Archive of Our Own

“That’s the last one, right?”

Phainon flicks his sword one last time before sheathing it. Castorice, who’s standing a distance away from him, nods quickly, her own scythe disappearing.

“Wow, it’s been ages since we’ve been here,” Phainon says, glancing around the Grove with a soft smile. “I kind of miss our schooling days.”

Castorice lets out a quiet laugh. “Me too.”

Phainon smiles at her. “Well, since we’ve got some time to spare, want to read some books?”

“Yes. I might want to bring some books back to read as well,” Castorice replies, already heading to a particular section. Phainon turns in the opposite direction, wandering around and briefly scanning through the titles before settling on an interesting novel. Before long, he’s completely absorbed.

Some time later, Castorice’s teleslate rings with a notification.

“… Lord Phainon,” Castorice calls out from her section. “I’ve been called by Lady Aglaea for another mission. I’ll take my leave now, but please feel free to stay here and continue your reading.”

“Sure! See you later,” Phainon replies. “Stay safe!”

“You too,” Castorice says softly, and Phainon hears her light footsteps trail off into the distance.

Phainon doesn’t notice how much time has passed until he hits the end of the tenth chapter. He blinks at the page, startled.

“Shucks!” Phainon whispers to himself, snapping the book shut. “The fruit stall…”

He hastily slides the book back into the shelf. If he rushes back now, he can probably still make it on time to help out. As he walks to the exit, he passes the spot where Castorice had been browsing the books. A purple bag leaning against the shelf catches his eye.

Did she forget this? Phainon wonders, picking it up. It’s a little heavy – there’re at least four books in there. I guess I’ll hang on to it first until she’s free to take it back.

Back at home, he puts the bag down on the table, a little messy and conspicuous on purpose so he won’t forget, and heads out again. Hopefully, he won’t be too late.

Phainon’s carrying a crate of fruit when a fight between two old men breaks out near the Marmoreal Market. Phainon quickly sets the crate down and goes up to stop them.

“I told you… You still haven’t paid me back for the loan ten years ago!” One of the men slurs, wobbling around as he tries to grab onto the other man. The latter tries to dodge, but instead he takes an unsteady step back, nearly bumping onto a passerby behind him.

They must be drunk, Phainon thinks. He tries reaching a hand out. “Hey, sirs—”

“I paid it already, you stupid fool! And don’t think I didn’t notice you try to sneak glances at my wife when she was still alive! Stupid!” The second man swings around an empty bottle, threatening to hit the other man. “I won’t hesitate, bitch!”

“Hey!” Phainon exclaims in concern, urgently stepping in between the two. “Please, don’t fi—”

“Who the fuck are you?!” the second man yells, swinging the empty bottle towards him. Phainon braces for the impact. To both their surprise, the bottle slips out of the man’s hand, and he trips, grabbing onto Phainon’s chest for support.

They both freeze for a moment. Phainon puts his hands on the man’s shoulders with the intention of steadying him. “Are you alright, sir…?”

The man stares at his face, then looks down at his hands currently cupping Phainon’s chest. And then, he squeezes.

“Wha—” Phainon stammers, frozen. What on Amphoreus is happening here? He’s so surprised that he doesn’t react. He just stands there and lets it happen.

Suddenly, a firm hand clamps down on the man’s arm, pulling it harshly away from Phainon. A familiar voice – low and edged with warning – cuts through the chaos right beside Phainon’s ear.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Phainon’s breath catches. It’s Mydei. He’s so close that Phainon can feel the warmth radiating from his bare skin. He glances up, noticing Mydei’s sharp glare directed at the man in front of them, before Mydei looks back at him with a strange gaze for a brief moment. It’s oddly comforting.

“Who are—” the drunk man meets Mydei’s eyes and suddenly shuts up.

“You’re a public nuisance. And what you did earlier was unacceptable.” He shoves the man’s arm away and crosses his own over each other. “Apologise to the Deliverer.”

Phainon blinks. “No, it’s fine, Mydei…”

Mydei glares sideways at him, and Phainon keeps his mouth shut. Mydei turns to the first man, who’s clearly looking for an escape route amidst all the confusion. “And you. Don’t you dare run away.”

Suddenly, it looks like Mydei is scolding a pair of children throwing a tantrum, which makes for a comical scene for the passersby who have gathered to watch. The two old men exchange a look before kneeling down in front of Mydei together. “Sorry…”

Mydei looks at Phainon. “Are you okay with this?”

Huh? Phainon didn’t even ask him to do any of this. “Ah, yes…”

He turns to face the two men on the ground. “Please, stand up. Just don’t cause trouble for others anymore, alright?”

The two old men nod, hastily getting up before making themselves scarce. Phainon slowly turns back to Mydei. “What was that for, Mydei? You didn’t have to do all that.”

Mydei turns to face away from him. “You were just standing there, letting him do whatever. Was I supposed to just sit by and watch, Deliverer?”

“Oh,” Phainon breathes out, a little surprised. “He was drunk. It probably wasn’t even on purpose.”

Mydei glares at him. “Are you serious? He grabbed you.”

“Yeah, but—” Phainon laughs awkwardly. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just me.”

Something in Mydei’s expression shifts.

“Don’t do that,” he mutters, voice low but firm.

“Do what?”

“Act like it doesn’t matter because it happened to you and not someone else,” Mydei says, his jaw tightening.

Phainon opens his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. His smile falters for half a second before he pastes it back on. And Mydei sees it.

He exhales sharply through his nose, clearly frustrated with Phainon. “Forget it.”

Then he humphs, fully turning around to walk away. Phainon’s stomach twists, and he hurries forward, grabbing Mydei’s arm. “Wait.”

Mydei turns back with a questioning glare, though honestly, that’s just his neutral expression. “What is it?”

“You know I don’t like owing favours,” Phainon replies with a small grin, trying to smooth the tension. “I was planning to make some dinner for myself later. It might not be as good as yours, but I can make some for you too? If you’re free to have dinner with me, of course.”

Mydei sighs, but the edge in his posture softens.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he says. “But… sure.”

After getting roped into helping the fruit stall too, Mydei ends up staying longer than either of them expected. Once the work is done, they spend some time playing with the kids in the square, letting themselves get pulled and led around by the excited children. By the time they leave, they’re both covered in sweat and dirt.

The bathhouse is a little quiet this time. They clean up, trading a few dry remarks and talking about their day, mainly Phainon’s, before heading out.

They finally reach Phainon’s place. Phainon guides Mydei to sit on a resting chair, giving him a small smile. “You can wait here for a bit. I’ll get some things ready.”

Mydei watches Phainon walk off and disappear down the hallway. Left alone, he lets out a quiet breath and glances around the room.

He directs his attention towards a purple bag on the table, half-open with some books sticking out. It feels a little out of place in the otherwise neat room. He hesitates for a moment, then walks over. He isn’t snooping, not really. The books look like they’re about to fall off, and maybe—maybe it’s just the instinct to fix things.

He stands over the bag of books, adjusting them so they line up nicely.

And then he sees it.

Phainon comes back with some plates of food. Instead of seeing Mydei seated leisurely on the resting chair like he told him to, he finds him standing against the table, head tilted down.

“Mydei? What are you doing?”

No response. Phainon frowns and goes over to place the food down. He takes a quick glance over Mydei’s shoulder to see what he’s so engrossed in. One of Castorice’s books?

“Nicado brushes his fingers lightly against Caos’ neck, leans in close, and lets out a slow breath – hot against Caos’ skin. A soft noise escapes his lips. At the sound, a smirk slowly curls on Nicado’s face. ‘Seems like you liked that.’”

The realisation hits Phainon like a running dromas. This book… is not like the others.

As his body catches up to his brain, he flinches and snatches the book from Mydei’s hands.

“W-why are you looking through these books?” Phainon blurts, voice cracking slightly. Why did Castorice want to keep this book of all things?

Mydei finally regards Phainon’s presence, muttering gruffly, “… You should organise your things properly. They looked like they were going to fall.”

Phainon feels the heat creeping up his neck. “… Sorry. I’ll do that next time.”

A beat of silence passes.

“… So they’re really yours?” Mydei asks, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Phainon freezes. Inside, panic starts clawing at his chest. He wants to explain, to say they definitely aren’t his, but he can’t bring himself to throw Castorice under the dromas like that. After fighting an internal battle Mydei can never know about, he looks away with a defeated whisper. “… Yeah… they are.”

Mydei doesn’t say anything for a moment. When Phainon turns back to face him, he finds Mydei watching him with an unreadable expression. Phainon shifts a little under the weight of it.

“Are you… going to judge me because of this?”

“No, not really,” Mydei replies, strangely calm. “I’m just wondering if there’s any reason why you had that book in particular. You have… interesting tastes.”

“Listen, I didn’t even—I mean, just—” Phainon stutters, waving his hands around, but then he sighs, dropping his arms by his sides in resignation. “You know what? Never mind. Just… please don’t tell anyone else about it.”

Mydei smirks faintly. “I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this, anyway.”

“Still,” Phainon replies with a dry laugh. “Wouldn’t want any rumours spreading.”

He hesitates. Then, a little defensively, he asks, “Why were you even reading the book in the first place?”

“The title surprised me. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t seeing things,” Mydei answers, folding his arms. “Are you that curious about it?”

Phainon isn’t exactly sure what he’s talking about. The only thing he properly saw was that strange line about blowing on Caos’ neck. “About…?”

“About all the sensitive spots on a person.”

Phainon’s mind blanks out. What exactly is he supposed to say in this situation? But then, Mydei beats him to the punch.

With a casual lift of a hand, palm facing up, Mydei says calmly, “I can help you find them.”

“What?” Phainon blinks in confusion. “Find what?”

Mydei’s eyes flick down, then back up, cool and impassive. “Your sensitive spots.”

There’s a pause. Phainon stares at him with wide eyes, lips slightly parted in shock. His brain flails wildly for a response.

“Haha… you’re so funny, Mydei,” is what Phainon’s brain finally comes up with.

Mydei scoffs. “I’m not joking, Deliverer.”

Phainon’s brain decides to stop working once again. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens.

“Well,” Phainon says eventually. “Thanks for the generous offer, Mydei. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He chuckles awkwardly, eyes darting away from Mydei as he rubs the back of his neck. “Anyway! Dinner’s ready! Why don’t you help me set the table while I bring the rest of the things over?”

Phainon sends a text to Castorice asking her to meet him as soon as possible.

She replies after a while, and they meet the next day in a quiet restaurant tucked away from the bustling crowds. As Castorice takes her seat across him, he silently lifts a purple bag from beside his chair and places it on the table. Castorice’s eyes widen in recognition.

“Hi, I wanted to ask,” Phainon begins, his voice soft, “is this yours, by any chance?”

Castorice blinks, then she slowly nods. “Yes, it is. I must have forgotten to take it with me yesterday after I received the urgent message. I apologise for the trouble.”

“No worries,” Phainon assures her. “It’s just that… I’m sorry.”

Castorice tilts her head in quiet confusion.

“… I saw one of the books inside,” Phainon admits after a moment of hesitation. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t even realise it was there at first. Mydei found it.”

Castorice blinks. Then, her expression shifts – first to confusion, then to realisation, and finally to subtle horror.

“Ah,” she says quietly, looking away in embarrassment and guilt. “I see.”

“Don’t worry,” Phainon adds quickly. “Mydei doesn’t know it’s yours. He asked if it was mine, and I… said yes.”

Castorice stares at him. “You said yes?”

Phainon groans, hiding his face with his hands. “I didn’t know if you minded Mydei knowing about it, so…”

Castorice feels a little embarrassed, but also touched.

“I’m… grateful,” she says slowly. “But I’m also sorry you had to read that. And that Lord Mydei read it too.”

Phainon gives her a tight smile. “It certainly was… an experience. But I only saw a few lines before I took it away from him.”

Then, Phainon hesitates, wondering if he should say it. Looking at Castorice’s expectant expression, he sighs. There’s probably no one else he can talk to about this, anyway.

“Also,” he reluctantly continues, “Mydei offered to help me find my… sensitive spots.”

Castorice blinks. Then she covers her mouth with a hand. “What?”

“Yeah,” Phainon mumbles. “I thought he was joking, but he said he wasn’t.”

Castorice stares at him, trying to hold back a smile. This way, she looks a little constipated. “I’m… sorry. I didn’t expect this.”

Phainon sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t really know how to feel about all this.”

Castorice watches him for a moment, long enough that Phainon shifts uncomfortably.

“… Did you want him to mean it?” Castorice finally says, voice gentle.

Phainon blinks. “What?”

Castorice exhales, then reaches into her bag and pulls out the book. “Here.”

Phainon stares at the book, then back at her. “Huh?”

“… Maybe you should keep reading it.”

“Wha—!” Phainon stops. “I don’t usually read this kind of thing.”

“Maybe you could try,” she says, amused. “It might help you understand things a little better. Feel free to skip around and focus on the important parts.”

Phainon frowns. How exactly would this help with his problem? But still, he hesitantly accepts her book. “… Thank you.”

Castorice smiles back. “No problem.”

He keeps the book in his room by his bedside, untouched but always within reach.

Despite presenting the strange offer that day, Mydei hasn’t brought it up again. They’ve gone back to normal: sparring, bantering, starting and participating in stupid competitions like nothing happened.

But something did happen.

And now, still, it clings to Phainon’s mind like an annoying stain that he can’t scrub out.

Finally, one day, Phainon gives in. During the curtain-fall hour, he sits cross-legged on his bed, a blanket bunched around his knees. The book rests heavy in his lap. After psyching himself up, he opens the book.

He flips to a random page and reads a few lines.

“He traces slow circles over his chest first, teasing around the edges, watching every reaction with a sharp eye. He wants to see him fall apart, one breath at a time.”

His ears burn, but he continues to read anyway. Slowly, almost absentmindedly, he mirrors the motion, dragging tentative fingers across his own chest. His shirt’s in the way. He hesitates, then pushes it up, fingertips skimming bare skin. It doesn’t really feel like much, maybe because the embarrassment overwhelms everything else.

He keeps reading, and then he freezes. His eyes stick to the next line, the words slowly sinking into his stomach like heat.

“’Don’t rush. Circle first – tease it. Let it ache a little before you press in.’”

His breath hitches.

Carefully, he sets the book aside and lifts his knees up a little. Then, slowly, he raises one hand to his mouth. His lips part, and he draws a finger in to coat it with saliva, tongue moving around hesitantly. It feels ridiculous.

As if he’s trying to prove something, even if it’s to no one, he slips the hand under his blanket. Just to try.

It’s mechanical at first, like he’s just following instructions and observing himself from a distance.

It feels so awkward. He stops and frowns, but he tries again, tilting his hips slightly, adjusting the angle, trying to remember the words. His breath comes out a little shallower.

But it’s still too embarrassing. What is he even doing? He pauses, sighing with helpless frustration.

And then he hears it. Mydei’s voice in his mind, easy and casual:

“I can help you find them.”

The words send a shiver down his spine. He blinks, and then, without really meaning to, lets his eyes drift shut.

“… Okay,” he mutters to himself. “Alright.”

He imagines what it would be like – if Mydei were here.

The solid weight of his chest against Phainon’s back. The warmth of his hands, one spread firmly over Phainon’s chest, the other sliding over Phainon’s own hand, guiding it with ease. The confident way he talks. Maybe a laugh, low and teasing, tickling Phainon’s ear.

And maybe a soft, patient, “Right here. Let me show you.”

Phainon doesn’t breathe. It feels like Mydei’s moving his hand, adjusting the angle just right, applying just enough pressure.

“Yeah… just like that. Good. You feel that?”

“M—nnh…”

A sound slips out of Phainon – a quiet, broken whimper.

His eyes fly open, mortified by what just came out of his lips.

And then the hand below jolts away like he’s been burned. His breath catches from shock.

He hastily puts the book away and pulls the blanket over his head as if he can smother the thought out of existence.

It doesn’t work.

It’s a miracle that Phainon can face Mydei after all that.

He puts on a bright smile whenever they meet, greeting him with the same loud, easy voice as always. He laughs a little too quickly, jokes a little too much. He throws himself into everything else, challenges Mydei to spar twice as often, even when he’s still sore from his missions and all his personal training sessions.

At first, Mydei doesn’t say anything about it. The most he does is just stare at Phainon with an intense look, then sigh and mutter something like “HKS” under his breath before walking away.

But at some point, he can tell Mydei is a little disgruntled by Phainon’s change in behaviour. Phainon catches him watching sometimes, not in the casual, observant way he usually does, but with a furrow in his brow, jaw tight like he’s trying to figure something out. He can obviously tell that everything Phainon’s doing is a distraction, but maybe he’s trying to give him space to let him deal with whatever issue he’s having. Phainon almost feels touched, if it didn’t make him feel even worse. Because… does it mean that Mydei’s been waiting for him this whole time?

It seems like there’s a limit to Mydei’s patience, though.

During their current spar, Mydei doesn’t hold back at all. His movements are sharper and faster, and he punches with real weight behind it – not the usual, slightly playful rhythm they fall into, but something rougher.

Phainon stumbles back, barely blocking a blow that lands close to his ribs.

“Hey, Mydei, what’s—” Phainon starts, breath short as he ducks another strike, “—going on?”

Mydei just grunts, delivering another blow to his face.

“Okay, wow,” Phainon mutters as he parries it and steps further back. “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed today or something?”

Another hit. Phainon dodges, but barely. Then, Mydei suddenly stops, standing up straight with a slow exhale.

“You’re overcompensating.”

Phainon freezes. “What?”

Mydei folds his arms with a glare. “You’re trying to act like nothing’s changed. But then you put too much energy into it, and it just makes it all the more obvious that you’re trying to run away.”

Phainon stares at him, his throat dry.

Mydei studies him for a moment before letting out an irritated sigh. “Was it because of the offer I made? Is that why you’ve been acting like this?”

Phainon doesn’t answer. He just stands there, tense and silent. Mydei waits for him to respond as he watches him with a sharp gaze. But when nothing comes, his expression shifts from irritation into something quieter.

“I…” Mydei starts, voice low. “I didn’t mean to push. I just thought…”

Phainon still doesn’t say anything, but his brow furrows.

“Or maybe it wasn’t like that,” Mydei looks away, jaw clenching. “Maybe that was for someone else.”

The way he had said it, flat but with a faint edge, makes something twist in Phainon’s chest. Phainon’s head jerks up. “What? No. What are you—”

“You’ve been acting off,” Mydei cuts in. “Avoiding things, acting like nothing happened, then pushing too hard the next second.”

He exhales with a resigned sigh before he continues, “I know it’s hard for you to say no. But you can stop pretending with me. If that offer wasn’t something you wanted—if it was meant for someone else, just say it.”

Phainon stares at him, stunned. “It wasn’t.”

Mydei’s expression flickers between doubt and frustration. “Wasn’t what?”

“I mean, there’s no one else,” Phainon says, more firmly now. “It’s only been you.”

The words land heavy between them. Phainon almost regrets saying that out loud, but then he sees Mydei’s shoulders tense, like he’s restraining himself from saying or doing something more. At last, his voice comes, quieter this time.

“… Then why do you keep running away?”

Phainon’s eyes shake. He doesn’t know how to say it. “I don’t really know.”

Mydei doesn’t respond. He waits, silent and steady, and somehow, that makes it worse.

Phainon exhales, glancing down. “It’s just—it’s stupid.”

Mydei raises an eyebrow. “Just say it.”

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to… want something like…” Phainon mutters, trailing off. “It’s embarrassing.”

“What is?” Mydei asks, tilting his head slightly.

Phainon looks away. “Being… vulnerable. Letting someone see me like that. It’s not…” He swallows hard. “It’s not what people expect of me. It’s not who I’m supposed to be.”

“How irrelevant,” Mydei huffs, rough but unexpectedly fond. “Who cares about that?”

He leans in, just a little.

“What do you want, Phainon?”

Later, in Phainon’s room, Mydei sits behind him on the bed, close but not touching. Their clothes are discarded somewhere by the foot of the bed. Phainon sits at the edge, shoulders tense and knees drawn slightly inwards.

Both of them face the mirror.

Phainon shifts, a little uncomfortable. “Do we really need to face the mirror for this?”

Mydei hums, and when he leans in, his breath brushes the curve of Phainon’s neck.  “Do you not want to see what I see?”

That makes Phainon’s ears go warm. He looks down, avoiding his reflection and Mydei’s gaze.

There’s a pause. Mydei waits, as always, with quiet patience. Finally, Phainon looks back up with an exasperated sigh, but he’s smiling, albeit a little shyly. Mydei smiles faintly back.

Then, he says softly, “Can I touch you?”

Phainon gives a shaky exhale and nods. “… Yeah. Okay.”

Mydei smiles. “Remember to watch yourself. Don’t look away.”

Mydei shifts forward slowly, his fingers skimming down Phainon’s toned arms, light enough to raise goosebumps in their wake. Phainon shivers, but he doesn’t pull away. Then Mydei leans in again, tongue flicking out to taste the spot just below Phainon’s ear.

Phainon jolts, a soft whine catching in his throat. “Mydei…”

Mydei gives a short, quiet laugh, but he keeps going. His hands trail upwards, sliding over Phainon’s supple chest. He palms the firm muscle, squeezing gently, just to feel how it flexes beneath his touch.

When he presses more firmly, Phainon gasps – the flesh yielding, spilling out between Mydei’s fingers like something too full, too tender to contain.

Mydei’s thumb finds a nipple, circling slowly. Phainon takes a sharp breath.

Then a light scrape of a fingernail – and Phainon’s spine arches, a tremor rippling through him.

Every touch draws a reaction. A twitch. A breath. A soft, bitten-back sound.

With both hands now, Mydei pinches gently, rolling the nubs between his fingers, then tugging just enough to make Phainon whimper aloud.

“You’re sensitive here,” Mydei murmurs, almost to himself, as he toys with his nipples, teasing them with a pressure just shy of too much. He watches, marvelling at the way each tug pulls another soft, helpless sound from Phainon’s throat.

Phainon is shaking now, lips parted and eyes glassy with unshed tears. His arousal leaks freely, dripping warmth down his thigh.

But what’s even more exhilarating is the pressure behind him: Mydei’s hardness, thick and undeniable, pressing against the curve of his ass and the small of his back.

Phainon shifts backwards deliberately, pushing into it. Mydei’s breath stutters. His fingers still for the briefest moment, then, pressing the nubs a little too harshly, he leans in and nips gently at Phainon’s neck in playful revenge.

“Hey!” Phainon yelps, turning his head slightly, a hint of a smile breaking through his embarrassment.

“You deserved that,” Mydei huffs, voice low and amused. “You’re too tense.”

Phainon breaths out a shaky laugh, the tension easing a little. “Well, maybe you should be gentler, then.”

“Maybe I should,” Mydei agrees half-heartedly, sliding his hands lower. He traces slow, deliberate lines down Phainon’s waist, over his hips, then dipping towards his inner thighs, sliding his hands up and down the strong muscle.

“Hnn… Mydei,” Phainon whimpers softly, his thighs trembling slightly against Mydei’s warm hold. Mydei smiles briefly against his skin.

He spreads Phainon’s legs a little wider, giving them both a full view in the mirror, and a flicker of vulnerability flashes across Phainon’s face.

Mydei props one of Phainon’s knees up on the bed, shifting slightly so he can see better. The soft twitch of Phainon’s hole makes them both hold their breath, and Phainon’s eyes immediately snap shut, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“It’s okay,” Mydei whispers, his hand settling reassuringly on Phainon’s hip. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

Phainon starts to turn his face away, but Mydei’s voice comes again, a little firmer this time. “Don’t look away. I want you to see what I see.”

Phainon hesitates. Then, slowly, his lashes lift, and he forces himself to look, even as his cheeks burn.

With care, Mydei reaches for the small bottle of oil he placed nearby. He pours some of it over his fingers, then slowly drags them down, from the centre of Phainon’s chest, along the smooth plane of his stomach, then lower, to his thigh. The oil leaves a glistening trail in its wake.

Phainon shudders, a soft whine rising in his throat, hips twitching despite himself.

Mydei takes his time, his oiled fingers circling the sensitive skin just above Phainon’s entrance – not touching directly, not yet. Just close enough to let him feel the anticipation bloom. Just enough to let it ache.

“Still okay?” Mydei asks, his voice gentle yet grounding.

Phainon nods, too breathless to speak.

Mydei smiles. “Good.”

One finger slides lower, finally grazing over the tight ring of muscle. Then, he applies more pressure, his fingertip slowly easing past the resistance. He feels the way Phainon flinches, then melts against his body as he sinks the first knuckle in.

“You’re doing so well,” Mydei whispers, voice thick with praise and restraint.

Phainon’s breathing grows shallow. His fingers curl into the bedsheets. “Mydei…”

“I’ve got you,” Mydei murmurs. “Let me take care of everything.”

As Phainon exhales, trying to relax around the stretch, Mydei presses again, his breath warm against the nape of Phainon’s neck.

His free hand trails up, sliding over Phainon’s stomach, then higher to his chest. His palm settles over one pec, thumb brushing lazily over the already-sensitive nub.

Phainon whimpers, head tipping back slightly against Mydei’s shoulder.

“That’s it…” Mydei whispers. He gives it a deliberate pinch, not harsh, but firm enough to make Phainon’s hips jerk forward with a gasp.

Inside, Mydei curls his fingers, searching and feeling. Suddenly, Phainon jolts, a low, broken sound escaping his lips as something electric ripples through him.

“Oh,” Mydei says. “Right here?”

Phainon nods quickly, body tense. “Mmh—yes, please—”

Mydei rewards him with another slow stroke from within, curling his finger again, while his other hand continues rolling the nipple between fingers, then switching sides to give the other equal attention. The soft squelch of oil between Phainon’s legs, the helpless sounds Phainon keeps trying and failing to swallow – it’s all too much, and not enough.

Phainon’s back arches, body trembling. His thighs try to close, but Mydei’s already there, keeping them spread.

“So responsive,” Mydei murmurs, almost reverently. “You feel everything, don’t you?”

He presses in deeper with two fingers now, slow and steady, as his thumb goes back to circling the swollen nub on Phainon’s chest. The stretch draws a high, breathless moan from Phainon. His body tenses before he slowly begins to melt again around the intrusion.

“You’re taking me so well,” Mydei soothes, curling the fingers just so, brushing over the spot that makes Phainon cry out again. With every pass, Phainon gets louder, his hips rocking instinctively against his fingers, even as tears prick at the corners of his eyes. His thighs tremble, the slick sounds obscene in the quiet of the room.

When Mydei finally adds the third finger, he goes slow, easing the stretch open inch by inch. A choked cry is ripped from Phainon’s throat, his whole body shuddering as his hole clenches around Mydei’s fingers. His chest heaves, lips parted and glossy with spit, his reflection in the mirror nearly unrecognisable from how wrecked he looks.

“Phainon,” Mydei whispers, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. “You’re beautiful.”

Phainon tries to answer, but it comes out as a sob. Mydei curls all three fingers together and presses into that spot again. Phainon screams, not from pain, but from pure, blinding sensation. His hands scramble for something to hold, his body convulsing in Mydei’s grip.

“Ah—ahh—Mydei—!”

Mydei wraps his free arm around Phainon’s torso, holding him close as his fingers keep working inside. And between them both, Mydei’s cock throbs, dripping messily onto Phainon’s back and the sheets below.

As Phainon trembles in his hold, Mydei watches him in the mirror. He watches the way his lashes flutter, the way his lips part around his moans, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the wetness glistening between his legs. And then, the way he turns his head just slightly, enough for him to look at Mydei’s face. Mydei looks back at him.

Phainon’s face is flushed, lashes damp, lips glossy. His gaze drifts from Mydei’s eyes to his mouth, and Mydei stills, fingers buried deep but unmoving. The way Phainon looks at him now… dazed, vulnerable, wanting. It sends a wave of heat through Mydei.

“Phainon,” Mydei murmurs, his breath catching.

Phainon doesn’t say anything. He just stares, hazy and pleading. His lips quiver like he’s about to speak, but no words come out.

He doesn’t need them.

Mydei leans in, brushing their mouths together gently at first, almost questioning. Phainon answers by tilting into it, mouth trembling as he kisses back, like he’s been waiting for this far longer than he’ll ever admit.

As their mouths move together, Mydei resumes the motion of his fingers, curling them and stroking deep inside.

Phainon moans softly into the kiss, body clenching around the stretch as his hand reaches back blindly to hold onto any part of Mydei he can touch. Mydei keeps kissing him – slow, deep, reverent – while his fingers continue pressing and kneading in just the right spot. The sensation shoots through Phainon like lightning.

Suddenly, Phainon’s body jerks. The kiss stutters, and Phainon sobs into Mydei’s mouth – a ragged, broken sound – as his release hits him without warning. His body clamps down on Mydei’s fingers, tight and pulsing, while his cock twitches untouched, spilling between his legs, onto his stomach and thighs.

Mydei doesn’t stop kissing him. He holds him through it, swallowing all the sounds escaping from Phainon’s throat. Only when Phainon finally goes still does Mydei pull back, just enough to see his face.

Phainon’s lips are wet with spit. His cheeks shine with tears he didn’t notice falling, and he’s watching Mydei like he doesn’t know what just happened. Mydei smooths a hand along his chest, feeling his heart race beneath his palm. Then, he slowly withdraws his fingers from Phainon’s hole, careful not to stimulate him too much.

He gives Phainon a moment to breathe, to calm down, before he whispers, “How did that feel?”

Phainon lets out a shaky, breathless laugh. “It… feels different when someone else does it.”

“Is that a good thing?”

Phainon hesitates, lips quirking faintly. “I suppose so.” Then, with a soft groan, he adds, “Or maybe not.”

Mydei raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because that means I’ll have to keep asking you for help whenever I need to let off some steam.”

Mydei scoffs, low and amused. “How unfortunate.”

He shifts slightly behind Phainon, the motion drawing a sharp breath from him – because he’s still hard. Still pressed hot and heavy against the small of Phainon’s back, unmistakable and insistent.

Phainon feels it.

He blinks, then glances over his shoulder. For the first time since he came down from his high, he really registers the state Mydei is in – flushed, breathing hard, jaw clenched in restraint.

“Oh, you’re… wow,” Phainon says rather eloquently.

Mydei huffs a quiet laugh. “Don’t worry about it. I can handle myself.”

There’s a pause. Phainon’s expression shifts – still a little dazed, but softer now. He slowly turns back to face the mirror again. “… Do you want to? With me?”

Mydei meets his gaze in the glass. Then, he presses his forehead gently to Phainon’s shoulder, exhaling once. “Only if you’re okay.”

“I am,” Phainon says. “I want to.”

Mydei looks up, their eyes locking in the reflection. Phainon’s expression is resolute and steady, and Mydei sighs. He shifts back, gently guiding Phainon with him. He eases him forward onto his hands and knees, still facing the mirror.

“I’ll go slow,” Mydei says, voice tight with strain. “You’ve already done so much.”

Phainon looks back at him with a smile. “You don’t have to hold back.”

Mydei’s breath stutters.

He doesn’t respond to Phainon’s words. He just moves, slicking himself up with oil, one hand steady on Phainon’s hip, the other guiding himself into place.

Then, slowly, he begins to press forward.

Phainon’s fingers tighten around the sheets as his eyes flutter closed, mouth dropping open around a moan as he feels the stretch.

Mydei holds still once he’s just barely in, his forehead resting against Phainon’s shoulder.

“Okay?” he murmurs.

“Yeah, I… yeah,” Phainon says, nodding. “Keep going.”

So Mydei does, bit by bit. And when he’s finally seated fully inside, both of them trembling, Mydei wraps both arms around Phainon and just holds him there. Not moving yet, just breathing with him.

In the mirror, Phainon watches himself – eyes glassy, lips parted, skin flushed and gleaming.

But what makes his chest ache most is the reflection of Mydei: pressed close behind him, arms wrapped around him like he can’t bear to let go, forehead resting against his neck like it’s too much for him, too.

Mydei breaths in slow and deep, trying to ground himself – but everything feels too much. The heat around him, the softness of Phainon’s body yielding, the way they fit so completely together. Phainon feels the tremble in Mydei’s hands, feels his breath shudder out against his neck as if he’s trying to restrain himself. Phainon’s heart stutters in response.

Softly, he whispers, “You can move.”

Mydei nods, then he draws back just a little before sliding in again, pulling a soft gasp from Phainon’s lips. Mydei almost loses it right there and then.

“You feel…” Mydei’s breaks off into a low groan.

He sets a rhythm – slow and shallow. Each movement rocks them gently, and Phainon can’t help the way he melts into it, into him. His arms shake, his fingers gripping the sheets tighter as each thrust sends a wave of heat through his body.

Mydei’s hand slides upwards, fingers finding Phainon’s chest again, brushing over a still-swollen nipple. Phainon gasps, sharp and high, his hips twitching.

“Does it feel good?” Mydei murmurs, voice thick with desire.

Phainon nods, biting down another whimper as Mydei rolls his hips just a little deeper, his touch never leaving Phainon’s chest.

And yet, something’s off.

Phainon can feel it – the tension in Mydei’s body, the way he holds himself back even now. It’s good, yes, but it’s restrained. A little too restrained for Phainon’s liking.

… Mydei’s too nice, Phainon thinks, almost fondly. It’s strange. People don’t usually expect that from him. They expect power, sharpness, control. But this version of him – quiet, attentive, kind – is just as real as his might and honour.

Still, Phainon’s ready for more. He wants more.

So, when Mydei rocks into him again with that same practised control, he shifts, pushing back deliberately to force a deeper press. A satisfied moan slips from his throat at the sharper stretch.

Mydei freezes.

“Phainon…” he mutters, voice low and taut with restraint.

Phainon glances over his shoulder, the corners of his mouth tugging into a grin. “Stop holding back, Mydei.”

“… Is this not your first time?” Mydei asks, exasperated but helplessly tender. “You’re ridiculous. I didn’t expect you to be so… wild.”

“This is all your fault,” Phainon laughs breathlessly. “You’ve awakened something in me.”

Mydei scoffs, his breath warm against Phainon’s shoulder. “How fantastic. I break you once and suddenly you’re insatiable.”

“Shush, you,” Phainon mutters, cheeks flushing. Then, just to taunt him, he adds, “Aren’t Kremnoans supposed to be known for their strength? Where is it now?”

Mydei hums thoughtfully, but the way his grip tightens at Phainon’s hips says he’s done teasing.

“Alright,” he says, voice low and just a little bit mean. “You asked for it.”

He thrusts in again, deeper this time, and Phainon gasps – head dropping forward, back arching just enough to take him further. His arms tremble beneath him, barely keeping him upright.

“Yeah,” Mydei breathes, digging his fingers firmly into Phainon’s hips. “Just like that.”

They fall into a rhythm – faster, deeper – and Mydei’s control, so carefully held until now, begins to fray at the edges. Each thrust drags a shiver down Phainon’s spine, a ragged sound from his throat. Mydei watches in the mirror as Phainon rocks forward with every movement, body open and trembling. And something about the way Phainon keeps taking him, breathless and desperate, shatters the last of his composure.

“You’re so…” The words dissolve into a groan as he slams his hips forward even harder, without the filter he’s kept up all this time. Phainon cries out, caught between the overwhelming pleasure and the sheer weight of Mydei behind him, inside him, around him.

“Mydei…” he sobs, so open, so trusting, that it knocks the air from Mydei’s lungs. A strange feeling blooms in his chest – not just want, not just care, but a fierce sort of protectiveness. He doesn’t want anyone else to see Phainon like this. So soft, so bare. Just for him.

Mydei growls possessively into his neck. His hands roam blindly, gripping and grounding – one over Phainon’s heart, the other sliding down to hold his thigh open, like even this much contact isn’t enough. Soon, Mydei feels something building up fast. His pace stutters, the heat coiling tighter and tighter. He knows he’s close, and Phainon can feel it too.

Without hesitation, Phainon clenches even more, fingers digging into the sheets as his voice drops to a desperate, breathy whisper. “Come on, faster… don’t hold back—”

Mydei groans, hips snapping hard in response. The tension breaks, and he spills inside with a shuddering release. A loud moan escapes Phainon’s lips, body trembling as the warmth spreads inside him. “Oh… There’s so much…”

Once it’s finally over, Mydei starts to pull back, breath ragged, but Phainon’s hand stops him.

“Mydei…” Phainon says with a weak grin, still catching his breath. “One more time?”

Mydei blinks, half-stunned. “What? Are you serious?”

Phainon nods, biting his lip. “Yeah. Aren’t you guys supposed to be known for your stamina, too? Or are you going to chicken out on me this time?”

Mydei stares at him in disbelief. Then, a slow laugh rumbles through his chest. “You really don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Yeah?” Phainon challenges, voice low and daring. “Why don’t you show me? Bet I can outlast you. Might even make you come again.”

That hits a nerve. Mydei’s eyes darken, a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh? Is that a challenge?”

“Absolutely.”

Before Phainon can even blink, Mydei pulls out. Suddenly, he’s flipped onto his back, legs hooked over Mydei’s shoulders. There’s barely time to catch his breath before Mydei slams back in, grinding deep and hard, pushing out some of the slick inside with an obscene squelch. The sudden shift, the sheer intensity, the ease with which Mydei handles him – it all turns him on far too much.

He arches, a choked sound ripping from his throat as his release overtakes him before he even realises what’s happening. It spills across his stomach, hot and wet, as a fresh wave of tears slips down his cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure.

Mydei watches it all, grinning down at him. “And now,” he says smugly, “you’ve already lost. Still want to challenge me again?”

Phainon pants, face flushed, but he grins back through it. “Best of three?”

As expected, they both go overboard. After multiple rounds – definitely more than three – of their stupid competition, Mydei feels like his back and shoulders have been scratched off and he’s been squeezed completely dry, while Phainon looks like he’s been mauled by a wild animal, flushed and trembling. He’s covered with bite marks and all kinds of fluids, and when Mydei pulls out for the last time, a thick gush of white spills from Phainon’s used hole, pooling messily on the sheets beneath them. Mydei didn’t think he even had it in him to produce this much semen. The Kremnoan vitality is truly amazing.

Still, Mydei almost feels bad, until he remembers Phainon was the one who kept egging him on the whole time. He totally deserves this. Probably.

Phainon’s barely conscious, eyes unfocused and glistening with tears, mouth parted around quiet, involuntary whimpers. His thighs twitch where Mydei grips them firmly.

“… Phainon?” Mydei calls out quietly. Phainon doesn’t respond, head lolling to the side as his eyes flutter shut. Mydei slowly puts his thighs down.

“… Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

How is he going to explain to Aglaea about this.

Somehow, he manages to text Aglaea and the others that Phainon’s unwell, so he’ll need to take a break for a while. Something in Aglaea’s ominous replies lets him know that he isn’t fooling anyone, but she does say that Phainon should rest. So, Mydei makes sure he does.

Over the next two days, Phainon rests at home. Mydei drops by to check that Phainon’s still alive, bringing him food from the market or even some homemade delicacies before quickly taking his leave. Phainon gratefully eats them all up, although he wishes Mydei could stick around a little longer.

Once Phainon feels good enough to leave the house, he immediately tries to find Mydei. He smiles when he sees the familiar figure standing alone on the rooftop, posture straight with his arms folded.

“Hey, Mydei.”

Mydei jolts like he just got caught doing something illegal. He whirls around, facing Phainon with eyes a little wider than usual.

He looks uncharacteristically flustered. “… Deliverer.”

Phainon tries to hold back a laugh. “You know, you’re so stiff that I might actually mistake you for a statue.”

Mydei’s eyes dart away as he coughs into his hand.

“What? No insult for me?” Phainon asks, folding his own arms. “What’s going on?”

“Uh,” Mydei says awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

Phainon’s eyes widen in shock. Slowly, he stares up at the sky. Mydei follows his gaze upwards.

“What are you looking at?” Mydei asks gruffly.

“I’m trying to see if a portal is suddenly going to open and drop a million chimeras from the sky,” Phainon says seriously, squinting. “The Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos apologising for no reason? Is this a dream?”

Mydei smacks him on the arm. Phainon laughs, rubbing the sore area with his other hand. “I’m just kidding. What are you apologising for?”

“… Castorice told me.”

Phainon freezes. “Huh?”

“She told me…” Mydei mutters, gritting his teeth. “About the book.”

Phainon’s mouth drops open. He’s too stunned to say anything, so he just stares back at Mydei.

Mydei ruffles his hair in frustration. “She said you were just covering for her. You must have been so confused when I talked about all that.”

“Ah, I mean…” Phainon says, laughing awkwardly. “At least… it all worked out in the end?”

Mydei looks strangely like a pathetic, wet cat. Phainon has the sudden urge to squeeze his cheeks, but as a (self-proclaimed) well-functioning adult, he doesn’t do that.

“Hey, it’s not your fault. I didn’t explain myself to you properly, after all,” Phainon laughs, genuine this time.

Mydei gives him a helpless look, but he doesn’t retort back. He turns away but glances sideways at him. “Are you… feeling okay?”

Phainon’s smile softens. “Yeah. Better than ever. Thanks for covering for me the past few days, by the way.” He looks Mydei up and down, a little jealous of how fast Mydei can heal. “How about you?”

Mydei scoffs. “Save your worry for something else.”

Phainon shakes his head in exasperation. Then, they both look over the rooftop in silence, watching as people pass by down below.

After a moment, Mydei turns his head to face Phainon. “Deliverer. If there’s anything you want, don’t bother hiding it. Just say it.”

Phainon laughs softly. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure you’ll be the first person to know.”

Mydei’s eyes meet his, softer now, and he nods. “Good.”

They both fall quiet, watching the world move beneath them.

The wind picks up slightly, rustling their hair. Neither of them says anything, but their arms brush where they rest side by side.

Then, Phainon shifts just a little. His pinky nudges against Mydei’s.

Mydei doesn’t pull away.

Instead, he lets his fingers rest there too – not quite holding, but not letting go either.

And for now, that’s enough.