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Somehow, Miles Edgeworth’s home had become a catboy colony. Dick was the only permanent resident, but all of Miles’s fosters came and went freely. At any given moment there were three or four catboys on the premises, napping in the sunroom or fucking in the kitchen or watching sports sprawled on the couch (and, depending on how good the game was, fucking). Perhaps most surprisingly, this suited Miles. Before, his home had been quiet, and peaceful, and empty. A serene, lifeless escape. Yes, the catboys were loud and messy and occasionally distracting, but they were also so - so alive. Even in the dead of night, the house wasn’t completely silent, the faint sounds of peaceful breathing and rustling sheets filling the halls with an imperceptible warmth.
Once, Miles had hated the slightest disruption in his peace and quiet. Now, he couldn’t imagine life without it.
There was, however, something missing - or rather, someone. The rotating cast included those Miles had helped - Larry and Will and Sebastian - and a few he would not, personally, have invited (Ron Delite? Max Galactica? Klavier Gavin??) but weren’t big enough liabilities to bother kicking out (except, potentially, Gavin, but Miles saw very little of him; Dick and Will’s powerful physiques were both rare and heavily desired, so as long as Gavin caused no trouble Miles would allow him to get pounded until his knees gave out - especially now, after all that business with his brother).
But Phoenix Wright never visited.
Miles was aware of Phoenix’s personal rule against sleeping with lawyers (through gossip, of course, not because he had ever - would ever have - of course not!) and thought that could be the reason. And it was a perfectly good one, and absolutely not something to question. It wasn’t like Miles never saw Phoenix. They met in his office, or at Phoenix’s, or went for an occasional meal. Phoenix had… struggled since his disbarment, and Miles - well, frankly, Miles had struggled too. But now Phoenix was doing better. He’d started working with that young attorney, the one who’d helped with Kristoph, and it seemed to have brought a little light back to him. He’d even talked about trying to get his badge back. Since Kristoph’s dramatic downfall, it was clear that Phoenix had not in fact committed the offense for which he’d been stripped of his badge. He would, however, have to pass the bar exam before he could practice again, which was a challenge in its own right.
As for Miles… he still had problems. He likely always would. No matter how much love and affection he surrounded himself with, his scars would never completely fade. But he’d healed, slowly but surely. A decade ago he had been on the verge of suicide, and now - now he worked reasonable hours, and ate full meals, and came home to a house full of contented lazy catboys. He’d gained a healthy amount of weight, and his blood pressure had normalized. He could even take the elevator (when absolutely necessary).
He’d also learned that sometimes he needed to force himself to face a feeling, to overcome years of repression and secrecy. It was okay to be open, and vulnerable, and imperfect. Good things could come of it, wonderful things - how would he ever have wound up with Dick without baring a piece of himself? - and it was worth the risk.
Miles was in a good place, and he used that to support others who needed help. He could extend that support to Phoenix. He could make sure that Phoenix and his daughter were safe and warm, well-fed, protected, comfortable. He could even assist Phoenix in studying. It was something he would offer to any friend.
Unfortunately, in the course of learning to be imperfect, he’d realized that his feelings towards Phoenix were… not platonic.
Phoenix was… Phoenix was incredible. He was bold, and clever, and fiercely determined. He put his whole heart into everything, whether it was a case or the girl he’d taken in for no reason other than that she had nowhere to go. Or trying to save a childhood friend from himself. And god, he was beautiful, too.
Miles wanted Phoenix.
It had taken some time to sort through what, exactly, that meant. Phoenix was one of the vanishingly few catboys Miles had ever known who seemed to actually value independence. Miles had deliberately refused to see him as any kind of pet - first to stay strong against him in court, and later, to keep it from affecting their friendship. And that was the Phoenix he wanted, proud and smart and brave. Yet he also wanted to see Phoenix happy, contented, lazing around the house or having loud sex with Dick. He wanted to spoil Phoenix and take away all his worries and solve all his problems.
Did he want that because Phoenix was a beautiful catboy, or because Phoenix was Phoenix?
As silly as it seemed, it mattered. If he wanted Phoenix as a pet, then he could never act on it. It wouldn’t be fair to Phoenix; it would disrespect all his work and his accomplishments, if all Miles saw was a silly little kitty cat. And he did respect him. Phoenix had achieved incredible things, even after betrayal and abandonment and personal tragedies that would have ruined many other men. (And, having become acquainted with several catboys before and after the transformation, Miles had developed an understanding of how the mind changed. Not dumber, exactly, but more easily distracted and prone to executive dysfunction. For Phoenix to have gone through that and then become a lawyer…!)
He needed help. He needed to talk to Dick.
Eventually, Miles had to acknowledge that no outside force was going to compel him to speak to Dick about Phoenix. He could delay and justify as long as he wanted, and nothing would change - and as much as he liked the way things were, he did want change. So he woke up on an ordinary Sunday morning, stroked Dick’s hair and scratched behind his ears, and took a deep breath.
“Dick, honey, I have something to say.”
Dick tilted his head back, a faint smile still on his face. “Huh?”
“It’s…” He closed his eyes, briefly. No matter how much he’d thought about this he’d never figured out the right way to say it. But he couldn’t allow himself to put it off any longer, either. “How would you feel about another catboy entering our household?”
“Mmm.” Dick nuzzled against Miles’s thigh, still a little soft and sleepy. “Sounds good. Always love having more folks around.”
“But on a more permanent basis. And, well…” Miles cleared his throat. “Possibly as more than just a pet.”
“More…?” Dick sat up. “Oh! You mean Mr. Wright!”
“Wh - what? How - ?”
“No? It’s somebody else?”
“No, it’s - it’s Wright. But how did you know?”
“C’mon, babe. It’s kind of obvious.” Dick chuckled. “I mean you and Mr. Wright have always had something between ya.” Dick lowered his head again, wriggling into a comfortable position. “It was a big part of why I was so surprised when you and me, y’know.” He waved his tail through the air. “Like, if you were gonna pick anyone, it’d be him.”
“Dick, I picked you - “
“I know, sugar.” Dick grinned. “I mean, I know that now. But back then…” His ears flicked. “Half-convinced myself you only picked me because you were mad at him. Like a powerplay. Y’know? Ooh, I could adopt you and pamper you and love you, but I’m gonna turn Dick instead and give him all the good stuff I could be givin’ you.”
Miles grew very still. “I… darling, I had no idea, I never - “
“I know, babe, I know.” Dick kissed his cheek. “It was somethin’ I let myself get worried about and it’s all real silly now. I’m not worried about it anymore.” He hugged Miles tightly. “You’re stuck with me.”
“Not legally,” Miles grumbled. That was another of his many pet projects. He’d seen what Phoenix had gone through, and he’d seen Will used and discarded by some anonymous executive jerk, and decided there must be some kind of legal liability for turning someone into a catboy. A relatively simple concept, complicated by the need to assure measures meant as protections couldn’t be twisted to deprive them of rights and freedoms. The project was somewhere between “reform the entire trial system” and “adaptable penal housing” on his to-do list, but it occupied a permanent corner of his mind.
Dick gently headbutted Miles, like he could tell he was about to start overthinking. “Mr. Wright’s been through a lot. And you can only watch somebody you love go through so much before you can’t help yourself.”
“I didn’t say I love him.”
“Mmhmm.”
Miles pulled the blankets up to cover himself, almost unconsciously. “Glad to learn I’m so transparent.”
“Just to me, hun.”
His cheeks felt hot. If there was anybody in the world he shouldn’t be embarrassed in front of, it was Dick, but no one had informed his blushing response. “Well. Yes. You’re correct, of course. It’s Wright. I… I want to help him recover. He’s been talking about taking the bar exam again, and I could help with that. Give him security, and support. Finally give Trucy some stability.” He looked away. “But I don’t think I could do that without… without my feelings becoming involved. And I couldn’t possibly do that to you.”
“I think it’s a great idea.”
Miles frowned. “Really?”
“Really.”
“But what if my… motivates aren’t… entirely pure?”
“Um. I kind of assumed you were gonna want to fuck him.”
“No, I mean - well, yes, but - he’s - well - I can’t - I don’t want to reduce him to just a pet. Which isn’t to say that you’re - !”
“I love bein’ your pet, puddin.” Dick kissed him on the cheek. “But I don’t think that’d work for either of you. After all those times you faced off, I don’t think you’d be able to look at Phoenix as just a pet.”
Miles sighed deeply. “You think so?”
“I do. I think you should ask him. And I bet he’ll say yes, too.” Dick stretched, yawning. “You’re gonna need to get one o’ them really big beds, though.”
“I’ve been considering it.” He poked Dick in the ribs. “But limiting the number of catboys in my bed has been extremely helpful in assuring I have a dry place to sleep.”
Dick leaned over and, almost casually, fell onto Miles. “You bring Phoenix in here,” he said from inches in front of Miles’s face, “then I hate to break it to ya, but you’re gonna lose a lot of sleep.”
Miles’s attempt at a retort was cut off by a kiss. By the time Dick broke away he’d forgotten what it was going to be, and as Dick made his way down his body he concluded that he didn’t really need sleep anyway.
Edgeworth hadn’t said what this dinner was about, just that they needed to talk. It set off all Phoenix’s alarms, but he swallowed them down. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Edgeworth didn’t have any authority over him; he wasn’t going to fire him, or break up with him, or arrest him. And he certainly wasn’t going to take away Trucy.
Besides, if it was bad news, he probably wouldn’t have asked him to meet at a swanky five-star restaurant downtown. Phoenix had dressed up nice for the occasion, which for him meant a button-down shirt and jeans. The beanie stayed on, though, and his tail was harder to hide in well-fitting pants. He was definitely going to sit on it. Despite the effort, he was still wildly underdressed, and half-expected to be shooed away or handed an oversized suit jacket to wear.
The host gave him a bit of a look, but withheld comment. Edgeworth had arrived first, because of course he did, and was already seated. When Phoenix arrived he rose from his seat to greet him. After a moment of hesitation, he offered his hand. Phoenix shook it, holding back a grin; he could practically hear Edgeworth’s inner monologue berating himself for it.
They made small talk for the first few minutes. How are you, how’s Trucy, how’s Dick, how’s the prosecutor’s office going, have you started studying for the bar, wow this sure is a nice restaurant, don’t think I didn’t notice you dodging that question, ooh the sea bass looks good. Phoenix didn’t try to push the issue of what they were doing here. Edgeworth would get there when he got there, and there was no need to ruin a perfectly nice conversation with news that he was being sued or whatever.
Once they’d placed their orders and the waiter had taken away their menus, Edgeworth cleared his throat. “Thank you for coming.”
“Hey, I’m never gonna turn down a free meal.” Especially not seafood. Especially not at a restaurant with a huge saltwater tank, full of colorful tropical fish. Not the ones on the menu, but a catboy could dream.
He turned his attention back to Edgeworth. Edgeworth looked nervous. Which meant, to most people, he looked imperious and stoic and terrifying, but Phoenix had seen him in court too often not to figure out a couple tells. “So, we’ve ordered,” he said, sitting back. “Guess it’s time to ask what you wanted to talk about.”
Edgeworth nodded. Lips tight, not quite making eye contact, hands hidden in his lap and probably fidgeting with his napkin. “Yes. Well. I suppose. It’s… I want to make you an offer.”
Phoenix raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“I’m… obviously, aware of your situation. Financially, in particular. You and Trucy have been living in… financially dubious conditions for many years now. Which is hard on a child, even one as resilient as her. And yourself. You’ve single-handedly supported her after losing your career, which is impressive but also a source of stress.”
“You’ve helped,” Phoenix chimed in.
Edgeworth nodded again. “I never would have accepted either of you starving or going unhoused. And I thank you for being gracious enough to accept my help. Which is… why I’m hoping you’d be willing to consider my offer.”
“You gotta make it first.”
“I’m getting to that.”
“Right, sorry. You’ve been practicing.”
Edgeworth took a deep breath. “Phoenix. I want to offer you and Trucy a new place to live. Funded by me. I will provide for your food and other necessities while Trucy is still in school and while you study for the bar and get your career back on track.”
Huh. Not… not what he expected. But somehow not a total shock. It seemed like exactly the kind of benevolence Edgeworth would offer to a poor neglected catboy and his tragic little orphan. Phoenix toyed with his silverware. “And what do you get in return?”
“I’m not asking for anything. I - there’s a second part to this. But it’s extremely important that you understand that the offer stands, regardless of what you say next. You deserve something solid, Phoenix, you and Trucy, and I want to give it to you.”
“It sounds like I’d be an idiot to say no.” Which didn’t mean yes. He tapped his spoon against the table. “What’s the second part?”
“The… second part…” Edgeworth cleared his throat. “In regards to the housing. If you were amenable. I’d… you are aware that my home is quite large, and I’ve housed a few people there.”
Phoenix snorted. “You’re asking me to be one of your stray catboys.”
“No. That’s - that’s the issue, you see. I would very much like to offer you free housing and full support in my home, but I couldn’t - I don’t believe I’d be able to - to do that without… my… that is, you’d be welcome, of course, but…”
Was he blushing? Phoenix leaned forward, frowning. “Miles?”
Edgeworth closed his eyes. “It would be impossible for you to live in my home without acknowledging my feelings for you.”
Phoenix sat back. Huh. He knew what it meant when a normal person said something like that, but Edgeworth… “Can you, uh… clarify?”
“Clarify.” Edgeworth shook his head. “Phoenix, honestly - “
“Honestly, Miles, clarify,” he repeated. “Because I wouldn’t be too surprised if you brought me to a fancy dinner to tell me you hated me and never wanted to see me again.”
“Nnngh…!“ Edgeworth crumpled his linen napkin. “Fine! Phoenix, I want you and your daughter to live with me so you can both be secure and comfortable and have better lives, but I’m not going to be able to hide the fact that I am in love with you.”
Phoenix blinked. “Okay. That’s… what I thought you meant.”
“So glad I could clear that up for you.” Edgeworth stared down at his lap, smoothing out his napkin again. “The offer of housing,” he continued, “is of course in no way contingent on any sort of reciprocation, or anything so sordid. I merely… thought you should know.”
“Wow. You know, most guys don’t ask you to move in until the third date.”
“Given our history, it didn’t seem necessary to waste time.” Edgeworth raised an eyebrow. “Does that make this the first date?”
Phoenix drummed his fingers on the table. “What about Dick?”
“Dick supports the idea.”
“No shit. Really?”
“He’s always liked you. And apparently my feelings were obvious to him.”
“Liked me?”
“Not romantically, as far as I am aware. But…” Edgeworth waggled a hand noncommittally. “I expect the two of you will spend plenty of time together.”
“Right, because he’s…” Phoenix trailed off. Then, abruptly, he said, “I don’t want to be a pet.”
Edgeworth raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“No. I don’t want to belong to someone like that. So if you’re looking for another pet, the answer’s no.”
Edgeworth scoffed. “After the success I had with Powers, I have no shortage of pets. But that’s a hobby. Dick loves being a pet. All he does is eat and sleep and fuck, being pampered and coddled and cared for. And I love providing that for him. But you? You’d be miserable.”
Phoenix bristled. “There you go, knowing what’s best for me already.”
Instead of pushing back, Edgeworth smiled wryly. “Duly noted. Perhaps you’d like to be pampered as well, and I wouldn’t dare to stop you.” He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again. “The housing, I’m offering unconditionally. The rest is… up to you.”
He really meant it, didn’t he? After all these years, after everything, Miles Edgeworth had just told him that he loved him. So why wasn’t he happy? He should’ve jumped at the offer, leapt across the table into Miles’s arms the way he’d always wanted, but instead he carefully examined his silverware.
“If you need time to consider it,” Miles offered, “I understand.”
That was stupid. Why wouldn’t he answer right now? It was an easy question. Too easy.
Ah. That was the problem. Phoenix was looking for the catch.
It had been a long, long time since Dahlia, but she’d changed him forever in more ways than one. His love life had been a long string of one night stands and men who only wanted him for sex (and Kristoph, but at least he knew what he was getting into (mostly)). His friends often needed his help as a lawyer. His entire law career had been an extended exercise in examining every minute detail of a situation until he found the secret, the loophole, the contradiction. Even Trucy, who he loved with all his heart, regularly tricked him with a cleverly-worded question or deflection.
And now Miles Edgeworth, the man he’d chased for a decade, was just… giving him everything.
Phoenix expected a catch, but he couldn’t find one. Maybe, for once, there wasn’t one - or maybe that was just catbrain, the part of himself that wanted to roll over for belly rubs and fall asleep in Miles’s lap and not think so hard about things like being tricked or used or lied to.
Phoenix leaned back and crossed his arms. “I’ll have to ask Trucy about moving.”
“Of course. I’m not expecting a decision right away.”
“And…” Phoenix slid his empty wineglass to the edge of the table. “If this is a first date, I think you’d better order some wine.”
Edgeworth smiled, his shoulders relaxing as the tension left him. “And you’d better remove that hat.”
“Ah…” Phoenix put a hand to his beanie. “My hair’s gonna be a mess.” Still, he slid the knit fabric off his head and dropped it in his lap. It felt weird, after all this time, to have his ears out in public again. But they were always so uncomfortable crammed in there, and it was so much nicer to not have to stress about trying to keep them still. He looked at Edgeworth, who was glaring at him.
“What?”
“You were right. Your hair is a mess.”
Phoenix groaned and jammed the beanie back on. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
By the time he came back, he’d been able to achieve a sort of deliberately messy tousled look, or at least, hopefully so. He didn’t even have a hair brush, let alone gel, so he was stuck combing water through his bangs and praying. And while he was at it, he fished his tail out of his pants and threaded it through the small hole under the waistband. That looked rough too, scraggly and dull; he hadn’t been expecting to break it out. When he returned to the table, Miles was still there, along with a bottle of wine, and despite what Phoenix knew he looked like, Miles smiled.
“Better?” Phoenix asked, slipping into his seat.
“Better,” Miles confirmed, pouring the wine. “But it was charming before.”
The rest of dinner went smoothly. The food was good, the wine was great, and the company was perfect. Being on a date with Miles wasn’t all that different from any other occasion, which made sense. The point of a date was to get to know someone, and they had done plenty of that already.
Phoenix declined dessert, so Miles paid the bill and offered him a ride home. Considering Phoenix had taken the bus, it would have been an easy question even if he didn’t expect an ulterior motive - and he was right this time.
“So. Would you like me to drop you off at home? Or would you care to, erm…” Miles’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Have a look at the prospective residence?”
Phoenix stretched. “I don’t usually go home with a guy on a first date.”
“Liar.”
Phoenix snorted and let the attack on his virtue stand, settling down in his seat as Miles set off. It was hard to wait. The ride was interminably long, and excruciating. Phoenix had to keep reminding himself that they were in fact still in public, even if it felt like just the two of them, and it would be dangerous to start getting handsy. But years of self-discipline paid off, and he kept his cool until Miles pulled into his garage - and not a second longer. Before he could even turn off the car Phoenix lunged for him, grabbing him by his jacket and kissing him hard. The moment their lips met all the artifice vanished; he wanted it, wanted him so badly he could die. Higher brain functions shut down; instinct took over, and he let it. He climbed into Miles’s lap, pawing at him, mewling pathetically, begging to touch, to be touched -
And god, Miles was good at it. He grabbed the back of Phoenix’s head and trailed his hand down his back, tracing the curve of his spine down to the base of his tail in one fluid motion that made him melt. Phoenix arched into the touch, purring, nuzzling against Miles’s hand, barely aware of himself. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered, Miles was petting him and it felt so good -
Miles was talking to him, too, quiet words in a soothing tone. They were nice words, even if he couldn’t quite parse them fully, nice words spoken softly and they made him want to curl up against Miles’s chest.
After a few minutes of this, Phoenix had completely relaxed in Miles’s arms and looked up at him lovingly.
“There you are,” Miles muttered, smiling back. “Got a little carried away.”
Phoenix ducked his head. “Aha… sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Miles hooked a finger under Phoenix’s chin and lifted him again, so he couldn’t hide. “I’ve wanted to do that for years.”
“What, watch me embarrass myself?”
“Don’t be silly, I’ve done that plenty.” He bent his finger, scratching under Phoenix’s chin, and Phoenix closed his eyes and purred. “Every time you’re in court.”
Miles’s fingers curled around to Phoenix’s jawbone, gently scratching him in all the most delicate places. It felt so good Phoenix couldn’t even bring himself to fight back. His whole body seemed to move with Miles’s fingers, rising with his touch, and when Miles finally took his hand away Phoenix collapsed.
He nuzzled against Miles’s neck. “Miles…”
Miles lifted his chin again and kissed him gently. “Shall we go in?”
Dumbly, Phoenix followed Miles out of the car and into the house proper. He felt high, floaty and warm, and wanted nothing more than to feel Miles’s body against his.
When they reached the bedroom, Miles closed the door behind them and calmly began undressing. “I could have taken you in the car,” he said, easily, like that wasn’t a mind-blowing thing to hear from Miles Edgeworth, “but I wanted to fuck you properly. I’m sure you would have enjoyed it, a wanton little thing like you, but I wanted this to be special.” Step by step, he disassembled his clothing: cuff links into a little dish on the dresser, suit jacket hung neatly, waistcoat alongside it. Phoenix watched him, fascinated. So many layers. So much care. Miles always dressed so deliberately; it must take him hours to get ready. Seeing him remove the frilly cravat, exposing just a sliver of collarbone under the undone collar, almost made Phoenix come then and there.
Miles looked at him, and Phoenix realized he was staring. Uh. “You’re really hot.”
Miles laughed. Then he laid a hand on Phoenix’s cheek. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful.” His thumb brushed over Phoenix’s cheekbone, and Phoenix closed his eyes, entranced. Miles was touching him so tenderly, stroking his neck and slipping a hand under his shirt and even playing with his ears. Phoenix wanted nothing more than to roll over and let Miles pet him forever, so when Miles gently guided him backwards to the bed Phoenix went with no resistance.
“Lovely little thing,” Miles crooned, carefully undressing Phoenix. “Oh, Phoenix, you really are a beautiful creature. Just look at you.”
One of Miles’s hands dipped down past Phoenix’s hip to stroke his tail. Reflexively, Phoenix jerked it away. He wasn’t embarrassed, exactly, not ashamed of his looks - it was all superficial, anyway, and he’d been through a rough few years, and even so he still cleaned up pretty nice. It was just - Miles kept saying he was beautiful, and that was going a little far. Especially when it came to his fur, coarse and dull. He’d seen Miles’s pets - whatever it was, the man somehow did have a talent for turning out gorgeous catboys. Even Dick and Larry came out with soft, lustrous fur and neat, perky ears. Meanwhile he’d barely had the time or energy to brush his hair, much less deal with the tail he hid in his sweats. And that was fine; very few of his hookups paid any attention to it at all, mainly just getting it out of the way while they went for their target underneath. But Miles - it was kind of like if a fashion photographer told a kindergarten teacher she was beautiful. And also the photographer was a model. And the kindergarten teacher hadn’t brushed her hair in seven years.
Miles chose not to say anything, but he didn’t reach for Phoenix’s tail again. The moment passed; he returned to stroking his body, chest, shoulders, thighs, caressing each piece as he exposed it. Phoenix melted, forgetting to be coy or embarrassed. His clothes had vanished and he’d wound up on his back, wriggling under Miles as he loomed over him. He was gorgeous. Why couldn’t he have asked Phoenix to be his ten years ago? Or when he lost his badge? Or…
Miles paused. “Phoenix?”
He didn’t have to ask. He could let it go, finally make love to the brilliant and beautiful man who wanted nothing but to give him pleasure, live a life of ignorant bliss. But instead, he asked, “Why now?”
Miles sat back on his heels and furrowed his brow. “Because…” He looked down, as if he’d find a sweet easy answer jotted down on the back of hand. “Because now I can.”
Miles had always had a big house and more money than he knew what to do with; his series of tiny red sports cars made that clear. And he was maybe a little less of a workaholic these days, but his schedule was still quite packed. So he didn’t mean financially, or practically.
He reached for Miles’s hand and laced their fingers together.
“I’m sorry,” Miles whispered, not looking at him. “All this time wasted, all the years you were alone and struggling, and all I needed was to… to accept myself, to understand, to trust myself. Instead I let pride and shame and fear keep me from you, and I - “
Phoenix sat up and kissed him, hard, muffling him mid-sentence and knocking him off balance. He threw his arms around his neck and pulled him down, then rolled on top of him. By the time Miles could gasp for air Phoenix was straddling him.
He had a lot to say in response to that confession. Things like I understand and I forgive you, or I guess I could say the same, or let’s not waste any more time. What actually came out of his mouth was, “Got it. Cock now?”
Miles laughed, that rare and beautiful sound, and grabbed Phoenix by the hips. Phoenix slid back until he could feel Miles’s erection under him. God, he was on Miles Edgeworth’s dick, and he hadn’t even looked at the damn thing. He wanted to, wanted to kiss it and touch it and taste it and play with it in every way he could possibly think of. But if Miles was telling the truth - and he was, Phoenix finally understood that - then there was plenty of time for that later. Right now, he needed it inside him more than he needed to breathe so he lifted himself up, moved into position, and dropped.
Years of longing, more foreplay than he’d ever endured, and the perfect shape of Miles Edgeworth’s dick teamed up to ambush him with an instant heart-stopping orgasm. He screamed, clawing at Miles’s chest for something to hold on to while he buckled under the force of it. And then it passed and he slumped, dazed and gasping, onto Miles.
It took a few minutes - at least, it felt like a few - for his overloaded senses to reset. When they did, he heard Miles’s beautiful wonderful voice. The exact words were beyond him, but he registered concern in the tone, so he lifted his head and grinned.
Miles smoothed his hair out of his face. “You had me worried for a moment there.” He sat up and lifted Phoenix’s chin like he was examining him for injuries. “God, Phoenix, that was spectacular. You were spectacular.”
Phoenix kissed him, because he could. Then he did it again. And again. The third time, he didn’t stop, pushing his tongue between Miles’s lips to get deeper inside him. Miles moaned into his mouth, bracing him with one hand on the back of his head and the other on his thigh. The motion started slowly, one or the other of them rising and falling. Phoenix wrapped his legs around Miles’s waist, and his arms around his shoulders, and poured every sigh directly into his mouth. They were locked together so firmly that they were barely able to move, but even the slightest twitch of Miles inside him was enough to drive Phoenix wild. He rode Miles, and Miles drove up into him, and they both moaned and whimpered and gasped and refused to let go.
Phoenix came easily on Miles’s cock, like he always knew he would. It was wonderful, a hidden fountain of warmth somewhere deep inside bubbling up over and over. Each time, he tensed and jerked and squirmed, and each time Miles held him fast. Their bodies were slippery with his release, and his throat was hoarse from crying out, and he never ever wanted it to stop.
Miles held out admirably long, but every time Phoenix tightened around him he groaned. Finally, it became too much; Phoenix reached another peak, and this time Miles gasped and buried himself as deep into Phoenix as he could and dug his nails into his scalp, taut and trembling everywhere. The bloom of warmth inside him lifted Phoenix even higher, groaning as Miles filled him, as Miles Edgeworth came inside him, and the thought alone nearly sent him over the edge again. Then Miles sagged, and fell back, and pulled limp Phoenix down on top of him.
Phoenix purred. He didn’t purr easily, these days, but he couldn’t have stopped himself even if he’d tried. He lay on top of Miles Edgeworth’s bare chest, and felt his hands on his back, and heard his pants and mumbled praises, and purred. This was perfect. This was the greatest moment of his life, or at least in the top three. Miles smoothed his hair and stroked his ears and Phoenix kissed his neck and purred, and everything was good.
They were both too hot and sweaty to stay that way for long; Miles pushed him gently and Phoenix rolled over. Phoenix still curled up next to him, craving contact, and Miles rested a hand on the top of his head.
“That was incredible,” Miles said. Needlessly, as far as Phoenix could tell; he knew it was incredible. He was there. But he did like hearing Miles say it, so he nodded along.
Miles looked down at him. “Are you… finished? Or do you need more?”
God, what a question. He didn’t need more, per se. He was perfectly capable of self control, most of the time, and he could easily count himself satisfied with this. But every inch of him still thrummed and buzzed, and if there could be more…
“If you’d like,” Miles said, playing with the tips of Phoenix’s ears, “I could call Dick. He wanted to give us space, but seeing as how I’m spent I’m sure he’d be more than willing to sub in.”
Oh, oh, now that was an idea. Phoenix meowed and raised his head to nod as vigorously as he could manage. He might’ve been too fucked to form words, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know a good idea when he heard it.
Miles kissed him on the top of his head. Then, despite Phoenix’s feeble protests, he slipped away. His phone lay on top of the dresser, and Phoenix felt more than a little satisfaction at the way Miles wobbled for even those few steps. He picked it up, typed a brief message, and hit send.
Seconds later, Phoenix heard thundering footsteps racing closer. The bedroom door burst open and there was Dick, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants, eyes wide and ears swiveling, breathing heavy, his gorgeous tail swishing behind him. He looked at Miles, who smiled benevolently and nodded. Then he looked at Phoenix, and Phoenix may not have been able to speak but he locked eyes with Dick, flipped onto his hands and knees, and lifted his tail. The offer could not have been more clear, and Dick pounced.
Miles had been heavenly, thorough and gentle and loving, every touch and every look the culmination of years of yearning. Dick, though.
Dick fucked him.
Dick fucked him good.
They had hooked up from time to time, back when Phoenix was a lawyer. Sometimes he needed that release, and he’d sworn off sleeping with other lawyers. Dick was always there, perfectly happy to have a quickie in the bathroom and get back to the trial. But they’d never connected outside the courthouse; it was always rushed, a race to the finish, an admittedly enjoyable necessity. Plus, that was before Dick’s transformation.
So now, Dick could take all the time he wanted, make a mess, be loud, all the things they couldn’t pull off in the tiny courthouse bathroom. And now, Dick had a catboy’s sexual stamina and appetite, and had been sitting somewhere close by hearing and smelling Phoenix and Miles’s activities. And Phoenix was already pretty well-fucked, halfway to a puddle, limp and pliable and open.
Phoenix was doomed.
Dick scrambled onto the bed and grabbed Phoenix by the hips. There wasn’t any preamble, no foreplay, no hesitation. Just the bulk of Dick climbing onto him, and Dick’s massive cock inside him, and Dick’s powerful arms holding him firmly in place as he pounded him senseless. Phoenix yowled, clawing at the sheets, but there was no way he’d be able to escape even if he’d wanted to. The bed creaked and the mattress bounced and Dick fucked him like a freight train, relentless and overpowering. He didn’t pause when he came; he grunted and kept going, his cum overflowing Phoenix’s ass and dripping down his thighs and squelching in that particular disgusting-hot way.
It had been a long, long time since Phoenix had been truly, completely satisfied by sex. Probably not since the gangbangs of his college years, and even those were sometimes cut tragically short. He was happy, sure, it was hard not to have like five orgasms and be unhappy, but he’d stopped because his partner stopped, not because he was finished. Now, he was helpless as orgasm after orgasm rolled through him, barely giving him time to breathe, chasing every thought out of his head and every sensation out of his body except more, more. Dick held him in place with a hand between the shoulderblades, or bent low over him to pin down his wrists, or wrapped his arms around his waist and squeezed. The position wasn’t important; as long as Dick’s rock-hard cock kept pumping more sticky hot cum into him, Phoenix would want more.
Finally, after the gaps between Phoenix’s orgasms had become theoretical and he’d been trapped in a single rolling wave of ecstasy for hours (or minutes, or seconds), Dick slowed down. He shuddered with one final climax, dripping with sweat and breathing heavily, and collapsed to the bed. Phoenix fell with him, still bracketed by Dick’s big strong arms, mewling and squirming and twitching out the aftershocks. Dick huffed against his neck and nuzzled into him, lapping at his skin wherever he could reach without moving. Moments later, Miles reappeared, perched on the edge of the bed. “Well now,” he said, petting Phoenix, “you look rather pleased.”
Phoenix realized, with a shock, that he was. He was fully, entirely, utterly pleased, in every sense. There wasn’t a single ounce of strength left in his body, and he was tingly and warm all over. His blood had been replaced by champagne, all fizzy and bright and ticklish in every bit of him. For the first time in nearly two decades, he didn’t want more sex.
Miles wiped him down with something cold and wet, which made him whine, but then he lay down next to him and draped an arm over him. Dick spooned him from the other side, rumbling like a lawnmower. When was the last time Phoenix had felt like this? Worn out, vulnerable, and so… safe? Maybe never. He’d been waiting for this the whole time.
And maybe tomorrow, he’d wake up, and the rush would have worn off, and he’d realize it was a mistake. Maybe Miles would reveal that there was a catch all along, after all, and slap a collar on Phoenix and tie him up in the basement. Maybe Dick would get territorial and possessive and chase Phoenix out.
Or maybe, when they woke, Dick would ask if he’d been too rough, and Miles would strongly recommend they all shower before any further activity, and Phoenix would agree but somehow find himself on his knees instead, his lips wrapped around Miles’s cock and Miles’s hand in his hair, with Dick crooning into his neck and petting his back and getting into position to fuck him a little more gently this time. And when they were done, Miles would insist they clean off, and he might fool around with Dick a little in the shower because it was fun and easy and okay and good, and after Miles made breakfast Phoenix could curl up next to him for a nap. Maybe that would happen instead.
Maybe he’d like that.
Bringing Phoenix into his home was a surprisingly easy adjustment. He shared a room with Miles and Dick, came and went as he pleased without Miles’s help, and even chipped in with some of the simpler chores. But he brought one thing with him that had a more significant impact on Miles’s daily life: Trucy.
It barely took a week for there to be an incident. Miles had grown indulgent over time, living a life of too much pleasure, and he and Phoenix were still caught up in the novelty of this new relationship. That was his excuse for why, when Phoenix started kissing his neck on the living room sofa, Miles didn’t take him to the bedroom like he usually did. Neither of them realized Trucy was home until she walked in.
Trucy shrieked; they scrambled to cover themselves. She fled. Phoenix grinned bashfully at Miles. Miles pushed him away because the mood was ruined, Phoenix, put your pants on. Phoenix went after his daughter (once he was fully clothed) and Miles sat on the couch with his head in his hands, humiliation burning a hole through his stomach.
It was later that evening when he happened upon Trucy in the kitchen. She’d been given full run of the place, naturally, and was occupied in digging through the fridge. Miles had intended to make himself a cup of tea, but this took priority. Probably.
“Trucy, I…” He cleared his throat. “Wanted to speak with you about what you may have seen - “
“Oh my God.” Trucy let the fridge door fall closed. “We don’t need to have this talk.”
“I… I think it’s important that you know that your father and I - “
“No, uh-uh, listen.” She whirled on him. “I’ve been living in a studio apartment with a catboy since I was eight. I’ve walked in, I’ve overheard, I’m well aware of Daddy and Daddy’s special nighttime friends and their special grown-up playtimes. Trust me, I have all the information I need. So please, do not try to explain that you were just wrestling, or having a special kind of fun, or whatever. We don’t need to have this talk.”
She opened the fridge door again and returned to rooting around for a snack. Miles stared at his feet.
After a long moment, he cleared his throat again.
“Activities will be forbidden in hallways and other shared, open spaces.”
Trucy was still hidden behind the door. “Good. Well, for you and my dad. Some of the other catboys you have hanging around are just fine.”
“Trucy!”
“What?” She shut the door, holding a little tub of yogurt. “I’m a growing girl with healthy interests for my age. What, am I disrespecting the pure and virtuous noble cause behind you living in a house littered with gorgeous naked catboys?”
“You’re too young!”
“It’s not illegal if he’s a catboy.”
“It is absolutely illegal if he’s a catboy!”
“Suuuuuuure.” She winked at him, and he resolved to make it explicitly clear to everyone who walked through the door that she was off-limits until she was 18.
Or 21.
Possibly 26.