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i. hearing
Phoenix fiddles with the buttons of Miles's shirt even as he steps forward. He presses his partner back, back, back, until his calves hit the foot of the bed.
Miles wobbles, vertigo clenching in his stomach. "C-Careful--!"
Phoenix glances up and gives him an absolutely mischievous grin. "Oh," he hums, in that low voice that always makes Miles flush. "Like this?"
Gently, he presses his hand against Miles's shoulder and pushes. In his precarious position, that's all Miles needs to topple over.
As he hits the mattress, the bedframe shifts underneath his weight--
There's a sharp, piercing SQUEAL as wood skids against wood. Immediately, pain shoots through Miles's forehead, and his teeth feel like they're curling in on themselves. He slaps both hands to his ears, but the damage is already done.
Phoenix gasps. "Fuck, Miles, I'm sorry--"
Miles turns over to press his face into the comforter, quite content to keep it there until his molars stop rattling. He lets out an agonized groan to voice his displeasure.
There's a dip in the mattress beside him, and the feeling of Phoenix's hand on his back. "Hey," he mumbles, "I'm really sorry."
"Accident," Miles manages to say, though his voice is muffled considerably.
"You still in the mood?"
"No." Guilt clenches in his chest for a moment.
"That's okay." Phoenix settles fully beside him, draping a warm arm across his back. "Take it easy."
"Mmph..."
ii. taste
As soon as Phoenix shuts the door behind him, Miles is on him. Tugging at his tie, mouthing at his neck, groaning impatiently.
"What took you so long?"
Phoenix laughs, and Miles shudders as the sound vibrates in his throat. "Had to finish up some paperwork after the kids went home early. Took a detour to grab some dinner. Wouldn't have taken my sweet time if I'd known I was coming back to this."
It wasn't often Miles initiated things so suddenly, a fact both of them were fine with. He had to be in the right mood, and ever since he'd returned from work earlier that evening, he had very much been in the right mood.
He kisses his way up Phoenix's face, relishing the faintest rasp of stubble after a long day of work. Phoenix hums appreciatively at the attention.
"You have any plans, or...?"
"Just drinking you in," Miles mutters. He stops only to press a kiss against the scar crossing Phoenix's lips, a silent plea for entry. Phoenix gladly opens his mouth, and Miles wastes no time slipping his tongue inside.
He immediately gags and recoils at the overpowering taste of salt. "Nghk!"
Phoenix bursts into laughter. "What?!"
"How do you choke down those salty noodles?! There's enough sodium in them to kill a lesser man!"
"Not me, though!" the attorney chirps cheerily.
Miles gives him a glare as he wipes his mouth on his sleeve. "Go brush your teeth, will you?" he huffs. "I'm not kissing you like that."
Phoenix cackles all the way down the hall to the bathroom, and despite his annoyance, Miles can't help but crack a smile.
iii. smell
He's in the middle of trying to flip over a pancake laden with chocolate chips, when two hands slide across his waist, gently squeezing his rolls.
Miles rolls his eyes, setting down his spatula and turning around. "Good morning, dear," he sighs.
Phoenix, rumpled and unshaven and currently clothed only in sweatpants, beams at him. "Morning to you too, handsome." He leans in, softly kissing his cheek. Then he moves downwards, nosing at his neck.
Miles chuckles. "Really? This early in the morning?"
"Is that a yes or no?" Phoenix asks into his skin. Miles quivers at the ticklish buzz.
"Mmh... carry on."
He can feel Phoenix grin against him. One arm wraps around his waist, pulling their soft bodies close together, and Phoenix's free hand inches towards his waistband.
Miles reaches up to card a hand through Phoenix's delightfully messy hair. He breathes deeply, catching a hint of cologne, and...
...something burning.
Miles goes rigid. "Wait, Phoenix, breakfast--"
The smoke alarm starts blaring, and Phoenix leaps away from him as though electrified. Miles whips around to try and salvage the currently burning pancakes.
As Phoenix drags over a chair to reach the alarm, he calls out a "sorry!"
"I think this one's on both of us," Miles mutters, embarrassed.
iv. sight
It's a perfectly lazy afternoon on a day off. There's nothing to do, and Miles and Phoenix intend to keep it that way. They're tangled up together, limbs a mess and hair splayed across pillows, perfectly content to just be.
At least, until Phoenix starts shifting around.
"Mm. Uh, Miles?"
"Hm."
"Your thigh's in my crotch."
So it is. Miles cracks an eye open. "Do you... want me to move?"
"Um." Phoenix gives him a shy little smile. "K-Keep it there? Please?"
He's clearly keyed up, and who is Miles to deny him a bit of pleasure on such a fine day? He nods his consent, and Phoenix sighs, squeezing his thighs around Miles's.
Admittedly, it's... arousing, to hear Phoenix's breath quicken, and feel him grind down against Miles. He watches his face flush prettily, and his lips part, with infinite fondness.
But then Phoenix slows. A disturbed expression crosses his face, and he pointedly turns his head away.
"...what? What's wrong?" Miles asks.
"Uh... one of your figurines is... staring at me."
He blinks. Then he sits up and looks at the nightstand. Sure enough, alongside the alarm clock, lamp, Phoenix's painkillers, and Miles's spectacles are his limited edition Steel Samurai figurines, and the Evil Magistrate happens to be pointed in the direction of the bed.
"Just... turn it around," Miles suggests.
"But now he knows," Phoenix whines, burying his face in his pillow. "Urgh, never mind..."
As Miles starts chuckling, Phoenix lifts his head to pull the pillow out from under it, and uses it to whack his lover across the face.
v. touch
"...what the hell are we even watching?"
Miles lifts his head to squint at the television through lopsided glasses. "...I have no idea," he admits.
"Should we change the channel?"
"Doesn't matter," Miles hums, returning to grinding against Phoenix. "I doubt we could find the remote anyway."
Phoenix groans, canting his hips upwards as Miles's hands snake beneath his shirt. "Fuck."
Miles gently scrapes his nails down Phoenix's soft sides, making him shudder. "Was that good?"
"Y-Yeah," he stammers, dazed. "Here, lemme sit up a little."
Miles pulls away from him and shifts his weight backwards, allowing Phoenix to readjust. He gets the armrest under his shoulders, and settles down again.
Then he lurches and yelps as though stuck with a pin. "OW!"
"Phoenix--?!"
Miles jumps as the TV channel abruptly changes from a monster movie to a cooking show. He stares at the screen in bewilderment. "What in--"
Phoenix wheezes. "Found the remote."
vi. kinesthesia
"We, uh... haven't really seen a lot of action lately," he hears Phoenix murmur from somewhere beside him.
In the darkness of their room, Miles sighs. "It's neither of our faults. Things just haven't been lining up right."
"You're not... you're not upset, right? That the mood keeps getting thrown off?" Anxiety creeps into Phoenix's voice.
He doesn't have to see in order to know precisely where Phoenix's hand is. He reaches out to take it, interlacing their fingers without even thinking.
"As long as we're together, dear," Miles hums, "I don't care what we're doing. I'm just glad I have you. I could go the rest of our lives without properly having intercourse with you, so long as you're here with me."
Phoenix sniffles. He lets go of Miles's hand, and rolls over to kiss his temple, finding his target perfectly despite the dark room.
"Thanks. I just... I got worried about all the interruptions. It's... I don't care either, in the end. Long as I've got you."
His voice sounds a little watery. Miles chooses not to comment on it.
"I love you, Miles."
"I love you too, Phoenix."
"...you wanna try again, though?" A hand skims across his chest, gently squeezing once it settles.
Miles rumbles out a laugh. "It's worth a try, love."