[ Mydeimos manages to be fine while he's taking his clothes off. It's nothing neither of them haven't seen before, between the eons of time they've shared and now the new-but-old intimacy.
It falters a bit as he's removing his jewelry last and Phainon strides past to get the water on. Like this he has a good view of his broad shoulders, the expanse of his back narrowing to a thick waist; the curve of his ass, the strength in his thighs.
Mydeimos is staring. He shakes his head and finishes removing his earring, dropping it into the pile of his clothes and stepping into the shower.
.... It looked spacious before. Now there's two six foot plus men in it who are built broad. It's a bit of a squeeze. ]
Make sure the water's hot.
[ That practically gets growled right into Phainon's ear. ]
[ Phainon is putting all of his determination and self-control to work at the moment, to not let himself turn and stare at his friend as he takes his clothes off, and they prepare for their shower. He knows what Mydei looks like shirtless - everyone does, thanks to his fashion sense - and the rest is familiar to him, too.
That doesn't change what they are here for, their purpose, and what they have already done together. It prickles at him, and makes his cheeks feel hot, flushed and warm and absolutely overwhelming.
Coughing softly, he nods his head, sliding into the space and getting the water warmed up. He's content to stand there for a moment to calm down, but sooner rather than later Mydeimos is joining him, and he suddenly feels as if there's not enough air in the room.
They're so close.
Reaching, he goes for the shampoo, a distraction from the tingle of want that floods him. ]
[ They're close the way they normally aren't, unless they're in the middle of grappling. Then at least they have the distraction of a good fight going on between them, and the excuse of blood pumping.
But like this, Mydeimos can smell the tang of sweat that lingers on Phainon and his natural scent. He can watch the water run down his shoulders and back, something that normally only tortures him exiting the baths.
The question makes him stop staring a hole into Phainon's neck and he makes a noise of assent, subtly clearing his throat as he does it. ]
Sure. Thanks.
[ He turns before Phainon does, mostly because he's realized he's starting to get slightly hard, and he scowls down at himself. ]
[ This isn't the kind of physical contact they're used to - even in millions of cycles, they were friends more than they were more, and it feels odd with the most recent incarnation of their lives to be this close and intimate with someone he would call one of his best and dearest allies. Phainon knows they've already indulged, but part of that was due to the hot chocolate they'd drunk.
They haven't done anything since. They're not romantic.
Mydeimos turns, and he sees the slope of his back, his handsome tattoos, the way his hair sticks to him, and Phainon swallows. ]
It's no problem.
[ Shampoo in hand, he begins to run his fingers through his friend's hair, gentle and careful to ensure there are no tangles or pulling on his scalp. ]
Do you imagine it'll be like this every time we spar?
[ They're not romantic. They do live together, though, and take turns cooking, gently ribbing the other's choice of meals. Mydeimos has absolutely fallen asleep on a chair and found a blanket covering him, and done the same in turn for Phainon. The strange part is how easy it was.
He's used to living in close quarters, caring for others, but not quite the way this has been going on.
So focused is he on reminding himself this is just a shower and not anything more that he startles a bit when the hands touch his hair. He doesn't jump, that reaction trained out of him long ago, but Phainon is close enough to see the way his trapezius muscles tense and then deliberately relax.
It's nice, though. He tilts his head back a bit to give Phainon more access, fighting an encouraging hum; the question is a good distraction. ]
If we come back to this place? Yes.
[ He considers it, and then heaves a slight sigh. ]
I suspect any other location would likely have a similar reaction.
[ To Phainon, this is simply an extension of their friendship, the closeness that they had fostered since they had first met. If they had lived together in Amphoreus, they likely would do the same as they are doing here - taking care of one another, making food, sparring. None of it feels particularly different to what they shared before making their contracts and stepping into this place.
It feels natural, so he does not question it.
Focussing on washing his friend's hair, he hums softly in agreement. ]
I would suggest training at home, but I don't think we have the space for it.
[ So... Nowhere is going to be good? ]
I know we are here with purpose, but that doesn't mean I appreciate the reminder.
Nor do I, but this is the hand of Zagreus we have been dealt.
[ He exhales through his nose like a bull. The one balm is that he knows his wish will be granted if they can fulfill the contract. If Irontomb is destroyed, then maybe -
Maybe Phainon won't have to hold him back so desperately. Maybe he can be saved from that amalgamation of data, although all of them were prepared to lay their lives on the line and lose them. ]
We could always use one of the parks. It would be easier to ignore the people watching.
[ wow dON'T LAUGH IN HIS EAR LIKE THAT HE JUST TALKED HIS CHUB DOWN.
It's a good thing Phainon can't see the front of his face, flushed as it is, though if he's got a keen enough eye he might see the pink on Mydeimos' ears. Clearing his throat: ]
No, it wasn't. Their jeers usually weren't so ... descriptive.
[ There's nothing that should surprise him, but it does. Mydei is handsome, and attractive, and - a good friend, too, so of course people in this world would want to idolise him. He almost hooks his chin on his shoulder, but resists, focussing on rinsing out the suds.
Sooner rather than later, though I don't want to be ogled during our sparring either way.
[ He can't help the words; he's always been covetous of their time together, although this he tries to pass off like he's talking about the lewd spectators alone.
It does make him sigh, tilting his head back a little more. ]
They're getting enough of a show from this shower anyways, I imagine.
I spoke about it with someone I met. That, eventually, this might all become normal for us.
[ Phainon can agree; their sparring has always been their time, has been something that they shared as rivals turned friends. So many times their first meetings had been a near endless fight, and now it brings him the kind of joy he can barely speak of.
Eyes glued to Mydei's back, he smiles fondly, one hand sliding down absently to his waist, to press his fingers gently against that too familiar weak spot. ]
[ Mydeimos reacts more to the fingers sliding along his skin than where he touches. He knows exactly where it is; he's told Phainon about it millions of times. He's been pierced there just as many times; by Phainon himself, by the Flame Reaver, by Khaslana. His muscles twitch, but it comes with a sharp exhale from Mydei; there's no sign of the instinctive startle. ]
And yet here you are, feeling up my back and taking ages to wash my hair.
[ He glances over his shoulder; not only are his ears pink, his cheeks are too, the barely-there dusting that likely stands out like a beacon to someone who knows him. ]
[ Standing like this, flushed and warm, heated from their spar and the obscene words that their observers had thrown at them, it is hard to focus. Phainon can remember how it had been, barely a few weeks ago now, to stand before his friend, to touch him, to see his pleasure and the sounds he made. It is hard to ignore the pull, the memories, the warmth that comes with it.
[ Despite what he's said, Mydeimos makes no move to turn around more, because he knows what the sound of Phainon's low voice is doing to him. He doesn't need to add fuel to the fire.
Why does he hesitate, when no one else around here is? Because it's Phainon; because it not being some aphrodisiac fueled tryst would make it feel real, and it means the words have gotten the best of him. Instead he glances at Phainon's mouth for a moment. ]
You're right and lucky; Castrum Kremnos does not have handmaids to assist with the bath.
[ He doesn't say the part he does know: that's for people you trust. Battle brothers, or partners, husbands and wives. ]
That seems an indulgence that a warrior people wouldn't take.
[ If he is being honest, of course.
They are warriors, fighters, and being bare and naked amongst anyone untrusted is something that cannot be permitted. To turn your back to someone is a danger, no matter how strong you are. To tell someone of your weak spot, when you are immortal otherwise... Phainon understands the significance of that.
Leaning forward, his chin rests on Mydei's shoulder, his hand still brushing gently, tenderly. Unable to resist the pull, the companionship, the warmth. To have Mydeimos here, to seek out comfort in a world that would have them laid bare and open to others...
Eventually, he shakes his head. ]
Even if you did, I cannot imagine you letting one bathe you.
[ Phainon takes the first move in resting his chin on his shoulder. Like that, it's easy for Mydeimos to let himself lean back, into the hand at his weak spot, against the broad chest that is blessedly free of any holes or cracks. ]
I can count the number of people I have allowed to bathe me on one finger.
[ The detachment had helped him when he was ill, but he generally managed on his own. There's only one person he's ever consciously allowed this indulgence with. ]
[ It shouldn't feel so easy, so familiar, but it does, Mydei's body warm against his own. He forgets everything else, for a moment, and allows himself this. One indulgence, in a quiet, secret place, where no one else will look upon them. ]
Then I'm pleased to be counted among them.
[ Phainon doesn't quite recognise the importance. ]
[ Exasperated, fond. His hand comes up to grab him by the chin, not harsh enough to bruise but firm as he turns a little more to look at him, to make Phainon look at his face. ]
[ He doesn't think about what he does next; with Phainon laughing, pulling him closer, a smile on his face. It feels as natural as breathing to let a smile cross his own face, to use the hold he has on Phainon to tug him into a kiss.
It's not even a heated kiss, it's clumsy for how it's over Mydei's shoulder, but it is undeniably affectionate. ]
It's frighteningly natural to lean in and let their mouths press together, to tug his friend closer, to tilt his head and lean into the kiss. It feels as if they are drawn together by all that they have, two halves of a whole, and he feels blindingly at peace.
Clumsy, and silly, and damp with the surrounding shower, but Phainon indulges, briefly. For a moment, he feels centred, he feels whole, with no parts of himself torn and mad inside of him. ]
[ He loosens his hold on Phainon's chin to curl his fingers against his cheek, turning a little more in the hold, arm brushing Phainon's chest. It feels like an easy extension of their earlier bantering and complaints, following that confession. It's not even necessarily romantic - but it's not not romantic, either.
(They've been together far fewer times than they've been friends, comrades, or even enemies; and yet it feels as if that muscle memory is the strongest in this moment.)
Then a particularly loud moan from one of the other showers has Mydeimos breaking the kiss with a startled twitch and gasp, head swiveling for the source of the noise. ]
[ Millions and millions of cycles, and few people have ever come close to feeling as close to home as Mydei himself has, welcome in the embrace of his arms and the warmth of his touch. It makes him draw closer, seek out more, a flustering inside of him that has him almost breathless, a shudder of delight running through his body.
It would continue, and his mind would not overwork it, if they were not so interrupted.
A strange flare of panic burns through Phainon, his eyes widening as he stares at Mydeimos. There's something uncomfortable that prickles over his skin, something dark and uncomfortable, and he feels the rage of it burn inside of him before he can do anything else. There is no space for logic, suddenly, as he tugs himself out of Mydeimos' arms, sliding out of the shower in a rush. ]
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nsfw: mydei's thinkin hornty thoughts
It falters a bit as he's removing his jewelry last and Phainon strides past to get the water on. Like this he has a good view of his broad shoulders, the expanse of his back narrowing to a thick waist; the curve of his ass, the strength in his thighs.
Mydeimos is staring. He shakes his head and finishes removing his earring, dropping it into the pile of his clothes and stepping into the shower.
.... It looked spacious before. Now there's two six foot plus men in it who are built broad. It's a bit of a squeeze. ]
Make sure the water's hot.
[ That practically gets growled right into Phainon's ear. ]
good
That doesn't change what they are here for, their purpose, and what they have already done together. It prickles at him, and makes his cheeks feel hot, flushed and warm and absolutely overwhelming.
Coughing softly, he nods his head, sliding into the space and getting the water warmed up. He's content to stand there for a moment to calm down, but sooner rather than later Mydeimos is joining him, and he suddenly feels as if there's not enough air in the room.
They're so close.
Reaching, he goes for the shampoo, a distraction from the tingle of want that floods him. ]
Shall I wash your hair?
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But like this, Mydeimos can smell the tang of sweat that lingers on Phainon and his natural scent. He can watch the water run down his shoulders and back, something that normally only tortures him exiting the baths.
The question makes him stop staring a hole into Phainon's neck and he makes a noise of assent, subtly clearing his throat as he does it. ]
Sure. Thanks.
[ He turns before Phainon does, mostly because he's realized he's starting to get slightly hard, and he scowls down at himself. ]
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They haven't done anything since. They're not romantic.
Mydeimos turns, and he sees the slope of his back, his handsome tattoos, the way his hair sticks to him, and Phainon swallows. ]
It's no problem.
[ Shampoo in hand, he begins to run his fingers through his friend's hair, gentle and careful to ensure there are no tangles or pulling on his scalp. ]
Do you imagine it'll be like this every time we spar?
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He's used to living in close quarters, caring for others, but not quite the way this has been going on.
So focused is he on reminding himself this is just a shower and not anything more that he startles a bit when the hands touch his hair. He doesn't jump, that reaction trained out of him long ago, but Phainon is close enough to see the way his trapezius muscles tense and then deliberately relax.
It's nice, though. He tilts his head back a bit to give Phainon more access, fighting an encouraging hum; the question is a good distraction. ]
If we come back to this place? Yes.
[ He considers it, and then heaves a slight sigh. ]
I suspect any other location would likely have a similar reaction.
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It feels natural, so he does not question it.
Focussing on washing his friend's hair, he hums softly in agreement. ]
I would suggest training at home, but I don't think we have the space for it.
[ So... Nowhere is going to be good? ]
I know we are here with purpose, but that doesn't mean I appreciate the reminder.
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[ He exhales through his nose like a bull. The one balm is that he knows his wish will be granted if they can fulfill the contract. If Irontomb is destroyed, then maybe -
Maybe Phainon won't have to hold him back so desperately. Maybe he can be saved from that amalgamation of data, although all of them were prepared to lay their lives on the line and lose them. ]
We could always use one of the parks. It would be easier to ignore the people watching.
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[ Leaning in, almost forgetting their nakedness for a moment, Phainon laughs near to Mydei's ear. ]
I remember people at home watching us fight, but it was never like that, was it?
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It's a good thing Phainon can't see the front of his face, flushed as it is, though if he's got a keen enough eye he might see the pink on Mydeimos' ears. Clearing his throat: ]
No, it wasn't. Their jeers usually weren't so ... descriptive.
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[ There's nothing that should surprise him, but it does. Mydei is handsome, and attractive, and - a good friend, too, so of course people in this world would want to idolise him. He almost hooks his chin on his shoulder, but resists, focussing on rinsing out the suds.
His ears are pink. Hm. ]
It is something to get used to.
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[ He can't help the words; he's always been covetous of their time together, although this he tries to pass off like he's talking about the lewd spectators alone.
It does make him sigh, tilting his head back a little more. ]
They're getting enough of a show from this shower anyways, I imagine.
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[ Phainon can agree; their sparring has always been their time, has been something that they shared as rivals turned friends. So many times their first meetings had been a near endless fight, and now it brings him the kind of joy he can barely speak of.
Eyes glued to Mydei's back, he smiles fondly, one hand sliding down absently to his waist, to press his fingers gently against that too familiar weak spot. ]
We're hardly doing anything.
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And yet here you are, feeling up my back and taking ages to wash my hair.
[ He glances over his shoulder; not only are his ears pink, his cheeks are too, the barely-there dusting that likely stands out like a beacon to someone who knows him. ]
You'd make a terrible handmaiden.
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Chuckling, voice low, he sighs. ]
I was rising the soap.
[ A dreadful lie. ]
And a handmaiden would not join you in the bath.
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[ Despite what he's said, Mydeimos makes no move to turn around more, because he knows what the sound of Phainon's low voice is doing to him. He doesn't need to add fuel to the fire.
Why does he hesitate, when no one else around here is? Because it's Phainon; because it not being some aphrodisiac fueled tryst would make it feel real, and it means the words have gotten the best of him. Instead he glances at Phainon's mouth for a moment. ]
You're right and lucky; Castrum Kremnos does not have handmaids to assist with the bath.
[ He doesn't say the part he does know: that's for people you trust. Battle brothers, or partners, husbands and wives. ]
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[ If he is being honest, of course.
They are warriors, fighters, and being bare and naked amongst anyone untrusted is something that cannot be permitted. To turn your back to someone is a danger, no matter how strong you are. To tell someone of your weak spot, when you are immortal otherwise... Phainon understands the significance of that.
Leaning forward, his chin rests on Mydei's shoulder, his hand still brushing gently, tenderly. Unable to resist the pull, the companionship, the warmth. To have Mydeimos here, to seek out comfort in a world that would have them laid bare and open to others...
Eventually, he shakes his head. ]
Even if you did, I cannot imagine you letting one bathe you.
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I can count the number of people I have allowed to bathe me on one finger.
[ The detachment had helped him when he was ill, but he generally managed on his own. There's only one person he's ever consciously allowed this indulgence with. ]
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Then I'm pleased to be counted among them.
[ Phainon doesn't quite recognise the importance. ]
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[ Exasperated, fond. His hand comes up to grab him by the chin, not harsh enough to bruise but firm as he turns a little more to look at him, to make Phainon look at his face. ]
It is still only one person, even here.
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[ Ah.
He laughs a little, feeling the pull on his chin, one arm wrapping around Mydeimos' waist to hold onto him, smile settling into place.
He understands, how. ]
Then I'll do my duty well.
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It's not even a heated kiss, it's clumsy for how it's over Mydei's shoulder, but it is undeniably affectionate. ]
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It's frighteningly natural to lean in and let their mouths press together, to tug his friend closer, to tilt his head and lean into the kiss. It feels as if they are drawn together by all that they have, two halves of a whole, and he feels blindingly at peace.
Clumsy, and silly, and damp with the surrounding shower, but Phainon indulges, briefly. For a moment, he feels centred, he feels whole, with no parts of himself torn and mad inside of him. ]
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(They've been together far fewer times than they've been friends, comrades, or even enemies; and yet it feels as if that muscle memory is the strongest in this moment.)
Then a particularly loud moan from one of the other showers has Mydeimos breaking the kiss with a startled twitch and gasp, head swiveling for the source of the noise. ]
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It would continue, and his mind would not overwork it, if they were not so interrupted.
A strange flare of panic burns through Phainon, his eyes widening as he stares at Mydeimos. There's something uncomfortable that prickles over his skin, something dark and uncomfortable, and he feels the rage of it burn inside of him before he can do anything else. There is no space for logic, suddenly, as he tugs himself out of Mydeimos' arms, sliding out of the shower in a rush. ]
I - my apologies. I have to go.
[ He grabs his towel, and he runs. ]