I care about you, so that's what I'm here for."
Miles simpers, and the emotions in his eyes is overwhelming. "You're the only person who's told me that in fifteen years." Phoenix's mouth drops, and Miles shakes his head, grinning. "Don't, Wright. It's fine. But I know what, and that's what I like about our relationship."
"What is?" he asks. "That I care?"
"That too, but no." Miles steps closer, legs moving of their own volition. "We have an unspoken language. You know me well enough to know what I feel when I can't find the words to say it, and I know you well enough to know what you mean when you clearly don't have the vocabulary for it."
Phoenix can hardly breathe they're so close, yet he's panting. "Are you calling me stupid?" he mutters.
"Yes, Wright. You're completely stupid." He's already thought of the consequences, he just doesn't care. On impulse, Miles leans in and kisses Phoenix. He's gentle, reaching a hand to hold Phoenix's head and guide him deeper. He breaks them apart for a moment, just to allow Phoenix a gasp for air, before going right back in, pressure firm but movements slow. Phoenix's jaw drops, but Miles doesn't attack, rather slides their lips further into place, locking them together.
Phoenix grunts, dropping his coat so he can return the prosecutor's headlock. He grabs Miles' folder and lets it fall to the ground before shoving him against the adjacent wall. Miles groans and moves his hands to dig his nails into Phoenix's hips. In return, Phoenix nips at Miles' bottom lip. Miles flat out moans, and Phoenix uses the opportunity to run his tongue along every crevasse he can find, and Miles mewls quietly until he pulls away and practically shoves the defense attorney off him.
Phoenix watches nervously and Miles leans back against the wall, breathing heavily and leaning over with his hands on his knees. "Miles? You good?" he asks, concerned that the other man is hurt or panicking or overwhelmed, but that fear vanishes when Miles pops his head up to look at him, cheeks red and his lips forming the most adorable smile.
Edgeworth's mind is rational. In this moment, it's asking what the hell he thinks he's doing, and what the fuck does it mean? This time, however, Miles has all the answers. He is going to let Phoenix Wright do whatever ungodly things he wants to do to him, and for once in his life, not question what it means and just enjoy it.
"Yes," he responds. "I'm good." He gathers his papers off the floor and grabs Phoenix's coat before the other man can swoop down to get it. Holding both objects in one arm, he asks, "Do you want to come over before ten?"
Phoenix nods instantaneously. "I'd love to," he says, and slips his hand into the prosecutor's beside him. The two of them walk out into the blizzard, both barely even noticing the cold. Neither of them knows what this is, but they relish it, savoring each and every moment.