Fic Spam A-Comin'!
Dec. 15th, 2008 12:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
miss_princeAbout time I scraped together the meager few kink meme fics I've managed since the last time I posted. :P
Title: Lucky
Characters/Pairing: Phoenix/Iris/Edgeworth (delicious PIE!)
Rating: I'll say PG-13, though it might fit an R
Prompt: I don't even remember. I'll find it later and edit it in.
Miles drifted slowly into consciousness, awakening from a discomfiting, but not terrible dream, the memory of which was already fading away. He blinked in confusion, tensing at the sight of room not his own… but he quickly relaxed. Wright's room, again. It was becoming more and more familiar now; he knew, in his heart of hearts, that it was only a matter of time before he stayed here for good. Moonlight drifted in through the single window, falling across the floor and casting lazy shadows on the walls. It was not nearly as large or well-furnished a bedroom as in his own apartment, and certainly his larger bed would have accommodated them much better… but there was a quality to this place that his own lacked. A coziness, a… friendliness, a warm feeling that he wasn't sure he had ever known before in his life. But the feeling didn't come from the room; it came from the two warm weights beside him.
Truly awake now, Miles propped himself up carefully on an elbow to look at the sleeping figures. On the far side of the bed sprawled Wright, one arm thrown haphazardly over his head, the rest of his limbs arranged in a similarly messy fashion. He was deeply asleep, his lips quirked up in a slightly dopey grin, breathing deep and peaceful.
And in the middle, her small figure seeming impossibly tiny between the two men, slept Iris. She curled against both of them, head resting comfortably in the crook of Phoenix's arm, back curving gently against Miles's stomach. Her long, black hair tickled lightly against him when he moved. She, too, was smiling in her sleep, face open and relaxed -- utterly content.
Miles had never considered himself a lucky man; indeed, he had never been a lucky man. His father's death, growing up at the von Karma estate, wrestling with the ideals of perfection, truth, and justice; nothing had been easy for him. All that time he had spent building his life on the foundation of Manfred von Karma's version of perfection… and in the end it seemed, just like the fool, he had built his house on the sand.
Left with nearly nothing, when everything was inevitably washed away, he had been given a blessing: to start anew, to find a true foundation, and to build his life the way he wished. He had never believed in karma -- and the irony of the word does not escape him -- no, he had never believed in much of anything. But on this night he allowed himself to entertain the thought that, perhaps, all the hardship he had endured had been… a trial, of a sort, and when he passed through it, he had been rewarded beyond measure. A handsome, courageous man and a beautiful, caring woman, both of whom loved him and each other with all their hearts. More than he deserved. More than any man deserved, really, but he accepted the gift gratefully.
The sheet fell low across their waists, giving Miles a view of the planes of Wri-- Phoenix's chest, rising and falling slowly in his deep sleep. Firm, natural muscle played beneath the skin whenever he shifted; the broad shoulders tapered to his waist, where a light trail of soft hair disappeared temptingly beneath the sheet. Beside him Iris was all softness and curves, sweet pale skin and perfectly shaped breasts that tempted him no less fully.
They were good together. At first it had been slow and uncertain, exploring bodies, discovering how they fit together, how they could please one another. And now it was all so natural, reading the subtle cues that told them where and how to move and touch; deep and hard, driving each other to delirious heights of pleasure, or slow, gentle lovemaking, basking in one another's presence and the love they shared together.
Miles suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch them, his sleeping lovers, to reassure himself of their presence; it seemed too much like a wonderful dream, and, though he felt foolish for the thought, he wanted to remind himself that he never need wake from it. He reached across and stroked his fingers across Phoenix's reassuringly solid stomach, the skin warm and real beneath his hand. Phoenix didn't stir; when he slept, he was dead to the world. However, Iris was an incredibly light sleeper, and she began to stir when she felt Miles moving behind her.
She half-turned, blinking sleepily up at him. "Miles…?" she asked softly.
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to wake you," he apologized.
"It's alright." She tilted her head back for a kiss, and Miles gladly obliged. Her lips were so soft.
He pulled away gently after a moment and smiled at her -- small, but genuine. "Can you get back to sleep?"
"Mmm, I'll be just fine," she murmured, settling back down. Miles wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and she snuggled happily back into him. A short while later, Phoenix -- perhaps missing the warmth of Iris's head on his shoulder -- rolled over onto his stomach, flinging an arm across both of them. Iris laughed quietly in the dark, and Miles begrudgingly enjoyed the feel of the large, warm hand on his waist.
An odd thought ran across Miles's mind as he drifted back toward sleep -- a line from his long-ago childhood, reading together with his father. Have I ever told you how lucky you are? Miles took in the warmth of the woman in his arms and the deep breathing of the man who embraced them both. He already knew.
Title: Lucky
Characters/Pairing: Phoenix/Iris/Edgeworth (delicious PIE!)
Rating: I'll say PG-13, though it might fit an R
Prompt: I don't even remember. I'll find it later and edit it in.
Miles drifted slowly into consciousness, awakening from a discomfiting, but not terrible dream, the memory of which was already fading away. He blinked in confusion, tensing at the sight of room not his own… but he quickly relaxed. Wright's room, again. It was becoming more and more familiar now; he knew, in his heart of hearts, that it was only a matter of time before he stayed here for good. Moonlight drifted in through the single window, falling across the floor and casting lazy shadows on the walls. It was not nearly as large or well-furnished a bedroom as in his own apartment, and certainly his larger bed would have accommodated them much better… but there was a quality to this place that his own lacked. A coziness, a… friendliness, a warm feeling that he wasn't sure he had ever known before in his life. But the feeling didn't come from the room; it came from the two warm weights beside him.
Truly awake now, Miles propped himself up carefully on an elbow to look at the sleeping figures. On the far side of the bed sprawled Wright, one arm thrown haphazardly over his head, the rest of his limbs arranged in a similarly messy fashion. He was deeply asleep, his lips quirked up in a slightly dopey grin, breathing deep and peaceful.
And in the middle, her small figure seeming impossibly tiny between the two men, slept Iris. She curled against both of them, head resting comfortably in the crook of Phoenix's arm, back curving gently against Miles's stomach. Her long, black hair tickled lightly against him when he moved. She, too, was smiling in her sleep, face open and relaxed -- utterly content.
Miles had never considered himself a lucky man; indeed, he had never been a lucky man. His father's death, growing up at the von Karma estate, wrestling with the ideals of perfection, truth, and justice; nothing had been easy for him. All that time he had spent building his life on the foundation of Manfred von Karma's version of perfection… and in the end it seemed, just like the fool, he had built his house on the sand.
Left with nearly nothing, when everything was inevitably washed away, he had been given a blessing: to start anew, to find a true foundation, and to build his life the way he wished. He had never believed in karma -- and the irony of the word does not escape him -- no, he had never believed in much of anything. But on this night he allowed himself to entertain the thought that, perhaps, all the hardship he had endured had been… a trial, of a sort, and when he passed through it, he had been rewarded beyond measure. A handsome, courageous man and a beautiful, caring woman, both of whom loved him and each other with all their hearts. More than he deserved. More than any man deserved, really, but he accepted the gift gratefully.
The sheet fell low across their waists, giving Miles a view of the planes of Wri-- Phoenix's chest, rising and falling slowly in his deep sleep. Firm, natural muscle played beneath the skin whenever he shifted; the broad shoulders tapered to his waist, where a light trail of soft hair disappeared temptingly beneath the sheet. Beside him Iris was all softness and curves, sweet pale skin and perfectly shaped breasts that tempted him no less fully.
They were good together. At first it had been slow and uncertain, exploring bodies, discovering how they fit together, how they could please one another. And now it was all so natural, reading the subtle cues that told them where and how to move and touch; deep and hard, driving each other to delirious heights of pleasure, or slow, gentle lovemaking, basking in one another's presence and the love they shared together.
Miles suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch them, his sleeping lovers, to reassure himself of their presence; it seemed too much like a wonderful dream, and, though he felt foolish for the thought, he wanted to remind himself that he never need wake from it. He reached across and stroked his fingers across Phoenix's reassuringly solid stomach, the skin warm and real beneath his hand. Phoenix didn't stir; when he slept, he was dead to the world. However, Iris was an incredibly light sleeper, and she began to stir when she felt Miles moving behind her.
She half-turned, blinking sleepily up at him. "Miles…?" she asked softly.
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to wake you," he apologized.
"It's alright." She tilted her head back for a kiss, and Miles gladly obliged. Her lips were so soft.
He pulled away gently after a moment and smiled at her -- small, but genuine. "Can you get back to sleep?"
"Mmm, I'll be just fine," she murmured, settling back down. Miles wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and she snuggled happily back into him. A short while later, Phoenix -- perhaps missing the warmth of Iris's head on his shoulder -- rolled over onto his stomach, flinging an arm across both of them. Iris laughed quietly in the dark, and Miles begrudgingly enjoyed the feel of the large, warm hand on his waist.
An odd thought ran across Miles's mind as he drifted back toward sleep -- a line from his long-ago childhood, reading together with his father. Have I ever told you how lucky you are? Miles took in the warmth of the woman in his arms and the deep breathing of the man who embraced them both. He already knew.
