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Castorice’s thin fingers move around in a careful yet mesmerizing dance over her face, arranging her bangs for what feels like the umpteenth time. “You look lovely with your hair down, Phainon.”
“Do you really think so?”
A smile as delicate as the Antilia flowers she is so fond of blooms on her satisfied face as she nods. “This wavy style really suits you.”
There should be a couple of mirrors somewhere around the backstage, but the idea of waddling through a sea of both familiar and unfamiliar busy faces in uncomfortable clothing just destroys whatever velleity of getting a look of at herself Phainon has.
The dress Aglaea has prepared for her looked beautiful on the mannequin, all dark blues and pale gold accents, and Castorice has been working on her hair and makeup for the past hour or so. Knowing them, they wouldn't let her set foot out if the result wasn't at least decent, so trusting them should be fine, if anything.
A hand gently taps her on the shoulder. “Do you want me to take a picture of you?” Castorice offers in a kind voice, smartphone already in her hand. “If you like the result I can teach you how to do a simpler version of it.”
“Thank you, Cas, but I’d feel bad for wasting your good will.”
Between her apprenticeship and the frankly obscene amount of work she needs for her thesis she barely has any time to sleep. And besides, the days she's not spending washing placenta away from calves or running on coffee she spends them sweating it off in the gym.
“Save your efforts, Cas. The Deliverer’s sense of fashion is a lost cause.”
A contralto rises from behind Phainon amidst the din of the backstage and the warmth of a familiarity she hasn't felt in over a month dissipates whatever remains of her nervousness.
A huff of laughter escapes her. She turns on her heels. “Uhm, rude? You know very well that I’m a busy woman, Mydei–”
It’s by nothing short of a miracle that Phainon doesn’t blatantly choke on her own saliva at the sight in front of her. Sleek, thick-soled combat boots. Winding lines of familiar crimson tattoos that crawl up toned thighs and under a leather pencil mini-skirt to peek through the layer of see-through vermillion tulle Mydei’s single shoulder top is made of. And, beneath the sheer fabric, nothing but the naked skin of a voluptuous chest for everyone to see.
Seemingly unaware of the psychological damage she’s causing, Mydei crosses her arms over her chest with a teasing smirk, saying something that is likely an well-meaning insult to her usual outfit choices but that Phainon’s brain can’t quite process.
“Phainon, are you alright? Your face is red.”
Castorice, like the beautiful soul she is, is ogling her with concern and a vague hint of pity in her big lavender eyes just as Phainon’s mind unhelpfully supplies her with the answer that no, she’s definitely not fine. Her face is hot. Her throat is dry. Every single muscle of her body is yelling to ignore the heels at her feet and run into hiding until it’s her turn to step on the runway.
“I,” Phainon squeaks pitifully, “I need to go to the toilet.”
§
Something’s unequivocally wrong with her. She should be happy of seeing Mydei again so soon, of not having her summer vacation fully plagued by the much felt absence of her most beloved friend. Yet, even as the adrenaline of the past two hours leaves her body, Phainon can’t bring herself to look for her, to act like no subtle current buzzes in her veins in remembering the utterly mesmerized looks of the public in front of the sight of Mydei’s majestic body and outfit.
A warm hand curls around her wrist, preventing her from tugging at the door that separates her from the much needed coolness of the summer night.
“Phainon.”
“Mydei…”
She’s wearing a normal tank top and denim shorts, now, the red kohl on her eyes the only trace left of her runway look. Yet Mydei’s face is devoid of any of the playful cockiness she had greeted her with as she opens her mouth to pronounce what Phainon fears will be a terrible verdict.
“Come with me,” it’s what she says instead. “We need to talk.”
§
Styxia is quietly beautiful at night. The brightness of the full summer moon shines down on the subtle, barely there ripples of the ocean’s surface and paints the tracks of Phainon's sneakers on the fine sand in an otherworldly pearlescent glow. Yet, the echo of Mydei’s words still hangs in the air between them, uneasiness lingering in Phainon's chest like the faint shadow the waves leave after lapping at the shore.
Mydei abruptly stops in her tracks in front of a storage barrack, still not offering Phainon an explanation.
Phainon awkwardly clears her throat. “Um. So, what did you want to talk about?”
The slope of Mydei’s elegant shoulders heaves up and then down with a sigh. “Why were you avoiding me earlier?”
The cold weight of panic sinks into Phainon's stomach. Of course she hasn't been able to be subtle about her turmoil, but she hoped, even if in vain, that the post-show chaos would be enough of a diversion for Mydei not to dwell too much on her questionable attitude.
Phainon slowly inhales, gathering her composure. “What are you talking about?” Her voice cracks like the remains of her dignity. She winces. “I’m sorry that we haven't been able to talk much after not seeing each other since the start of summer vacation, but you must have noticed how busy tonight has been.”
Great. Not only is she a pervert, but now also the kind of terrible person that flat-out lies to their best friend to selfishly try and save face.
Mydei turns around, but the trademark frown Phainon expects to meet is nowhere to be found on her delicate features. Her mouth, now devoid of the makeup Castorice had carefully applied, is stretched into a thin, tight line. “Spare me the clueless act.” Amber eyes search her features only to turn uncharacteristically downcast. “I believed we had reached enough of a mutual understanding for you not to take my words to heart. But if that isn't the case and my attitude has genuinely been hurting you, then I apologize.”
“Huh? No, Mydei, you have done nothing wrong. If anything, it's me who should apologize.”
She should have known, after all. Mydei is always so direct and earnest about her feelings, so unapologetically herself and yet kind enough to own up even to her hypothetical mistakes. To keep lying would be the same as spitting on the core values that make Mydei the person Phainon loves so dearly.
Another bitter sigh leaves her mouth. “You're right, I’ve been avoiding you. But the reason definitely isn't whatever you're thinking.”
“Then explain it to me.”
Phainon shuffles her feet in the pearly sand. She's so ridiculous. “I avoided you because I couldn't look at you without getting utterly and stupidly horny.”
Amber eyes widen and Mydei blinks in the slow, cat-like manner that always makes Phainon smile inwardly. “What.”
“I know! And I’m so sorry, I tried to act normal but the outfit you chose together with Aglaea was outright criminal.”
It was like that specific version of Mydei had been made to wring her out of her self-imposed ignorance, hitting her in the face with two years’ worth of unconsciously repressed feelings. Maybe Anaxa is right in questioning her intelligence, sometimes, because she definitely feels so, so stupid.
As if diametrically opposing her inner panic, Mydei’s face relaxes into its usual, unreadable self. “I see. Then I suppose the reason why you were horny was because of the see-through top?”
Incriminating images of Mydei’s ample bosom showing through red mesh flash across Phainon’s mind. Blood rushes to her face and her knees give out. Phainon seeks refuge in the coolness of her own clammy hands but the weight of her guilt and embarrassment stabs like nails into her back.
Without a doubt, she's been nothing but naive in thinking the crisis arising from her sudden realization would subside the moment the incriminating outfit would disappear from her sight. That life-changing vision has been burned into her retinas and Mydei talking so casually about it does nothing to chase the all-too-vivid details of that moment from her mind. No matter how much she tries to embellish the facts, she is just a late-blooming, perverted girl.
A muffled whine escapes from between her hands. “Yes, I saw everything, I’m so sorry.”
“Well. That was kind of the point of the outfit”, Mydei says in an unfazed voice. “Just as is socially acceptable for men to show their nipples, so it should be for women. Bras can get rather uncomfortable.”
And of course Mydei, the woman of conviction she is, meant to use her own body to make powerful statements.
“Haha. I truly am the worst, Mydei.” Maybe if she curls up into a ball, throwing herself into a hole in the sand, the shame will disappear. Or maybe simply finishing digging her own grave is the way to a quick, painless death. “The truth is, the message you wanted to convey completely flew over my head. The moment I stumbled into a nearly unfiltered vision of… them, I kind of stopped functioning. Yes, you were unbelievably hot and I definitely had shameful thoughts about you but what's worse is that I irrationally thought I didn't want anyone else to see you like that.”
“Then let me ask you something,” Mydei says slowly, spelling each word with care. “Do you simply want us to fuck? Or is your frankly amusing panic a reaction that stems from something deeper?”
This won't be the end of their friendship. Despite her forwardness sometimes bordering harshness, Mydei is soft at heart. She will reject her feelings with that kindness that quietly seeps into each of her actions, filing her perverted thoughts as a simple compliment, and proceed to treat her like nothing has ever truly disrupted their relationship, if only out of consideration.
Phainon swallows again. Her throat feels like sandpaper but she can't lie her way out of this. “Refraining from touching you at all would be no sacrifice if it means that you're willing to be mine.”
The waves murmur gently, filling the quiet.
“You better look up at me, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae,” Mydei says in a warning tone, “because you have five seconds to stop me.”
“Huh?”
Mydei’s warm hand curls around her wrist, firm yet not unkind, and moves it away from her face.
She’s so close she can count the darker spots in her irises and see how the unruly golden waves of her hair frames her face in a way that makes her look actually her age. A plethora of swear words flies through Phainon's mind. Her own eyes and mouth instinctually squeeze shut.
Then soft warmth presses against her lips, barely long enough for her to realize that it's actually happening, that Mydei, for some unexplainable reason, has decided to kiss her.
“I didn't hold any hopes in the first place about you grasping the meaning behind my choice, this time”, Mydei says with faint amusement sweetening her contralto. “But still, to think that the one time I wasn't actively trying to flirt with you is the one that succeeded is rather in line with your general cluelessness.”
She should come up with some clever rebuke, considering how she definitely isn't as clueless and dumb as Mydei sometimes likes to paint her, even if only in jest. Yes, she should. And she would, if only Mydei’s pretty, pomegranate-tasting lips weren't so enticing in the bright moonlight. She is so silly, she could have been kissing them for the past two years if she wasn't this terrible at feelings.
Mydei kisses her again, this time with a more lingering press of her mouth, as if to give her the time to get accustomed to it, to the feeling of her best friend so close to her in this new yet thrilling way. Phainon shakily exhales through her nose and her hand finds purchase on the short-ish yet soft strands of Mydei's nape. Then a thumb gently pries her lips open and Mydei's tongue slips into her mouth, carefully turning their kiss into something hotter, wetter.
The warmth of a small sun blazes into Phainon's core and spreads to her body at how much she actually wants Mydei, even without seeing her beautiful face or gorgeous body. Mydei who, instead of commenting on how painfully clumsy she is, guides with slow, lazy movements the brushing of their tongues. Mydei who presses their bodies together, uncaring of how they're likely going to make a sandy mess of themselves.
A short, breathy laugh escapes from Phainon's mouth. “I still think you gave tonight's public the sight of their lives.” After all, the care Mydei puts into shaping her body produces results that could easily put even an ancient statue of the Goddess of Genesis to shame. “I must confess I feel just a tiny bit jealous of them.”
“Is that so?” Despite Mydei's quirked eyebrow, her voice is laced with amusement. “Come with me then.”
With the thump of soles digging into the sand Mydei gets up and haphazardly cleans the sand off her knees. Then, the bright light of her phone's torch blinds Phainon, only dimming as Mydei’s combat boots press a path towards one of the barracks doors and turns around.
“Well? Are you coming or not?”
Phainon scrambles up on her feet, nearly planting herself face-first on a nearby dune, and a hand yanks her into a deeper darkness. The smell of salt and cheap plastic assaults her nostrils as her butt lands on something springy but not quite soft. With a whine, a door closes and a warm weight pins her thighs on the strangely comfortable surface. The same light of a few moments before illuminates the small portion of space in front of her, revealing Mydei as the one proudly sitting on her legs like she rightfully belongs there.
“My-”
“Don't speak.”
The hands Phainon has held with blissful unawareness countless times grasp the edges of Mydei's black cropped t-shirt and lift it all the way up to throw it somewhere amidst the darkness.
She blinks. In the pale light Mydei's breasts look plush and full, slightly drop-shaped and so, so much better than through a layer of see-though fabric. On the tanned skin, the fiery red of her tattoos winds around their ample curves, dipping into the valley where her sternum rests hidden, and rises back up, as if to bring out the lovely pink of her nipples.
She must have been gaping as well because a cute flush spreads from the tip of Mydei’s ears to her cheeks. “Hks, don't just stare at them.”
Oh, they're gonna pry the memory of this glorious moment from her cold, dead hands. She really was fine with just her 4K first row seat view of Mydei’s unfiltered boobs, but having permission to touch? Kephale above, it's like she's being allowed to hold a relic created by the titans of yore between her hands.
Phainon's fingers tremble as she moves to grasp the soft flesh. It spills slightly from the gaps in between and her hand fails to fully enclose it in its grasp. It's no wonder Mydei hates wearing bras. She gives an experimental squeeze, trying to commit to haptic memory the soft weight, the silky smoothness of the skin, the sun-like warmth radiating from the body in front of her and cranes her neck to catch Mydei's lips in another long, slow kiss.
“I honestly don't know what I’m doing,” she admits with a twinge of embarrassment pulsing into her chest like an infected wound. “I’ve never done this before, pathetic as it may sound.”
“It's not.” Contrary to her fears, there is no scorn in Mydei's matter-of-fact tone. “The only experience I have is with myself. But either way, I don't think this makes either of us pathetic.”
Her eyes widen. “But, weren't you and Hephaestion…”
The usually calm and aloof Mydei of their freshmen years only gifted her rare smiles to the members of her little childhood creek. And while she could completely understand why someone would feel compelled to smile at a person as lovely as dear Cas, somehow the closeness between Mydei and her best bro never fully sat well with her. She should have realized what that was ages ago.
Mydei shoots her a smirk, looking like the very portrait of a big, satisfied cat. “Hephaestion is into twinks and is likely busy having Peucesta bounce on his dick, right now.”
A spark of hope bursts in her chest. Did Mydei at some point conspire with Hephaestion to make her jealous? Or maybe Hephaestion and Mydei’s other friends were aware of her unconscious pining all along and decided to have fun seeing her squirm?
The flick to her forehead hits her before she can even try to defend herself.
“Don't think about someone else when you have my tits almost literally in your face.”
“... Sorry.”
She probably looks like some kind of lost puppy. Making a fool of herself seems to be her major talent but she can't agree with Cas when she affirms that it's also her most endearing trait.
“Deliverer,” Mydei calls. A hand gently guides her chin up and her eyes meet soft amber ones. “Stop overthinking.”
“But-”
The lovely flush on Mydei's face deepens. “I’ll tell you what to do, so keep touching me.”
They both still want this. Mydei still wants this. “... Okay.”
Golden locks tickle her cheek. Mydei's hand slides down Phainon's to take hold of her fingers. “Use your thumb,” Mydei says in a gravelly murmur that has her skin prickle with goosebumps.
Swallowing thickly, Phainon obliges and, much to her relief, Mydei doesn't swat her hand away but guides her movements with patient hands. The skin under the pad of her thumb is softer, more velvet-like than its surroundings, giving in so easily under the pressure. With Mydei's cheek pressed to the side of her head she can't quite see her expression but she must be doing a decent job, if the barely there hitches in Mydei's breathing are anything to go by.
She is so delicate like this, plant and quiet in her arms, letting Phainon study her body as if to silently entrust herself to her.
The tip of her thumb grazes a hard nub. It's of the same lovely pink of the rest of Mydei's nipple, erect as if begging her to pay it attention and Phainon gingerly pinches it between her thumb and forefinger. A trembling hiss escapes from Mydei's mouth.
Phainon flings her hands in the air. “Sorry! Did I hurt you?”
She should have figured her lack of experience would come to bite her back. Mydei’s body is no different from her own and yet she's fumbling in a task as simple as touching it in a way that feels pleasant, that doesn't make Mydei regret exposing herself to her.
Warm hands guide Phainon's own to get reacquainted with the softness of Mydei's breasts. “Do it again.”
Her thoughts screech to a halt. “Huh?”
Mydei clenches her jaw. “Don't make me repeat myself.”
Even in the ghostly light of the torch, the lovely flush on Mydei's face spreads down the slope of her neck and shoulders, dipping down to the sinuous lines of her collarbones. Her golden gaze flits to the side with a frown that in any other circumstance would be utterly adorable, but Mydei's boobs are in her hands, nipples poking against Phainon's palms, and it's without a doubt the hottest moment in her life.
Phainon gently pinches the hard nub and Mydey partially arches into the touch. Her flesh is so soft and springy, so warm against her own.
“Mydei–” Her fingers skim again against the sensitive skin and press in, rubbing in tentative circles in response to the delicious way it gives in to her touch.
“Didn't you say I make you horny?” Mydei's contralto breaks on the sound of a moan, breathy, just as alluring as the song of the sirens that populate Styxia’s legends and determined to chip away at what remains of Phainon's sanity. “Then show me.”
And so Phainon lets herself get bewitched, commits to haptic memory the shape of Mydei, the changes in the pitch of her voice with every tug of her fingers, the flex of her abdomen and thighs as she faces the pleasure head on until the rosy hue of her nipples swells and darkens like ripe pomegranates under Phainon's fascinated touch.
Every second spent feeling Mydei's bare skin against her own is a discovery, a new, vibrant figment of the mosaic that is the woman she has fallen in love with. She needs to see more, to learn each minute detail of the invaluable artifact Mydei is.
“Mydei,” she calls, half plead, half moan. “Let me use my mouth.”
Amber eyes look down on her, glistening with the haze of pleasure. Mydei's mouth curls into a smirk but her hand lifts one of her breasts and aligns it with Phainon's lips, painting the most sinful of pictures. “Greedy girl.”
She is, when it comes to Mydei. So much that quelling the growing tingling between her legs is of little importance if compared to the need of swiping her tongue over a puffy nipple. Slight saltiness fills her mouth but it becomes an inconsequential detail in front of how soft Mydei feels against her lips, at how her skin still smells like the fruity perfume Phainon gifted her for Christmas. She can't help but test the limit of her greed and of Mydei's benevolence.
Phainon mouths over the tender skin, right over that spot that has coaxed that beautiful sound from Mydei's pretty lips, and is rewarded with a whine and a spurring hand in her hair. Mydei's nipple is fully hard in her mouth and Phainon traces its shape with the tip of her tongue, flicking, rubbing over it as her hand busies itself with the other breast.
Mydei’s chest is heaving up and down with quick, irregular breaths through slightly parted lips. Her golden irises burn like a candle flame through her half lidded eyes and Phainon can't look away, mesmerized, taking in the sight of her blissed out face even as her mouth moves to outright suck the nipple she had neglected.
A high-pitched, broken sound reverberates in the nearly non-existent space between them and one of Mydei's hands grasps her shoulder for balance.
“M’close… just let me–”
Mydei’s fingers fumble with the button and zipper of her own denim shorts, revealing a pair of black slips with a cute lace hem, and push down the sleek fabric until they manage to dip inside.
They’ve seen each other naked so many times when showering in the gym or taking a bath together on the days the Palace Marmoreum offered student discounts. By Kephale, Mydei isn't even completely naked and the lighting is too terrible to fully appreciate the sinful way her hips rock towards her fingers, but even just the awareness of how different this is from the usual knocks the breath out of her lungs.
“Mydei, you're so beautiful… Wanna see you come so bad,” she blurts out.
Golden eyes glance down on her, glistening with unshed tears. “Then stop ogling and use your mouth on me.”
Phainon would have never guessed how someone as usually calm as Mydei would be such a brat in intimate moments. It's endearing, and yet, at the same time, alluring enough to make it impossible to deny her. No matter what their relationship is, she would do anything if it means making Mydei smile.
Phainon grins. “As you wish, your majesty.”
Her lips wrap again around a nipple and it's so puffy and soft, still well-loved from her previous ministrations, mouth-watering in the way Mydei’s skin still faintly smells like ripe fruit. She can't help but irrationally wonder if, with enough time and persistence, she could make the velvety skin swell even more, until her tongue can finally lap at sweet ambrosia and Mydei is a mess whining in both pleasure and relief.
The semi-darkness of the cabin fills with the litany of Mydei's mewls and sighs. Phainon sucks and licks the swollen areola, producing wet sounds that turn Mydei's voice into a spell that further fills her mind with her, with how charming she is no matter the circumstances. Then the rocking of Mydei’s body turns into a frenetic chase and the hand in Phainon's hair pushes her face against soft flesh, enveloping it in the warmth and sweetness of Mydei's skin.
“Phainon–”
Her name comes out of Mydei's lips like a plea and yet, at the same time, as a condemnation, destined to keep her company in the sleepless nights and fight the loudness of her doubts and thoughts.
Mydei slumps back, supporting herself by planting her hands on the fluorescent pink of what Phainon finally recognizes as someone's air mattress. The crimson of her tattoos glows as the light of the smartphone, still abandoned on a patch of uncluttered floor, is partially reflected by the veil of perspiration on her skin. Her swollen nipples, as if to reward Phainon for her efforts, glisten, as pink as ripe pomegranate seeds. If only she had the talent to do so, she would transpose every single line of this image on paper and selfishly keep it for her eyes only.
A golden eye blearily glances at her. “You're still staring.”
“Haha, well, it's hard not to when a beautiful woman that coincidentally is also your best friend sits mostly naked in front of you.”
Whatever will be of their relationship after tonight, she will definitely have a hard time keeping her cool when seeing Mydei in any state of undress. Well, she will probably have a hard time being normal about Mydei at all.
Mydei lets out an amused huff. “Hm. You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Did you…”
“I did,” Mydei says with a nonchalant nod, as if she isn't still very half naked and disheveled. “You did well. For being inexperienced, that is.”
Phainon is a quick learner. She has to be, lest Anaxa lose his patience and let her fail her biology class without his tutoring, but it's still high praise coming from Mydei. She can only aim for the moon… if this isn't a one time thing, that is.
She gulps. “Are we… going out, now?”
Mydei stops in her tracks, leaving her tank top only halfway down her chest. Her mouth opens and closes awkwardly. “Do you think I just shove my boobs in everyone's face?”
“Well-”
Another lovely blush creeps up Mydei's chagrined face. “Don't. Answer that.”
Laughter bubbles up from her chest. She kind of understands now why Cipher has made ragebaiting Mydei her favorite hobby. “Sorry, sorry.”
“You should already be aware of it, but given your frankly appalling lack of insight on the matter, I’ll just spell it out for you,” Mydei says, once again busy depriving Phainon of the sight of her glorious, insanely hot body. “I wouldn't have done this with anyone but you, Phainon.”
Her hands fly to Mydei's shoulders before she can even think. “Wait, doesn't this mean we like each other?”
“Congratulations, it only took you two years to become this self-aware” Mydei bites back with a smirk that somehow makes Phainon feel hot all over again.
“C’mon, cut your girlfriend some slack!”
“Fine, Deliverer.” A glint of something famelic flashes through the gold of Mydei's eyes. “Shall I repay your performance with one of my own?”
Oh, if anyone has given one hell of a performance that is Mydei. The feeling of her searing flesh against her mouth is something that will keep her company in the quest of learning how they can unravel each other, but rushing things would only spoil the fun.
“I’d be a liar if I were to say I wasn't affected.”
The burning of arousal has dimmed to the gentle simmer of embers between her legs but it's still there, waiting to be fanned to life or to die out by themselves. But they're cramped in a storage barrack of a public beach, after having permanently scarred some child's air mattress and she’s a sweaty mess wearing a sports bra and chimera-patterned panties underneath her baggy old clothes.
Yup, not even close to Mydei's effortless sex appeal.
She lets out an overly dejected sigh. “I have to admit defeat. After tonight's emotional rollercoaster I don't even have the energy for feeling good left in me.”
“Hmph. This is why I keep telling you to add a reasonable amount of cardio to your training routine.” Despite the chastising words, Mydei’s tone is very gentle. A hand reaches for her own in the semi-darkness. “C’mon. I’ll give you a lift to your hotel.”
A sound of protest slips out from Phainon’s mouth before she can stop it. “You go way too fast on that motorbike, so don’t complain if I stick to you even if I’m a sweaty mess.”
“I complain because you nearly crush my ribs whenever I approach the speed limit,” Mydei snorts, tugging her up as if she weighed nothing.
“I simply don’t want my girlfriend to be a reckless driver, you should be thankful!”
Mydei’s fingers twine with her own. “Yes, yes, as you say.”
Well, at least they would end up in jail together.