Archive of Our Own

A gorgeous woman steps into the club wearing a jaw-dropping red number with matching stilettos. The neckline is plunging, the slit up the side skirting the line between tastefully risqué and downright scandalous. The latter would be true if she were anywhere else in Okhema, but here, no one bats an eye at this kind of thing. She walks with purpose, each click of her heels tapping out a statement of unmistakable intent.

She's here to propose to Phainon.

She doesn't know that she's the third one this week. Or maybe she does, and she simply doesn't care. In her mind, she's above the rest. Different. They don't understand him like she does. He's got a soft spot for her. He told her himself, and he's not one to lie to a pretty lady, so, logically, this is the next step in the natural progression of their relationship.

Mydei has long lost count of how many times he's witnessed this exact scene play out from behind the safety of the bar. It should be a trivial sight by now. Something to roll his eyes and snicker at like Cipher does. Somehow, the way he feels never changes. It comes as a strange tightness in his chest, like his lungs are steadily filling with thin wisps of cigarette smoke.

The client sweeps her long hair over her shoulder with a brilliant smile as Phainon comes to greet her. It's a rehearsed and choreographed song and dance. A shower of compliments, air kisses on each cheek, a hand that hovers a polite distance from the small of her back as he leads her to their private booth. They soon disappear around the corner together, looking like the picture of a wealthy young couple.

"Didya notice?" Cipher jeers, amusement twinkling in her eye as she bumps her shoulder against Mydei's.

Careful not to drop the glass he's drying, Mydei nods, "He gelled his hair back."

"Our Deliverer boy wants to make some mo~ney!"

And so, another night at the Flame-Chase begins.

Business has been booming ever since some bright and bubbly influencer posted about the fantastic experience he had here a couple of months back – not with any particular host, as Mydei had expected when he walked in for his shift the next night and asked Aglaea why the hell the bar was packed to the brim. No, it was all because Cipher made him the most delicious five margaritas of his life. Apparently, he didn't even know that they were, first and foremost, a host club. Neither did his curious and uninitiated followers, who came flocking here in droves shortly after the video went up.

Mydei isn't complaining. He'd much rather be busy mixing drinks instead of having to stare at the wall and unwillingly overhear the playful sweet nothings emanating from the club's secluded corners. He doesn't know how the hosts can do it, putting on an act for hours on end, night after night. Making small talk with the bar patrons is exhausting enough for him.

Precisely two hours later, Phainon and the woman in the red dress emerge from the booth. She's hanging off his arm and laughing at whatever he's saying, and he's holding her designer handbag for her. The pink tint on her cheeks is visible even under the low amber light. As they sweep past the bar, Mydei manages to catch a snippet of their conversation over the music.

"-not even once, now that we won't see each other again-"

"-no amount of money can buy that, love, but I'm sure I won't forget you-"

"-you say that to everyone, don't you?"

He does. What she doesn't know is that when Phainon says he won't forget her, he means it. He'll remember her face, her likes and dislikes, all her troubles and her aspirations. He's strange like that. He escorts his client to the door, stepping outside for a moment to see her off safely, then makes a beeline for the bar once he's back inside. Mydei already has his usual ready and waiting.

Phainon flashes him a grateful smile as he perches himself on a bar stool and downs the tall glass of ice water in one go. The shock of the cold helps him reset between clients, he'd said once. Mydei watches Phainon's throat bob as he tips his head back and drinks, watches a droplet of water escape from the corner of his mouth and slide down his jaw, down his neck, until it soaks into the open collar of his navy blue button-up. When he drags his gaze up again, Phainon is looking back at him with amusement gleaming in his eyes.

"What'd she ask for?" Mydei asks even though he's fairly sure he knows what the answer is. With a face and a body like that, it's not exactly hard to guess what people might want from Phainon. Even mere sparks of desire must be amplified tenfold when you also consider that the Flame-Chase has a strict no-touching policy.

"A goodbye kiss," Phainon replies with a small smile, swirling the ice cubes around. Condensation drips off the bottom of the glass and onto Mydei's perfectly polished countertop. "She was offered a job by this big-shot film writer in Penacony. She wanted to see me one more time before she left."

Cipher pops up out of nowhere, makes a loud buzzer noise, and exclaims, "Wrong on both counts! You owe me twenty, little prince."

She holds out her hand over the counter, and Phainon high-fives her with a bemused expression. Mydei rolls his eyes and sighs back, "My wallet's in my bag. I'll get it later."

Zero for two, really? He's usually much better at reading the situation than this. He's off his game tonight. Or perhaps this was simply one unusual lady out of Phainon's extensive clientele. Mydei recognises her face, though. He remembers seeing her swoon beneath the full force of Phainon's charm. She'd seemed no different than all the others. Infatuated. Lured into delusion without ever realising she’d fallen.

"You had a bet going?" Phainon asks, as if he doesn't already know that all of the staff at the Flame-Chase are always betting on something when it comes to him. "On what?"

"Firstly, whether or not Little Miss Red was gonna ask you to marry her," Cipher says, holding up one finger, then another, "and secondly, what she wanted from you just now."

Phainon's eyes slide over to Mydei.

"So? What did you say?"

Mydei swallows hard, his throat suddenly gone dry.

"I said yes. And that she wanted to have sex with you."

Phainon hums, collecting drops of condensation off his glass with a fingertip.

"Not this one. Not this time."

He stands up then and checks his watch. It's a gorgeous piece, one of only thirty units ever produced. It's easily worth double, maybe even triple, what Mydei makes in an entire year. A client gifted it to him in his first six months of being a host. The sapphire bezel insert reminded her of his eyes, she'd said. He never wears it anywhere other than work.

"Well, as much as I'd love to keep slacking off with you guys, I gotta get back to it. Time for my next slot."

"Wait. Come here a second," Mydei blurts out before he can stop himself.

Phainon pauses, looking up at him with an expectant tilt of his head. Too late. He's got no choice but to commit to it. He leans forward, reaching over the bar to adjust the collar of Phainon's shirt. The back of his hand brushes against that golden sun tattoo. He's so warm. Mydei has to force himself to pull away before he does something he'll truly regret.

"...Thanks," Phainon says softly after a long moment, so softly that he barely makes a sound, and then he's gone again.

"Zagreus' balls, you two make me sick to my stomach," Cipher says with a particularly feral grin that doesn't match her words in the slightest. "I can't wait to tell Cas about this fresh idiotic nonsense."

Mydei has only talked to Cipher's girlfriend a handful of times. From what he's gathered, Castorice seems sweet and sensible and not the type to care about these kinds of interpersonal workplace shenanigans.

"She's interested?" he asks, skeptical.

"Oh, she eats this shit up! She wants to use it as inspiration for her next novel. She says it's, quote, 'extremely thrilling and the tension is killing her'."

For the sake of his own wellbeing, Mydei chooses not to dignify that with a response. He also chooses to believe that Cipher is adding embellishments to her retellings for dramatic effect.

As they enter the late hours of the night, the work only continues to ramp up. Excited bar-hoppers begin to trickle in, and then come the corporate workers desperate for a drink to ease their exhaustion. Of course, there are the regulars, too. The Flame-Chase's newfound popularity hasn't driven them away just yet. As long as they can still spend time with their favourite hosts, a little more liveliness won't be too much of a bother.

Phainon flits in and out of sight like a spectre. Most of his long-term clients prefer the private booths, especially now that there are more people around than usual. The number on that extra premium price tag is meaningless in the face of getting to spend time with him one-on-one, keeping him away from wandering eyes. Whenever he's back in the main lounge, though, the magnetic pull of his presence is irresistible.

There's a dark-haired woman who looks at Phainon like she's about two seconds away from climbing into his lap, adoration and lust swirling into a heady cocktail in her half-lidded eyes. Phainon is the one doing all the talking, even though his client seems like she couldn't care less about whatever animated chatter is coming out of his mouth. Despite it all, she never goes any further than placing a light, suggestive hand on Phainon's bicep. Mydei stops looking then. Phainon knows what to do if things ever cross the line.

Next up is a shy boy who can't be any older than twenty. He has a plastic tiara, gaudy pink rhinestones and all, nestled crookedly into his hair. It must be his birthday, and his gift from his rowdy friends must be an hour with the Flame-Chase's renowned Deliverer. He flushes redder than a tomato whenever Phainon so much as glances at him, and his soul just about exits his body after Phainon brushes a stray strand of hair away from his face. His friends shriek in delight at the display and promptly call for another round of shots.

Orders start piling up at the bar. It's worse than rush hour traffic in the business district, and Mydei has to keep his eyes on his drinks and his patrons. For the first time all night, he's finally able to get into his flow state. The chaos in his head remains, but at least he can compartmentalise it now that he's in the zone. Juggling orders and payment and chatting and cleaning starts to feel like second nature, like his body is handling it all for him while he observes from somewhere far away.

"Is it cool if I take five?" Cipher asks once the worst of it has passed, wiping sweat from her brow. "That was a fuckin' insane rush."

"Go for it," Mydei replies as he takes the opportunity to tidy up.

"Sweet. Oh, do me a favour and check on blondie down the end. He keeps heaving these dramatic sighs like he wants me to say something about it and it's driving me crazy."

"Waive my twenty."

"You sly little-! Hah. Well played, Mydeimos."

"Time's ticking, Cifera."

Cipher sticks her tongue out at him before slinking off and leaving Mydei to fend for himself. He glances towards the end of the bar, where a blonde young man is staring off into the distance and stirring absolutely nothing with his straw. He bites the bullet and approaches. Hopefully, no one will want another drink for at least a few minutes.

"If you're finished, I can take that for you," Mydei says, gesturing at the empty cocktail glass.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, thanks," the young man says, snapping out of his trance. He pushes the glass across the counter so that Mydei can take it, then goes right back to staring. Without needing to look, Mydei knows what's got him mesmerised. "By Mnestia, he's even dreamier in person..."

"First time here?"

"Me? No, but yes, but not really- ugh, sorry. What I mean is that I walk past a lot, but today's the first time I've actually had the courage to, y'know... go in. I psyched myself up for ages, and then they told me that he's fully booked for tonight. I didn't know I had to make a booking to see him!"

"It's a busy night," Mydei hums, humouring the guy. "Sometimes, he's got room for walk-ins. You have to get real lucky for that, though."

"Hey, you must know him pretty well, right? Tell it to me straight. Do you think someone like me could ever... ah, never mind! Titans, what am I thinking?"

The young man tears his gaze away and drags his hands down his face, letting out a miserable groan all the while. Yet another victim of the poster of Phainon's handsome face plastered on the wall outside the club. Mydei almost pities the poor thing.

"Need another drink?"

"Yes, please," the young man heaves a sigh, finally looking up at Mydei. His green eyes go wide like he's come face to face with an Aeon. He sits up straighter. "Oh. Wow. Hi. You're... you're gorgeous."

Mydei barks out a laugh, shaking his head. "Don't even think about it. I'm not on the menu. Now, what can I get for you?"

Contrary to the fruity concoction he'd ordered from Cipher earlier, the young man takes two fingers of their most expensive top-shelf whiskey, neat. He slams it back, much to the horrified awe of the other patrons who happened to be looking, then slaps a hundred-dollar bill on the countertop as his face scrunches up like he's about to burst into tears. He leaps to his feet.

"That's way too much," Mydei points out.

"Keep it," the young man says flippantly, waving his hand around. "Consider it thanks for talking some sense into me. Have a good night, Mister Bartender."

I barely even said anything, Mydei thinks to himself as he watches the young man wobble off towards the door. He pockets the bill anyway to split with the others.

Across the room, Phainon has his chin propped up on his palm, and he's gazing at his current client like she's the only other person in the world.

Mydei only has a half shift tonight, with Hysilens coming in to close with Cipher. They swap over during a quiet period. Phainon is still busy by the time that Mydei is finished; he'll have to actually ask one of the girls for his ice water this time.

Before he heads home, Mydei stops by Aglaea's office to discuss the leave he wants to take for his mother's upcoming birthday. It would usually be no problem, but Cipher also wants some time off to see her grandmother, and they can't exactly leave Hysilens all on her lonesome. Aglaea's taking some time to come up with a solution that'll make everyone happy.

The biting cold greets him as soon as he pushes the back door open, seeping in through the jacket he'd thrown on. The warmth of the club dissipates in an instant when he steps outside.

Unbidden, Mydei thinks of all the times he's seen Phainon in this very alleyway, leaning in close to light a cigarette for a client. No smoking indoors. That's a one-way ticket to earning a lifetime ban. Sharing an intimate moment outside, though? That's how Phainon clawed his way to the top spot. That's how he started his collection of stolen hearts.

Speaking of Phainon, he's standing right here, too.

He's leaning against the wall, one hand tucked into the pocket of his slacks. He looks up from his phone screen at the sound of the door opening. The blue of his eyes seems a little hazy beneath the dingy alley lighting.

"Oh. Hey," Mydei says, caught off guard. "Taking a break?"

Phainon shakes his head, "I'm done for the night, actually. Aglaea said I could head out after I was done with all my booked clients."

"Got any plans?"

"Nah. I'm feeling pretty drained, honestly. What about you?"

"Gonna head home, make something quick to eat, then pass out, probably."

"Mm, same. Minus the cooking part. I don't know how you have the energy to do anything after work."

"Meal prep and keeping stuff ready to go in the freezer helps a lot."

"You're totally a meal prep kind of guy," Phainon chuckles, hiding the sound behind a polite hand. "I don't know why I didn't see it coming."

For a moment, all Mydei does is stare. He wants to see Phainon drop that veneer of professionalism. He wants to see what Phainon's real laugh looks like. He wants to see Phainon, truly see him without all the shine and glamour obscuring his vision.

Slowly, deliberately, so that his intentions can't possibly be misread, Mydei says, "If you have nowhere else to be, you could come over to my place. I could cook for you."

Phainon's lips part in soundless surprise. He blinks rapidly, once, twice. It's a rare sight.

"Don't say things you don't mean, Mydeimos," he breathes.

"Wouldn't dream of it. That's your specialty."

A bit of a low blow, perhaps, but Phainon doesn't seem to take offence. Instead, he huffs out a soft laugh, and the corner of his mouth twitches up into a smile. It's one that reaches all the way to his eyes, one that Mydei has never seen him use on a client. He's never used it on Mydei, either, and it's equally as charming as it is disarming.

"Well, I couldn't possibly say no to such a sincere offer."

Mydei grins back, tilting his head to the side.

"Ever ridden a motorbike before?"

"Mydei. Are you kidding me right now?"

"Dead serious. Ready when you are."

Phainon's entire face lights up with excitement. It might just be one of the most beautiful things that Mydei's ever seen.

He's only got one helmet, so he helps Phainon put it on and checks that it's sitting right on his head. The sight of those wondrous blue eyes peering at him through the visor is so unexpectedly cute that Mydei has to turn away for a moment, pressing the back of his hand over his mouth and willing away the urge to squeeze Phainon to see if he'd squeak. He's too used to Phainon playing the part of the princely, perfectly suave gentleman. 'Bashful' doesn't seem like it was ever a part of his vocabulary.

It's been a while since Mydei's had someone riding pillion. He tells Phainon to not let go of him for any reason and act like he's a sack of potatoes, and he has to stifle a laugh at how enthusiastically Phainon nods back. Shy hands settle on Mydei's waist, the pressure so light that it feels like they're barely there. Then, Phainon's tentative grip gains a little confidence. A shudder slides along Mydei's back, slow like rain sluicing down a window.

Mydei starts up his bike, gives it a rev for no reason other than to show off, and then they're cruising.

His place is only ten or so minutes away from the Flame-Chase. It'd be a shame if Phainon didn't get enough time to properly enjoy his first ride. Mydei makes a slight detour, taking the scenic route and slowing down along the river that runs through the south side of the city so that Phainon can see the lights reflected in the water's surface. It's nice, being like this. The breeze carding through his hair, Phainon's weight at his back. There's not much of it, but a slight warmth lingers between them wherever they touch.

Mydei does a quick scan to check that the road ahead is completely clear on both sides. He cranes his head to toss his next words over his shoulder, "Wanna go faster?"

"Can we?!" Phainon yells back.

"Hold on tight."

Phainon wraps his arms all the way around Mydei's middle, pressing himself closer. Mydei kicks up the speed, and the wind roars in his ears, stealing away the sound of Phainon's delighted laughter before he can fully bask in it.

They stay like that for the rest of the ride, even when they're back to cruising through residential streets. Mydei doesn't mind it. He's probably imagining things, but for a fleeting second, he swears that he can feel Phainon's heartbeat against his back.

It's a familiar sight, yet an entirely new one at the same time. Phainon, dressed in those expensive clothes with that luxury watch on his wrist, sitting down with a glass of ice water. But they're on opposite sides of Mydei's kitchen counter, not the bar this time. He'd taken off his grey blazer and rolled his shirt sleeves halfway up his forearms at some point. His hair has fallen out of its previously gelled perfection, all tousled from wearing Mydei's helmet. Two little tufts are sticking up at the top.

It's all rather endearing, but in a way that makes Mydei want to grit his teeth if he stares for too long. He keeps glancing over his shoulder while he prepares their dinner, as if to confirm every now and again that Phainon isn't some figment of his imagination. The thrill of their joyride has faded, and the gravity of the situation is starting to pull him back down to earth.

Phainon is in Mydei's apartment. Phainon, as in the Flame-Chase's number one host, five consecutive years and counting. As in everyone's beloved Deliverer. As in the only person who's ever physically taken Mydei's breath away upon their first meeting.

Phainon is right here in front of him, and all of a sudden, Mydei feels like he's taken something that doesn't belong to him. It's a strange thought to have. He pushes it aside like the basil he's busy slicing into fine shreds and focuses on cooking.

"Your place is so nice," Phainon says after a while, glancing around at the walls and the living room behind him. What a flatterer. Mydei doesn't have any particular interest in interior design, and there's a bit of clutter around since he hadn't planned on having anyone over. Half-read books and empty cups are scattered all over the place.

"It must be a shoebox compared to yours," Mydei replies without thinking much of it.

"Mm, not really. I think it's about the same size."

Mydei's lack of response must be a dead giveaway that he doesn't believe this for a second, for Phainon laughs quietly not long after that.

"I think," he begins, amusement still colouring the edges of his words, "you've got quite the wrong impression about me. Not saying I blame you for it! I'm sure everyone else thinks the same way."

"So, what's the truth, then?"

A bold question to ask someone who tells lies for a living, Mydei knows. He turns around with two plates in his hands. Phainon won't be able to evade now that he's been lured in by the promise of dinner. Sure enough, his eyes are fixed on the food and practically sparkling with delight.

"Can I answer that later? This looks amazing, and I'm starving."

Mydei can't hide the pride in his smile as he slides a plate and a fork across the counter. It's not even anything fancy. Pasta in a light sauce of blistered, sweet cherry tomatoes with some seared chicken for protein. Phainon's looking at it like it's the fourth course of a Michelin-starred degustation, not something thrown together in twenty minutes out of the stuff in Mydei's fridge.

He goes quiet when he takes his first bite. Mydei isn't sure if that's a good reaction or not.

"I can't remember the last time someone cooked for me," Phainon says after a beat. For some reason, it sounds like a confession. "Probably not since I left home. This is the best thing I've eaten in a long time. It's even better than it looks."

The praise sinks into Mydei, slow as honey. There's an odd weight to it as it settles somewhere in his chest. He lowers his gaze, pokes around on his own plate, and says back without any real heat behind it, "You can cut the sweet talk. I'm not one of your clients."

"No. You're not. And I'm being honest."

Phainon's expression shifts, his mouth hanging open for a moment. He looks like he'd wanted to say more but caught himself at the last second. Eventually, he presses his mouth into a thin line and goes back to eating. Neither of them speaks for a little while. The silence isn't comfortable, exactly, but it isn't suffocating, either.

"Where's home?" Mydei finally decides to ask. The line of Phainon's shoulders relaxes a touch; it seems like he'd made the right choice.

"A tiny farming town on the west coast. Aedes Elysiae. Ever heard of it?"

The thought of Phainon on a farm is completely incongruous in Mydei's imagination. It doesn't help that his default mental image of Phainon is him looking runway-worthy and picture-perfect. He tries not to let it show on his face.

"I haven't."

"I think it's the most beautiful place in the world. But everyone always said it was too small for someone like me. I packed my bags and came to the big city to chase my dreams, only to realise that I didn't even have any."

"So, you're saying you didn't move to Okhema with grandiose dreams of becoming a host," Mydei smiles wryly.

Phainon lets out a bright laugh at that, one that has him scrunching his eyes shut and tipping his head back. "Titans, no! Mydei, I didn't even know what a host was before I stumbled into the Flame-Chase. I thought- listen, don't tell this to anyone else, okay? Especially not Cipher. I saw the ad on the poster and thought I was applying to be a waiter."

Mydei's hand drops to the counter next to his plate, still holding his fork. "You've got to be joking."

"I wish I was. Imagine my surprise when Aglaea started talking about the kinds of stuff I'd be training for, hah. In hindsight, I should've known something was up when I saw that hourly rate. But I was broke and barely making enough for rent back then, so..."

"Do you-" Mydei starts, then cuts himself off with a cough because there's no delicate way to phrase his next question, "do you... like hosting?"

The implications come slinking out from between the lines uninvited. They hover in the air in a thick miasma, tainting Mydei's curiosity with something judgemental. Accusatory.

Do you like telling lies for a living? Do you like draining people's wallets with that silver tongue of yours? Do you like categorising their hearts' desires like it's nothing more than business to you?

"Yes," Phainon answers simply. His eyes are soft with something like fondness. "I wouldn't have stayed if I didn't."

How very noble of him.

"Why? I can't say I understand it."

Mydei can't help himself. All of his burning questions are pouring out of him like the floodgates have burst wide open. He's never dared to ask before, not while Phainon was working, not while he still seemed so, so untouchable. Either the timing wasn't right, or it didn't feel appropriate. Being interrogated about the ethics of his job was probably the last thing Phainon would want after a long night of hosting.

"People come to me because they're lonely, or maybe they're chasing some kind of... sense of control. That's the one thing that never changes. They're not blind to reality, despite how it might seem. They know that I can't really fill that space in their lives. But even if it's just for a night or two, I can make them happy. I can show them what it's like to receive the love they deserve."

"Don't let his innocent face fool you," Cipher had told Mydei in a low voice during his first week behind the bar. It hadn't taken her long to notice that he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off Phainon. "He's a real pro. He knows exactly what everyone wants to hear and how much they're willing to pay for it. It's the sincerity that keeps them coming right back."

"But it's not real," Mydei murmurs, a strange feeling of insistence surging within him. "And there will always be people who can't tell where the line is."

Phainon nods back, "You're not wrong. I know that, too. That's why I never see the same client for more than six months. No exceptions. I had it written into my contract and our terms of service."

"Oh. I noticed, but I didn't know you were the one who set that boundary."

"A few of them move on to a different host. Most don't come back, and I'm glad for it. I'm supposed to be a source of temporary happiness, not a long-term solution. If I can change their minds, if I can get them to believe that they don't need me, then I know I've done my job well."

"My wish?" Phainon had said to a client one slow night, his tone almost unbearably gentle. "Well, my wish is to fulfill all of your wishes, of course."

It's as though Phainon had opened up his chest like a display case and taken out his heart for Mydei to examine up close. He got what he wanted. This is Phainon without all the shine and glamour, and he doesn't look that different in Mydei's eyes. He's sentimental to a fault and a bit idealistic. Naive, perhaps, depending on who you ask. But at the core of it all, there's an unwavering desire to take responsibility for other people's happiness. To be good.

Mydei doesn't say any of these thoughts out loud. He collects their empty plates and stacks them in the sink to be dealt with later. He takes a slow breath before walking around the counter to stand in front of Phainon, and what he says instead is, "Don't you want to try living for yourself?"

Phainon's breath hitches. He looks up at Mydei like his entire world has flipped itself over and back again. Something flashes through his wide eyes, quicker than lightning.

Then, he stands up, slides his trembling hands along Mydei's forearms, and leans in to kiss him.

In summer, the Flame-Chase does wet shirt night. It's the single most risqué event of the year, utterly depraved by Aglaea's standards. Clients bid insane amounts of money for the privilege of getting to hose down their favourite hosts with a bottle of water. It was all Phainon's idea, of course, approved only through liberal use of his puppy-dog pleading eyes.

Aglaea agreed to run it just one time, then promptly changed her mind after seeing the numbers they raked in. Astronomical. Highest revenue ever. From a business standpoint, every night should be wet shirt night, but it stays annual. Maybe that's what makes it so special.

All of this is to say that Mydei has only seen Phainon shirtless – well, as close to shirtless as being in a soaking wet, skin-tight white shirt can be – twice before. Now that he has Phainon mostly undressed and in his bed, he's not quite sure that his brain is able to keep up with reality. He's still trying to process the fact that this is even happening to begin with.

Distantly, he wonders if Aglaea will kill them for leaving Phainon's clothes in a crumpled heap somewhere on the floor. He can accept any punishment she decides to dish out. It's worth it if it means he gets to have Phainon like this. He's never been surer of anything else in his life.

Phainon makes a noise of complaint beneath him and drags his blunt nails across Mydei's nape. "Why'd you stop?"

"I don't know," Mydei answers truthfully, shuddering at the touch, and starts moving his fingers inside of Phainon again.

Up until now, he's always been hesitant to think about this beyond idle daydreams. There was a persistent sense of distance every time he and Phainon talked at the club, almost as though they were speaking to each other through a veil of water. It distorted Phainon's face and voice ever so slightly, just enough to make Mydei unsure of his intentions. But they're unmistakable now. There's nothing left to hide, nothing else that can explain the way that Phainon tugs at the front of Mydei's shirt with urgency, gripping so tightly that it feels like he won't ever let go.

Mydei leans down to steal a quick kiss, then pulls back with a wet sound. Phainon blinks as he pants hard to catch his breath, a questioning look in his eyes.

"If you ever want to stop," Mydei begins haltingly, "if you ever want to leave and pretend this didn't happen, I won't hold it against you."

"You're seriously saying this while you have three fingers inside me?" Phainon laughs in disbelief. "Hey. Listen. I've thought about this more times than I'd like to admit."

Hearing those words out loud makes Mydei's entire body flush hotly with raw need. He almost chokes on it, his words tangling together into a lump in his throat.

"I... so have I."

"Good. Yeah... okay. That's good. Now, you'd better hurry up before I lose my mind over here."

Mydei doesn't need to be told twice. He pulls his fingers out, trying his best to ignore Phainon's drawn-out moan, and wipes them haphazardly on the sheets. They're ruined already, anyway. He pushes himself up and sits back on his heels to fumble with his belt and zipper, cursing himself under his breath for not having the foresight to get rid of his clothes earlier. It was as though every drop of their patience evaporated the second they stumbled into Mydei's bedroom. They'd clung to each other as if the universe would implode upon itself if they stopped touching for half a second.

"You know, I'm almost naked and you haven't even taken your shirt off," Phainon points out, too teasing to be a real complaint. He brings his leg up so that his bare thigh brushes against Mydei's flank. "Don't you think that's a little unfair?"

Nikador above, Mydei would like nothing more than to grab a handful of that firm muscle and squeeze. He should be commended, really, for keeping all the buttons intact as he strips off his work shirt and tosses it somewhere to the side. Phainon lets out a low, pleased whistle that sets Mydei's ears on fire. Scoundrel. His tongue wets the corner of his mouth as his eyes roam over every inch of newly exposed skin.

"Titans. I knew you were built, but... damn."

Mydei would be lying if he said that little remark didn't go straight to his head. Phainon reaches out to trace the flame-like ink of his tattoos, hesitating before he receives a nod of approval.

"I had them done when I came of age," Mydei explains, breathing slowly to keep himself still beneath Phainon's careful hands. His arms, his shoulders, his chest. No one has ever touched him with such reverence before. "Kremnoan tradition, but people rarely follow it these days."

"I didn't know they went this far. They're incredible."

"What about yours?"

Mydei strokes his thumb across the sun on Phainon's neck that haunts his fantasies, relishing the way that Phainon tilts his head to give him better access. He can feel Phainon's pulse fluttering right beside it, steady and honest.

"Part of it was a birthmark. Before I left home, a friend of mine turned it into what it is now."

It's beautiful. Eye-catching. Mydei has always thought that the placement is too damn sexy for Phainon's own good. He has no words to convey all of this, so he settles for pressing his lips to the centre of the sun. It's a sweet gesture, bordering on heart-achingly tender right up until Phainon's entire body twitches and he lets out a bitten-off moan. Molten heat sears through Mydei's gut in an instant. His mouth damn near starts watering.

"Ngh... I'm sensitive there," Phainon says, strained. He must be gritting his teeth.

How convenient it is, Mydei thinks, to have the spot marked out for him.

Kiss me here. Show me love.

He does it again. Again and again, until Phainon is whining and squirming under him, gripping hard at Mydei's shoulders. The scent of his cologne lingers in the crook of his neck, the same scent of sweet orange that had clung to the back of Mydei's jacket after the ride home. Like a man on the verge of dying of thirst, Mydei laves the flat of his tongue along Phainon's throat and listens to his breath hitch.

"Mmn-! Oh, please."

Phainon sounds ruined already, driven to the brink of devastation, and they've barely even done anything. Mydei shouldn't like the feeling of Phainon's blunt nails digging into him as much as he does. It shouldn't make his heart stutter, knowing that Phainon is just as affected by all of this as he is.

"Didn't know you'd be this needy," Mydei remarks, his lips brushing along Phainon's jaw.

"Didn't know you'd be such a tease," Phainon retorts with a huff. His expression somewhat resembles that of an offended puppy. "What more do you want? Do I have to beg?"

The image appears in a flash, etching itself into the forefront of Mydei's mind. Phainon, teary-eyed and pleading and desperate, all for him. The mere thought of it has him swallowing thickly, unable to deny how appealing it sounds, but something isn't sitting quite right.

"I won't make you beg. I just want to hear you say what you want for once."

When they're this close to each other, Mydei can pinpoint the exact moment that Phainon's expression shutters. Like spooking an animal, it happens in the span of a blink, far too quickly for him to backtrack.

"Anything's fine if it's you," Phainon says quietly. It's not a real answer, even if he's still being honest about it. Maybe he intends to appeal to Mydei's ego, to distract him from his pursuit with these petit four-like sweet nothings.

"Try again," Mydei says, shaking his head. He won't be swayed that easily.

"Mydei..."

"Tell me, Phainon."

Mydei's voice drops to a rumble, pitched low and intimate. Phainon visibly shudders at the sound of his name. A soft noise of hunger escapes him before he murmurs, "I want you. Inside. You made me wait so long."

Maybe if Mydei's thoughts weren't so fogged over with desire, he might have realised that Phainon wasn't just talking about sex. But all he sees is the green light, and his mind has gone from zero to sixty with no room to focus on anything else as he rushes to get a condom on and slick himself up so he can finally, finally align his cock with Phainon's entrance and push into him.

Phainon squirms as Mydei slides in, lips parting soundlessly. Then, he lets out a gasp. His back arches. He wraps his legs around Mydei's frame and crosses his ankles to keep him there. Mydei lets out a wrecked sound and sinks in all the way with a bit more force than he'd intended to put behind it. The apology on his lips promptly vanishes when Phainon's eyes roll back, his lashes fluttering as he moans, "Ah-! Oh, f-fuck, Mydei..."

In the early days, Mydei would watch Phainon work his charm from across the room and idly wonder what it would be like to be on the receiving end of that brilliant, devastating smile. He knows better now. He doesn't ever want Phainon to look at him the same way that he looks at his clients. He wants this blissed-out, pleasure-drunk expression all to himself, and the mere thought of someone else getting to see Phainon like this makes his chest grow a little tight.

It's a nasty feeling, to want something so unattainable this badly. It's not the first time Mydei has felt this way, but he's only now noticing the sting of its teeth and temper. He can't do anything about it in the moment, so, as a means of distraction, he settles for fucking Phainon at a steady pace to see what other kinds of pretty faces he can make.

Phainon does not disappoint. His mouth hangs open as he pants in time with every thrust, a deep flush settling across his features. Somehow, the way that his unbuttoned shirt hangs off one shoulder is even more erotic than if he were completely naked. Mydei adjusts his grip on Phainon's hips, pulling him up a little. The shift in angle has Phainon tossing his head back and crying out sharply.

"You look so good like this," Mydei says, the words slipping out without a second thought.

"Yeah? You think so?" Phainon grins back, dazed.

"Don't start fishing for compliments. Don't you get enough at work?"

"It's different when it's coming from you."

Just like before, there's a slight shyness in Phainon's tone that gives away his sincerity. Mydei had thought it would be much more difficult to tease apart the truths in his words. It's part of the reason why he always hesitated to cross the distance between them, to break through that veil of water and find out whether Phainon really meant his flirty words and lingering glances. But Phainon is here now. He isn't hiding. He isn't holding back anymore.

"I don't think you've ever given me a proper compliment before," Phainon says with a pout. "Sometimes- nnh, sometimes, I'd ask Aglaea to dress me up a little extra to see if you'd say anything. But you never did."

"I thought you'd be sick of hearing it."

"I wanted it. More than anything."

Phainon laughs then, an airy sound halfway to a sigh.

"Oh, Mydei... I just wanted you to look at me."

"I was always looking at you," Mydei admits. "All the time, Phainon. All the time."

A glassy sheen takes over Phainon's eyes, like the surface of an endless pool. His pupils are blown wide with desire, leaving only a thin ring of gold in the centre of his irises. He reaches up to cradle Mydei's face in his hands, then tugs him down into a kiss. Open-mouthed, desperate and aching. Mydei works his hips faster, harder, until Phainon is gasping wetly against him and he can swallow down every noise of pleasure like they're his to take.

"More, more," Phainon pleads, his weeping cock trapped between their stomachs and making a mess. "You're s-so deep inside- it's so much, feels too good, I can't-"

"Can't what?"

"Can't- take it much longer...!"

"Let go, then. I've got you."

Mydei presses one last kiss to the corner of Phainon's mouth, then draws back to give him what he needs. He slows his pace but maintains the intensity, hitting somewhere deep within that makes Phainon drop his hands to the pillow beneath his head and hold on so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Even on the verge of falling apart, he's perfect.

Mydei won't ever forget this. It's all been burned directly into his memory. The sight of Phainon under him, his cries growing louder as he tightens erratically around Mydei's cock. The only sounds that fall from his lips are breathless moans and calls of Mydei's name, but his eyes say enough.

Don't look away. Please.

"Phainon," Mydei breathes, simply because he can, and Phainon comes without warning, untouched, spilling all over his stomach and chest. His body snaps rigid like a wire pulled taut.

Mydei fucks him all the way through it, never faltering, watching him and murmuring to him the entire time – yes, that's it, just like that, you're so good for me – until Phainon starts whining in protest. Whether it's because of the overstimulation or the praise, Mydei can't tell. Maybe both. He tries to pull back, but Phainon locks his legs with a surprising amount of remaining strength, trapping him in place.

"Don't stop," Phainon says between deep breaths, chest heaving. "You haven't even come yet."

Mydei replies gently, "We don't have to keep going. We can do other things."

"But I want it. Want more of you like this."

"You're still shaking."

"Just give me a second. But, ah... a kiss might help."

Mydei lets out an amused huff. Phainon is cute when he's trying to be forward. He grins back at Mydei, a light flush diffusing across the tops of his cheeks, and his smile doesn't budge an inch even when Mydei leans down to kiss him. It should have been sweet, nothing more than a light peck to placate him, but Phainon kisses Mydei like this is the first and only time he'll ever get to do it.

It doesn't take much effort to read Phainon's tells when he's this responsive. Mydei keeps rocking into him at a languid pace, listening out for the moment that his tiny, pleased hums deepen into muffled moans. Phainon's cock begins to fill out against his stomach again, though he hisses when he bucks his hips up and brushes against Mydei. Not yet. Not quite.

Mydei breaks away to bury himself in Phainon's neck, lowering himself to meet the sun. Phainon lets his head fall to the side. The act of total surrender makes Mydei's breath catch in his throat. All of a sudden, he's blinded by the urge to bite down. Leave a hickey. Anything, as long as it means leaving behind a mark for Phainon to remember him by. All he can do is suckle at sweat-damp skin and picture how a dark bruise would blossom beneath his mouth if the circumstances allowed it.

Phainon tangles a hand into Mydei's hair and holds him close, nails scratching against his scalp and sending a full-body shudder rippling through him. He hears Phainon mumble something unintelligible, the words too slurred together to make out. Mydei waits for him to gather the courage to say it louder, but it seems like he might need a bit of encouragement.

"Tell me what you need," Mydei murmurs. "I'm right here."

"...Fuck me," Phainon says, barely audible before he repeats it with more conviction. There's a faraway look in his eyes as he peers up through his lashes.

"Like before?"

Phainon shakes his head. "Harder."

"Turn over, then."

They pause for a beat to grab a handful of tissues from the nightstand and wipe off as much of the mess from Phainon's front as possible before Mydei pulls out. He tries to ignore the way that Phainon sighs, like he can't bear the feeling of emptiness, but to no avail. His cock throbs with need, still so flushed and hard that it's bordering on painful. It certainly doesn't help when Phainon rolls over, settles himself into a comfortable position on his hands and knees, and shoots an expectant glance over his shoulder.

"Does my ass look good from there?" Phainon calls out, his voice falling back into that familiar teasing lilt. There's a hint of real mirth in his eyes, but here, he can't use it as a shield to conceal his feelings.

He's nervous.

"Your ass always looks good," Mydei laughs back softly, playing along. He smooths his hands over Phainon's hips and waist, up and down a couple of times until the tension in his body begins to ease away. His thumbs rest lightly atop Phainon's lower back where his shirt has rucked up to reveal smooth skin and toned muscle. "You ready?"

"Yeah. C'mon, fill me up again."

This time, Mydei doesn't hold back. He can't, not in the face of such provocative words, not when Phainon feels so soft inside. He meets zero resistance as he pushes all the way in, his hips meeting the backs of Phainon's thighs with a light smack. Mydei bows his head and moans lowly. Several locks of hair have escaped the small ponytail he wears for work, and his braid is coming undone, too.

Phainon drops down to his elbows, a low whine shuddering out of him. Each thrust jolts him forward a little, and Mydei has to use his hold on Phainon's hips to pull him back. This pace has them both being louder than before. Mydei fights to keep his breathing steady, but it proves to be much more of a challenge than he'd anticipated. When he leans forward, a droplet of sweat slides down his temple and lands right in the middle of Phainon's back. A dark spot blooms on the navy fabric.

He's almost dizzy beneath the weight of his desire. He wants nothing more than to be the one to take Phainon apart and help him piece himself back together afterwards.

"Mydei, ah, Mydei-!" Phainon chants, hardly able to get the words out around his delirious moans. He tries to stifle the sounds by shoving his face into a pillow.

Mydei huffs beneath his breath and hikes Phainon's ass up higher, forcing his back into an even deeper arch. The noise that Phainon makes definitely would've earned them a flurry of irate complaints from Mydei's neighbours if he hadn't bitten down on the pillow. He throws an arm backwards and closes his hand around Mydei's wrist as soon as he finds it. His grip is so tight that he might just cut off the circulation.

Would it bruise? Would it leave behind an imprint in the shape of his hand? If it did, and if Mydei were to show it to him later, would Phainon want to fit his fingers against the mark and remember this moment, the way that Mydei made him feel?

The thought of it tears a ragged groan from Mydei's throat. He pitches forward, bracing one hand against the mattress and sinking lower until his chest is pressed flush against Phainon's back.

Phainon turns his head to the side, letting go of the pillow to protest over his shoulder, "This position is- ah, it's too much, I can't hold it... agh, my back."

"Need to move?" Mydei asks, dropping light kisses against his neck.

"Not much. Just let me..."

Phainon's knees slide against the sheets, lowering his hips until he's lying flat on his front. Mydei follows him all the way down. He's careful to keep himself propped up on his forearms so that he won't crush Phainon beneath his full weight.

"Better?"

"Mm. You feel so deep in me like this."

Mydei nuzzles into the fluffy mess of Phainon's hair and starts rolling his hips in long strokes. He can't go as hard as before, but Phainon doesn't seem to mind. His soft, drawn-out moans say otherwise. There's a warm and syrupy feeling beginning to saturate Mydei's thoughts. It makes him want to get even closer than they already are. So, he slides his arms around Phainon's neck and shoulders, panting right into his ear. He's reaching the end of his tether.

Phainon cranes his neck to look at Mydei, his lower lip bitten red and glossy. Somehow, without needing to hear a single word, Mydei knows what he wants. He presses their mouths together, slides his tongue along Phainon's. Phainon kisses back feverishly, not quite able to match the rhythm but making up for it in spades with his eagerness.

"Phainon, ah- fuck, Phainon, you're driving me insane," Mydei breaks away to moan, pressing his forehead to Phainon's shoulder. "You feel so good. So fucking good, I- I'm gonna come."

"Yeah?" Phainon pants back, that single word somehow bordering on a taunt. "Do it, Mydei, come on. Don't you want to? Inside me? Hah- ah, yeah, do it-!"

Mydei bites back a growl as he pistons his hips faster, smacking against Phainon's ass so hard that their skin is probably turning red. He clenches his abs to stave off the rising heat in his lower stomach for just a few more moments, just until he feels Phainon squeeze around his cock the way that he did earlier when he was close. Phainon's cries begin to climb in both pitch and volume.

It's hard to say who comes first between them. Mydei's vision almost whites out when his orgasm hits, and he can't stop himself from biting down on Phainon's bare shoulder as he spills into the condom. He's being so loud about it that it doesn't even matter. Meanwhile, Phainon has gone soundless beneath him, but his entire body is shaking. A tiny, choked-off noise slips from his mouth, and then, as though the floodgates have burst wide open, he lets out a seemingly endless string of broken whines.

Phainon takes a little longer to come back to himself after this one. Mydei isn't faring much better himself. When Phainon is coherent enough to string together a sentence again, he groans, "Oh, Titans. That was so good, I felt like I was gonna die."

"Don't be dramatic," Mydei snorts. "You have a filthy mouth, by the way."

"And you're a beast."

"You're the one who asked me to fuck you harder?"

"Well, I didn't ask you to try to snap my spine in half, did I?"

"You looked really good like that, though. I wonder if your clients know how flexible you are-"

"Shut up!" Phainon exclaims, but there's a grin tugging at his lips and laughter already bubbling up in his throat. A single second is all it takes for Mydei to start laughing back, leaning in to press their foreheads together.

Eventually, Mydei peels himself off Phainon, grimacing at how sticky they both are. He pulls out, tosses the condom, and gives himself a half-hearted wipe down before flopping onto his back and staring at the ceiling, hit by a post-orgasm daze. A shower sounds incredible right about now. It'd be even better if he had Phainon in there with him.

Everything would be so much better if he had Phainon here all the time.

Mydei doesn't get the chance to follow that particular train of thought until its inevitable crash into a miserable ditch. His view of the ceiling is suddenly replaced by Phainon's gorgeous face. He's straddling Mydei's lap, wandering hands smoothing down his chest and further still, dangerously low. He grins, but there's a wicked edge to it.

"How long until you can go again?" Phainon asks, his tongue wetting the corner of his mouth.

"What the- again?" Mydei splutters. Despite himself, his spent cock gives an interested twitch against his thigh.

"You don't want to?"

"Strife, you're insatiable..."

He expects Phainon to hit back with some kind of snarky remark about his stamina, but all he gets is another smile, small and shy. Phainon leaves his hands resting atop Mydei's abdomen. Not to tease, but simply to feel him. Their warmth, their closeness.

"I'm not usually like this, I swear," Phainon laughs, an endearing pink flush staining his cheeks. "I don't know, I just... I feel like I could go all night with you."

Mydei's heart stutters. With Phainon above him like this, looking down at him with such an earnest, open, almost vulnerable expression, nothing else matters. They might as well be the only people in the entire world.

In the aftermath, Mydei leans against the bathroom doorframe and watches Phainon dry off his hair, standing in front of the mirror wearing nothing but a towel around his hips. That's it. They're done. No need to drag it out any longer now that they've gotten all of this pent-up tension out of their systems.

Phainon will retrieve his clothes from Mydei's bedroom floor and put them back on. He'll call a ride home. He might even give Mydei a goodbye kiss at the door if he's lucky.

There's a quiet sense of restlessness thrumming beneath the surface of Mydei's skin. A low-grade sort of anxiety. His heartbeat is loud and insistent in his ears – thump-thump-thump – like it's trying to warn him. All of it makes him feel as though he's standing on the precipice of something far bigger than he can fathom, and if he doesn't say anything in the next three seconds, he's going to regret it for the rest of his life.

"Do you like honeycakes?" Mydei ends up blurting out as soon as he opens his mouth.

Phainon stops drying his hair and turns his head to look at him. "Yeah, I do. Why? Did all that fucking make you hungry?"

"No. Tomorrow. I mean- I could make you some. In the morning."

Nice one. Very eloquent. His time spent studying Kremnoan poetry is really paying off right now.

Phainon only blinks for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he crosses the bathroom to stand in front of Mydei. His skin is flushed from the heat of the shower, his still-damp hair falling over his forehead. He looks cuter than usual. Soft around the edges.

"In the morning, huh?" Phainon echoes, his mouth curling into a sly smirk. Mydei would love nothing more than to pull him in and wipe it off his face with a kiss. "That sounds like you're asking me to stay the night."

"Yeah, well... it's late. And, uh, your shirt's kinda ruined."

"Then I'll have to borrow one of yours. Unless you want me to sleep naked, you pervert."

Somehow, despite everything they'd just done, the thought of Phainon in his clothes is what makes Mydei's face heat up. It starts as a slight warmth springing to his cheeks, then it rapidly climbs towards a searing heat. He has to turn around and make a strategic retreat to his bedroom before the blush reaches his ears. The sound of Phainon's quiet, pleased laughter follows him the entire way back.

He's so screwed.

Mydei grabs a clean set of clothes and practically shoves them into Phainon's arms, then spends the next few moments adjusting the pillows on his bed over and over for no reason. He doesn't know why he's gotten himself all worked up now, of all times. He's almost afraid to look when he hears soft footsteps entering the room, and his heart claws its way up into the base of his throat just to make itself known.

It's an entirely unfamiliar sight. Phainon, dressed in shorts and an old T-shirt with a howling orange chimera on the front, standing in Mydei's bedroom with his hair freshly washed and unstyled. For a moment, the only thing he does is hover in the doorway as though he isn't sure if he's allowed to be here.

"You plan on going to sleep standing up or what?" Mydei says a little stiffly.

Phainon laughs like it's the funniest thing he's heard all night. As he climbs into bed beside Mydei, he remarks, "Interesting choice of shirt."

Mydei hadn't been paying much attention when he went off to look for clothes, honestly. He might as well have chosen at random.

"What?” Mydei says a bit more defensively than he’d intended. “I like chimeras. They're cute.”

"Nothing, just... I realised there's still so much about you that I don't know yet."

Phainon rolls onto his side with a hopeful look on his face, softening his gaze. Mydei would lean over and kiss him, but he's afraid that once he starts, he won't ever want to stop now that he knows how it feels.

"I've never done this before," Phainon confesses in the low light. "Sleeping with someone. In the literal sense, I mean. Can I be honest?"

"Don't ask. Just say what's on your mind."

"My heart's racing. I don't think I can fall asleep like this."

"Then... let's talk."

"About what?"

"Anything. Whatever comes to mind. We'll take turns. How about that?"

The more they talk, the closer they inch towards each other. Eventually, they end up with Phainon's head cushioned on Mydei's chest. Mydei has one hand resting at Phainon's nape, idly carding through the short hairs there. Phainon traces the outline of the tattoo on Mydei's sternum with his fingertip.

Neither of them has any siblings, but Phainon's childhood friend Cyrene is like a sister to him. Mydei was in a rock band called Wrath of Man with his friends in college. Phainon had briefly wanted to become a pilot when he was a teenager. The signet ring that Mydei always wears was passed down to him from his mother, though she almost threw it into the sea off the coast of Kremnos after a particularly nasty fight with his father. The summer that Phainon was born yielded an incredibly plentiful harvest in Aedes Elysiae, and everyone considered his sun-shaped birthmark to be a blessing from Kephale themselves.

The conversation tapers off when they run out of things to say. For a moment, the only sound in the room is their shared breathing. Then, Phainon murmurs sleepily against Mydei’s chest, "Khaslana.”

"Hm? What's that?"

"My real name. 'Phainon' is a nickname I had growing up. It was convenient to use it for work."

"What should I call you now?"

"Nothing has to change. I don't really have a preference, and I've always been Phainon to you."

"Khaslana..." Mydei hums back, testing the shape of it, the weight of it in his mouth. It's a beautiful name. His eyelids are growing heavier with each blink. "I want to know you, too."

Phainon doesn't respond. He lifts his head and lets his gaze roam across Mydei's face before leaning down to press one more lingering kiss to his lips. When he breaks away, his quiet sigh carries along the words he left unspoken.

If I give you everything I have, will it be enough?