Work Text:
The sound of children laughing reaches Phainon as he exits the lift, stepping into the Garden.
Mydeimos is reclining with a fruit platter on a sunbed, his body glowing in the sunlight. His chalice is half-full with pinkish pomegranate juice. His chiton is loose. The white cloth pools in his lap, revealing the relaxed lines of his muscles. His fiery blond hair is being pulled every direction by young girls attempting to clumsily braid it, a flower crown sitting on top of his head.
Calmly, Mydeimos raises his chalice to clink it against a young girl's cup, smiling.
That afternoon, when Mydeimos is soaking in his private bath, Phainon sinks into the water with him, forgetting all about etiquette and proper manners.
He just can’t wait to have him. His hands grope every part of Mydeimos’ body, tracking his palms over his clenching stomach, his slim waist, his muscular thighs, his breasts, his brown nipples. Phainon can’t get inside him fast enough.
“Deliverer, what—”
Mydei’s mouth falls open as he enters him. He’s tight and searing hot. Phainon can’t seem to slow down, the bath water splashing around him from how roughly he bottoms out, Mydei scratching his back hard enough to draw blood as he manhandles him over the edge to fuck him hard without a moment’s reprieve.
Mydei’s naked body is glistening wet from the bathwater, slippery and frictionless on the tiled floor so he helplessly slides around from his hard thrusts without purchase. Their bodies slap together. The punishing claps echo in the empty bath chamber, obscenely wet from their water-slick skin connecting. Mydei’s hard cock is trapped and neglected between their stomachs. Phainon bites and kisses every inch of golden tan skin his mouth comes into contact with, shivering at the pain of Mydei pulling his hair in retaliation.
“What’s wrong with you?” Mydei demands breathlessly. Phainon pulls back to throw one of his legs over his shoulder, sinking deep inside him, his hips jerking as the silky muscles clench around his cock.
Mydei’s eyes cross as he nails his prostate.
“Yes… ” he huffs, arching his back. Mydei’s deepest, most intimate parts throb around him.
His lashes are dark and thick, all his features strong and regal and beautiful to the point of absurdity. The muscle in his neck is standing out, his hair a tangled mess.
He remembers it being haphazardly braided.
Phainon pulls out, flipping Mydei onto his stomach, beginning to take him so hard his belly slaps against the floor. Ordinarily, Phainon would need to be convinced to give up the sight of Mydei's face voluntarily. But right now, for some reason, he’s too hungry to be gentle. Mydei pants like a beast underneath him, hiccuping from how rough and deep he’s going. Phainon’s eyes are stuck to where his cock sinks in and out of him, the delicate pink skin stretching around him, his muscular, well defined ass perfectly filling his palms as he squeezes at his toned hips, stroking along his tattoos.
“More,” Mydei manages, his back muscles rippling with beautiful dappled shadows beneath his skin, “More, harder, I need it—”
Phainon fists a hand in his hair, Mydei drooling with his tongue against the floor as he mates him like an animal.
“Haa… Haa…Yes…”
Phainon sinks his teeth into his shoulder, his hip jerking, his cock throbbing through a mind-numbing orgasm, filling Mydei with pulses and pulses of hot, thick cum. He moans against the back of Mydei's neck, feeling that his whole body has been coated with a layer of sweat. He distractedly reaches down underneath to sloppily jerk Mydei off until he’s whimpering and closing his legs, balls drawing up to spray cum against the bath tiles, making a mess of Phainon’s hand.
They both lie there heaving in silence until eventually Phainon pulls out, rolling beside him on the floor to collapse on his back and stare up at the ceiling.
“So now do you want to tell me what that was about?” Mydei half-heartedly punches him in the shoulder. His voice is so husky and rough, Phainon almost wants to go again right away.
“Is it a crime to make love to you, Mydeimos?”
Mydei rolls over, letting his legs fall open.
Phainon can’t look anywhere but his puffy, swollen entrance, slimy and soft with Phainon’s seed tracing down the inside of his thigh, pooling in globs on the bath tiles. It’s tinted milky gold from the colour of his blood.
“You tore me without any preparation, covering me in bites like an untrained dog,” Mydei scoffs, “What gentle love.”
“Maybe that’s how I love you,” Phainon says. His mouth is dry. His back stings where Mydei’s nails raked through the skin.
“Bullshit.” Mydei climbs on top of him.
Mydei rides him how he likes, pinning Phainon’s wrists to the floor until he’s cumming untouched from his own deep, deliberate stimulation to his prostate with his thighs shaking. The walls of the bath chamber allow Mydei's deep moan to resound rich and smoky in the space, the echoes doing the same thing as Phainon. Recording it a thousand soft times in his head. Phainon is helpless to finish inside him from the sight of Mydei’s mouth hanging open, hair stuck to his mouth, the weight of his chest softly bouncing while he rides him.
How soft his face gets after an orgasm, his skin dewy and flushed.
“No,” Mydei says, looking at Phainon’s face. “Enough.”
A rush of hot cum messily drips out of him as Phainon slips out, streams of it licking his inner thighs.
Wasted.
Phainon finds Mydei in the Okheman market, being tugged along by two children while an expecting mother bashfully apologises to him, keeping two paces behind him. Mydei assures her that he doesn’t mind.
No better than a street peddler selling gossip and spreading rumours, he eavesdrops.
She’s showing. It’s common for pregnant women to cover and wrap themselves with soft cloths to obscure the shape of their changing figure, but she proudly displays it. Her husband is a warrior. She wants everyone to know she’s carrying his child. Mydei asks her how far along she is. She isn’t as far along as her bump suggests, she’s expecting twins.
Phainon takes Mydei against the silk sheets of his huge ornamented bed, pinning both his wrists above his head, his hole slick and sloppy from oil which squelches as Phainon deeply fucks him.
Mydei’s mouth hangs open as he pants. He’s so wet it takes nothing at all to get so deep inside him Mydei’s toes are curling, that he’s softly moaning against Phainon’s neck like he can’t hold back the sound anymore, his fingers curling uselessly where his hands are bound beneath Phainon’s grip.
“Stop… aah… teasing me…”
“Teasing you?”
“HKS,” he pants, his wrists struggling against his grip. His belly clenches. “Nnh… You know…”
Mydei’s leaking so much. Clear beads tracing down his hard, thick cock. Glistening in the curly, dark blond pubic hair. His abs tensing and untensing.
Even though Phainon wants to prolong his pleasure and savour him, he just can’t right now. He feels too good. Hot, tight, needy. His strong thighs are wrapped around Phainon’s waist, keeping him in place, pinning him just as much as Phainon with his ankles crossed around his lower back.
Without meaning to, his pace gets faster, rougher. He’s imagining what his entrance will look like after he’s done. The swollen, soft skin shimmering with moisture. His breathing gets ragged. He’d push it back inside him with his fingers, laying Mydei’s lower back over his royal pillows, elevating him so not a single drop made it back out.
Every deep movement sounds soaking wet, like Phainon had already…
Phainon gasps as his orgasm suddenly falls upon him, nearly collapsing on top of Mydei where he holds his wrists.
Every throb of his cock is as intense as a bolt of lightning. He can’t control the strength of his grip, the bones of Mydei’s wrists twisting beneath his hand.
Phainon’s chest heaves as he stares down at Mydei, nearly yelping at every aftershock, white-knuckling the bedsheets so his wobbly knees don't completely give up on him. He’s become like some sort of savage, feral beast.
“Are you not training properly?” Mydei breathlessly moans. Phainon helplessly, almost painfully, mashes their hip bones together, controlled by his body that wants to come as deep as possible inside him and doesn't care about the logistics. Then when he's done and Mydei stops having to squirm around from the uncomfortable pressure, Mydei grouses, “What is sapping you of your stamina? I thought you could keep up with me, Deliverer.”
Phainon laughs, dropping his sweaty forehead against Mydei’s shoulder, finally remembering to let go of Mydei’s wrists. “You look beautiful.”
Mydei narrows his eyes.
“You’re an idiot if you think meaningless flattery is getting you out of this.”
“I don’t want to get out of anything,” Phainon teases him, nipping at his neck.
Of course, because Mydeimos hasn’t been properly satisfied, they go another three rounds until the sheets are ruined with cum and blood.
“Far be it from me to comment on the… personal matters of those under my watch, but I’ve seen less severe wounds inflicted on you from actual battle against the Black Tide…” Aglaea says, staring unseeingly out onto the city below. Her fingers are caught in a cat’s cradle of golden threads, nails gently plucking the strings.
Phainon coughs. “It’s superficial, really…”
That was because Phainon let Mydei ‘battle wound’ him as much as he liked, accepting all his scratches and bruises and bites like Kremnoan scars of honour. It’s not like Phainon hadn’t left Mydei just as bad, the only difference is his conspicuous body that healed away the evidence by morning. Anyway, Phainon somewhat deserves it as – a happily suffered – punishment for how animalistic he’d been with him as of late.
“Is everything alright with you and Mydeimos?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
She suddenly turned to face him. Her cloudy green eyes weren’t pointed directly at him, but Phainon felt his soul was being stared at anyway.
“Hmm.” Her expression was unreadable. Then she turned away again.
The morning after their… coupling, Phainon woke with his nose pressed to Mydei’s nape, his arm draped over his naked body, his fingers splayed out over Mydei’s belly.
“Mydeimos!”
Mydei turns, licking the corner of his mouth. He sets down the chalice he was holding, still a quarter full with pomegranate juice.
It’s a peaceful scene, Mydei in the sunlight while his feet are being handled by a pedicurist. That doesn’t stop Phainon from interrupting to brandish his claymore at him.
“How bold of you,” Mydei says, his eyes glowing with challenge.
But Phainon is too distracted to rise to the taunt. Ordinarily, Mydei’s tight, sculpted upper body is bare to the elements, only his left shoulder covered by a loose mantle. Now, he’s wearing a dark red himation wrapped high enough to completely cover his stomach. Only his chest is exposed, his nipples just a hint of colour peeking above the border between cloth and skin. Even the arm that he normally keeps bare is now elegantly covered in a drape of black linen.
“What is it, Deliverer? Lost your nerve?”
The person tending to his feet gently sets them down into a basin of warm water.
How is it that Mydeimos wearing more clothes gets Phainon’s mouth watering at how indecent he looks?
Phainon plants his claymore, “Shouldn’t I be asking you? I seem to recall a certain Crown Prince challenging me to spar this Action Hour, or is a Kremnoan’s battle honour weaker than I thought?”
That comment starts a bloody, violent fight in the middle of the city, Phainon nearly skewered to death by crystals before Aglaea’s golden strings forcibly separate them by the throat.
Mydei’s feet are still dripping, bare from his interrupted pedicure. All around the square are his wet footprints, to say nothing of the golden blood splatters on the floor and their clothes.
Aglaea clears her throat, stepping down in between them. “I don’t need any more meetings with the Council about these ‘reckless, property-destroying, promiscuous’ Chrysos Heirs running rampant in the streets of Okhema,” she says, her golden thread tightening around his neck until it painfully digs into the skin. “I suppose I can’t stop your rivalry, but you have a duty to uphold. Remember it.”
They separate.
Phainon doesn’t see him again until that evening – marked only by the clock, because Kephale’s everlight is shining as brightly as always.
Mydei challenges him to a drinking competition in the local tavern, but Phainon forgets all about it as Mydei’s hasty drinking causes the pomegranate wine to run a red trail down his throat, pooling in his collarbone, running in between his chest muscles to soak in his modest himation.
Phainon loses track of all his surroundings, the lively atmosphere of a packed drinking hall fading away.
It’s sheer and utter temptation to watch the wine sink between his breasts.
He can’t be blamed for having his way with him after such a sight. Upstairs, in the spare room of the tavern, he takes him. Both of them are keyed up from having a fight interrupted. Phainon slides all of his drapes out of the way, setting him against the wall, lifting one of Mydei’s legs and entering him from behind in a single deep thrust.
Mydei’s himation slips down, exposing his shoulder.
Phainon must have gotten more buzzed than he realised. Mydei feels like hot silk around him.
“Move,” Mydei grunts. Phainon slaps a palm around his mouth, moving deep, slow, and hard inside him.
Mydei’s legs start shaking. Mydei pushes his cheek against his Phainon’s palm, arching his back, muffling his soft, helpless moan.
“ Nn…”
Phainon drops his forehead against his back. Mydei’s tongue is hanging out, he can feel it curled against the inside of his hand, the vibration of his voice tickling his skin. His own legs aren’t faring any better, weak at the knees from how hot he feels around him.
He lays his calf over his forearm, freeing his hand to grope the weight of Mydei’s chest, peeling the material down to finally expose the nipples that have been teasing him all day.
Mydei pushes back against his thrust, skin softly smacking together as it drives his cock even deeper inside. His legs are obscenely spread open like this. It’s such a hassle to hold these fabrics out of the way. He wishes he could see the meat of his ass rippling from the soft impact of meeting Phainon’s stomach every time he bottoms out.
Mydei tries to close his legs, knee scuffing the wall, clenching as tightly as a clamp down on him when Phainon rubs directly at his nipple. They both fall apart at the same time, Mydei biting his hand, Phainon biting his shoulder, focusing every last dreg of energy left in his body in order to hold back the deep moan of pleasure welling up in the deepest part of his stomach.
Mydei’s teeth release his palm with a wet suck, the deep grooves left by his molars reluctant to let go.
Phainon starts to laugh, “I thought these weren’t sensitive?”
“HKS!” Mydei hisses, suddenly wrangling out of his grip. Phainon’s cock unceremoniously slips out of him, cum splattering onto his thighs and the inside of his himation where Phainon had been holding it.
Phainon redirects his hands to Mydei’s waist, not-so-subtly helping him to stand up as Mydei heavily leans his weight forward on the wall, glaring at him. “They’ve been covered all day, that’s the only reason, it’s not anything like you’re suggesting at all. Let go of me.”
“I’m protecting my Prince from falling and hurting himself.”
“You should protect yourself from this Prince hurting you,” he says darkly.
Without him meaning to do it, Phainon’s fingers splay out over Mydei’s stomach.
“Phainon…” Mydei starts.
He’ll have to clean Mydei, figure out what to do about his clothes…
“...You know you can’t get me pregnant, right?”
Phainon’s mouth falls open.
“What?”
The chatter of the busy tavern outside the room filters into the silence.
Is that why…
The image of Mydei dripping with his seed is pulled to the forefront of his mind. He can’t see it right now, but the fantasy is so well-trodden it easily conjures in perfect detail.
… That’s why.
“—I know. Yes. I…” Phainon blurts out, tearing his hand away from Mydeimos’ stomach like it had been burned.
Phainon can’t believe how obscene his desires have become. His himation had reminded him of a maternity wrap…
“Your actions are telling a different story,” Mydei says.
No matter how impossible it is…
Both of them stand there in silence. They are thinking the same thing, only neither says a word. But Mydei can clearly feel Phainon's lips pouting against the back of his neck.
"HKS," Mydei admonishes him again in a stormy voice.
"I wanna try. Again."
Mydei elbows him in the gut and ignores the yelp of pain. Then he says, "Think with your head. The one between your shoulders," he scoffs.
Phainon rests his chin on Mydei's shoulder, wrapping his arms around his body and pressing his weight on his back to fully cover him. He teases him, "Too vulgar? Then... Let me start a family with you, Mydeimos."
Unexpectedly, those light-hearted words spawn a lump in Phainon's throat that doesn't disappear even after several swallows.