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The door slammed behind him and he had to brace himself against it to keep from collapsing onto the floor. Phoenix sat sprawled over the chair across from Miles’ desk, one leg thrown over the arm of the chair and that stupid, mischievous grin on his face.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Miles spat, just barely regaining enough composure to pull himself away from the door. “You have class today.”
Phoenix pulled his phone from his pocket, checking the time. “Oh. I guess I forgot.”
Edgeworth took hurried steps to the window, yanking the cord to shutter the blinds. “It’s Thursday.”
“That’s never stopped me before.” Phoenix shrugged. “Besides, I came all this way to see you. I had to convince Larry it was worth it to bring me down here and everything.”
The prosecutor shot him a glare. “His license is suspended.”
“That’s why it was so hard to convince him,” Phoenix scoffed, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. He pulled himself up out of the chair, rocking easily onto his feet. He wore those tight-fitting jeans every teenager seemed to wear these days, clinging to his legs where the beginnings of toned muscle formed as the sixteen-year-old entered the tail-end of puberty. It made the prosecutor’s stomach twist.
“It was a whole thing. He told me to be careful, tried to shove condoms at me and everything,” he sighed, making an abstract gesture with his hands. “He’s worried I’m not being safe.”
Miles thought he might melt into a puddle on the floor. Phoenix wasn’t going to go away without a fight. He nearly collapsed into his desk chair. “Keep your idiotic friend out of this.”
“Hey, Larry’s a good guy.” Phoenix circled the desk, sitting on top of a few sprawled papers and crumpling them. “He’s my bestie, as the kids these days say.”
“Phoenix.” Miles’ eyes narrowed at the teen over his bifocals. “I’m serious. You can’t come here whenever you want.”
Phoenix frowned, looking ashamed of himself for a split second. A stab of regret in Edgeworth’s chest almost made him apologize. “At least Gumshoe is happy to see me. I had to spend a half hour hanging out with him to get him to bring me to your office.”
Miles resisted the urge to bite the inside of his cheek. That man couldn’t enforce his way out of a paper bag. “Detective Gumshoe will be dealt with.”
“Don’t be too hard on him. He told me not to touch anything or you’d lose it.” Phoenix shifted a few cups of supplies around. He plucked a single pen from a bundle, examining it. “You’ve got some neat things too—is this a fountain pen?”
“Be careful with that.”
He turned it in his fingers, trying to twirl it only to fling it to the floor.
“Oops!” Phoenix made a move to pick it up, but Edgeworth shooed him away, sliding from his chair to kneel on the carpet, searching for the pen. He pulled his glasses down, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the dark under the desk.
Something clicked around Miles’ wrist fast enough to be a blur. When he tried to yank his arm away, it stopped short and shook the desk.
One end of a pair of handcuffs caught his wrist, connecting it by a short chain to the other cuff. Phoenix’s hand closed around it, squeezing it closed around the leg of the desk. His face clouded over, that mischievous grin taking a dark turn. “Gumshoe also showed me how to work his cuffs.”
“Wh—”
He tried to pull the cuffs down the leg of the desk, only to be stopped by a support bar halfway down. Miles’ eyes widened. He was trapped.
“Unlock this. Now,” he gritted out.
“Oh, but you don’t even want me here.” Phoenix gave him something of a parody of a pained expression. “My feelings are hurt, you know. You said I could see you anytime I needed support.”
“It’s not funny. Someone could walk in at any moment.” Miles’ eyes darted nervously toward the door. Officers had a habit of popping in and out without permission, especially a certain detective.
“I guess I could be convinced to let you go…” Phoenix hummed thoughtfully. He fell backwards into Edgeworth’s chair, letting his legs splay out pointedly. “If you’re good for me.”
A wave of goosebumps ran over his back. The older man jerked on the cuffs, feeling the metal nearly cut into his skin. “We’re not playing games, Mr. Wright.”
“‘Mr. Wright,’ I like that.” Phoenix grinned, lopsided and too at-ease for the amount of danger they were in. He palmed the front of his jeans. “You look kind of pathetic down there, on your knees. Do you feel small, Mr. District Attorney?”
Miles’ face was beginning to burn from a mixture of arousal, humiliation, and frustration. If they weren’t running on borrowed time in an unlocked office, they could enjoy this properly—but Phoenix wouldn’t relent. He pressed his knees together, one hand on the carpet.
“I… could…” Miles cleared his throat. “Use my mouth. For you.”
“Oh?” Phoenix leaned forward, nearly radiating with glee. “Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth of District 53, using his mouth on—”
“Get on with it before a cop barges in here,” he barked.
Phoenix laughed, light and unconcerned, unzipping his pants and pulling them down with his briefs just enough to expose himself. Miles swallowed. He hated to admit even to himself that the sight of the young man’s cock made his mouth water, especially when Phoenix was gripping himself between two fingers, visibly hard.
Phoenix pulled the chair forward; before Miles could even move towards him, Phoenix tangled his hand in his gray hair and shoved him into his groin, grinding his cock against Miles’ lips. A hard breath escaped him.
“You better do a good job if you want to get loose before someone walks in.”
Miles’ cock twitched.
The grip on his hair made his scalp hurt, and he could barely take a breath as he opened his mouth and let Phoenix’s cock catch in his mouth. Phoenix loosened his hold, content to keep a guiding hand on the back of his head.
“Good boy,” he breathed. Miles shot him a glare. He despised that overconfident, arrogant attitude from a highschooler who skipped school to crawl all over the police department looking for him. He dragged his tongue along the bottom of his cock, getting a taste of the slick that was quickly building.
“You’re so good for me, aren’t you, Mr. District Attorney?” Phoenix’s voice was strained as he audibly tried to keep it steady. “Keep being good and I’ll fuck you after this.”
Miles felt a jut of pre-cum leak into his pants. He just hoped it didn’t leave a stain.
More than he hated the attitude, he hated how good the boy tasted. Even his at-home do-it-yourself hormone therapy had treated him well, giving him a weighty cock that Miles swallowed around. Phoenix gripped his hair again, hips twitching up into his mouth.
“Your mouth is so soft,” he sighed.
Miles took his free hand from its supporting position to press against the almost painfully hard bulge in his trousers, trying to grip himself through the fabric. Phoenix gave his hair a hard warning tug.
“Don’t touch yourself,” he grumbled. “Keep your hand on me.”
Miles’ hand trembled, but he dutifully placed it on Phoenix’s knee, fingers digging into his jeans as he let his mouth be filled again and again as the teen thrust up into his mouth. Not nearly enough to choke, but enough to make him feel full.
His eyes flickered up to Phoenix’s face; Phoenix watched him intently, cheeks flushed and lips parted as he panted. The eye contact struck a shiver down his spine, straight to the tip of his cock.
“Oh, shit—” Phoenix gasped. “Oh, M-Miles—”
Miles plunged himself as far down as he could, capturing as much of Phoenix’s cock in his mouth as possible. Phoenix rocked slowly into him, gripping the arms of the chair. The sensation on his tongue, the taste, the feeling of being smothered entirely into the teenager left him dizzy and desperate, pulse thrumming in his cock.
If he could just… grind a little more against the fabric of his pants—
“Boss!”
The door burst open, and Phoenix shoved the chair forward, squishing Edgeworth against the desk with his arm jerked uncomfortably behind him; his mouth was still wrapped around the boy’s cock without room to pull away. He struggled to breath quietly.
“Oh, hey, pal.” It was Gumshoe’s voice. “Where’s Mr. Edgeworth?”
Miles thought he might faint. Were his shoes visible under the gap? Gumshoe surely would come into the room, just enough to catch sight of a quivering burgundy leg sticking out around the desk.
“Hey, Detective.” Phoenix’s voice was breathy, but relatively collected. Even that man had to notice the fact that he was flushed. “Someone came in and took him down the hall.”
“Oh, yeah. That happens.” Miles could practically hear the way Gumshoe scratched the back of his neck, an unconscious habit. “Did he just leave ya’ here?”
“He said he’d be back soon.” Phoenix dragged the pads of his fingers through Miles’ hair in something of a soothing gesture. “Maybe if you get to the stairs, you can still catch him.”
“Oh! Thanks, pal!”
The familiar sound of Gumshoe skidding as he shut the door behind him made the knot in Miles’ stomach unfurl. Phoenix rolled the chair back out, giving Miles room to stumble forward onto his free hand. He laughed, too loud.
“That was a close one, good thing it was just Gumshoe.”
Phoenix produced a small key from his pocket, and unlocked the two cuffs. Miles rubbed at his wrist as he stood on shaky legs.
“Some higher power must be looking out for us,” Edgeworth sighed, raking his hands through his previously well-crafted hair. He could barely see through his bifocals, smudged after being pressed into his face. He glanced at Phoenix, who finally sorted his pants back into order.
“Hopefully they keep looking out for us.”
“What do you mean?”
Phoenix grabbed Miles by the hips, pulling him forward and pressing his mouth to the outline of his cock in his pants. Miles sucked in a sharp breath.
“S-stop—Phoenix, p-please—”
Phoenix leaned back, looking up at the prosecutor skeptically. “You want to walk around with an obvious hard-on at work? Be my guest.”
“I–” Miles bit his lip, frustration welling up in his chest. Trembling hands took his keyring from his pocket, pressing it into Phoenix’s palm.
“Just–just go to my car. Block A,” he said quietly. “I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”
“Trusting me with the keys to the Mustang?” Phoenix inspected the keys in his hand and whistled. “I’m getting the boyfriend treatment here.”
“Go,” he hissed. Phoenix was quick to press a kiss to the corner of his frown, still studying the keys with an almost boyish glee as he shuffled out of the room.
Miles opened a drawer and raked papers into it, anything that looked important, and shoved his chair back into his desk. He just prayed he didn’t get caught by Gumshoe on the way to the parking lot.