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The party is gaudy, to put it nicely, awfully, terribly gaudy. The food is tasteless, the decorations lavish, the room garish, and the place is overcrowded with people so insincere that the flattering smiles fixed on their faces resemble more porcelain masks.
Not even one hour in and Mydei is already stepping outside into the courtyard, desperate for some reprieve from the empty praise, dissimulated jabs, and prying eyes that followed his every move, his every reaction. He’s a stark contrast to the polished suits and dazzling dresses, what with the deep eyeshadow, the silver piercings and the black jacket.
He checks the time on his phone. Nine three eight. Hephaestion had said he should stay at least until ten, and the sigh that escapes him comes from so deep within his chest that a part of his soul might have come out with it.
“Rough night, uh?”
Mydei does not startle at the rising voice, but his fingers tighten around the glass of bland champagne he had been nursing for about twenty minutes now. He doesn’t reply, much too fed-up with everything and anything, and he simply turns his head to the side towards the source.
The light catches his attention first. A little round speck of orange burning bright like a dying star against the cold hues of the unforgiving night. A long pale finger taps it once and some ash falls to the ground, disappearing into the greenery.
A hand rustles a cigarette box. It has a hanged man imprinted on the front.
“Want one?”
Mydei raises an eyebrow. Intrigued, almost, as he regards the other. “Who would have thought the nation’s top model was in the habit of smoking?” It certainly does not fit the image the man has created for himself.
“And who would have thought a rockstar would find himself mingling with people like this?” Phainon shoots back immediately before adding, “It takes the edge off.”
“Mm.”
Mydei sits down next to him, placing the glass of champagne on the floor. The grass is still damp from the earlier rain, and he can't help but notice how unconcerned Phainon is about the mud sticking to his white trousers despite his clothes looking far too expensive.
He takes one cigarette and puts it in his mouth.
“Do you have a lighter?”
The glint in Phainon’s eye is almost dangerous when he says, amused, “I do.” Before he places the cigarette in his mouth and bends forwards towards him.
Something hot coils in Mydei’s gut.
He lets the burning end of Phainon’s cigarette kiss his own unlit end. His eyes, piercing golden things, fix on the vast expanse of the sky looking back at him, threatening to swallow him whole. It’s strangely intimate for strangers like them. The space fills and cracks with the beginnings of thunder as the low exhalation Phainon gives once the light catches on caresses Mydei’s lips.
He takes a drag. It’s almost intoxicating.
“What brings you here?”
“Not my usual scene, that’s all.” Mydei replies, breathing out a cloud of gray with every syllable. He waves a hand in the general direction of the building, hearing the low murmur of voices and polite laughter. It’s overwhelming, despite the fact Mydei has attended parties a hundred times louder. “Decided to get out before I smashed the glass in someone’s head.”
Phainon lets out a low whistle. “Rowdy, eh?”
“Not exactly. It’s just that these people make me want to crawl out of my skin.” Mydei taps the cigarette once and gives a sideways glance to him. “I take it is the same for you?”
“Kind of.”
“Hm?”
He shrugs. “I know how to deal with this sort of event. But,” His fingers twitch around the cigarette, and the drag he takes looks as if he wanted to suffocate his own lungs in the smoke. “Nanook is inside.”
He does not give an explanation as to why that is a big deal. Why would he? Everybody knows. Their scandal had taken off like a wildfire whose burnt-off landscapes can still be seen to this day.
He continues, “Aglaea told me to get some air before I could get the chance to smash a wine bottle into his head again.” He clicks his tongue. “As if that had been my fault. He’s the one that—ah, well, you know…”
He scoffs.
Mydei looks at him.
Phainon never references anything about the scandal. He never even so much as talks about Nanook, to the point that there’s a certain unspoken but well-known rule in the industry that you don’t bring up Nanook around Phainon. Ever. The last, and first, reporter that had done so had lost their job. Blacklisted, and even though Phainon says he had nothing to do with that, everybody knows that the golden butterfly posed on his shoulder does.
That’s all on camera, though, off the record…
“Are you usually this honest?” Mydei asks.
Phainon laughs. “No, you just caught me in a bad moment.”
“Should I go?”
“No, no, it’s fine. It’s refreshing talking to you, Mister Rock Star.”
“Mydei.”
“I know who you are.” Phainon replies. The sardonic edge that had started coloring his words ever since he mentioned Nanook disappears and gives way into something more amused. “Even went to one of your concerts, you know.”
Mydei doesn’t preen under the admission, but there’s an undeniable sense of pride when he asks, “How did you find it?”
“Wild.” He smiles, all teeth. It’s different from the ones plastered across his photoshoots. Dangerous. “Alive.”
He blows a cloud of smoke directly into Mydei’s face.
Mydei coughs.
“Hehe.”
Bratty, a part of Mydei chimes in as a tight, hot feeling bubbles under the annoyance flaring up at the action. He loosens the tie Hephaestion had forced him into and does not miss the way Phainon’s deep eyes track the action.
“Which brings me back to my question. What are you doing here? At the party, I mean. All this nonsense must be terribly boring for someone like you?”
“For someone like me?”
Phainon grins. “Wild. Thrilling.” He presses one of his legs against his own. It’s warm and a black band goes around his thigh, making the meat bulge. Mydei feels his own mouth go dry. “Real.”
Mydei chuckles, takes a drag of his own and blows a cloud of smoke into his face in retaliation. Phainon doesn’t even bat an eye, and his face twinkles with mischief as Mydei clicks his tongue. He thinks of putting out his cigarette on Phainon’s clavicle to wipe the smugness off his face, and wonders about the way the burn mark would bloom prettily against his pale skin, wonders if he would moan or hiss at the pain.
He forces himself not to think about that before his excitement can become apparent.
“Hephaestion, my manager, is looking to strike a modeling gig for me.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
“Not really. Something about brand diversification and that my concerts don’t pay for themselves.”
He laughs. “I suppose I will be seeing you around, then?”
“Depends on how much of a sweet talker Hephaestion is.”
Phainon tilts his head. Some locks of white hair fall over his face with the motion and Mydei can’t help but track the way he tucks them behind his ear.
“I don’t mind putting a good word for you with Aglaea.”
Mydei blinks, once, twice. The words barely register as real. Aglaea, the Goldweaver, is arguably the world’s most famous fashion designer, and getting in her good graces is said to be monumental. For him to have this opportunity just dropped into his lap is insane. Hephaestion would probably pass out if he heard this.
“Would you really do that?”
“Mm-hm.” He lets out. “Don’t get it twisted, though, I could sing her praises, but if she feels like you are not pulling your weight, she’s going to kick you out into the street.”
Mydei grins.
“I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
Phainon’s eyebrows raise. “Cocky.”
“Confident.” He corrects.
“And arrogant, too!” He tuts. “Have you ever done something like this before?”
“No.” Mydei admits, easily. “But I am sure I can pick it up fast.”
The look Phainon gives him is nothing short of unimpressed when he says, “Alright, let’s see it.”
“What?”
“Strike a pose for me.”
Mydei scoffs, almost incredulous. “You are ridiculous.”
“Mm? So, you have a hard time adapting to unexpected situations and working in harsh environments?” Phainon takes a drag, eyes twinkling in amusement. “I’m sure Aglaea will love to hear it.”
Mydei’s jaw flexes. Something hot, hot, hot coils tighter and tighter in his gut.
“You are devious.”
Phainon smiles.
Mydei knows how to pick his battles, and this is not one he can afford to lose. So, almost begrudgingly, Mydei shuffles around to find a pose he deems appropriate. He pulls his leg up and rests the arm with the cigarette on his knee, leaving the other extended. Not knowing what to do with his other hand, he places it on his stomach before throwing his head back, leaving the arch of his neck exposed. That’s always hot, right?
“How is it?”
Phainon doesn’t even waste a second in answering, “Terrible. You are way too stiff, and the way in which you are holding yourself is unnatural. Not to mention—”
“Alright, I get it.” Mydei snaps. Damn, he’s harsh. Figures. “Let’s see you do it.”
The way in which Phainon falls into pose is uncanny in its naturalness; made all the more strange thanks to the fact that he barely even moves from the position he was already sitting. Something just changes. He’s human, one second, jagged and tired, smoking at the side of a too-stuffy party, and, in the next, he has become something else. Untouchable, almost, flawless, despite the cigarette, still smoking, still burning in his hand.
Mydei wants to ruin him.
His eyes go over his body with almost clinical precision. His gaze flickering through the long legs, extended across the ground, the meat spilling out from the black hand in his thigh, the waist, the broad shoulders, and he lingers one, two seconds too long in the golden sun tattoo in his neck, cut in half by a thigh black choker.
“...I should have seen that coming.”
Phainon laughs. The sound is angelic, but the look he’s giving Mydei is anything but holy.
“Don’t sound so dejected! I’m sure you will improve in no time with the right pointers. For example,” He starts, smiling wide, and it’s the only warning Mydei gets before swift fingers go to trace the arch of his throat. Mydei is not even posing anymore. “Don’t strain your neck this much.”
Mydei shudders, swallows, and a long pale finger presses deep, deep, deep on his Adam’s apple, cutting his breath off for a second before it retracts. It leaves a trail of fire in its wake, and Mydei thinks he has never wanted to burn more than he does at this moment.
Ruin him, himself, what’s the difference, anyways?
“What time are you leaving, again?”
“Why?” Phainon smiles, all-teeth. It’s dangerous. “Are you offering me a ride?”
Mydei places a hand on his thigh and, deliberately, squeezes it once. “Only if you are interested." He murmurs.
“Scandalous.”
“Oh, but I’m sure you are no stranger to those.”
━━━━━━━━━━
His phone vibrates once. The noise dull and meek against the roaring of his car engine, the loud music coming from the speakers and the sound of his own harsh breaths. Mydei’s eyes shift fleetingly towards it before going back to the road, and it is more than enough to catch Hephaestion’s accusing, ‘You said you would stay until ten.’
He’s not guilty about leaving him behind. They are both used to coming in separate cars to these sorts of fancy events thanks to Mydei’s natural distaste for them, and it is better that having him hover around Hephaestion like a petulant child wanting to go home as the other networks. He does, however, feel guilty about not doing good in his word.
Mydei has half a mind to text him back a curt ‘something came up’, but it is hard to cling to that particular train of thought through the hand that has been steadily rubbing his crotch through his leather pants for the past few minutes.
He takes a drag of his cigarette to steady himself. It’s halfway done. But it is not quite enough, and Mydei’s eyes flutter with the urge to close when Phainon puts a little bit more pressure on his dick, hard and strained. The lights around him are nothing but a blur, the cars a distant presence, and it is more muscle memory than anything that which leads him through the streets.
The sound of the zipper of his trousers being pulled down is nearly deafening. The music nothing but static.
“Are you insane?” Mydei says, voice rough, but does nothing to stop him. He’s burning hot, hot, hot. “You are going to make us crash.”
Phainon chuckles, letting his erected cock spring free from its confines, and Mydei can’t help the sigh of relief at the release of pressure.
“You want me to stop?” Phainon asks, amused, dangerously. One of his fingers traces a path all the way from the base to the tip, slowly, deliberately. The caress is feather light and the pressure practically nonexistent. He resists the urge to thrust his hips up and chase that phantom, legs straining under the effort not to press down completely on the gas and make them crash. “Because it seems you are enjoying it.”
He heaves as a hand closes around his dick, fingers tightening around the wheel hard enough to make it crack. A traffic light switches from green to red. Mydei pulls on the handbrake as he lets his head fall backwards with a moan.
“You are—Ngh.” He grits out, interrupted when Phainon’s thumb circles the slit of his dick with slow, deliberate movements. Good, that feels so good. “You are driving me insane. Are you, ah, so hungry for it you really can’t keep your hands to yourself?”
Mydei feels the whole body shudder Phainon gives at that, and he cracks one eye open to see him. His face is flushed red, red, red.
Phainon opens his mouth, closes it, and smears the bead of pre-cum gathered on his slit across his length.
He’s breathless when he asks, “Can you blame me?”
Fuck.
“Shameless.”
“You like it.” He laughs, looking thrilled.
A modicum of responsibility still clings to Mydei, and he says—hisses, really, “There’s a time for it.” The hand around his dick squeezes, and a low, simmering feeling starts to climb and spread across his body. He’s close, embarrassingly close, but he still manages to grit out, “Focus on yourself if you are so desperate."
Phainon’s head tilts to the side, still amused, still thrilled, wild, and Mydei immediately knows he has made a mistake, somewhere, somehow.
“Sure!” Phainon chirps.
The pressure around his dick disappears, and the simmering sensation stills and recoils. Mydei has to swallow down a displeased sound at that, feeling his orgasm escape him like grains of sand through his hands.
“You—” He starts, stops, swallowing when Phainon starts to lick at the pre-cum smeared across his palm.
Phainon’s eyes crinkle at the sides. “Light’s green, Mydeimos.”
He clicks his tongue.
He’s terribly, awfully aware of the sensation of his erection as he lowers the handbrake and continues driving. Hard, hot, and nearly throbbing in need. He takes another drag, focusing on the sour taste and the burn in his lungs, but he overdoes it and ends up coughing up a storm. It wracks his whole chest, but it distracts him.
Up until a low ‘clink’ reaches his ears.
Mydei’s eyes shift to the side, and his mouth goes dry at the sight of Phainon unbuckling his own belt.
Blue eyes crinkle, shining dangerously.
“Eyes on the road, Mydei.”
This man is going to be the death of him.
Mydei clears his throat, takes a left turn. His voice is rough when he asks, “Are you really going to jerk off in my car?”
The pout is nearly audible. “You told me to focus on myself.” He replies, before letting out a contented sigh.
He turns up the volume of the music.
That, too, is a mistake. Not hearing him is worse than hearing all the moans and breaths as he strokes himself next to him. The anticipation makes him jittery, sweat trailing down his forehead down to his neck, fire burning and sizzling low in his gut.
It’s strange, maybe. Never has he ever been overcome with desire in this way. The last remnants of his sanity cling and dig with tooth and nail into his brain, stopping him from parking his car at the side of the road and bending Phainon over.
Ha! Imagine the scandal!
“Ngh!”
Mydei slams on the brakes, heart pounding.
A loud honking bursts from behind as a car swerves around him. He could not give less of a damn about how close they were to crashing with how much his dick is throbbing.
“Keep drivi—ah.” Phainon breathes out. The movements of his hand are so aggressive as he pumps his cock faster and faster, long knees jerking and twitching. His moans and mewls are nearly pornographic in a way that can’t be anything but faked, and the worst part is that it is working like a charm. “Ah, ugh, ngh!”
Mydei turns on the blinking lights. The street is nearly deserted, either way, and the windows of his car polarized.
Phainon throws his head back and laughs before he cuts himself off with a groan. His whole face is flushed red, from the tip of his ears to the ends of his neck, arched gracefully. His throat bobs, the sun tattoo winking temptingly at him from under the choker. His mouth is parted open, a flash of pink behind his teeth peeking out as he pants. He looks like the perfect picture of debauchery.
He takes a drag of his cigarette. It does nothing to soothe the electricity surging through his veins. He’s burning hot, hot, hot, and he wants, wants, wants. Oh, how he wants.
His own hand closes around his cock. Hard, hot, and leaking.
Phainon laughs again. “Have some decency!”
“Decency.” He grits out, pumping himself so fast it borders on painful. Once, a part of his mind thinks, he just needs to come once so that he can think straight again. “You are the one that started jerking me off in my car!”
“And you are the one that liked it!”
“Clearly not enough if you couldn’t even make me come!"
“Oh,” Phainon says, almost sweetly. “But I thought you said there was a time for it?”
The space car is hot, hot, hot, like the inside of a furnace about to explode. Oppressive. It’s all so very dangerous, so very lewd, so very addicting. Nerves going haywire, pleasure simmering and sizzling. Spark seems to come out with every breath he takes.
Phainon smiles, all teeth, like a match thrown in gasoline, and Mydei’s melting, blazing, burning.
One of his hands shoots to grab the back of Phainon’s head, and the man lets out a yelp as he drags him closer. Their teeth clatter with a neat little ‘clack!’ when his mouths smash together. Mydei hisses when he feels a canine dig deeply into his bottom lip, but he doesn't let go. He presses deeper, instead, relinquishing the sensation of Phainon’s tongue against his own. He tastes of smoke and bland champagne. It’s almost gross, but it is Phainon, and that makes it intoxicating all the same. He can’t get enough of it, of him, and he deepens the kiss even when his lungs start to burn, even when he feels the other man’s chest start to stutter.
One second, two, three, maybe even four.
He thinks he would not mind dying this way.
Still, they part. Mydei with a gasp and Phainon with a series of coughs, spit that might be his or might be not slips down his chin. His pupils are blown so far that the deep blue of his bottom-sea eyes is barely visible, swallowed whole by a black hole, all-consuming, all-alluring.
“The time is now.” Mydei rasps out, still breathless, still burning. “So, get to it, Phainon.”
Phainon makes a noise. It sounds like a cat being strangled.
“We,” He coughs, shudders. His pretty pale cock twitches between his legs. “We are still in the middle of the road, you know.”
That they are.
Mydei’s gaze shifts to the car mirror. The night around them is bathed in a low, yellow light from a light post that flickers from time to time. The street is deserted. He’s not causing a traffic jam, and the few cars behind them pass by without a hitch.
A part of him recognizes they should most definitely move out of the way, but it does not stop him from raising an eyebrow and saying, “Getting cold feet?”
“As if.”
It’s the only warning he gets before Phainon bends and takes Mydei’s cock into his mouth.
He jolts, hips thrusting forwards in reflex as he tries to burrow deeper into that wet, hot cavern. His hand closes around a handful of white locks and pulls them harshly, intent on getting Phainon off his cock, but the man doesn’t budge.
Instead, he moans.
Mydei’s eyes roll to the back of his head as the vibrations of the sound travel along the length of his shaft, small prickles of pleasure that grow and coil as the other starts to bob his head up and down, up and down, up and down.
“Fuck.” He breathes. “You truly are devious.”
Blue eyes peer up at him, amused, wantonly, before he breathes deeply, and, slowly, oh, ever so slowly, goes to take even more of his cock inside his mouth. It’s almost tortuous. He can feel with acute awareness every little inch he swallows, sinking bit by bit further and further down his throat.
A breath, two, and then Phainon’s nose presses flush against his pelvis.
It's a challenge.
Mydei’s jaw clenches, as annoyed as he’s aroused.
“Fine.” He goes to take a drag of his cigarette just to realize the fire has long fizzled out. He sighs. His hands tremble as he sets them back on the wheel. “Let’s see how long you can last.”
The drive goes almost in a haze. The streets and cars around him almost an afterthought to the sensation of soft velvety walls contracting around his cock.
The pleasure is not as tight and overstimulating as it was before. It rolls all over him in waves. The fire in his gut caressed, not fanned, and steadied with every smug swirl of tongue.
It’s only muscle memory that allows him to reach his home. It doesn’t particularly matter how long after, even when Mydei was purposefully going slower, what matters is Phainon, under him, trembling like a little bird without wings.
A strange beat of silence befalls them once he parks his car and turns off the engine. Not quite charged, but not quite peaceful, either, and for a moment, Mydei watches almost absentmindedly the way in which shiny, pale lips stretch wide around his thick cock.
He cards through white locks of hair as he says, voice rough, “Titans, you were starving for it.” A loud whine is his answer. The vibrations almost sharp. Now that he doesn’t have to focus on not crashing and, therefore, not dying horrifically, Mydei lets his head fall back into the seat with a groan. “Then, suck.”
Phainon doesn’t waste a second.
There’s a loud, nearly wet slurping sound that echoes through the car as Phainon hollows his cheeks around him. Mydei lets out a sharp cry, jerking in his seat, and the grip he has around his hair tightens to the point it must sting.
“Good.” He breathes out. Phainon lets out a sound that resembles more a dying animal than an actual human. “That’s it, ngh, keep going, angel.”
It doesn’t take long for the coil in his gut to snap and burst, not when Phainon sucks and licks at his throbbing cock with a need that borders on desperation, as if he had been waiting all his life for this single moment.
“Shit.” He grunts out when he feels his gut tighten and tighten, warmth burning and spreading throughout his nerves. “I—I’m going to—ngh!” He tries to pull Phainon off his cock as his release creeps up on him, but the man simply presses himself deep, deep, deep into him and su—cks. “Pha—Phainon, you, ah!”
A bright flash of white light burst from under his eyelids. Cum spurts out of him in thick white ropes, and pleasure comes in spades when he feels Phainon’s throat work around him, struggling to swallow his seed. Some of it slips from the corner of his mouth, falling in thick globes down his lap.
It goes on for what feels like an eternity, and Phainon gives one last harsh suck that makes Mydei groan before his dick, now soft, slides off his mouth with a wet ‘pop!’
Mydei watches him with half-lidded eyes. He looks absolutely wrecked. His white hair is now all tussled, locks and curls sticking out in every direction. His face is flushed bright red and tear tracks stick to his cheeks. His lips, all swollen and shining with a mix of saliva and cum, open to reveal a clean tongue.
Mydei’s chest heaves, still feeling the aftershocks of his orgasms, and his voice is rough when he says, “Titans, you are a vision.”
Phainon blinks, almost dazedly, before he lets out a giggle.
He bends forwards and Mydei humours his silent request and kisses him. He’s gentle, this time, and he takes his time to explore every nook and cranny of his mouth, pressing against his tongue and licking at his palette. He still tastes a little bit of smoke, but the taste of bland champagne has been replaced with something salty and Mydei is completely unbothered with the fact he’s tasting himself.
“I,” Phainon starts once they part, coughs, and his voice is raspy when he says, “I guess I won, uh?” And at Mydei’s raised eyebrow, he adds, “I lasted longer.”
A part of Mydei supposes this comment would piss him off more where he had not just been given the best blowjob of his life mere seconds ago, as it is, he simply asks, “And what do you want. a reward?”
He pouts. “I want you to fuck me.”
Oh, that he can do, gladly.
Mydei pushes the seat as far as it can go and pats his lap once.
Phainon doesn’t bring up the fact that they are right outside his house, not as he stumbles upon himself in his haste to sit himself on him as Mydei retrieves a bottle of lube from the compartment next to him. There’s a certain urgency, a certain desperation, driving their every action, and doing this in such a cramped space just adds to the rawness of the moment.
Instead, he chuckles while he pulls down his pants to his knees. “And here I thought I was special.”
Mydei uncaps the bottle and coats his fingers with a generous amount. “I like to be prepared.”
Phainon scoffs. “Well, I suppose I can’t complain considering—Ah!” He yelps as Mydei’s finger sinks into him. “Oh, that’s—!”
“Considering?” Mydei prompts, thrusting his finger in and out, in and out, in and out.
“What do, ah, ngh, what do you think, Mydeimos?”
Mydei chuckles, placing a kiss on his neck. Before he gets a chance to close his teeth around the edge of the sun tattoo tempting him there, one hand shoots to his hair and pulls his head back. The sting of it sends a roll of pleasure that makes his quickly fattening cock twitch.
“No hickeys.” Phainon snaps, breathing harshly.
“Tsk.”
“Tsk? You are so—Mydei!” He cuts himself again as he sinks another finger into him. “Let me—ah, ugh, finish talking!”
“If you can even so much as think, it means I’m doing a bad job here.”
“Hmph! How arrogant.”
He doesn’t answer the accusation, instead, he bites the edge of the black choker and pulls it with his teeth before letting it go. It snaps back into place with a sharp sound. Phainon gasps. He does that again, relinquishing the reddened hue that his pale, white skin is taking while he moves his fingers inside Phainon in a scissoring motion.
After a beat, Phainon starts wiggling in his lap. “E—Enough of that.” He breathes, his legs trembling in exertion. “Just put it in.”
Mydei scoffs.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t even put a third finger.”
“It’s fine.”
“Is this your way of saying it is small?”
“Are you fishing for compliments now?” Phainon asks, unimpressed. “I just like it when it hurts.”
“Fuck.” Mydei lets out, taking his fingers out of his hole with a wet ‘squelch!’ That really shouldn’t make his dick throb the way it does. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for this much of a freak.”
Phainon smiles, all teeth, and he tilts his head to the side.
“And you aren’t?”
If you were to ask Mydei that question just a couple of hours ago, he probably would have answered no. Now, though, now he simply gives his cock a couple of languid strokes, smearing some lube and pre-come along the shaft with a pleased sigh.
“Can’t let you one-up me that easily, can I?”
Phainon rolls his eyes.
He brings his hands to the man’s narrow waist as he lines up his hole with his dick. He expects him to go down slowly, but Phainon, ever so full of surprises, looks him dead in the eye, takes a deep breath, and drops his whole weight onto him in one go.
Stars burst in his vision. One of his hands slams against the misty window while he bites his fist, using every bit of restraint to stop himself from coming immediately. Phainon is tight around him, so, so tight, and burning hot.
A wounded noise escapes Phainon’s throat.
Mydei opens his eyes to see Phainon’s face contorted in a mix of pain and pleasure, breathing harshly, body spasming under the strain of the intrusion, and trembling like a leaf. He drinks in the sight for a second too long before his gaze, unwittingly, shifts down to the place they are connected and despite the strain, despite the pain, Mydei can’t help but notice the way in which Phainon took him so easily, so perfectly, as if he was made for this.
For him.
“That’s—ngh!” He tries, but Phainon clenches so tight around him that Mydei forgets how to breathe for a good minute. The urge to thrust up into him is maddening. “Relax.”
Phainon does not, not one bit, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
He pulls Phainon’s head so that it can rest against his shoulder, settling a hand on his neck while the other rubs soothing circles on his back.
“Mo–move.”
Mydei places a kiss on the top of his head. “Breathe for me first, sweetheart.”
Phainon keens.
One minute passes, two, maybe even three. The space filled with the sound of their heavy breathing and the smell of sex.
The man on his lap unwinds little by little, unclenching more and more around him as Mydei mutters low praise against his ear. He starts to rock against him out of his own accord, peppering kisses on Mydei’s neck and mouthing against his pulse.
“You said no hickeys.” Mydei reminds him with a pleased sigh, shifting his head so that Phainon can get more access.
“You don’t have a photoshoot in two days. I, however, do.”
“Hmph.”
The astringent ringing of his phone bursts like an explosion.
Phainon flinches, peeling off his neck as if he had been burned, and Mydei curses. He fumbles around, intent on declining the call, but pauses at the sight of Hephaestion’s name on the screen.
Hephaestion only calls when it is important.
Then again, what are the chances they were seen walking out of the party?
“You are not going to answer?”
Mydei’s eyes shift to Phainon. He’s still shaking, but there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes and an undeniable edge of taunt in his voice, a dangerous glint in his eyes, that makes him accept the call before he knows it.
“What is—?”
“Have you not read my texts?” Hephaestion cuts in swiftly.
“No.” Mydei replies. “I was—“ He bites his lip to avoid moaning straight into Hephaestion’s ear as Phainon rolls his hips and his hand shoots to his waist and he squeezes once. A warning.
Phainon bats his eyelashes.
Brat, he mouths to him, just you wait.
Phainon smiles.
“You were what?”
“Driving.” He grits out. “I was driving. Just reached home.”
Phainon starts bouncing in his lap, up and down, up and down, up and down, a little ‘plap, plap, plap’ echoing through the car.
Mydei closes his eyes.
“Just now? It’s been an hour since you left.”
“Traffic was—”
“Ngh!”
His heart drops into his stomach, and he slaps a hand over Phainon’s mouth so fast that it must actually have stung.
“Uh? What was that?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He breathes out, feeling Phainon tighten around him. “It’s just that my cat is in heat.”
He punctuates the statement with one harsh thrust, and Phainon’s eyes roll to the back of his head.
Mydei has never been so turned on in his life.
“...Right,” Hephaestion lets out, probably not believing him in the slightest. “Anyways, care to explain what exactly is up with you and Phainon? I swear, Miss Aglaea is going to skin me alive if I don’t give her a good explanation.”
He pauses. “Somebody saw us leaving?”
“Somebody took photos, Mydei. It’s trending.” Because of course it is. “Please, tell me you did not fuck him. It’s going to be a PR nightmare.”
“I did not fuck him, Hephaestion.”
He’s currently fucking him, present tense. Big difference.
“Really?”
Mydei looks at Phainon, seated fully on his cock.
“Really. I just gave him a ride.”
“Why?”
“He looked worse for wear.” Mydei replies and watches Phainon scowl and grind into him as retaliation. Mydei heaves. “He’s surprisingly good company—Even offered to put in a good word with Aglaea.”
And like a moth to a flame, Hephaestion immediately forgets about the very real PR nightmare he’s most definitely going to have to deal with in the morning as he asks, almost giddily, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
His conversation follows along those lines for a few more minutes that are pure torture as Phainon keeps bouncing in his cock. Up until Hephaestion asks why is he breathing so heavily and Mydei replies he’s coming down with a fever and, rather crudely, hanging up.
“You, filthy slut,” Mydei snaps immediately, bringing his hand down onto Phainon’s ass with a sharp ‘smack!’ that has him crying and tightening around him. “Couldn’t even wait a damn second for it, could you? Are you really so desperate for it?”
Phainon’s movements get more frantic now that there’s no risk of having a third party hearing him moan like a whore. The ‘plap, plap, plap!’ of skin meeting skin echoing lewdly. “Ah, ah, uh, My—dei! I want to—!”
Mydei’s hands tighten around his waist, hard enough to bruise, and hold him in place before Phainon gets the chance to go down on him once again. The tip of his hard, throbbing cock close to slipping out of Phainon’s dripping hole.
“Wait! Wait, Mydei,” Phainon stumbles out, trying hard to take more of him inside. “I—I’m close, just let me—”
“Why should I?” He replies, voice rough, resisting the temptation of just sinking into that wet, tight, heat again, desperate for relief. “You haven’t been anything but bratty all this time.”
Phainon scoffs, face red, thighs trembling, “I—”
“Think carefully about what you are going to say next, angel.” Mydei interrupts, pulling him fully out of his own cock and ignoring Phainon’s desperate plea. “Otherwise, I am not letting you come once tonight.”
He shudders. The tip of his cock, hard and leaking, is nearly purple and, foolishly, instead of following Mydei’s warning, one of his hands goes to wrap around it.
Mydei lets his hips go.
A yell rips out of Phainon’s throat as he impales himself fully on Mydei’s cock, throwing his head back and babbling a litany of apologies.
“Sorry for what?” He demands, pressing a hand on Phainon’s stomach and groaning at the added pressure on his cock.
Phainon writhes on top of him as if he were being electrocuted. “For being a brat!” He sobs out, whining loudly when Mydei doesn’t let him move. “Please, I—Let me—I want—!”
“I know what you want.” Mydei growls and one of his hands snakes and closes around the base of Phainon’s cock, squeezing hard. Phainon lets out a high-pitched keen. “And you are going to thank me for it, you hear me?”
“Th—thank you—ah!”
“Again.”
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Phainon yells, over and over again, bouncing up and down, up and down, up and down on his cock. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
It doesn’t take him long to come, not at all, barely a minute and a half, before he gets tight, tight, tight, around Mydei and slumps forwards like a doll with his strings cut over him as his cum spurts and stains Mydei’s chest. He follows soon after, biting hard onto Phainon’s neck as he releases deep into him.
A beat passes.
“...I told you no hickeys.”
“It’s not a hickey. It’s a bite.”
“It’s the same thing.” He sighs. “People are gonna talk.”
“They were already going to talk. They saw.” He replies, soothing the bite mark with his tongue. “And if they are going to talk, either way, why not make it worth it?”