Archive of Our Own

Mydei has planned this day thoroughly.

He could sense that the Deliverer seemed more tired as of late, though the man himself would always shrug off any concern from the people around him and insist he was fine with that ridiculously, infuriatingly selfless smile of his. Although he put up a convincing front, he wasn't actually convincing anybody. And especially not Mydei of all people. With the Deliverer's history of self-sacrifice and bottling things up? He'd have a bigger chance convincing Zagreus than any of the Heirs.

So, Mydei decided he'd take matters into his own hands. He'd make Phainon a full, healthy breakfast first, since Phainon always seemed more worn in the mornings lately. If Phainon wouldn't look after himself willingly, then Mydei would simply have to make him. He'll force-feed the grown man if he has to. Spar with him as many times as he wants. Hell, he'd let Phainon drag him to the baths six or seven times a day if need be, even if it means turning into a wrinkly prune.

Honest to Nikador, he'd do anything that'd improve Phainon's mood at this point. Old habits die hard, and the Deliverer’s habit of neglecting his own health and considering himself undeserving of happiness has been persistently gnawing at him for a very long time now.

So it's plain obvious that waking up to an empty bed had not been part of Mydei's plan. Phainon had left neither a note or a text, nor had he even mentioned anything related to disappearing without a trace during the first quint of Entry Hour the day prior.

For a moment, Mydei just stares at the vacant space beside him and wonders if he's overthinking it. He knows Phainon is a light sleeper, so maybe he'd simply slipped out to go for a walk and clear his head. He'd be back soon, with a half-hearted apology on his lips for disappearing before dawn without notice.

Until Mydei's gaze shifts to the faint glow of his teleslate on the bedside table, the screen lighting up with unread notifications.

He's received a couple of messages from Hyacine.

It's probably not an emergency, Mydei thinks, as he reaches for his teleslate. Hyacine might still be running the Twilight Courtyard, but that's not to say all messages from her are default medical emergencies or reasons to panic. Perhaps she's texting him to ask if he could spare some time to bake snacks for Little Ica again.

Feeling reassured, Mydei opens the messages and reads them.

Lord Mydei, good morning!
Sorry to bother you, but as soon as you read this message, please come to the Twilight Courtyard. It's an emergency!

Mydei stiffens, any lingering sleep immediately fading from his system as he sits up. Their last major emergency had been resolving a galaxy-wide disaster and defeating Irontomb though, and things have been relatively peaceful since. It's probably not that serious of an emergency. Maybe an urgent situation at best. Like the Twilight Courtyard being low on medical supplies or Little Ica devouring all of the patients’ food.

As long as it's not about Phainon.

Unfortunately, nothing is going right today. Hyacine’s text bubble lights up again, and her next message is sent. It's about Lord Phainon!!

Of course. Now with a completely valid reason to panic, Mydei exhales sharply and gets out of bed.

When he rushes to the Twilight Courtyard, he finds Little Ica waiting for him. “Doot-doot!” The tiny pegasus trills, before zooming down the halls and past other wards. Mydei gets the hint easily enough and quickly follows its lead.

Little Ica stops at a private room, and soon, Hyacine enters his line of sight. “Lord Mydei,” she greets, visibly relieved, and nods towards her pegasus assistant. “Thank you for bringing Lord Mydei here, Little Ica.”

“Doot-doot!”

“Lady Hyacine,” Mydei says, and then he notices the distinct smell of flowers and that there's another person in the room. “Lady Castorice.”

Castorice is standing in front of a door, which is presumably the storage room. She turns towards him and smiles, though it looks slightly strained. “Hi, Lord Mydei.”

“Where is Phainon?” Mydei asks.

Hyacine sighs. She points at the storage room.

“He's locked himself in there,” she replies.

Mydei’s eyebrows raise to his hairline. “... For what reason?”

Hyacine and Castorice exchange looks.

“You'll see,” Hyacine says, “If it were any other person I would advise you to remain calm when you do, but… it's you, Lord Mydei. If it's anything concerning Lord Phainon, you'd know best on how to handle it.”

Mydei says nothing to that, and merely nods. He crosses his arms against his chest and stares at the firmly shut door.

“So? What's the progress?”

“Well, we've been trying to coax him to come out ever since,” Hyacine explains, “Cassie and I have tried knocking and talking to him, but he's mostly unresponsive and tells us to leave. We were just about to fetch the master key to unlock the door ourselves before you arrived.”

Mydei huffs. “There is no need for that,” he declares, and strides forward. Castorice wordlessly steps aside, allowing him to take her place before the door. He raises a gauntleted fist and knocks loudly, “Deliverer, it's me.”

Silence.

“Are you unconscious?” Mydei asks. The thought sends a faint spike of unease through him. “If you don't speak, I'm breaking in.”

He lifts his fist to knock again, until finally, he hears a rustle of movement from within. Something clatters like plastic bottles being knocked over, followed by a quiet wince.

“Mydei,” Phainon's muffled voice answers, “Please leave.”

Mydei exhales through his nose. At least now he knows Phainon hasn't passed out in there. “And when can I come back?” He asks, making sure his tone is measured and patient. “You can't seriously plan to hide in Hyacine's storage room forever.”

A bout of silence stretches on, until Phainon speaks again. “I'll stay in here,” he says quietly, “Until it goes back to normal.”

Mydei's brows furrow. “Until what goes back to normal?” he demands, but there is no response. After thirty seconds pass, Mydei decides there's no point tolerating this silent treatment. Does Phainon really think a flimsy door can stop him from getting the answers he wants out of him?

“Step back from the door, Deliverer,” he warns, ignoring the muffled noise of protest before he braces himself, ramming his shoulder against the door once, then twice, until the hinges give on the second impact with a loud creak and the door buckles inward, a dent caved into its surface as it swings open.

Mydei steps into the storage room and is prepared to have to physically shake the answers out of that stubborn man. Only, he doesn't have to. He finds Phainon curled up against the back of the wall, deliberately hiding his face from him. Except… it's no use. Mydei sees it as clear as day.

Phainon's skin has turned ashen, much like the dull grey of a weathered marble statue. Fractures split across his face, unusual cracks spidering outwards like shattered porcelain. An otherworldly, galactic glow bleeds through the fissures beneath the wounds, spilling most vividly along his cheek and his left eye, and the largest wound near his head burns a violet fire that flickers and pulses dimly.

“Deliverer,” Mydei says carefully, but Phainon flinches as if Mydei had just said something vile to him instead. “This is what you meant by waiting until it goes back to normal?”

It takes a while for Phainon to nod. He's still sitting on the floor hugging his knees to his chest, longer limbs struggling to fit comfortably in the cramped space of the storage room. Mydei has no clue how he honestly thought he'd cope with hiding in here for an indefinite amount of time, when Mydei had managed to break the door open in a matter of minutes.

“When did this happen?”

“I woke up feeling like I was burning,” Phainon mutters. “When I came here, this… happened.”

“And you locked yourself in the storage room because?”

“... I didn't want to scare Hyacine and Castorice,” Phainon admits quietly.

Mydei sighs softly, “Then you should also know you wouldn't have been able to hide this from me forever.” he takes one step forward, but Phainon only presses himself further against the wall like he's trying to merge into it. “Deliverer. Stop that.”

Even though Mydei has already seen everything, Phainon still adamantly tries to hide his face from his view, refusing to even make eye-contact.

“I didn't want you to see me like this,” he whispers, his voice almost quivering, “Especially not you.”

Mydei knows what he's thinking. To Phainon, this form is nothing less than a living reminder of everything he’s done to each Chrysos Heir. Every futile cycle, every arduous struggle, every failure and every death carved into memory.

Even with peace settling over Amphoreus, it’s far too easy to slip back into the old reflex of hatred. To the most perfect Chrysos Heir and the Deliverer of Amphoreus, this is only a matter of fact.

Especially not you, Phainon had said, and memories suddenly resurface, of a crescent blade slicing swiftly through the air, then pain striking Mydei in the tenth thoracic vertebra as the sword drove straight through his back.

Mydei forces the past memory down. There's no point dwelling on it, not when there isn't any regret or resentment to be had between them. The eternal recurrences could happen once more and Mydei would still entrust his weakness to this man, over and over again. 

With a faint sigh, Mydei lowers himself into a crouch so he's eye-level with Phainon, and despite Phainon's attempts to look away, he reaches out to cup his face. Phainon startles at the soft touch, and Mydei gently coaxes him into meeting his gaze.

Phainon's eyes are dim and void of light, but they're still the same shade of warm forget-me-not blue Mydei is all too familiar with. 

Mydei smiles, “Does this look like the face of someone who's scared of you?” He snickers, pinching Phainon's face fondly. “Don't be so full of yourself.”

Phainon stares at him with wide eyes. Gradually, his expression softens, dissolving into quiet wonder as if Mydei had personally strung the moon and stars across the sky. With a gentle pat to his cheek, Mydei pulls him back to his feet, their fingers intertwining without hesitation like second nature.

They leave the storage room together, where Castorice, Hyacine and Little Ica are still waiting.

“Doot-doot!”

“... I'll pay for the damages to the door,” Mydei assures. He can sense Phainon standing as stiffly as a board behind him, so he squeezes their tightly clasped hands.

“Lord Phainon, are you feeling alright?” Castorice asks. Contrary to what Phainon had thought, there is no fear in her eyes, only genuine concern for her friend’s well-being. “Are you in pain?”

“I'm… fine, Castorice. I'm not in any terrible pain,” Phainon says. He tries to muster up a smile. “Please don't worry about me.”

Hyacine tuts. “Now, who exactly is the medically trained professional here?” she asks, hands perched on her hips, “Let me give you a check-up first! We need to make sure you're not in any pain at all, and see what we can do about the situation.”

“Hyacine—”

“No buts! Let me examine you, alright? We all care a lot about you, Lord Phainon. So please don't try to hide from us again.”

Phainon inhales a sharp intake of breath. He raises his free hand and rubs self-consciously at his face, and Mydei smiles.

“See? You were worried about nothing after all.”

After Hyacine sits Phainon down for a medical check-up, Mydei drags him home.

There's technically nothing wrong with Phainon's body. His physical and mental health are intact. He just looks different, that's all. Hyacine deduces it's a side-effect from the aftermaths of the eternal recurrences, causing Phainon's form to revert to that of during the cycles. His winged divine form too, would explain that Phainon's appearance is not merely exclusive to that of the Nameless Hero with snow-white hair and bright blue eyes anymore.

But Mydei doesn't care. To him, all of Phainon's forms are one and the same, because they are all a part of Phainon.

Even after returning to the privacy of their shared home, Phainon is silent. He's just sitting on the kline, fiddling with his fingers as Mydei gets around to preparing a late breakfast. 

Mydei stares at him for a moment.

“Are you surprised that neither Hyacine or Castorice were afraid of you like you thought they'd be?” he asks. From the way Phainon flinches, he's hit the nail on the head.

This won't do. Mydei steps into the living room and lowers himself beside Phainon, the cushion dipping under his weight. He reaches for Phainon's hand again, prompting Phainon to hesitantly look up at him.

“Deliverer, listen to me,” he says firmly, “Ask Aglaea, Tribios, or any other Chrysos Heir, and they would react the same way. Whatever fear or resentment the cycles may have left behind… it’s nothing next to what we feel for you. We worry about you. That’s all it’s ever been.”

Phainon's breath hitches like he's about to cry. He inhales shakily and looks down to wipe his eyes. Mydei waits patiently. “Sorry,” Phainon mumbles, “Titans, I feel like such a child.”

“Don’t apologise.”

Phainon glances at him, and though he certainly looks less despaired, he still looks unsure. “Mydei,” he says quietly, “There’s a chance I might not ever gain full control of my form. Can you really accept that… I could look like this forever? Having to live and sleep with the man who wears the visage of your executioner… It's cruel, isn't it? I—”

Mydei cuts him off by leaning in to peck him on the lips.

Swallowing Phainon's surprised squeak, Mydei tightens his grip on his hand before finally pulling back just enough to look at him. “Idiot,” he murmurs, fondness threading through the word. “You are Phainon, are you not? As long as you are Phainon, my heart will always belong to you.”

Phainon lets out a small, wavering whine. “Mydei…” His dull eyes brighten, if only a little, warmth breaking through as a tearful smile tugs at his lips. “I thought there was no word for romance in the Kremnoan language.”

Mydei shrugs lightly. “As the last king, I think I can make some exceptions.”

For the first time today, Phainon laughs, and it's the most beautiful sound Mydei has ever heard.

Mydei cooks Phainon's favourite dishes for all their meals that day, courtesy of the recipes Phainon's mother Audata had graciously shared with him when they introduced each other to their parents some time ago. After he's sure he's fed the Deliverer until he's stuffed, Mydei ushers him off to bed. The man practically looks dead on his feet.

Despite their earlier conversation, he still feels Phainon tense as Mydei slips into bed beside him. He snorts, “Why so nervous, Deliverer? This is far from the first time we've shared a bed.”

“I…”

Mydei doesn't let him finish. He shifts closer until their sides press together, then gently takes Phainon’s arm and draws it around his waist. “Just hold me,” he murmurs, his eyes already slipping closed as he rests his head against Phainon’s chest. “Sleep will come easier.”

He feels Phainon’s soft exhale before the tension leaves him, little by little, as he slowly pulls Mydei closer. Cradled in the arms of the man he loves, Mydei drifts off, lulled by the steady rhythm of Phainon’s heartbeat.

When they wake up the next morning, however, the change to Phainon's appearance doesn't go away, contrary to what Phainon had hoped.

Phainon frowns as he stares at his reflection first thing in the morning and the face that looks back is that of the Flame Reaver, jaw clenched as his hands ball into fists at his sides, until the tension in his expression eventually softens as Mydei shuffles behind him and peppers kisses along Phainon's neck.

“What reason do you have to be self-conscious?” Mydei whispers, wrapping his arms around Phainon's broad shoulders. “You're still the most handsome man I've ever met.”

Phainon glances at him, and though his eyes have lost their light and shadows cling beneath them, he still manages to replicate his signature puppy look. “Mydei, you know other handsome men?”

Mydei rolls his eyes in exasperation, but he humours him anyway. “Anyone other than men named Phainon or Khaslana? Then no.”

Phainon’s mood visibly lifts, “Really? Well, that's great to hear.”

They have nothing much to do these days except stroll the streets of Okhema and mingle with the citizens, falling back into everyday life with a different kind of ease now that there is no prophecy looming over their heads. Phainon and Mydei have done almost everything together ever since, be it eating, shopping, bathing, or finding a secluded rooftop near Curtain-Fall Hour to exchange private conversations and laughter.

Mydei likes this routine. He knows Phainon does too, though lately, he’s been far more reluctant to step outside given his current state.

“If I go out to the Marmoreal Market looking like this, I’ll frighten everyone,” he says, resignation heavy in his voice. And as much as Mydei wants to argue, he can’t quite bring himself to disagree, which is upsetting, but Phainon's mind is made up anyway.

Late in Parting Hour, however, when the streets are emptier as people close up their stalls to return home and rest, Mydei persuades Phainon into visiting the Garden of Life.

“It’s been a while since you’ve visited the chimeras,” Mydei says, offering it as the reason, though in truth, it’s only an excuse to coax Phainon outside for a breath of fresh air. Phainon protests at first, insistent that he can’t risk being seen by anyone beyond the Heirs, that the mere sight of him would cause public and widespread panic, but then Aglaea steps in and assures him that the Garden of Life will be isolated at that hour.

So here they are, sitting in the grass as chimeras huddle around them. Most of them are quite familiar with Mydei, given that he regularly offers them snacks. Vigethos, a grey chimera with horns, is especially attached to him, and likes to bound up to him for pets whenever he visits.

Phainon is sitting awkwardly to the side, hands in his lap like he doesn't know what to do with himself, while across from him, Fig Stew, an orange chimera with stubby paws, warily approaches him.

Ordinarily, Phainon would have already gathered the chimera up, arms open without hesitation. Now, he stays where he is, purposely keeping his distance. Fig Stew pauses at arm’s length, then dips its head to sniff at Phainon’s hand before pressing in, nuzzling gently against him.

Surprise flickers across Phainon’s face. “I didn’t think you’d recognise me,” he says under his breath. The tension in his shoulders loosens just a little. “Hello, Fig Stew.”

Fig Stew purrs. Phainon cautiously lifts the chimera into his lap and strokes its head, and the chimera eventually falls asleep in his arms.

“Fig Stew is a very bright creature,” Mydei comments, “If even he doesn't perceive you as a threat, doesn't that account for something?”

Phainon snorts quietly. “I suppose,” he mumbles, rubbing Fig Stew’s fuzzy belly.

Mydei brushes away the hair falling into Phainon's left eye. The sight of the cracked wound on his face makes Mydei's heart twist, and so he does the first thing he thinks of, which is to lean in and kiss Phainon's cheek.

“Mydei,” Phainon lets out a noise between a breath and a laugh, and when he looks at Mydei, it's like Mydei's the centre of his universe and he's caught in his orbit, unable and unwilling to drift away. “You should warn me before you do that.”

“You've never needed a warning before,” Mydei retorts. “And someone needs to keep you on alert.”

Phainon smiles, and it makes Mydei's heart swell. It's rarer these days to see Phainon smile ever since this little predicament has happened, though Mydei can hardly call it a predicament because he loves Phainon all the same, and he doesn't see why the proof of Phainon's efforts poured into saving their world and everything they know etched into his skin would bother him in any possible timeline.

The point is, Mydei likes it when Phainon smiles.

“Is it alright to kiss you?”

“Why are you even asking?” Mydei says with false irritation.

Phainon smiles, a touch bashful, a touch embarrassed, and leans in to press a quick, gentle kiss to Mydei’s lips.

Later, as their playtime with the chimeras stretches on, even Tribios and Castorice make their way to the Garden of Life. Tribios, whole once more and returned to her adult form, greets Phainon with the same patient fondness. She looks at him like she's looking at the child she watched grow up and helped mentor, and not at all like the man who murdered their companions.

“You should join us for tea with Agy tomorrow,” Tribios says, “It's been a while. She may be busy, but she wants to see how you're doing.”

Castorice nods, “I've been wanting to share my latest poetry with you again, Lord Phainon. Your feedback has always been one of my greatest motivations. We'd love to spend time with you.”

“Cas is right. Don't be a stranger, Snowy.”

Mydei is content to watch Phainon fluster. After all, he and the other Heirs are actively working to make Phainon feel more comfortable in his skin. Although, he has always been more loved than he knows, and he alone is blind to that truth.

Partway through their conversation, a pink butterfly drifts down to rest on Phainon’s arm, its wings fluttering delicately. It lingers only a moment before lifting off again. Phainon’s gaze follows its path as it flies away, his expression abruptly turning distant, like he's reminiscing about something faraway.

When the silence stretches a little too long, Mydei reaches out and brushes his arm. Phainon looks up at him then, smiling, as if gently returning from wherever his thoughts had wandered, pulled back to reality by the sight of Mydei's eyes alone.

Mydei loves Phainon. This is a given. It's one of the few constants to endure across thirty million cycles. It's practically one of the laws of nature at this point. If there exists a universe where Mydei doesn't love Phainon, then the Mydei of this universe considers that a universe gone wrong, one that has strayed too far from how things are meant to be.

At this point in their relationship, Mydei would even set himself on fire for Phainon to prove something if need be. But even he has limits. He draws the line at certain betrayals, like the one instance Phainon added sugar to his milk powder, and Mydei had nearly given him food poisoning as revenge—

“Mydei? It's your turn,” Phainon says, holding up his selection of cards.

The card games are entertaining. Truly, they are. Phainon had picked up most of his skill from the Trailblazer back when she and Dan Heng were still on Amphoreus. She’d taught him out of sheer boredom, and Phainon, always eager to learn something new, had taken to it immediately.

At some point, she’d even gifted him a deck of cards. Phainon had only recently remembered it, pulling it out and suggesting that they could play. Mydei had agreed only because there was little else to fill the time while indoors. He even had to write to Krateros that he'd be away from the Kremnoan Detachment for some time, citing that he had urgent business.

They’ve been playing for days now, one round bleeding into the next, the hours slipping past almost unnoticed. That's not to say Mydei isn't intent on winning every game despite being a beginner, he still shares Phainon's competitive streak after all, which can't be fulfilled by sparring anymore because Phainon absolutely refuses to fight him in his current state.

But Mydeimos of Castrum Kremnos has limits, as much as he has desires. He's aware of his high libido. It's only matched by the Deliverer himself, and yet for all of that restless sex drive, Phainon hasn't initiated anything since the day before he locked himself in a storage room.

And that was five days ago.

“You’ve got a bad deck this round, huh?” Phainon guesses. The fractures along his face glow faintly as his lips quirk into that familiar, smug smile, and Mydei has the sudden, overwhelming urge to vault the low table and kiss him senseless.

Oblivious, Phainon continues. “If that’s the case,” he hums triumphantly like he's already won the game, “It’s better to admit defeat sooner—”

Screw the game. Mydei slams his cards down, revealing his hand, and it's a perfect deck. Phainon blinks.

“Deliverer.” Phainon's eyes snap back up to Mydei at the sound of Mydei's low drawl. Mydei leans forward, cheek propped against his elbow as he deliberately lets his chest press against the table, offering Phainon a very clear and intentional view.

Mydei's lips curl into a grin. “It's been a while since you've fucked me, don't you think?”

Choking on air, Phainon drops his cards, and they scatter all over the table.

“You can't just spring that on me,” he splutters.

Mydei raises a brow. “You don't want to have sex?” he asks.

If Phainon's ashy skin were capable of blushing, a deep flush would've already crept up his neck, and Mydei would have a field day sucking marks all over it. “O-Of course I do!” he protests.

Then Mydei stands, abandoning their card game, and Phainon similarly scrambles to his feet. It must make for an amusing sight, the man who was dubbed the fearsome prisoner of flames staring at Mydei meekly, before yelping as Mydei suddenly yanks him by the wrist and starts dragging him towards their bedroom.

Mydei shoves him onto the bed with little effort. Even if he doesn't have his demigod prowess anymore, he knows his strength still isn't to be underestimated. Phainon towers over him in this form, their height difference no longer the measly two inches they used to bicker about. Everything about him is bigger. His hands, his thighs, maybe even his cock—

Mydei crawls on top of him. It's just a hypothesis, but he's dying to find out.

“Mydei,” Phainon exhales reverently, like his name is the single word he knows. He tries grinding his hips to gain some friction, but Mydei's weight stubbornly holds him down.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he commands, while Phainon stares at him from below with wide, eager eyes. “Take your clothes off, and let's get started.”

Considering Mydei is already dressed in little and his clothes are discarded in record time, this gives him the indulgence of watching Phainon strip. In contrast, Phainon undresses more slowly, his movements almost hesitant, but he does as told anyway and is naked soon enough. More fractures trace their way down the length of his torso, while his arms are marked with a scattering of old scars, some intimately familiar to Mydei, earned through years of swordwork.

And lower still, down the hard lines of his pelvic muscles and disappearing into a pale trail of curled white hair, is Phainon's cock, thick and already leaking precum.

It's not just bigger. It's monstrous.

It takes everything in Mydei and more to tear his gaze away from the monster between Phainon's legs, and he's disappointed to see a hand cupped over Phainon's face, his dull eyes averted to the ground. “I thought I told you to keep your eyes on me,” Mydei chides. “Or are you having second thoughts about this?”

Phainon tenses, shaking his head so frantically that his snow-white hair fans out against the sheets like an angel’s halo. “Of course not. It’s just—I've thought about this so many times, you have no idea.” His breath trembles as he forces himself to meet Mydei’s discerning gaze. “Back then, I dreamed of this more times than I could count… and it made me feel sick. How could I even dare to? Wearing this skin—looking like this? After all I've done? I—”

Before he can tip down a downward spiral, he's pulled back from the edge by five of Mydei's fingers closing around his chin. Mydei tilts Phainon’s face up in an unyielding grip, squeezing his cheeks, eliciting a muffled noise of protest from the man beneath him.

“Phainon,” Mydei says quietly, and Phainon stills, suddenly ceasing his struggle.

There is no anger or irritation in his voice, only an immeasurable amount of patience.

“It has been billions of cycles since we first met. We have fought side by side more times than either of us can remember. So, you know me.” Mydei’s thumb shifts slightly, not loosening his grip, but gentler now, “I do not lie.”

“So unless you truly think me a fool,” he goes on, “Then believe me when I say this. I do not care about how you look. I would not turn from you if your skin fractured, or if your mind twisted reality into something unrecognisable. Tell me, even once throughout the cycles, have I ever scorned you for killing me? Have I ever regretted entrusting you with my weakness?”

His gaze doesn’t waver. “You can drive me out. You can hurt me. Char my skin, skewer my heart,” he says, laughing softly, “And I will still be here, trudging up the steeps from the River of Souls, and the first thing I'll do is punch some sense into you.”

He lets go to pinch Phainon's cheek. “I know you've been distancing yourself, whether intentionally or not. I know that you're scared. I can give you space, and you can push me away. But is that really what you want?”

“No,” Phainon whispers, “I need you, Mydeimos. I'm just… a coward, that's all,” he lets out a humourless, self-deprecating laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly as he throws an arm over his eyes. He sighs, “Looking in the mirror just makes it incredibly hard to believe you'd forgive and love me after everything.”

“HKS,” Mydei says fondly, tugging Phainon's arm away and intertwining their fingers. “Isn't my affirmation more than enough? Don't you trust me?”

Phainon studies him, and the more they stare at each other, he allows himself a tiny smile. “I do.”

“Then do you want this?” Mydei asks.

Phainon squeezes his hand. “I do.”

In response, Mydei kisses him, and Phainon kisses back. Kissing Phainon is instinctual now, something so natural that just the taste of Phainon's lips against his has the ability to bypass thought entirely. It's strange, this power Phainon has over him, so much so it would've thrown the Mydei of the first cycle off. But Mydei knows it's mutual, and being able to exert such control over the Deliverer isn't so bad.

He could get high on this level of power, honestly. Not even sitting atop his lofty throne of red crystals in the Kremnoan empire at its peak could compare to having the Deliverer react so enthusiastically to his every whim, and isn't that something that should probably get checked out in Mydei's brain?

“Phainon,” Mydei whispers his name between kisses, his hand wandering lower, teasing Phainon's cock, grinning smugly as Phainon moans into his mouth, “Khaslana.”

Phainon lets out a groan, fucking into Mydei's fist.

“Khaslana,” Mydei says again, licking a stripe up Phainon's neck.

“You sound so pretty saying my name,” Phainon murmurs. “Mydeimos.”

The sound of his name uttered in that low timbre sends a thrill down Mydei's spine. He's wet, his cunt dripping between his legs, aching and begging to be filled. He shoves a hand between his own thighs to rub his clit, parting his folds with two fingers to spread his wetness.

“You want me?” Mydei pants, noticing Phainon's heavy stare.

Big hands wrap around his waist and pull him closer, and that's all the answer Mydei needs.

“Mydei,” Phainon moans, as Mydei's hot cunt clenches like a vice around his cock. His hands find purchase on Mydei's hips, so big they nearly loop around the entirety of his waist, only encouraging Mydei to ride him faster. “You're so—tight.”

Mydei huffs out a breath of laughter. “Well, we haven't had sex in a while,” he says between breaths as he's bouncing on Phainon's thick cock, “And you're bigger, HKS.”

“Yeah?” Phainon pants, abruptly thrusting his hips upwards, and Mydei gasps in pleasure, “You like that I'm bigger?”

Those large hands leave his waist, reaching upwards to cup Mydei's chest. Mydei moans, riding Phainon fervently, but he can't help arching into the touch, unable to resist those dexterous fingers massaging his tits. He whimpers when Phainon meanly flicks a nipple. “Yes, yes, ah!”

His back arches, his pleasure cresting into his first orgasm of the day as soon as one of Phainon's hands rubs his clit in circles the same time he squeezes his breast hard enough to hurt. Mydei's legs tremble as he comes down from his high, but as the post-orgasm haze gradually fades, he realises Phainon hasn't cummed yet.

He gathers his remaining strength and starts slowly moving his hips again, until all of a sudden, the world lurches, and Mydei's being flipped onto his stomach. He has little time to register the change in position, still dazed from the pleasure-bliss of his orgasm, and neither has the strength in his legs recovered so soon.

“Phainon?” He calls, puzzled, but then his hips are being pulled upwards, forcing him onto his hands and knees with his hips raised in the air. He turns his head around, a protest already on the tip of his tongue, “Wait, I—”

The words dissolve into a soft moan when Phainon's hands return to grabbing his waist, and then the tip of his cock is slowly breaching Mydei's wet pussy. “Let me,” Phainon murmurs, “I want to make you feel good.”

He’s deeper like this, Mydei realises, as Phainon continues pushing forward and spearing him on his cock. He gasps when the widest part of his head pops in, and it feels like it takes ages until Phainon's hips are pressed flushed against his ass, his stuffed pussy fluttering around the base of his impressive girth. “Fuck, you're so big,” Mydei moans, his voice climbing higher with every deep thrust, Phainon's balls smacking wetly against his cunt, “Yes, yes, Khaslana, just like that—”

“You were right. My cowardice was foolish.” he hears Phainon mutter over the sound of squelching thrusts from where they're connected, “For a man of such few words, I sometimes forget how vocal you are whenever I fuck you. I haven't realised I've sorely missed it.”

Right after, his pounding gets faster, every thrust precisely hitting Mydei's sweet spot as if he knows every tune that makes Mydei sing like the back of his hand. Of course he does. He's had about thirty billion cycles of practice, trial and error.

Mydei's eyes roll back as another thrust hits just right, and any lingering thought turns to mush. Phainon was already big before, but currently, with his monstrous girth filling up every inch of Mydei's insides, he might as well be molding Mydei's pussy around his dick.

His eyes slide close, his lips parting to let Phainon hear all the noises he can't hold back that Phainon claims to miss. His cock is so deep it's like Mydei can feel it on the back of his throat, and it's inevitable that he feels himself losing against the onslaught of pleasure—

Until he feels what is undoubtedly the tip of a cock against his lips, and Mydei's eyes snap wide open.

Phainon is behind him, that's for sure, his cock hot and throbbing inside Mydei's cunt. But when he looks up, he sees a second, monochrome version of Phainon, and he instantly recognises him as one of the Flame Reaver’s clones he once summoned into battle. A physical manifestation of the Flame Reaver's shadow, used to aid him in his goal to get to Mydei's exposed back, to stab through his tenth thoracic vertebrae.

A hand threads through his hair so gently, such a contrast from the earlier pounding. “We don't have to,” he hears Phainon say, sounding guilty and ashamed, “I’m sorry. I can get rid of him now.”

Instead, Mydei nuzzles against the cock near his face. Phainon's breath hitches.

“Why?” Mydei asks breathily, using one hand to wrap around the clone’s cock, steadily pumping the base. It twitches against his face, hardening by the second, as Mydei sticks his tongue out to lick the curved tip appreciatively. “Didn’t you want to make me feel good?”

“Mydei,” Phainon sounds stunned, his hips having completely stilled. His stare bores into Mydei's back, and Mydei can tell he's entranced by the way Mydei lavishes his clone's cock with so much attention.

Mydei lowers his head, sucking on the clone's balls before slowly making his way up, licking up the girthy vein running up the side of his cock, until he's left mouthing at the head with wet kisses, allowing saliva to drip down his chin. His eyes flicker up towards the clone to gauge a reaction. It's an identical imitation of Phainon, but it's simply a puppet, only a manifestation of Phainon's desires.

The original Phainon, the one with his cock sheathed in Mydei's pussy, moans unabashedly like he can feel everything.

Huh. Can he?

Mydei rocks his hips back. “You stopped moving,” he says, his voice a little slurred. It's unavoidable, with the enormous cock in his mouth. “Too much for you, Deliverer?”

“You didn't tell me you were such a slut, Mydeimos.”

“I’m not a—”

Mydei doesn't get to finish, as the clone takes advantage of his open mouth to shove his cock right in. Taken by surprise, he chokes, almost gagging on it, before he forces his jaw to relax, the clone wasting no time to fuck his throat.

It hurts and feels good at the same time. Mydei is no stranger to sucking Phainon's cock, though he does have to stretch his jaw wider than usual to accommodate the bigger length. He wouldn't be Mydeimos if he backed down from a challenge, so he ignores the burn in his throat in favour of bobbing his head up and down and hollowing his cheeks.

Phainon's pace picks up once more, fucking into Mydei with even more vigour than earlier. Tears sting Mydei's eyes as he's pushed back and forth, fucked forward by the cock driving relentlessly into his hole and fucked backwards by the cock shoved down his throat, so deep that Mydei's nose is buried in a patch of white hair.

When Phainon's hand inches downwards to pinch his needy clit between his fingers, Mydei’s whines are muffled due to the cock in his mouth, his pussy squeezing tight around Phainon's cock. The pleasure is beyond heady. It doesn't take long for him to cum like that, stuck between two inhumanly large cocks as his pussy sprays messily.

Phainon grunts, shoving his cock as deep as he can in Mydei's cunt, filling him to the brim with thick cum. At the same time, his clone cums too, and Mydei has no choice but to swallow all of it. It's thick and viscous, with a salty tang to it, and it tastes just like Phainon. The sensation of being filled from both ends is a searing blend of humiliation and heady, disorienting pleasure, and Mydei can only moan weakly and take it.

He's pulled off the clone's cock, a string of saliva and cum still connecting the tip and Mydei's swollen lips. Mydei coughs as he wipes the residual drool from his mouth.

“Enjoyed that, didn't you?”

A tender kiss is dropped on his sweaty hair. Like deja vu, he's flipped and rearranged into a different position. It's easy for Phainon to manhandle him as he pleases, since he's reduced Mydei's legs to jelly and he has an extra set of hands to help him.

Before Mydei can even catch his breath, he's laying on top of Phainon, legs folded in half until his knees touch his ears. Both his legs are held apart by Phainon's clone, who looms over him, his fingers digging into the flesh of Mydei's thighs for purchase as his cock nudges against Mydei's leaking pussy.

He's effectively sandwiched between them. Two big, muscled bodies against Mydei's smaller frame. The clone's cock pushes into his cunt with ease, lubricated with an overflowing amount of cum and slick. Mydei moans, but it turns into a shriek the moment large hands spread his cheeks apart, and a cock is steadily breaching his untouched ass.

“Khaslana!”

“You can take it,” Phainon says encouragingly, peppering gentle kiss after kiss on Mydei's nape. “You're so good to me. You can take everything I give you.”

At least a warning would've been nice though. But all Mydei can manage at the moment is a long, drawn-out whimper as two huge cocks push into his holes at the same time. The pain blends with pleasure until Mydei can't tell which from which, only that he's so full, that the cocks inside him are the only things he can feel, and that he has nowhere else he wants to be than in this exact position.

Hands touch him everywhere. Phainon kisses every part of Mydei's skin that he can reach, from his cheek to his collarbone, whispering words of praise right into his ear. Although his clone is not capable of speech, he touches Mydei in all the places Phainon would, caressing Mydei's flanks, inner thighs and heaving chest, tracing the crimson markings on his skin with a hungry eagerness.

“You feel so good,” Phainon murmurs as he nibbles on Mydei's earlobe, and begins to thrust shallowly. His clone starts moving too, and soon Mydei has two massive cocks pounding into his holes in tandem.

The average person would probably be unable to take it. Thank the Titans Mydei isn't the average person. The idea of another person taking his place doesn't sound pleasant either. If it's Mydei's fate to be speared on two cocks to get Phainon to feel better, then he would accept it with pride and take it like a true Kremnoan.

“You're still thinking?”

A particular rough and timed thrust makes Mydei keen, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He whines, “Ah, ah, ah, yes, yes—”

He cums quicker than ever before, unable to think much or even comprehend that he's already reached his orgasm. It squirts out of his pussy so intensely that it makes him sob, drenching the cocks inside him and making Mydei's legs shake like a leaf.

Another jet of fluid sprays out of him weakly, the instant both cocks plug him full of cum. Mydei is certain his holes are gaping when they both pull out, and his assumptions are confirmed by the obscene twin loads that immediately drip out of him, making an utter mess of his thighs.

“Too much yet, Mydei?” Phainon asks. He waves his hand, and suddenly, with a swirl of black smoke, a second clone appears from thin air.

The clone approaches the bed like he's already received his directive. He lifts Mydei by the waist as though he weighs nothing at all, lays back against the bed, and begins lowering Mydei's sopping pussy right onto his face.

“Ah—hah—”

Begging for a break would be an absolute blow to Mydei's ego, especially after he was the one who'd goaded Phainon into this. But it's no matter. At least Phainon is regaining his sense of confidence to tease and bully Mydei in bed. Mydei can't say he misses it, but it's progress.

The clone licks up the cum dripping from Mydei's holes. He swirls his tongue around Mydei's folds, alternating between kissing his clit to sucking on the nub. Mydei’s body is sensitive all over, and so he can't help crying out in overstimulation, his back bowing as he tugs on the clone's hair.

It's out of instinct that he tries to crawl away from the overwhelming sensation of the clone making out with his used pussy and sucking his own cum out of him, but the way large hands clamp down on his waist with an iron grip, so much that he can't even budge an inch, makes Mydei leak new slick into the clone's mouth.

Suddenly, his arms are wrenched back, and Phainon is making him grab his cock, just as the other clone does the same for his other hand. Mydei starts instinctively running his hands up and down their cocks, fisting the thick bases and twisting his wrists expertly, his ears flushing from the wet squelching noises it produces.

Maybe he really is no better than a slut.

Perhaps it's better not to think about it. Mydei would much rather focus on the mind-numbing pleasure instead, and he has three copies of the Flame Reaver waiting for him to provide them an orgasm.

He grinds his hips, riding the clone's face to seek his release. The clone's hands on his waist guide him, helping him rut back and forth and rub his pussy all over his face, smearing slick everywhere. He thinks he feels the clone licking the slick off his own face, before plunging his tongue right back into Mydei's pussy without warning.

For a moment, Mydei sees nothing but white as he cums, sobbing Phainon's name. He gets so caught in the throes of his orgasm that he almost forgets about the two cocks he's supposedly pleasuring, until a hand cards through his hair and Mydei suddenly remembers to jerk his fists again until they're both cumming, streaks of white painting his tattooed chest, some of it even splattering on his face.

When Phainon leans in to swipe the streak of cum that's landed on Mydei's nose and feeds it into Mydei's mouth, Mydei licks his fingers, swirling the digits between his tongue as he stares up at Phainon through half-lidded eyes.

“Is that all?” Mydei challenges, his voice hoarse from the abuse to his throat, a grin spreading across his cum-streaked face.

Phainon's pupils dilate.

“So needy,” he whispers, as if to himself, shaking his head. A third clone manifests behind Mydei in a puff of black smoke, pulling him back by the shoulders, trapping Mydei against his strong biceps. Another clone buries his face in Mydei's pecs, kissing and sucking on his pebbled nipples. The last one shuffles his way from under Mydei's legs and presses a trail of kisses along his thigh.

Lastly, the original Phainon cups his cheek and kisses him, tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth and eagerly mapping the inside of Mydei's mouth with his tongue.

It kind of feels like Mydei has four very large, affectionate dogs.

One of the clones, he can't tell which one, lifts his arm and licks his armpit. He yelps, yet the curse on his tongue devolves into a breathless laugh as more kisses are left on his torso and down his chest. It's no use. He would let Phainon get away with anything he does to him, be it kill him again, fuck him alongside his three clones that he once used to kill him, or even sabotage his diet.

The last one is still debatable though.

“Mydei, up.”

Once again, he's heaved upwards by his underarms as if he were a misbehaving cat, the heavy and throbbing cock of the clone underneath him already twitching excitedly against his ass. Mydei lies back and doesn't lift a finger, resigning himself to having his limbs arranged however Phainon and his clones please like a ball-jointed doll.

Besides, there are already two of the clones shuffling near him on each side, shoving their erect cocks in his face. The speed at which they get hard again should be frightening, but Mydei also knows Phainon’s refractory period is near non-existent, so maybe it's his own fault for not being more prepared. After all, the Deliverer has never made things easy for him.

The cocks poke at him more insistently now, prodding his nose and cheeks almost playfully, making even more of a mess of the mixture of tears, drool and cum on his face. A delirious giggle escapes Mydei. The fan of his breath makes the cocks against his face twitch, and so he obediently darts his tongue out to swirl his tongue between the rounded tips.

He's in the midst of sucking the left clone's cock and fisting the right one’s simultaneously when the last clone pushes his cock into his abused pussy, and Mydei whines at the familiar, addicting ache of the stretch. His chest jiggles from the way he's bounced and down on the clone’s lap, and he's helpless to do anything about it. All he can do is take his cock like a good slut, leftover cum from earlier rounds dribbling out of his hole and down the clone’s balls.

“Hah—” Mydei pulls off the cock in his mouth with excess drool dripping from his lip, as a hand forcefully turns his chin and guides him towards the next cock, and he takes that one into his mouth just as eagerly as the last. His pussy pulses wet and hot around the one inside him, taking the pounding pliantly.

It should be worrisome, how easily he'd surrendered his holes to be used and how much pleasure he's derived from it, but it's Phainon, it's Khaslana, it's the Flame Reaver—and they're all Phainon, and since it's Phainon, Mydei would let never be able to deny him anything.

Even if the original Phainon, for some reason, isn't fucking him now. Only his clones are partaking, occupying Mydei's pussy, mouth, and hands, although they're really no less eager than Phainon is, perfectly embodying the amount of hunger their creator possesses.

Still, Mydei wants to know why Phainon hasn't participated. He pulls away, trying to find him. “Phainon? Why haven't you—Mmrgh!”

One of his clones drag him back onto his cock mid-sentence, forcing him to take it down his throat. Despite being nothing more than an imitation of Phainon, he apparently has enough awareness to be unhappy at Mydei's attention wandering elsewhere for even a second.

Mydei slaps that one's thigh, glaring up at him in anger. Again, he would've appreciated a warning, and yet his action does nothing except make the cock inside his mouth twitch in interest. Mydei almost rolls his eyes. How nice it is to know that Phainon's clones, ones he previously used for the purpose of slaughter, have inherited his sense of perversion.

“You look so ruined,” Phainon's voice drifts over, “Three cocks, and yet you're still insatiable for more. You're unbelievable, Your Highness. What would your people think if they saw you now?”

Mydei's cheeks burn. He doesn't even get to defend himself because he's too busy slurping on cock. It's humiliating, and a rational part of him reasons he should be more embarrassed, but that voice has been getting smaller and smaller since the beginning and Mydei can hardly hear it anymore, the waves of pleasure crashing over him and the thought of yet another orgasm sounding much more appealing in comparison.

He just wants Phainon to stop talking, and come over and fuck him.

“Your desire is written all over your face,” Phainon says, and Mydei hears the rustle of sheets, anticipation pounding in his chest. He jolts when he feels two hands spread his pussy lips wide, already stretched around a massive cock. “I wonder, are you able to take more of what I can give you?”

When two of Phainon's fingers press into his cramped pussy, Mydei moans so loudly around the cock in his mouth that he makes the clone cum, filling his throat with even more sticky, white seed.

“Yes,” Mydei pants as soon as his mouth is empty, “Yes, yes, do it, Phainon, do it, fuck me—”

“Are you sure? We're about to put two cocks in your pussy, dear.” As if taunting him, Phainon pauses, and adds with a hint of challenge in his tone, “You can say no if you can't handle it.”

This man will be the death of him. Again.

“I can take it,” Mydei insists, slurring over his words as drool drips down his chin. He spreads his legs as wide as he possibly can to show Phainon that he can, in fact, take it. “I can take it, can take anything you give me, so fuck my pussy, put your cock in me now.”

Phainon grins like he's won, and he looks so goddamn beautiful.

An incoherent sob tears through the room as the tip of Phainon's cock enters Mydei's pussy, alongside the cock already inside him. It's a tight fit. Mydei cries and whines throughout it all as if he were Phainon's whore and not a mighty king, his pussy gushing an immense amount of slick he's convinced even Phagousa would be impressed. He's pretty sure he even cums once, and Phainon's not even halfway inside him yet.

He would pass out, but he refuses to. Mydei refuses to pass out during sex, even at his most delirious. He wants, needs, to stay awake, forcing himself to remain conscious to feel every single burning, delicious inch of Phainon's cock inside his pussy, except it's double the sensation now, and for once in his life, Mydei thinks he's going to be split apart.

Tears blur his vision and stream down his cheeks. They taste salty, but some of it tastes oddly saltier than the rest. He’s late to realise that Phainon's clone has jerked off and cummed on his face, mixing his seed with Mydei's tears.

It's too much. Mydei chokes on a sob, and then he lets out a high-pitched shriek as Phainon's cock finally slams into him, and both cocks are now balls-deep inside him. He squirts immediately. It gets everywhere, and it doesn't stop for a while, soaking the sheets and the mess of limbs, and it almost hurts.

Mydei's eyes roll to the back of his skull, and he's crying because he can't stop squirting, and when his orgasm finally seems to wade and he gradually calms down, he cries again, because the two cocks inside his pussy begin moving in sync.

He thanks the Titans and all his ancestors before him that they do not have neighbours, so he does not have to go through the mortification of letting them hear the scream he makes that day.

“You said you could take it,” Phainon reminds him, and doesn't slow his pounding. Since his clone is also him and operates on his desires, he doesn't slow down either. “Can you live up to your promise, Mydeimos?”

Mydei nods frantically. He doesn't even know why he's nodding, but he sees Phainon make a pleased, happy smile, and really, that had been the entire goal after all.

“Love you,” he blurts, fucked out of his mind, but he always means what he says, even if this time it comes out without passing through his brain-to-mouth filter. He lets out a high moan, throwing his head back, the cocks inside his pussy crushing his guts and it feels so, so good, but he still forces himself to meet Phainon's eyes, to show him all the open, clear adoration he has for him. “Love you so much.”

In a heartbeat, Phainon answers. “I love you too, Mydei,” he says, and though they are only five simple words, his voice spills over and carries the weight of devotion so intense it transcends across thirty billion cycles of a loyalty so enduring and a love so steadfast, anyone else in the galaxy ought to be tremendously envious.

Too bad Phainon belongs to Mydei, and he belongs to Mydei alone.

Mine, Mydei thinks, slobbering all over cock for the nth time that day, moving his hips in whatever rhythm the cocks inside him urge him to. His thighs are pushed even further up, to allow those cocks to plough even more roughly into him. He's all mine.

His pussy is too loose, or too full, that the loads of seed hereafter that are dumped into him are plugged up only by the thick cocks inside him, and would dribble out in waves as soon as they pull out.

It'd be such a waste when they do pull out. Are they going to pull out? Mydei isn't even sure.

What time is it even? He attempts to sneak a glance out the window, but he can't tell. Perhaps an entire day has passed, and their unfinished card game still sits on their low table, but this has been far more enjoyable than playing cards, so Mydei's not unhappy about that.

When they do eventually pull out, to Mydei's disappointment, an ocean of cum rushes out of his hole and onto the sheets. He whines, rubbing his sticky legs together and trying to get the cum to stop leaking to no avail, thanks to his gaping pussy, but then one of the clones who he'd been sucking off bends down to shove three fingers into Mydei's cunt, his thumb deliberately pressing into his sore clit.

The others are silently moving around and switching positions. Mydei's jaw drops open, suddenly recovering a sliver of his rationality, “We're not done yet?”

The clones, of course, do not respond, busying themselves with sucking bruises on Mydei's skin or plugging up the abundance of cum in his pussy. Phainon kisses his hair, then grabs ahold of his cock, where the tip still glistens with residual cum, and smears it all around Mydei's face.

“I want to mark you,” Phainon murmurs, “Inside you, and all over you.”

Phainon goes first, fisting his own cock and groaning quietly as he splatters his seed on Mydei's breasts. The clones take turns staring down at Mydei lying bonelessly on the bed before jerking ribbons of cum on his stomach and legs, while the others slide their cocks in between the curve of his pecs or even his armpits while waiting.

As Phainon kisses Mydei's slack mouth, he does something he's never done before. He beckons for the clones to follow after separating from Mydei's lips. Now whenever there's someone jerking off on some part of his body, humping his leg or licking through his swollen folds, one of them will always be kissing him.

Mydei loses count of how many times he cums. All he knows is that he's almost always on the verge of cumming, and it reaches a point that he's barely able to squirt any fluid at all anymore.

He should tell Phainon to stop, but in truth, there is no part of him that wants him to. Especially not when Phainon's obviously so delighted by Mydei's ability to take it all, that Mydei can't help but want to indulge him even more.

“You are amazing, Mydei,” Phainon whispers, right after fucking Mydei's thighs and cumming all over his ass. Mydei's on his knees now, pleasuring three clones at once with nothing but his mouth and his hands. The praise washes over Mydei and it feels like bliss. He thinks he deserves it, since he's apparently so good at making Phainon cum, and the cum still dripping down his closed eyelid is proof.

He feels Phainon caress his ass, and then give it a smack that echoes throughout the room. The pain makes Mydei moan around the cock he's sucking off—he can't even recall what it feels like to not have a cock in his mouth anymore. For the first or maybe even second time, he's starting to think he's bit off more than he can chew.

A string of slick connects his pussy and Phainon's fingertips when Phainon moves lower to stroke his cunt, his finger coming away with a sticky fluid that's likely cum and even more slick. “You're still leaking,” Phainon hums, “Still want more? Can't get enough of me?”

Even with Phainon and three other copies of himself to satisfy him, and Mydei so fucked out he can barely tell left from right, and most importantly, his holes aching to be given some reprieve, Mydei can't say no. “Yes,” he gasps, arching his back as he pumps the two cocks in his fists faster.

Phainon laughs, and it's the most beautiful sound ever. “So needy,” he says again, and Mydei can hear the smile in his voice as big hands part Mydei's knees wider.

When Mydei wakes up, it takes only one look outside the window to know it's clearly a new day, and Mydei does not have this day planned at all other than staying in bed all day to recover from just how thoroughly yesterday wore him out.

He expects to wake up leaking from all holes and sore beyond belief, but he's surprisingly clean. Well, maybe it isn't that surprising. Phainon had three other sets of hands as additional help. Taking him to the bath should've been a remarkably easy affair.

What's more surprising is that Phainon still lay in bed beside him, fast asleep. Phainon doesn't sleep very deeply, and he's quick to rouse from the slightest movements. Miraculously, Mydei had managed to sit up, though with an incredibly pathetic amount of wincing, without disturbing him at all.

Maybe Mydei isn’t the only one worn from yesterday, though he doubts it. Still, seeing Phainon sleep so peacefully is a small comfort. He allows himself a few quiet seconds to stare at that serene visage, his eyes tracing the familiar fractures he has come to know so intimately. Endearment swells in his chest like it's going to burst before he reaches for Phainon’s beeping teleslate, careful not to wake him.

The source of the noise is a message from Professor Anaxa, requesting Phainon’s presence at the Marmoreal Palace to discuss a potential resolution for his change in appearance. Anaxa urges him to make haste at his earliest convenience, noting that Aglaea will also be there, and also reassuring him that they both have high hopes for the outcome.

Mydei switches off the teleslate and turns back to Phainon. He presses a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips, cupping his cheek and tracing the beautiful, fractured skin with careful fingers.

Truly, and Mydei will have to say it again and again until it goes through Phainon's thick skull, it matters not what he looks like. Mydei's heart is at peace and with the man he loves as long as he can greet him at dawn, however long this peaceful dawn will go on for.