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Mydei has tits.
It’s the first thing Phainon notices when he, at Hyacine’s behest, hastily makes his way to the heirs’ baths. She’d called his teleslate, over and over, until Phainon had managed to both secure a good deal on an artifact and answer the call. When he’d heard that it had to do with Mydei, he’d anxiously left the artifact with the shopkeeper and had rushed over, as fast as he could.
“Mydei…?” Phainon says, as soon as he sees him. He’s surrounded by healers, as well as Hyacine, who seems to be preventing him from just running off. When she shifts at the sound, just barely, enough to reveal Mydei, Phainon blinks.
Mydei’s chest is… huge.
And Phainon’s well aware that he already has tits — Titans, does he have tits — but they’re bigger. Big enough that Phainon’s eyes keep flickering down. He’s only a man! And wow, Phainon thinks, they’re really —
“My eyes are up here, Deliverer,” Mydei says, and Phainon guiltily tears his eyes away and up to meet Mydei’s gaze.
“Well, your chest is down —”
“Phainon,” Hyacine rightfully interrupts. Phainon’s glad that he didn’t finish that sentence. Something about Mydei just makes Phainon want to win.
“... Yes?” Phainon says. He turns away, until Mydei’s out of his line of vision. He doesn’t need that temptation any closer than he already is.
“Mydei’s been… affected by a curse from the black tide,” she says. “We’re not sure exactly when or what happened, but he started showing symptoms today.”
“Symptoms?” Phainon’s face drops. If there are symptoms, then it must be serious, right? Otherwise, there’s no way Mydei would even entertain the thought of anyone helping him like this.
Around them, the healers go silent.
Hyacine coughs, face flushing bright red. When she speaks, her voice comes out in a shaky whisper. “He's... lactating.”
What?
What??
Phainon’s sure that he misheard. In fact, there’s nothing else that he believes more than that he misheard, except that maybe he’s forgotten the definition of ‘lactation’ entirely.
“He’s what?”
From his peripheral vision, he sees Mydei stand, suddenly.
“I’m not dealing with this,” he says. “I can take care of it myself.”
He turns, before stalking away. The healers look at him with disappointment in their eyes, but none of them make a move to stop him.
Well.
“Wait,” Phainon says, moving before he can even think. “I’ll help.”
He’s not entirely sure what help consists of, but if it involves helping Mydei — and wiping that scowl off of his face — Phainon is all too happy to do whatever he needs to. Even if it involves lactation. Maybe even more if it does.
“HKS,” Mydei says, face screwed up in pain? Anger? Discomfort, maybe? Phainon can’t really tell.
“I’ll help,” Phainon repeats. “Hyacine, what do I need to do?”
She runs him through a brief list of the best ways to aid Mydei in his… condition, and it’s pretty run of the mill. He’s lactating. Still, Phainon blushes when Hyacine stutters through a ‘You have to, um, stimulate his, his, n—nipples.”
He’ll never unhear that, huh.
Hyacine leans in closer until Phainon’s sure that none of the other healers can hear them. “We’re not sure what the other symptoms are, but, well… similar cases of black tide curses were linked with heavy arousal, so… keep that in mind!”
Phainon doesn’t know what to make of that.
Before he can prod any further, Hyacine’s bouncing away, only a slight flush on her already rosy cheeks. “Contact me if anything changes!”
Soon enough, the healers clear out of the baths, with only a reminder from Hyacine to call her if anything changes. Phainon might have. Now that he’s here and alone with Mydei, he’s more than worried for his own sanity. And his life.
“Mydei?” Phainon says, quietly. He doesn’t think that Mydei’s heard him, until he finally sighs, shifting.
Mydei turns back to where Phainon stands, no longer hunched over in on himself. Phainon goes to make a joke, to lighten the weird tension that seems to be seeping into the air, but Titans.
From here, shit — Mydei really is lactating.
Swallowing, Phainon watches as a bead of liquid — milk — drips down his chest, sliding over his toned stomach, before seeping into his pants, soaking the fabric there.
Phainon is going to hell. He’s being asked to help Mydei, and he’s thinking of endlessly selfish things.
“Don’t make this a big deal, Deliverer,” Mydei warns. He closes his eyes, tipping his head back. “Look, I want this as little as you do. We can just… ignore it. I can take care of it myself, and you can go back home.”
“No!” Phainon says. Titans above, he is not leaving Mydei alone in this state. “Mydei, the healers—”
“What do the healers know?” Mydei snaps, voice hoarse, red flushing over and across his cheeks. Phainon doesn’t let himself flinch. His body’s changing, it’s no wonder that Mydei would be stressed. Plus… such an intimate change must be uncomfortable. Briefly, he wonders what Mydei thought when he first noticed. Were they heavier than usual, bigger? His tits are already noticeable, but maybe… more sensitive?
Mydei huffs and Phainon blinks, forcing down the arousal that threatens to surge.
“You’re right,” Phainon says. Mydei blinks. “This isn’t a documented symptom of the black tide, so they’re just throwing things at the wall to see what sticks. If you like, you can deal with it yourself, but I’m not leaving you here alone. ”
Phainon holds his breath. Mydei can be stubborn, but Phainon is too, almost infinitely so. Still, he has no real interest in arguing with Mydei when they could be solving the root of his issue.
Mydei tchs, but doesn’t immediately argue. He turns his head to the side, like he's thinking.
“You’re not watching,” he says, annoyed. “I’ll just…figure it out myself”
“Fine,” Phainon says. It’s more than he hoped to get, really, so he sits on a nearby bench, catching one last glimpse of sweet, heavy tits, before he turns his back to Mydei. “Let me know if I can do anything.”
Mydei scoffs. “As—As if I need your help,” he says. Phainon tilts his head back, laughing. Clearly, this effect of the black tide can’t be too serious if Mydei’s still able to argue with him, competitive as he always is.
Phainon waves a hand in Mydei’s direction, trusting that he’s still looking. By the quiet huff of annoyance he hears, he figures that he’s successful in communicating his indifference. As a plus, irritating Mydei will always be entertaining. The way his face scrunches up tight, face going brilliantly red…
Titans, Phainon might be going insane. Holding his breath, he listens as Mydei begins to prepare himself — shedding his gauntlets and doing whatever else he seems to need to do first.
Anticipation rests in his stomach, heavy.
Within a few, tension-filled, minutes, the sounds of Mydei — of Mydei touching himself — start to echo in the silence of the room, until Phainon’s sure that he’ll be hearing them in his dreams for the rest of his life. For the rest of his potentially very short life, because he’s certain that if Mydei could see the arousal flooding his body, he’d do nothing less than kill him. And, honestly, Phainon would be honored.
He wants to turn around.
“Ngh!” Mydei whines, loud enough to hear, and Phainon just about loses it. White-knucked, he grips the bottom of the bench, wincing as it digs into his skin. There’s another loud, slick sound, and a piece of marble crumbles underneath Phainon’s grip.
Titans.
Images of what could’ve caused that sounded reverberate through Phainon’s mind. Eyes squeezed shut, he imagines Mydei, slumped over, with his strong fingers tugging at his chest, rubbing at his sensitive skin. His head tilted back, soft sounds escaping his spit-slicked lips. Glassy eyes, near black.
Phainon swallows.
Warmth, already flowing through his veins, races until it pools low in his stomach. In his pants, his cock twitches.
Under his breath, Phainon recites all of the prayers to every Titan he knows — Kephale, carry our sins and misfortunes, Mnestia, grant us romance — until he’s calmed himself down enough. He loosens his grip, laying his hands across his legs. He’s fine. He’s normal! He won’t entirely embarrass himself in front of Mydei. For now, at least.
He’s tempted to ask Mydei to make less noise, but that seems like it’d be looking a gift horse in the mouth, and Phainon’s never been the type to do so. If the Titans grant him only this, he’ll accept it as the salvation it is.
Luckily, Mydei stays mercifully quiet for a few more minutes, though the slick sounds are almost worse. Without the image, it allows far too many opportunities for Phainon’s thoughts to wander.
“Mmph,” Mydei grunts eventually, a sound of frustration slipping from his lips. “I—I can’t.”
As soon as he says it, he goes silent.
“Mydei?”
“Deliverer,” Mydei says, voice rough and frustrated. “Don’t even start.”
Oh, so he’s pretending that he didn’t say that, then? Phainon knows that “can’t” is a hard word for Mydei, but, come on, there’s a line.
“Don’t start what?” Phainon says innocently.
Mydei doesn’t respond. If Phainon turned now, he’s sure he’d see a glare fixed on him.
“You know,” Phainon stretches his arms above his head. “I bet that I can do it better.”
If competition doesn’t motivate Mydei, what will?
“HKS.”
“You’ve been sitting over there, by yourself, and nothing’s happening, is it?” Phainon says. “You’re not exactly quiet.”
There’s a beat of silence, before: “Try your hardest, Deliverer.”
Phainon blinks. That worked?
Before Mydei can think to change his mind, Phainon turns around, almost eager.
In front of him, Mydei’s sitting with his back against the bench, chest heaving. His nipples are red and puffy, and Phainon feels a stab of heat, curling through his body. Titans. He trails his eyes along a slick line of milk, tracing down Mydei’s chest.
“Deliverer.” Mydei says, and Phainon snaps his eyes back up to Mydei’s face. He strides over, fast as he can, before settling down in front of Mydei.
There’s not quite enough space for them, like this. Both of them are muscular, tall men, so. It’s difficult. Phainon edges in, until his knees barely touch the sides of Mydei’s warm thighs. Mydei spreads them without a word, and Phainon moves until he’s slotted between them, perfectly fit against Mydei.
With Mydei’s legs around his hips, it’s almost like —
Kephale, carry our sins and misfortunes, Mnestia, grant us romance…
Phainon swallows.
Faced with the actual sight of Mydei like this, Phainon’s suddenly… not exactly quite sure how he should go about any of this. Sure, Hyacine explained some of what he needs to do, but his mind is going blank.
“How should I start?” Phainon asks.
“What, not so confident anymore?” Mydei says, and Phainon wants to kiss the smirk off of his face.
“Hah!” Phainon shakes his head, laughing. “Alright, then.”
With their proximity, it’s all Phainon can do to move his hands from his side to Mydei’s chest. They’re really doing this, huh? Phainon’s really doing it, because Mydei doesn’t have much of a choice.
As light as he can, he brushes his fingers against Mydei’s nipple, careful not to press too hard. Still, even with the soft pressure, Mydei shudders beneath him. Phainon pulls back like he’s been shocked, but —
Oh. That makes sense. Mydei must be sensitive, Phainon realizes. There’s no way he was being gentle to himself, as embarrassed as he was.He grazes against them again, and Mydei winces, mouth drawing to the side. His legs tighten around Phainon’s hips.
He’s so responsive, Phainon thinks. Phainon’s not sure that he’ll be able to even… help Mydei out, not when he’s so affected by Phainon’s touch.
Phainon stills, leaning back. He doesn’t want to push Mydei. Especially with something as unique as this case. It already took a lot to get Mydei where he is now.
“Mydei,” he says. “Do you want to take a break?”
Like a flash, Mydei’s eyes open wide and his hand shoots out to grab at Phainon’s wrists. “Like hell we’re taking a break. Get on with it, Deliverer.”
Feisty, Phainon thinks. It’s nice hearing Mydei practically beg for Phainon to touch him, though.
He does as he’s told. With Mydei’s hand still encircling his wrist, with his thighs still solid on either side of Phainon, he cups his tits in his hands, before squeezing. Still gentle, but he’s not holding back like he was. Titans, Mydei’s tits feel like heaven in his hands. He rubs a calloused thumb over the soft, pink skin of Mydei’s nipples.
Mydei keens, loud, fingers tightening around Phainon’s wrist. “HKS!”
The sound rushes straight to Phainon’s cock, arousal already brewing deep in his gut since he first saw Mydei. It’s not like he’s never thought about it before — maybe not lactation, specifically — but it’s still… Anyways, he’s careful to keep his hips a few inches away from Mydei, even if they’re touching in so many other ways. Neither of them need that.
He doesn’t let up, massaging the tissue until, finally, a droplet of milk beads at the nipple.
“Mydei!” He says. “I got it!”
Mydei doesn’t respond, but he presses his chest into Phainon’s hands, trembling. He must feel so much relief, Phainon thinks. He thumbs over Mydei’s nipples again, now slick with his milk.
Phainon feels his mind start to go hazy. It’s like a wet dream, Mydei’s tits, full and heavy, dripping with milk. He can’t help himself from touching Mydei like he wants to touch him, soft and sensitive and feeling for the spots that make him arch up. He pulls as many sounds from him as he can, until Mydei’s brought a hand up to cover his mouth, and has his eyes squeezed shut.
But, as much as Phainon tries and tries…
“My fingers aren’t working,” Phainon says, after a few minutes of unsuccessfully tugging at Mydei’s tits. Apart from those first few stray drops of milk spilling down his chest, there hasn’t been too much progress. Mydei’s tits are still a swollen, angry red, heaving as he pants. Phainon’s still halfway to hard in his pants, and is only not fully there because he’s as concentrated as he can be.
Mydei looks at him with big amber eyes, wet with unshed tears. He presses his lips together tightly. Phainon desperately tries not to lose control, moving his hands until he can dig his fingertips into his own thighs.
“We need to try something else, Mydei.”
“W—What do you propose, then, Deliverer?” Mydei’s voice comes out shaky and low. His eyes narrow at Phainon and Titans, Phainon only finds it hot. Warmth rushes to his cock, and Phainon realizes that he’s Pavlov-ing himself. The next time Mydei glares at him while they’re sparring, he’ll be hard in his training gear. Worth it, though.
“Healers?” Phainon says, though selfishly, he doesn’t really want anyone else to see Mydei in this state.
“No,” Mydei replies just as quickly. “I don’t want the healers here.”
At least they’re on the same page, huh.
“Okay,” Phainon says. “No healers, then. Any ideas of what we can do?”
“...No.”
Phainon leans back, as far as he can get from Mydei in their current position, placing his hands on the ground behind him. All he can think about are Mydei’s tits, how heavy they are, how uncomfortable Mydei must be getting. He thinks about how he could help, and, somehow, a thought escapes his lips.
“I mean,” he says. “I could use my mouth.”
It feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. Inside thoughts, Phainon! Think before you speak.
“I mean,” he rambles. “That’s probably not the best, um, way to go about this? Maybe we can just try again? Or maybe gravity has an impact on it… I don’t know much about, uh, lactation, but —”
“Fine,” Mydei says, turning his red face into his shoulder. “Do it, Deliverer.”
That’s about as enthusiastic as Mydei will get, so Phainon shifts back onto his knees. He places his hands onto Mydei’s thighs in order to get some leverage. Leaning above Mydei, he checks in, one more time.
“You’re sure this is okay?” He says.
“Don’t make this weird,” Mydei grits out, before a strong hand wraps around the back of Phainon’s head, tugging him face-first into his chest.
Phainon’s first few thoughts are much, much too explicit to enumerate.
His second thoughts are about how plump Mydei’s tits are. Obviously, he knew that from touching them, but it's an entirely different thing, having his face shoved between a solid pair. If he died suffocating between these, it would be a life well-lived.
However unfortunately, Phainon can’t spend forever buried in Mydei’s chest. He shifts until he’s in front of Mydei’s nipple, then licks over it, just slightly, flicking his tongue out. Under him, Mydei shivers, arching up into his touch.
Embarrassingly, the first thing Phainon notices is the taste.
It’s sweet.
It being Mydei, how could it be anything less than sweet?
He leans in again, eager to get another taste. This time, though, he sucks the nipple into his mouth, and it’s like a dam breaking. Milk floods into his mouth, sweet and thick. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to drink it, but he ends up swallowing it, only a little bit escaping his lips and dripping down Mydei’s chest.
Titans. It’s addictive.
Inescapable heat rushes through Phainon’s entire body. He rushes to strip himself of his shirt — slightly wet with Mydei’s milk — before tossing it to the side. Like everything else he’s done tonight, this makes it feel more like a lovers’ embrace than a show of friendship. Phainon can’t stop himself, though.
Mydei keeps making these noises.
They’re always muffled, somewhat, but he’s so mouthy, so much more than he is in his daily life that Phainon finds himself drinking them in, relishing in his sounds.
He’s losing it, he thinks.
He shifts to the other side, before licking slightly at the skin there. He grazes his teeth over Mydei’s nipple, and —
Mydei whines. Loud, and like music to Phainon’s ears, making its way through his body like sweet, heavy, honey. Arousal seeps into him so deeply that he thinks it could become a permanent part of him. He wants more. Phainon needs more so, so badly, that he thinks he might die if he doesn’t get it.
He takes Mydei’s nipple into his mouth, biting down slightly, and Mydei’s hands land on top of his head. They don’t quite pull him in, but they don’t push him away, either. They just land there, threading through his hair. Phainon moans at the skin-to-skin contact, mouth against Mydei’s chest.
“D—Deliverer,” Mydei says, halfway to a moan.
Phainon pulls back slightly, though he keeps his mouth pressed to Mydei’s nipple. He licks his lips, savoring the taste. “Yes?”
“Is this really n—necessary?” Phainon takes Mydei’s nipples back into his mouth. Who cares about necessity when he has Mydei in front of him like this, red and flushed and wanting?
He sucks until he can finally taste milk on his tongue, and then sucks more when he thinks about how it’s all Mydei — Mydei’s taste on his tongue, his thighs around Phainon’s legs, his skin pressed against his lips. It’s all him.
Phainon’s hard. He’s sure that there’s a wet spot in his pants, ample evidence of arousal present. He wants this. He wants Mydei. He’ll settle for sucking at his tits, bringing a hand up to grope at Mydei’s chest where his mouth can’t reach. This is what he needs.
Mydei’s hands stay steady in his hair, combing through it every so often, never pulling him away. It’s nice. Eventually, he tugs at Phainon’s hair.
He remains steadfast in his efforts, but…
It’s coming out slower, now, somehow. Phainon pouts. He wants more.
To get more, he reasons, he needs to get closer. Phainon has to move in, press closer to Mydei, and, when he does —
Mydei’s hard in his pants.
“HKS!” Mydei says, and now he is pulling Phainon’s hair. Ouch.
He pulls Phainon out of reach, until Phainon’s left with both of his hands on either side of Mydei’s trim waist. Their hips are still flush with each other, and Phainon can’t help but push forward, ever so slightly.
“I want to,” he says. “Mydei, will you let me?”
“D—Deliverer.”
Phainon pouts. “It’s a symptom,” he blurts, suddenly remembering. “I’m helping you deal with the symptoms, so this counts, right?”
Mydei eyes him warily. “Y — You’re pushing the line, HKS.”
Phainon sticks his lower lip even further out. All self respect he could hope to have flies out the window. He grinds his hips forward as much as he can, Mydei hiccupping underneath him. He gasps, loud, on one particular thrust.
“Doesn’t it feel good, Mydei?” Phainon leans in as much as Mydei’s strong grip permits. He whispers into the shell of Mydei’s ear.
“I—” Mydei says, weakly trying to draw his knees together. Phainon stops them with two strong hands, pulling them apart again. Mydei keens, hips pushing up to meet Phainon’s.
“Shh,” Phainon coos. “It’s a symptom, remember? Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
Mydei glares at him. Phainon smiles back.
He moves one hand up to Mydei’s chest, thumbing at the sensitive skin there. A bead of milk comes out, and he swipes it away, bringing his thumb to his mouth, sucking it clean.
“Please?” Phainon says. Mydei sighs, and Phainon knows he’s won. He knew that Mydei was weak to his begging.
Mydei squeezes his eyes shut. “G—Go ahead,” he says, before spreading his thighs wider, until Phainon can press in, close.
The relief is instantaneous. Phainon can’t help himself from moving his hands and gripping tight at Mydei’s waist, using his grip as leverage to grind harder, pulling their lower halves together. It feels like molten heat, everywhere they touch, sparks flying.
Still, It’s not enough. No matter how Phainon pushes and pulls, he can’t quite get the friction that he wants. His pants are too tight to anything to be pleasurable enough, even with the faces Mydei makes underneath him. It seems the same for Mydei, covered in sweat and groaning.
“I can’t get, ngh, leverage like this,” Phainon gasps out. “Can we, uh, shed our layers?”
Mydei, eyes wet and teary, looks up at him. Phainon gulps.
Wordlessly, Mydei tilts his hips up until he can shove his thumbs into his pants, struggling to pull them down. Phainon’s expecting undergarments of some kind, but there’s nothing. Mydei’s bare, head to toe, all soft skin and red tattoos.
Titans.
Phainon can’t stop himself from staring. Mydei’s cock is hard, fully erect where he sits, flushed a pretty pink, all the way to the head. He traces his eyes up Mydei’s body, until he shifts, red rushing to his cheeks.
“Deliverer,” Mydei says. Fine, Phainon’ll get on with it.
Hooking his fingers into the loops of his pants, he tugs them down, slowly, and off. Mydei’s eyes eagerly track the item of clothing as he tosses them to the side. As an afterthought, Phainon tugs his undergarments down too. He doesn’t want to ruin them more than he already has, wet spot and all, and, well, why have Mydei feel lonely, right?
His cock bobs heavy between his thighs. This doesn’t feel like he’s just helping Mydei out, anymore.
Under him, Mydei makes a noise. When Phainon glances at him, he finds that Mydei is staring, wide-eyed, at Phainon’s cock.
Suddenly a wave of self-consciousness hits him. He’s hard, obviously, but maybe Mydei’s disappointed? Phainon’s never thought too much about his size, and he’s definitely bigger than Mydei, but… who knows what Mydei’s seen?
“Is it,” Phainon gulps, “small?”
He doesn’t want to see the expression on Mydei’s face, but he has to, looking up at him with big eyes. Mydei’s face goes bright red, cheeks flushing, before his face changes to one of confusion.
Mydei’s eyes flick up to Phainon’s, his eyebrows scrunched together. “What?” he says. “No, let’s just…”
His ankle digs into Phainon’s back, pulling him close. Phainon’s not entirely convinced, but his cock rubs against the soft skin of Mydei’s inner thigh, and he’s not thinking about much of anything anymore.
The first press of their cocks against each other is heavenly. Divine, even, perfect, exactly how he’d always imagined. He slides back, before pushing forward again. Their precum slicks the way and Phainon’s able to thrust in long, heavy strokes, skin-to-skin.
“Good?” Phainon huffs out, breathy. He shifts them, finally, so that Mydei’s on his back, propped up by all of their discarded clothes. The healers had left a pillow of some sort, too, that Phainon manages to push under Mydei’s back so that he’s not lying on the floor of the baths. Mydei goes willingly, gripping to Phainon’s arms.
Like this, in this position, it’s somehow more intimate. He wraps a hand around both of their cocks, best he can. When Phainon fucks forward, it’s like he’s fucking into Mydei, into warm, slick heat. When he tightens his grip, Mydei groans, sliding his cock against Phainon’s.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Phainon’s head is growing hazy. What is he here for, again? Mydei was lactating?
He can’t be bothered to care, anymore, not with this pressure around his cock. He’s close, now, just a bit more, but —
Phainon pulls back, loosening his grip. Mydei moans below him, trying to follow his hand. Cute. His cock, flushed an angry red, lies heavy on his stomach.
Phainon feels the same, drawing back from the edge like the tide pulls away. He wants to fuck back into the tightness of his own hand, but that’s not what this is about. If Phainon’s honest, that’s not what he wants the most at all.
“De — Deliverer?” Mydei says, vulnerable. He doesn’t make a move to touch his own cock and that, too, makes Phainon ache between his thighs. Mydei’s perfect.
With Mydei’s thighs still spread wide, he can see the small clench of Mydei’s hole. There’s something glistening around it, like it’s already slick. Phainon moves a hand down, cupping Mydei’s ass, before rubbing a thumb under his hole.
“I want to… Mydei, can I fuck you?”
He’s expecting some pushback, a little resistance, maybe, but, instead, Mydei draws his thighs to his chest, exposing the soft, milky skin there. His lower lip juts out in a pout.
“It’s a symptom,” Phainon repeats. If he says it enough, maybe he’ll start believing that that’s the reason he’s doing all of this. To help. “Can’t you feel it, Mydei, you’re wet down here. Didn’t the healers tell you anything about this?”
Mydei shakes his head. “They — they didn’t mention anything like this.”
“Maybe it’s part of the, uh, arousal they mentioned,” Phainon says, voice shaky. “I mean, Mydei, you’re soaked. Shouldn’t we deal with it like this, then? Don’t you want some relief?”
Unsurely, Mydei nods. He squirms under Phainon’s gaze.
With that, Phainon presses a finger to Mydei’s hole, pushing just the tip in. Before he can press any farther in, Mydei’s hands land on his arm, squeezing.
“No,” Mydei says, and Phainon draws back like he’s been shocked. “I — I want to do it.”
Eyes wide, Phainon watches in anticipation as Mydei brings his own hand down, before he presses two fingers in easily. Phainon wonders if he’s done this before — he’s moving like he knows what to do, arching up under his own touch, moving without much resistance — and, at the thought, heat floods to his cock.
While Mydei opens himself up, Phainon busies himself with sucking on Mydei’s tits, lapping at the skin there. They’re no longer quite as full as they were, no longer as heavy, but they’re still big, cupped in Phainon’s large hands. There’s not as much milk coming out, nor are they as sensitive, but Phainon still gets a reaction every time he grazes his teeth against the skin.
Soon, one of Mydei’s hands lands in his hair, pushing him up.
“I’m ready,” Mydei says.
Phainon swallows. He sits up on his knees, before grabbing at Mydei’s hips and tugging them flush with his own. Pressing the head of his cock to Mydei’s slick, warm hole, he pushes in, slow. Mydei clenches around him tight, hiccupping.
“Titans,” Phainon groans, dropping his head, moving his arms so that he’s holding himself up above Mydei. He carves out a spot for himself, inch by inch. He goes at a dromas’ pace, steady, engulfed in the heat of Mydei’s body. It’s the best thing he’s ever felt. “Mydei, you’re so —”
Mydei looks up at him through wet eyelashes, cheeks flushed red. His chest bounces with every thrust. Phainon soaks it in greedily, watching the movement of the soft fat. “Deliverer.”
“It’s good, right?” Phainon says. He almost thanks the black tide for giving him this opportunity but thinks better of it at the last second. Some things can stay between him and Kephale. Instead, he brings a hand back up to Mydei’s chest, cupping his tits softly. Phainon thinks he might be obsessed with them.
Mydei notices, because of course he does.
“You — you like them,” Mydei says. Captain Obvious over here. Still, the way he fights to spit out the question is endearing. Cute, cute, cute.
“Your tits?” Phainon says. Mydei blushes a furious red. “Yeah, I like them. You walk around with them out all the time, you think I haven’t been looking?”
Mydei’s hands flex around Phainon’s arms, tight. “You’ve… looked?”
Phainon laughs. He “It’s not just me that’s looking, Crown Price. Half of Okhema has their eyes fixed on you every time you enter the city. What, haven’t you noticed how they watch our spars? No one’s that interested in sparring techniques, Mydei.”
Mydei frowns. “Maybe not your sparring techniques, Deliverer.”
Cute. Mydei can’t even admit that he’s attractive. Phainon fucks all of the way in, then, until he’s bottomed out, hips flush to Mydei’s ass and thighs. Mydei jerks underneath him, moaning loud.
“Ngh, D—Deliverer!”
“That’s what they all want to do,” Phainon says, leisurely rolling his hips. It’s getting harder and harder to hold back, molten heat burning through his core, but he desperately, desperately wants to see Mydei fall apart first. “‘Spar’, maybe, but they’re all jealous of me. Every time you hold me down, every time I barely eke out a victory, I can see the envy, crawling off of them.”
“Liar,” Mydei says, stuttering. He squeezes his eyes shut as Phainon starts to set a steady pace, one hand still thumbing over Mydei’s nipples. “It’s — they want you.”
“Me?” Phainon says, taken aback. His hips still. Mydei’s face is flushed red with embarrassment, turned to the side to avoid Phainon’s gaze. Phainon’s going to lose it. He fucks in, steady and deliberate, until Mydei whines, loud and high, wrapping his thighs around Phainon’s side. Fuck. “Mydei, are you sure you’re not projecting?”
Mydei glares then, but doesn’t say anything, and Phainon’s stomach does a flip, toppling and turning over itself. He’s losing it, he’s sure. Mydei must be denying it, somewhere in another universe, and Phainon’s just not hearing it. Regardless, his cock doesn’t get the message, somehow getting even harder inside of Mydei. He fucks in, deep.
Around him, Mydei’s slick and warm, clenching with every thrust. Phainon’s cock drags against his insides, before he fucks in, again and again and again. He keeps tugging at Mydei’s tits too, small droplets of milk pooling in the space between them.
Phainon’s eyes catch on the liquid, milky-white against his tan skin. He wants to taste it, so he does, ducking his head down. He licks up the stream of milk on Mydei’s chest, pressing small kisses and bites to the skin there, before he moves to Mydei’s collarbone, leaving marks there too. His skin is sweet, Phainon thinks. It tastes and smells like him, clean and sweet, with a faint scent of pomegranate. He licks a stripe up Mydei’s neck, savoring salty sweat.
Mydei squirms underneath him, sensitive, before a hand is fisted into his hair — again? — and he’s brought face-to-face with Mydei.
Their breaths mingle for a second, staring into each other’s eyes — amber is Phainon’s new favorite color — before Mydei surges up, capturing Phainon’s lips in an open-mouth kiss, gasping out little “HKS”’s into his mouth. Phainon licks into his mouth, savoring the taste of Mydei, sweet as his milk. Mydei stays pliant underneath him, soft and supple and perfect, somehow.
Phainon fucks in, harder, deeper, pulling back from Mydei’s mouth. Mydei tries to chase his mouth — cute — but Phainon stops him, hooking a finger into his hot, slick mouth. His other hand lands, heavy, on the inside of one of Mydei’s thighs, pushing it up and towards his chest so that Phainon can get a better angle. It must work, because Mydei makes a punched-out sound, arching into his touch.
So that’s where Phainon needs to press, huh?
Setting a harsh pace, he fucks into Mydei, stretching him out. Titans, he’s wet. Phainon takes his slick fingers from Mydei’s mouth, before tracing them around his hole, where he and Mydei intersect. Collecting his wetness, Phainon brings a slippery hand up to grab at Mydei’s cock, jerking him once, twice.
Mydei rocks his hips into Phainon’s grasp, cock weeping into his hand. Phainon swipes his thumb over the head, grinning as Mydei shudders under him.
“Close, D—Deliverer,” Mydei says, and Phainon tightens his grip, almost too tight, at the base of Mydei’s cock.
“HKS,” Mydei hisses.
“That’s not my name,” Phainon says, slowing his hips. He fucks into Mydei slowly, carefully pushes against the spot that Mydei likes. He does it a few times, watching as Mydei shudders under him, until he finally, finally gives in.
There’s a beat, before —
“Phainon,” Mydei says, voice ragged and Phainon fucks into him, rough, moving his hand in time. Titans, that’s near enough to push Phainon over the edge.
First, though, he wants to see Mydei come, so he fucks into him, jerking him off at the same time. He does it until Mydei’s near oversensitive, and then keeps at it, until he’s spilling milky-white over Phainon’s palm. Then, too, Phainon moves until Mydei’s squirming underneath him.
He fucks into him until warmth curls in his gut, before finally tipping over the edge, hips pressed against Mydei. Stars flash behind his eyes, and he finally comes into Mydei’s tight, slick heat.
Some time later, Phainon pulls out, drawing back onto his knees. He sees his spend, dripping out of Mydei, and wow. He’s almost ready to go again. Still, Mydei’s — somehow — sleeping soundly, face smoothed out in sleep, and so Phainon has to curse his cock back down.
He presses his face into Mydei’s neck instead, and falls asleep like that, bodies flush against each other.
***
Hyacine bows in front of him and Mydei, awkwardly looking at the ground.
“Sorry…” she says. “Um, the black tide symptoms don’t actually include arousal. I misread it.”
Phainon blinks.
“Huh?”
“Any arousal you would’ve felt is yours alone, not a known effect.”
Phainon glances towards Mydei, who’s already looking at him, wide-eyed.
Well, fuck.