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The day after Maximillion Galactica was acquitted, Phoenix Wright invited him to his office to finish up the case paperwork.
Max had certainly been an… interesting client. Not that Phoenix should care all that much. Unfortunately, he was finding himself wading in dangerous waters.
No. He didn’t care.
He didn’t care about Max calling him sweetie or that whole card trick about stealing hearts.
He didn’t care about the way Max’s stupid “whale tail” stuck out of his low-rise pants.
(Seriously, a whale tail? In 2017? Come on, that’s so 2002… Not that he was into it. Never.)
He didn’t care that Max never wore a goddamn shirt, exposing his “ample bust” to the world…
And he certainly didn’t care that Edgeworth had chosen death without ever reaching out or at least saying goodbye.
Not at all.
Phoenix was totally not staring at Max’s chest as the two sifted through the paperwork.
“Like what you see, sweetie?” Max was staring him down.
Fuck. His paper-thin cover was completely blown. How tragic.
He cleared his throat. “All I’m seeing is paperwork that you’re not doing.”
“Ugh, I can’t understand all this legalese. Don’t you want to do something more… fun?”
He could easily tell him, “You just have to sign here and there, and then you’re good to go,” but… If Max was the one to start the game, Phoenix would certainly play it. After all, what’s wrong with a little stress relief?
(There were so, so many things wrong with “a little stress relief”. Starting with the fact that Max was already engaged…)
Ignoring his own reservations, Phoenix gave an over-the-top sigh, neatly piled up the paperwork, and set it all aside.
Phoenix then looked Max in the eyes and smirked. “Sure,” he said simply.
And then he was grabbing Max’s face and kissing him hard and Max was slipping out of his jacket and climbing over the desk into his lap and-
“Hey, whatever happened to your ‘sweetie pie princess’?” Phoenix breathed against his mouth. His hands were exploring Max’s hips.
“W-what sweetie pie- nngh!” Max squirmed when Phoenix grinded against his ass.
“Whore,” Phoenix laughed, already pulling a small bottle of lube from his desk drawer. Max thankfully didn’t ask why he had that on hand.
Not that he’d admit it to Max, but… he’d been tragically single for a while now. And had only ever had a relationship with one person. And never even got the chance to ask out Edg-
(Come on, Nick, this isn’t about him- or her, for that matter. Live in the moment.)
Well, in the moment… Phoenix found himself hooking up with Billy from Hicktown, USA. He tried not to think about it too hard.
Phoenix directed his attention back to Max’s hips, hooking his fingers into the straps of his thong.
“Couldn’t stand seeing this poking out of your stupid pants all the time.” He pulled on the straps and let them snap against Max’s skin.
Max whined. “T-that’s the point, ain't it?” He said, hiding his face in the crook of Nick’s neck.
Phoenix laughed at how quickly he broke character - from uppity magician to sobbing bitch in nearly an instant. “Fucking slut. You’d better not get your makeup on my suit.”
Phoenix moved to lube up his fingers. Max shuddered when he slipped his right hand down the front of his pants, ignoring his dick completely. Without any preamble, he slipped a finger inside his ass.
Max gasped, grasping Nick’s shoulders for support.
“You like that, whore? You’re gonna take me so good.” Phoenix really didn’t know what he was saying, but he didn’t care. He’d just bluffed his way through another trial, he could bluff his way through dirty talk too.
He inserted a second finger, enjoying the way Max squirmed.
“You’re gonna get m' pants dirty…” Max mumbled against his collar.
“Shut up.” Phoenix yanked the magician’s hair, forcing his head back so Phoenix could kiss him again. He bullied his tongue into his mouth just as he pushed a third finger inside.
“Nick,” Max gasped, breaking away from the kiss. “’m gonna cum..!”
“No, you’re not.” Phoenix unceremoniously pulled his fingers out. “Bend over for me, whore.”
The next minute or so was occupied by the unsexy process of stripping off Max's very tight performance pants.
But finally, Phoenix grabbed him by the waist and bent him face-forward over the desk.
“God, you look like such a slut,” he said as he finally unbuckled his belt. He lubed up his dick and mentally prepared for what he was about to do next.
Phoenix could hardly remember what sex felt like, and now his first time with a man would be with this stuck-up magician twink. And not with Edgeworth, like he had hoped. But maybe he had hoped for a little too much.
Max shuddered beneath him as Phoenix slowly pushed inside.
He groaned when he bottomed out. God, but this felt good. Max was warm and deliciously tight. He took a deep breath and started moving slowly, relishing in the feeling of skin-to-skin contact.
“Fuck, your ass is so good.”
Max whined underneath him, urging him to move faster.
It sparked some sort of fire in Phoenix- or maybe it rekindled what was already there.
“Needy slut.” Phoenix yanked Max’s hair. “You were a real bitch to defend, you know that? Made things so goddamn hard for me,” he growled. He hardly even knew what he was saying anymore.
“Fuck, ’m sorry,” Max moaned.
“You can make it up to me by tightening your whore ass.” He tightened his grip in Max’s hair and the man moaned harder.
“N-Nick! Phoenix!” He sobbed, mascara running down his face. “I'm cumming..!”
(Is this what Edgeworth would’ve sounded like if they’d ever had the chance to-)
“Fuck, Miles,” Phoenix groaned, bending down over Max and grabbing the desk for support. He fucked into him harder, chasing his own high even as Max began to squirm from overstimulation.
“It's too much, please, I can't -”
“Take it, whore,” Phoenix said through gritted teeth, finally letting himself go.
Max was gasping and shuddering even as Phoenix slowed to a stop. He pulled out slowly as they both caught their breath.
“Well, shit.” Phoenix slumped into his desk chair. The post-nut clarity hit him, and hit him hard. The feeling could even be described as post-nut regret.
What the hell did he just do? Called his former client a whore and banged him raw? Called him Miles when he came? What the fuck was he thinking?
And now there was lipstick all over his face and cum all over the fucking carpeted floor. And his one-and-only suit would definitely need a dry clean.
But the worst part was the fact that Max was now sitting bare-ass on the desk, typing his number into Phoenix’s phone. His lipstick was smudged and his mascara had dried in streaks. Phoenix tried not to think about how attractive that made him look.
“So, who’s Miles?” Max was giving him a pointed stare.
He could feel a migraine coming on.
“...no one important.”
(Really, Nick, that’s all you could come up with?)
But, Max seemed to believe him. “You still use one of these old bricks?” He asked, quickly changing the topic. He casually waved around Phoenix’s Nokia from…
When did he buy it? 2008?
“What’s wrong with that?” Phoenix raised an eyebrow. “It still works just fine.”
“Get with the times, sweetie. I’ll take you out to get an iPhone 8 sometime.”
The office lights were too bright.
He pinched his brow between his fingers. “Don’t ‘sweetie’ me.”
…Take him out? Phoenix was suddenly slammed with the possibility of… commitment.
No, the only person he’d ever want to commit to was Edgeworth.
But… Edgeworth was gone, and he was never coming back.
He could give Max a chance.
(Give Max a chance? Was that airhead capable of taking a relationship seriously? With how much he was supposedly committed to Regina Berry, he sure bent over quickly for Nick’s dick.)
“...aren’t you engaged?” Phoenix would be glaring at the pink-haired idiot if the lights didn’t make his head hurt so much.
Max laughed. “No, sweetie, I broke it off with her this morning.”
Fuck, Phoenix needed painkillers. As Soon As Possible.