Chapter Text
Phainon stares at the crumpled piece of paper in his palm, the address on it now almost indecipherable with how it’s been twisted and turned and shoved with a bit too much strength into the bottom of his pockets. Beneath the teary ink are two more words he’ll never forget, even if the writing ends up turned into nothing but a messy patch of blue-black: Kevin Kaslana.
It all feels too surreal. Finding he has a brother and a twin, at that--after having been branded an orphan for as long as he could remember, was both a great relief and a cruel joke. Phainon couldn’t help but wonder how this perfect copy of him had been raised, surrounded by the parental love he had never got the chance to experience, abandoned at birth like a sick dog on the side of the road, and the hope of finally possessing this thing called 'family' was laced with a resentment he couldn’t quite rein in.
It wasn’t Kevin’s fault, he tries to tell himself, the name sour in his mind, in his mouth. Their-Kevin’s-parents had made their choice, one he didn’t want to know the reason for and none of the Kaslana kids had a say in. It was just poor luck of the draw. And for years, Phainon used to believe his loneliness was just the result of this misfortune. Now he had to come to terms with the fact that he, maybe, his luck had turned and he wasn't destined to be forever alone.
It was terrifying. Folding and unfolding the note over and over, Phainon tries to imagine what his twin’s life could be like. What kind of job did he have? Where did he live? What sort of things did he enjoy doing? Would they even get along?
The more Phainon muses and the more he's filled with uncertainty. He looks at the address one last time, burning the street number into his mind, and shapes his hand into a fist. The paper is once more crushed, its muddled lines turning into nonsense, but the words keep on drifting in his mind a long time after.
He tells himself he'll go tomorrow.
His long lost twin--or maybe he was the lost twin?--lived in a suburban house on the outskirts of the city, almost isolated from the rest of the world like he had carved his own little peaceful bubble out of it. Kevin's house looked nothing like Phainon’s moldy apartment, which was lost somewhere in a dangerous side of town. Phainon rubs his hands over his face, wiping the sweat off it, and swallows hard, parking his car in the adjacent street. He pats down the suit he bought to make a good first impression, now feeling like he put on a clown costume, the pants too short around his ankles, and makes his way towards the house.
It was the kind of home that had a spacious garage on the first floor and an entrance on the second, with clean white stairs leading up to it. Modern and recent. With each step towards the main door Phainon feels more and more inadequate, and he thinks with how successful Kevin seems to be, expensive house and all, maybe his parents were right to pick him over Phainon.
It would be fine, he tries to reassure himself as he stops in front of the door, a pristine white slab of wood where hung a golden plate that said Kaslana. It would be fine, and if it didn’t, he could just apologize, leave, and forget all about it. He had been alright living on his own all this time. He didn’t need a newfound brother. He wanted one, yes, just like he wanted someone to pick him up from the orphanage when he was a kid. No one ever did, and he had turned out okay, so if things ended up not working out with Kevin, Phainon would also be okay.
He closes his eyes, gathers what little bravery he has left, and knocks.
Silence. And then, the sound of something being dragged--a chair?--and hurried steps from inside.
The door opens on a slightly older-looking man wearing loose pale orange lounge wear. They both pause and look at each other.
Phainon had seen pictures of his brother online, when he went to really make sure the government office hadn’t been making fun of him (a twin? no way) and his curiosity had taken over. Kevin Kaslana was a carbon copy of Phainon Kaslana--he had the same light hair, the same blue eyes, even the same lean build. Like ordering a teddy bear and receiving two of the same instead, except the second one’s suit would fit him like a glove and the first’s would be a little too snug around the wrists and legs.
The man at the door looks nothing like Kevin.
He is more built, for one. Absurdly so, with pecs that even the loose shirt he wears couldn’t quite hide, soft mounds pushing underneath the fabric and bordered by strong, reliable shoulders. Phainon forces his eyes up and meets a face that isn't as pale, nor as accommodating as his sibling's; this one is all sharp angles and even sharper, fiercer eyes, all framed by bright blonde hair that reaches below his nape even tied in a ponytail. Dazzling.
He must have gotten the wrong address, Phainon thinks, panicked and not knowing where to look, forgetting already about the Kaslana nameplate in front. The stranger looks him up and down, arms crossed—and Phainon has to make a conscious effort to not let his eyes wander when the arms push up an impressive pair of-god, look up, you idiot,--leans against the doorway, and sneers.
“I’m-” Phainon starts, pausing to hesitate between ‘Phainon Kaslana, it’s nice to meet you,' and ‘Very sorry to disturb.'
“Forgetting something, Mr. Kaslana?” Phainon’s eyes remain caged within the other man’s, completely at a loss as to what was happening--so he was at Kevin’s house, after all--and. Oblivious to his woes, the man continues, lips parting to reveal a sharp, somewhat sarcastic smile. “An apology, perhaps?”
“A- What?”
Golden eyes narrow and the man uncrosses his arms to reach for Phainon’s already crooked collar, pulling him so close their mouth almost touch, never looking away all the while, and holy-
“Here, I’ll help you,” he murmurs, teeth nipping at Phainon’s bottom lip. “Mydei, I admit that I, the great Kevin Kaslana,” there is a mocking lilt to his voice that has a million questions racing through Phainon’s head and making his dick grow hard, “made a mistake. I sincerely,” the man(Mydei?) kisses the corner of his mouth and Phainon keeps it slightly opened, mind blank like a board that's been wiped, “apologize, and I won’t do it again next time. You got all that?”
Mydei’s hands reach for his hair, carding through silver strands and gently scraping at his scalp while his voluptuous chest is pressed against Phainon's. He didn't get anything except that he had definitely been mistaken for his brother, and that whoever was staying at his house was hotter than scorching summer nights with a broken air conditioner.
“I- I’m sorry-,” he tries, trying to untangle the situation. Mydei grins, victorious, and plants a kiss on his lips, tongue sneaking in right before he pulls away.
“Good enough,” he says, "Come here," and Phainon is being grabbed by the wrist and pulled inside the house before he can speak or get his thoughts in order, the door closing behind them.
He turns around in a desperate attempt to explain, before all the blood in his head rushes South. Mydei is already on him, hands firm on his wrists and lips over his, and he’s being kissed into the kitchen aisle, somehow noticing through the building-up lust and the confusion neatly organized spices, an egregious amount of flour, and many utensils he doesn't know the name of. So he bakes, he thinks stupidly, and not only does Mydei bake, he also looks terribly sexy, crouching between Phainon's legs as if it was the most natural thing in the world after having pushed him against the counter and bullied his lips into silence.
“You’re back early,” he continues with that mean grin of his, still unaware of--of whatever this whole mess was turning into, really, and Phainon’s heart rings in his chest like a fire alarm, all thoughts threatening to burn down to ashes, hovering between this is wrong, and this is so hot and it’s his partner, both trying to be a decent person and awfully jealous.
“Wait,” he says, already out of breath, and when Mydei stops for a blessed second and looks up to him with those beautiful loving eyes that aren’t truly meant for him, all he can think of is fuck.
“Did you wait yesterday?” Mydei retorts, eyebrows raised and mouth parting around Phainon's crotch. Phainon thinks fuck me, mind swarmed with images of not-quite-him ravishing the gorgeous man at his feet.
He looks around the house in a desperate attempt to find something that could help clearing the confusion, or at least help him stop behaving like a sexually deprived man--but he is, when was the last time he kissed, much less touched someone? And when was the last time it felt this good, this caring?--but all he finds are pictures of the two of them, Kevin and Mydei, standing close and happy, and Phainon dangerously thinks it could have been me, the same way he envies Kevin when he thinks of the past Christmases and birthdays his twin never had to spend alone.
Looking down to see Mydei catching the zipper of his pants between his teeth and pulling it down, pink tongue poking out of his mouth and marking a wet spot over his boxers, he realizes it is him, right now. It is him as long as Mydei doesn’t notice. So he lets his shaky hands waver towards Mydei’s hair, learns how soft it is under his palm despite how wild it looks, and Mydei closes his eyes and moans around the shape of his hardening cock tenting his boxers. Phainon’s common sense crumples like the sheet of paper with Kevin’s address on it.
“Tell me how much you want this,” Mydei asks, and Phainon wants to laugh. He's in this house, that someone else’s, and touching this man, who’s someone else’s, and he wishes it could all have been his instead, so he breathes out,
“I want it so bad.”
Mydei chuckles, eyes narrowing in satisfaction. He plants a wet kiss on Phainon’s clothed cock that has him tilt his head back with a gasp and tighten his hold on Mydei’s head. He risks looking again, sees the man devour his dick like it’s his last meal, Phainon’s underwear a sloppy mess as if he’d just cum in his pants, and it might just happen if this keeps up. He tries to distract himself with the soft feeling of Mydei’s hair and plays with the band keeping it tied, sliding it away from the ponytail and freeing the red-blonde mane, hair-tie holding his index and middle finger together.
Mydei nuzzles against his cock and snorts, peering at him from the clean kitchen tiles. “It’s easier to give blowjobs without my hair being in the way, you know?”
And Phainon looks at him a bit stupidly and says, out loud, as if he just realized:
“You’re going to give me a blowjob.”
“That was the plan, yes.” Mydei pauses as he’s finally, finally, slipping Phainon's messy, stained with saliva and precum underwear off him. His cock springs free and he doesn't get much smarter for it. Mydei looks up at him beneath thick lashes, nose almost buried into the hairs at the base of his dick, lips almost touching it. “Unless you… Don’t want me to?” He raises a questioning eyebrow.
Phainon panics for all the wrong reasons. Instead of grasping at the chance to say No, i don’t, this is a mistake, he blurts out, “No, I’d like it very much-” and even though he’s throwing his morals out of the window and doesn’t look very bright as he does, at least Mydei laughs again, and it makes it all extremely worth it, even for just a moment.
“Thought so,” Mydei mutters before resuming his thorough care of Phainon, one hand stroking the base of his cock while his tongue pokes out and tastes the precum trickling out of his tip. “I missed you,” he says in an even quieter voice, and Phainon might just bust right there, with how sweet it sounds, how loved he can tell he is through every gentle touch, and his whole body trembles down to the bottom of his throat, breath stuttering and struggling to come out.
Under Mydei’s tongue and under Mydei's fingertips is a heat he’s never known, something so utterly affectionate he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to part from it, much less forget. Something he's always wanted.
“I missed you too,” he confesses, shameful tears trying to prickle the corner of his eyes. Mydei looks at him with nothing but love, eyebrows furrowed in worry.
“Relax,” he says, and Phainon’s stomach tenses at the low soothing tone of his voice.“You’re fine,” and is he really, when he notices through the blur of his tears the shine of Mydei’s wedding ring on the hand wrapped around his cock.
Mydei Kaslana, he thinks, not knowing what to make of it other than that it’s quite a fitting name. Mydei kisses his dick and it makes kissing dicks seem romantic. He opens his mouth, taking all of him inside, and Phainon's vision blurs enough for him not to see the ring again.
“Fuck,” he moans, eyelids fluttering and hips buckling and thrusting loosely into Mydei's warmth. He’s so going to cum in minutes, no, seconds, velvet heat wrapped all around him, it’s been so long-
Mydei’s reaches under the waistband of his own jogging trousers and he strokes himself without shame, moaning around Phainon’s cock, Kevin you lucky bastard-
Phainon is still sane enough to remember his manners, or at least some of them, and he caresses Mydei’s cheek with his thumb to get his attention, hoping the other man won’t notice him shaking. Mydei opens his eyes, busy working around his cock as if sucking gave him pleasure, and Phainon manages to say “Hold on, I’m close,” toes already curling in his sneakers and all. Some miracle.
Mydei tilts his head with Phainon’s dick lodged in his mouth and his own straining against his white pants, and he says “Yes? Go ahead and cum, love.”
It’s crazy how pretty he is. Love. A little unfair, too. So, just to make it fairer, Phainon grabs the back of Mydei’s head, once again marveling at how soft it is, thinking what if he could touch it everyday, brush stray strands out of the way as they'd wake up side by side, Mydei drowsy and messy from the night before, and he releases a fat load of cum down the throat of Kevin’s husband.
Mydei swallows it down and gulps, the dangerous man that he is, lips tight around Phainon’s cock, and if he hadn’t lost himself down his throat ten minutes ago Phainon would be ashamed of how loud he’s moaning and how red his face is, judging from the burning heat he can feel spreading all the way to his ears and shoulders. Mydei ends up parting from him, first licking droplets of cum off his cock, hand at work in his sweatpants (I could do that for you,) a beady string of saliva connecting them.
Phainon could die right here and there.
His throat is parched as if he just ran a marathon, chest heaving with difficulty, stomach warm as if he was still about to come. Mydei stares up at him wide-eyed and takes him in his mouth again, sucking him slow and dedicated throughout his orgasm. Phainon all but shivers, upper body bending, trying his best not to turn the grip he has on Mydei’s hair into a vice, but he’s so sensitive, and it feels so good-
“Wait,” he almost cries out, voice tethering on a higher pitch,“fuck.”
He lets out a raspy exhale and Mydei hums around his cock, wringing a second, more powerful orgasm out of him, sucking at what little come was left in his balls. Phainon almost tips over, weak in the knees, struggling for support and gripping at the soft fabric of Mydei’s sweater. Mydei grabs the back of his legs, raises one so it rests on his shoulder, then surges forward and slams Phainon into the kitchen counter, supporting most of his weight with his arms and shoulders. Phainon sobs and begs Wait, wait, please, so sensitive and torn between the melting hot tongue and a man so strong he can nearly lift him up. He must be dreaming, overworked and drowning under the worries of his everyday life, because in no world can someone as perfect as Mydei Kaslana exist.
He’s finally given time to breathe, barely, and he lets go of Mydei’s hair to support himself on the kitchen counter. Perhaps get enough oxygen in his lungs and brain to start forming coherent thoughts and sentences again.
Mydei blinks, gathering some leftover spill at the corner of his mouth with a finger and shoving it at his lips, swallowing with a soft smack.
“Can you fuck me here, or do I have to carry you to bed?”
Mydei clutching at the bed sheets, Mydei carrying him, Mydei muffling his moans into the pillows, Mydei bouncing on his cock, Mydei fucked silly on the couch, Mydei bent over a table, Mydei softly kissed in the entryway, Kevin’s Mydei. Phainon swallows, dry. “Here is fine.”
Mydei grins as if to say ‘I figured’, and lets go of Phainon's knees gently so he does not fall. Phainon is fighting his own demons, breathing out of order, chaotic and loud among the organized kitchen appliances. He loses the battle when Mydei stands up and bends over the kitchen table, hooking a finger at the waistband of his pants, lowering them--no underwear--and turning his head to look back at him.
“There,” he says, the hand with the ring finger spreading his ass cheeks open, and something wet and watery spills down his thigh. Phainon can’t look away. “All ready for you, just how you like.” Phainon doesn’t know what he likes anymore, except that he likes everything Mydei does. Seeing he hasn’t moved from the kitchen counter, Mydei smiles, half-mocking, half-gentle: “Come?”
“I’m about to,” he says. His dick twitches when Mydei laughs, his refractory period gone to the same trash bin his sanity has.
He takes a few robotic steps towards Mydei, searching for the dips of his hips with his fingers, squeezing and enjoying the feel of them. Mydei moans quietly under him, and he imprints how tiny his waist looks as it peeks out of the oversize-yet-tight-around-the-chest sweater, photographs the beautiful muscles of his back, the perfect curves of his ass, and flips him around stomach up.
There’s a quizzical, surprised look in Mydei’s eyes that has Phainon chuckle too fondly as he maneuvers his hips against Mydei's and lines himself against the lubed up hole. “Want to see you,” he explains, wondering when his character will deviate too much from Kevin's for Mydei to notice. This much is fine, it seems, because Mydei hooks two muscular legs around his back and pulls him closer, slipping the head of Phainon's cock inside and drinking the way he winces and gasps.
“Sappy,” he mocks. Phainon gives him a bashful smile and a tentative roll of hips. Mydei feels so good and warm, unreal almost, around him, and he admits it aloud, the heat spreading to his head and his thoughts full of a man who isn’t his.
“I know,” Mydei says, his cocky grin barely faltering when Phainon’s thrusts get more confident, falling into a pleasurable rhythm. “All yours.” If only.
He leans down, getting close enough that he can see Mydei's tits bounce every time he fucks into him, or how sharp his teeth are when he open his mouth to moan, or how pretty and bright his eyes are when they’re taking his prisoners.
“Does your back hurt?” he asks.
Mydei reaches for his face and pinches his cheek. “Who are you and what have you done to Kevin Kaslana?” he teases. Surprised and very much guilty as charged, Phainon’s hips stutter out of rhythm. Mydei somehow rocks against him from the table, grinding his waist in downright sinful motions, and for the millionth time since he’s crossed the door--since he parked in the street and saw the house, since he learned Kevin got to live with their parents--, Phainon wishes he really was Kevin Kaslana.
He manages a chuckle, somehow, and bends down to get even closer to Mydei, who’s oblivious.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, stupidly. What are you doing, Phainon.
Mydei laughs. It's the most beautiful sound Phainon’s ever heard. When he laughs, his shoulders shake and his hole tightens. Phainon has to slow down before he comes again. “You feel that bad, uh?”
Mydei cups Phainon's face, long fingers caressing the edges of his ears before he can work out a reply and he brings him close and kisses him. It tastes like his own come and like a home that isn’t his, and like Mydei, too; something that starts off soft but grows red-hot as it settles on the tongue, like expensive spice.
Phainon chases after it, seeks it every time their lips touch, not daring to take more than what Mydei is willing to give. He strokes Mydei’s cock in rhythm with his thrusts and vibrates when he hears him openly moan into the kiss and grab onto his shoulders. “Right there,” he keens, eyes narrowing until Phainon can barely see the red in them.
“Like that?” he snaps his hips, finding the best way to ignore his own orgasm is to focus on Mydei’s, and how easy is that. He drinks in every ripple over his skin when his muscles contract under the pleasure, the way he arches his back when Phainon lightly traces over his nipples, hunting underneath the white sweater, the way his cock bounces over his stomach and leaves small pools of precum Phainon wants to lick.
“Yeah,” Mydei keens. “Fuck--”
Phainon has probably never been more focused in his whole life. He zeroes in on Mydei, keeps on pounding the same spot as best as he can, even though he’s so rusty he almost doesn’t remembers how to fuck right; he learns which touches of his fingers grant him the best moans, where to kiss and how so he can get the best reactions, the softest gaps, the smallest twitches in Mydei’s hands as he grabs onto his back, and Phainon wishes they’ll carve everlasting marks.
“I’m-”
“Come,” he says, thinking please, please, I need to see you come, biting Mydei's lips to keep himself quiet.
“Kevin,” Mydei cries out as he orgasms.
It snaps Phainon out of it like he's being woken up with a splash of cold water. He doesn’t move as Mydei cums all over their stomachs, trembling in his arms. He doesn’t move as Mydei kisses his cheek, his forehead, only remembers who he’s supposed to be when he’s being asked “Are you okay?” and there he smiles like he imagines Kevin would, says “Yeah, you were amazing,” or whatever it is that loving couples say to each other after they fuck in broad daylight in their newly-bought kitchen.
Mydei looks at him for a few seconds after he’s pulled out, dick semi-hard now, and he's being sensible for the first time today when he says ‘I don’t think I can cum anymore’ before Mydei can offer to get him off again.
Mydei kisses him again, chaste and unaware, and says he’ll go wash himself up, his body a sweaty, reddened mess. Phainon looks at his back as he leaves the kitchen, burns it once more in his retina, and he gazes at the hallway Mydei has disappeared into for a long time, stuck in place as if time had stopped, unable to proceed what he’s just done and what just happened. The picture frames scattered around the house remind him that he’s nothing but an impostor, and the lack of ring on his middle finger that the real Kevin will return home eventually, and he knows he should leave. He stays still in the kitchen like a man who's been cursed.
It’s the ringing of his phone that frees him out of his haze, a stupid alarm he’d set to remember to watch a show on TV. It seems so far now, his normal, realistic and cruel life. Mydei’s voice echoes from the bathroom, muffled by the heavy sound of pouring water:
“Did you change your ringtone?”
“Uh, no, yeah--it’s work,” he stumbles, pulling his pants back up and hurriedly making his way to the entrance door while he’s got time to leave. “I’ll be right back.”
And he’s out just like that, closing the door behind him and flurrying down the stairs like it’s not already too late. He gets to his car out of breath and very agitated, and again freezes there, key on the contact yet unable to just leave. He stays here for a few dangerous minutes, until he hears the roar of an engine close in. When he looks up he sees a brand new Mercedes Benz park in the driveway and a man dressed in an impeccable, perfectly-fitted suit getting out of it. Someone with the same pale hair as his, the same weight, the same height. The same last name.
He waits until the door slams behind Kevin to start the car and drive back home, feeling ill.
Phainon tells himself he’ll come clean but all he does is masturbate in the shower, obsessed with the memories of Mydei he can't seem to let go of. He wastes one week, give or take, stroking himself under warm water as if it would help. It obviously doesn't, and Mydei stays stuck in his brain like a nasty tumor.
He tells himself that he’ll meet Kevin, for real this time. Which is absurd, because at this point Kevin would most likely murder him on the spot, and not only is it absurd it’s also a lie, because he returns to his house it's smack dab in the middle of the afternoon and he makes sure there’s no Benz parked in front of it before he leaves his car and knocks on the door.
It’s raining and it’s stupid and it's insane and it's dangerous. What if Mydei has recognized he’s not his husband? Sure, they resemble each other, but Phainon has missed out on God knew how many years of being in love with Mydei, probably too many to replicate with perfect accuracy the way his twin would behave. What if Mydei called the cops on him? What if Kevin was home? What if-
Mydei opens the door wearing a black compression shirt that leaves very little to the imagination, legs covered by shorts, long hair freed from any hair tie except for one beautiful braid that goes over his collarbone, and he smiles. “You’re here,” he says.
“You look like a dream,” is all Phainon can reply, and Mydei looks at him like he's satisfied and drags him in for the second time.
When Phainon melts into the kisses he tries to convince himself this is what he deserves; the orphan boy Kaslana, finally finding the loving warmth of family. There’s no thoughts for Kevin and for brotherly love anymore; only thoughts of this man he didn’t marry but who bears his name, and the thought of it is enough to steal his nights and his heart both.
He doesn’t panic this time, because he’s been obsessed enough to do his research, and he knows Kevin is a busy, busy man who spends most of his time on business trips and returns home at random times. Still, he feels uncomfortable stepping in their apartment the way he is, dripping with rainwater and possessiveness.
“Bedroom?” Mydei asks as he leads him inside, and he grabs his hips, turn him so they’re facing each other and murmurs,
“Here.”
And again there’s this smile that says ‘I figured,’ except this time it looks a little sad--or maybe it always was, and Phainon is just now catching it. It doesn’t sit well with him, but he can’t do anything about it, can he? He supposes a good husband would know what to say. He doesn’t.
He tries to kiss Mydei’s worries away instead, soft ushered things like secrets on his lips, on his throat, on every beautiful muscle he can get his mouth on, hands hesitating around his body as if he couldn’t believe he really got to touch it again. Mydei is kissed out of breath instead and cups Phainon’s cock through his pants.
“Where’s ‘here’?”
Phainon looks at him, with his face flushed and capricious-looking, and he chuckles as he dares think Mydei Kaslana is damn cute. He manages to slip his fingers under the tight fit of a shirt Mydei is wearing, running them along the muscular curves of his body to reach his nipples, bending the fabric as he twists and tugs and plays with them. Mydei bites his lower lip and lets out soft sighs.
“I’m waiting, you know,” he says, pretending to be annoyed. Phainon sucks at the other nipple through his top, leaving a damp spot all over Mydei’s chest, pleased when Mydei looks at him like he wants more and he wants him and he wants him now.
“Give me a minute, will you?” he says, gently because he’d never dare to slight Mydei in any way. Mydei opens his mouth and moans when Phainon’s free hand slides down his back to grab a handful of sensitive, meaty ass, using his hold to push him close, flushing their bodies together.
“And what if I don’t,” Mydei pants, ever uncooperative.
“Then I’ll bend you over the couch and fuck you right here,” Phainon says, thinking about it as he says the words, and it does sound like a great idea. Phainon is always polite, even as he’s fucking someone’s else husband, so he adds, “If you’d like.”
“I think I do,” Mydei pants, grinding his hips over Phainon’s thighs. “I think I’d like it very much. Now if only I didn’t have to wait until next wee-”
Phainon lifts him up. His cock grows hard untouched just at how heavy and muscular Mydei is, and he just adds it as a footnote of all the many things wrong with him as of late. With how they’re positioned he can’t see anything but Mydei’s chest, so he blindly walks around the apartment until he can make out the black suede couch in his peripheral vision and keeps abusing Mydei’s nipples otherwise, rewarded by little moans that he wishes no one but him would get to hear.
He’s a man of his word, so he bends Mydei over the couch in a way that his upper body falls on the seats, his head on the cushions, and his lower body entrusted to Phainon. He slides his sweatpants off him to find once again no underwear and a lubed up asshole.
“You should let me prepare you, next time,” he says like an idiot, because just thinking of next time is already a terrible idea. Mydei doesn’t seem to share his opinion and simply half-turns, body twisting with his muscles moving in all sorts of ways, looking like those ancient Greek statues, and he says with a sneer:
“Only if you’re good.”
Oh, Phainon is going to be so good. He remembers the first time, when he had compared Mydei to being some kind of rare spice--no, he’s more like an illegal, strong drug, the way Phainon is addicted and unable to speak or think when he’s got him over his mouth. He can’t get enough, of his laugh, when he’s lucky enough to hear it, of his voice, low and activating all of his neurons at once, of his body that looks like sin,of his eyes-
“I’m waiting. Again.” Phainon hurries out of his pants like a teenager and scoffs when he catches the satisfied, mocking snicker Mydei tries to hide into the pillows.
“You’re a menace,” he says, voice lowering as he gives a few appreciative taps of his cock over the curve of Mydei’s ass, watches how it bounces.
“Come on, love. I’ll ride you if you keep stalling.”
He could come from the nickname alone; but if he’s got a second chance at this, then he really wants to do better than last time, at least. He tries hard to not think of Mydei bouncing up and down on his cock and buries himself into his ass until his hips are flush with it. Mydei gasps underneath him and lets out a lewd high-pitched sound Phainon wants to hear more of, so he chases after it and thrusts hard and fast into the sweet spot that had Mydei cry out in pleasure before.
“Too fast,” Mydei groans into the pillows, trembling and holding onto them for dear life.
Phainon kisses his shoulder, his neck, reaching for his dick squashed between Mydei’s body and the couch. “Don’t like it? Want me to slow down?”
“No,” Mydei chokes.
Phainon laughs and nuzzles into his nape as he fucks him properly, hand slick with precome already. “Which is it?”
“Fuck-,” Mydei moans in between each word, this beautiful, stunning man, “--you--”
Phainon grins, a bit maniacal and egoistic as he looks at the greyscale reflection of them through the plasma TV screen. In front of it, there’s a picture frame with Kevin and Mydei, and he can’t help but look into Kevin’s eyes as if to confront him as he increases the pace of his thrusts, possessive of something that doesn’t even belong to him. Then he looks at Mydei’s crying face, his body perfectly slotted beneath his, his eyes where the sadness he caught a glimpse of on the porch is now gone, and he oddly feels a little satisfied.
It isn’t unusual for Kevin to return home from his work trips with different clothes that the ones he wore when he left.
What’s unusual, however, is for him not to carry someone else’s perfume as he does; to return without that mean glint in his eyes, that constant need to argue and fight and bite back.
What’s unusual is him turning into a lovesick puppy like before, before whatever went wrong and both him and their relationship had changed and never was the same, something breaking along the way like bones.
So Mydei immediately realizes the Kevin that returns in the afternoons and pretends he has work again isn’t the Kevin he knows.
‘You’re being weird,’ Kevin had said with a disgusted frown when Mydei welcomed him on the front door with a smile and a kiss, after the first time him and the man who looked like his husband fucked, and he thought isn’t it weirder to stay with someone you so visibly hate? But he had said nothing, connecting the dots in silence. The next time he hears a car that isn’t Kevin's Mercedes leave the driveway, he peers out of the window and hurriedly notes down the license plate.
And with a quick Internet search the stranger that blushed at his every touch and kissed him like a drowning man had become ‘my husband’s twin’, and then ‘Phainon’.
Phainon is exactly like Kevin, except he is nothing like him.
He doesn't touch him the way Kevin does. He’s all soft and caring and like Mydei is the most precious thing to have ever graced the world, never daring to leave marks as if he was scared to really exist in Mydei’s life. Like he was nothing but a daytime dream.
Their bodies, too, are identical save for a few nicks and scratches (This scar, how did you get it? I never noticed before, Mydei asks, pretends to be oblivious, absentmindedly tracing a sun-shaped wound that his husband does not have, between Phainon’s shoulder and his throat. Phainon hesitates, always terrified of being caught yet always returning like a guilty puppy, and he says it’s something that happened when he was younger, when he tried to protect a friend of his from an injury, but it’s old and faded now and not really easy to see anymore- Mydei laughs and thinks Of course, this one would never be able to hurt anyone.).
Phaikon is exactly like Kevin, except it’s Phainon Mydei thinks about in his dreams and in his every waking moments, when he wishes he could be dreaming still.
Phainon is obsessed.
He’s lost count of how many times he’s driven to Kevin’s house, how many times he almost left incriminating bites on Mydei’s body, and how many times he’s dreamed there was a matching ring on his finger.
Possessiveness has him grow bold, take more risks. He plays a dangerous game, one that looks jarring in the midst of his otherwise mundane life, and he cares less and less, tunnel focused on the next time he can pretend he has a beautiful lover waiting for him at home.
He’s obsessed enough that he starts noticing things he didn’t catch before, in the pre-orgasm haze and lost to Mydei’s touches. Mydei doesn’t like having his clothes taken off him. Mydei sometimes looks a little sad. Mydei often looks extremely alone. Phainon loves being able to pick up what’s wrong, and he hates not being able to do anything to fix it.
All he has to offer is sex, so that’s what he resorts to, pitifully.
“Let me help you,” he says, kissing Mydei in the entryway with his shoes and jacket on, taking in the home-like scent of him, this spice he’s so addicted to, when he’s being told Mydei hasn’t had the time to prepare himself.
Mydei hesitates, then, hands resting on Phainon’s shoulders. He looks away. “It’s dirty,” he mutters, and it’s a bit unlike him.
“It’s not. I’ll carry you to the shower. Bridal style and everything.” This earns him a huffed breath, but Mydei looks terribly uncomfortable. Phainon kisses the bridge of his nose. “Hey.” He waits until their eyes are locked before he continues. “I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want. But. I’d really like to eat you out, or finger you, or whatever you’d like until I can take my sweet time fucking you.”
“Still so sappy” Mydei nudges his forehead with his, discomfort lurking in his words but looking more relaxed already.
“I’ll die if you leave me here while you go work your magic,” he whines, playful. Mydei snorts.
“Don’t call it magic--are you an idiot?” he ends up laughing into Phainon’s shoulder and Phainon allows himself a victorious grin before he grabs Mydei’s hips and lifts him up.
“That’s not bridal style at all,” Mydei complains with a tap on his back. He counters with a similar tap on his ass.
“Sorry, princess,” he says and he stops by the couch to lay Mydei down on it and carry him as he’s promised, stealing a kiss as he does.
Their relationship, if it can even be called this, has become too familiar to not shatter him into little pieces when whatever they have will eventually end. He doesn’t feel guilty anymore now, doesn’t even think of Kevin--doesn’t want to, immersed in making the most out of the little time he has with Mydei before the evening ends. He’s lingered in the street out front, sometimes: he knows Mr. Kaslana doesn’t return every day, yet he never takes his chances and tries staying longer, aware that coming face to face with his twin is the worst thing that could happen.
Second worst, he thinks as Mydei looks at him with lips half-parted, awaiting a kiss he eagerly gives.
He steps into the bathroom for the first time ever despite his many visits; comfortable fucking Mydei in any imaginable position but not enough to invade the couple’s privacy. It’s more for him than them, this weird hangup he has. It already makes him sick to his stomach to see the happy pictures in the living room, and he doesn’t know if he can stomach seeing more of this stuff elsewhere.
The bathroom looks as if no one has ever used it. He recognizes some of Mydei’s clothes on the laundry basket, but sees no hints of his twin’s existence, and he eases up as he allows Mydei out of his arms and on his feet. “Thanks for the ride,” Mydei kisses his cheek. Phainon turns his head to catch his lips.
“But of course. Now may I undress you, princess?”
He gets a light smack on the side of the head for how cheesy he’s being and Mydei looks away again. “If you’re sure,” he says.
Phainon frowns but doesn’t push it, kisses Mydei for the umpteenth time and lifts the loose shirt he also wore on their one-sided first meeting, slowly revealing lightly tanned skin and muscles he’s grown accustomed to, and something else that’s way harder on the eyes. Phainon understands the proofs of Mydei’s marriage he was so scared of seeing in the deepest parts of the house are concealed in an even deeper place, branded upon Mydei’s body.
Horrible marks that look like he’s been in a fight; nothing playful tumbles in the bedroom could or should have been created. They bloom red and purple across his chest, around his ribs, these disgusting flowers born from wilted love, and Phainon feels like crying a little. His eyes find Mydei’s and he catches himself before he can say Who did this to you? Because it’s him, it’s the person he’s pretending to be, the perfect husband, who did, in the secrecy of their home, in the places no one will know about, when Phainon is far and safe, and he feels tears trying to rise to the surface. He sees them in Mydei’s eyes, too, and leans in and kisses the corner of his lashes.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, quiet, stupid, lost.
Mydei’s smile is gentle and understanding and Phainon wants to sob. “You really are, aren’t you?”
Phainon touches him delicately, not like a broken thing but like one that is precious, like he’s found a rare diamond and wants to see all of its faces. He kisses over the marks, unsure whether he’s making things better or worse; shaking, too. All he thinks of now is taking Mydei far from here, but where? To have him take Phainon’s ring-less hand and ride his dingy car to his moldy apartment and then what?
“You’re beautiful,” he tries, nuzzling into the crook of Mydei’s neck, and “I’m sorry,” he says again.
Mydei laughs and kisses the top of his head. “You always say that.”
He wishes he could say so much more, but he’s not smart enough to know what words to use. Perhaps Kevin, the chosen child with the parents and the big house and the new car and the perfect husband, does. Perhaps Kevin is better than him in every other way, except Phainon would rather stay poor and stupid and alone until the day he’d die, than ever hurt Mydei.
“Can I undress you?” he asks, trying really hard to keep his voice from shaking.
Mydei chuckles quietly and taps his naked foot against Phainon’s on the shower tiles. “You feel that bad, uh?”
He does. It could have been his--their family, he thinks as he slides Mydei’s pants and underwear off him, not out of selfishness and envy this time but because he genuinely despairs for a version of their story where at least Mydei is happy. Something white and unlike lube trickles down Mydei’s ass to trail on his thigh, and Phainon has probably never hated someone more than he hates Kevin Kaslana in this very moment.
“I told you it was dirty,” Mydei says, and he wants to say, please, don’t ever say this about yourself, so he does. Mydei looks at him like he loves him.
He places a hand on the middle of his back and pushes him close in an embrace, busying himself in the crook of his neck, around his ear, kissing softly like he’s asking to be pardoned. Mydei’s keeps him locked in a tight embrace. Phainon once more carves the feeling in his mind, hoping it’ll stay here forever.
With the other hand, he reaches for Mydei’s ass, gently pushing against his butt, probing his fingers inside to get the semen out of the way as best as he can in this position. Mydei shifts in his arms in awkwardness and shame, and Phainon kisses his neck and grazes at it with his teeth, sniffling when red strands tickle his nose. “Your hair is in the way.”
“That’s why you shouldn’t remove my hairbands,” he retorts.
“I wasn’t complaining,” Phainon smiles into Mydei’s skin.
“Right. You always look this close to asking me what brand of shampoo I use.”
“I’m sure that’s not the only thing I look like,” he tries, but Mydei smirks, unrelenting.
“No. You also look like an idiot.”
He chuckles and kisses Mydei’s cheek, most of the cum thankfully removed. “Maybe because I am an idiot. A lovable idiot.” He manages to catch himself and not say an idiot in love. Not his house, not his husband, not his life, not anything he can truly fix, because he is an idiot.
“Don’t call yourself ‘lovable’,” Mydei says with an incredulous laugh, an how stupid can you be, and Phainon can be incredibly stupid if it gets Mydei to smile like this.
He pulls back so their eyes meet again. Mydei slightly tilts his head. “Here or-”
“The bedroom,” he decides, because fuck Kevin Kaslana.
Mydei just looks at him with something strange in his eyes, and again Phainon reads ‘I figured,’ in them. He wonders how much Mydei has figured, exactly. He carries him again to the bedroom, lays him down in a bed that’s too large even for two. Kisses Mydei’s ankles, then his knees. Hesitates around his hips, stops at his crotch, to hear the divine moans that spill out of his mouth better. Continues around his navel, his abs, his bruised ribs. His pink nipples and his plump chest; his sharp collarbone and his already kiss-doused neck. Lingers around his jaw, leaves a single bite on his bottom lip. Parts him in half like a divorce. Mydei pants, watching him expectantly, so he can do nothing but deliver.
He lets his weight barely drop over Mydei’s body, slides his hands over both Mydei’s wrists, laying at the side of his head, clasps their fingers intertwined. Then he leans down and he whispers in his ear: “I’m going to make love to you like it’s the first time.”
Mydei replies “That sounds great,” and looks at Phainon if he was the last man on Earth.
Since it’s the first time, Phainon wants to feel like he’s the first. He kisses Mydei and slides the ring off his left hand.
Kevin doesn't ask where the ring is.
He only makes angry whirlwinds home and eventually, it’s him who ends up looking like a stranger.
“I’m leaving for a trip,” he says as he adjusts his tie, suitcase and coat ready, not even looking Mydei’s way.
Mydei wonders if he’d have noticed another man’s touch on him if he had loved him more. He smiles. “How long will you be?”
Kevin sighs as if even talking to him is an annoyance and replies. “One week or so. Why do you care?”
“I’m just curious,” he says. “I’ll be lonely.” He manages to not make it sound too much like a lie.
It’s not like Kevin would have noticed anyways.
There’s no doubt Phainon will go to Hell.
He’s by no means a perfect person, much less a perfect man. Before he had known of his infamous twin brother, he could even call himself decent.
Now he feels like he might combust if he steps past any church gates. It doesn’t stop him from returning, the very next week, to the white suburban house he now treats like his own. And he doesn’t feel guilty towards Kevin at all, no,--fuck Kevin Kaslana--but towards Mydei; he feels like he’s helping enable a relationship that should have long been gone like ashes to the wind, feels like with every loving kiss and caring touch he’s making up for Kevin’s wrongdoings and it makes him sick.
He tries, if he cannot be a good man, to be a brave man instead. He looks at himself in the mirror for a long time before he leaves this afternoon, and he puts his ID card in his breast pocket in case he needs to prove he’s not just completely crazy (I'm not crazy, I'm insane). He wears an outfit that he thinks looks decent on him, although he’s aware his fashion sense is, generously speaking, questionable, and he drives for what he believes to be the last time to the Kaslana household.
He takes forever to leave the car and even longer to walk up the stairs this time, thinking of what he even is going to say.
I lied, I’m actually your husband’s twin brother. And I will treat you much better than him. No, scratch that. I know it’s crazy (not crazy, unhinged) but I’m Kevin’s long lost brother, Phainon. Even worse. You already have my last name, so maybe we could-, never mind. He stops thinking.
Knocks on the door once, chest cold as if he had ice cubes for his heart, and Mydei almost immediately opens. “Took you long enough,” he says.
It takes him a bit too long to understand when Mydei leans in and grins and whispers in his ear:
“Hey, Mr. Kaslana. Why not stay the night, this time?”