[Fic] Ace Attorney: Whatever Suits Her
May. 15th, 2014 01:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mllelaurelFandom: Ace Attorney
Title: Whatever Suits Her
Characters: Phoenix Wright, Maya Fey
Pairings: Phoenix/Maya, offscreen Phoenix/Edgeworth
Rating: E/NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Maya wears Edgeworth's suit. Phoenix is intrigued. Porn ensues.
His mouth goes dry when he sees her walk through the door in that suit. Magenta wool, woven lightly enough for the California spring, probably more expensive than all the furniture he’s ever owned. The trousers are slightly long on her legs, cuffed around the ankles, but the seat of them clings to her hips like it was tailor-made just for her. Maya’s got the jacket buttoned all the way, her modest breasts pressed down beneath the fabric. The arch of her throat rises up from a lace jabot.
One arm folded over her chest, the other behind her back, she gives him that bow they’re both so very familiar with. The impish grin, though? That’s all her. “Like what you see?”
He swears his eyebrows are going to climb straight to the top of his head. “Where did you get that?”
“Oh, please, like I’d give up my trade secrets that easily.”
He pulls a face. “Yeah, never paraphrase my daughter’s catch phrases at me again, in this kind of setup.”
“Oooh, whoops! I swear that wasn’t on purpose. Geeeez.” She gives him a sheepish look. “Did I totally kill your erection.”
“You did,” he says, very solemn and mournful, and hey, he’s gotta get some use out of all those theatre classes, right? “Good night, sweet cock, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”
She crosses the room like she owns it, hands on her hips. “And here I thought you’d go with ‘alas poor dick, I knew him well, Horatio.’ That one’s even got bones in it, come on.”
“Nah, too obvious. Don’t want to become a cliche at my old age, right.” He gets up to pull her into a hug. She’s warm and full of laughter, and her face gets squished into his collarbone. A dry, familiar scent hits his nose, making him sneeze. She’s got talcum powder in her hair, shading it closer to Miles’s grey. “You went all out, and it’s not even Halloween.”
“Nick,” she says. “You just set me up for a terrible trick or treat joke. The worst. Straight out of a seventies porno. With musical numbers.”
There’s porn with musical numbers out there? Is he curious, or does he really not want to know? He bends his head to nip the rim of her ear. “Mmm, delicious. I’m gonna go with ‘treat.’”
Maya laughs. “If you’re going to eat me, you sure as hell better do it properly.”
“Sounds good to me,” he says, and she pulls him down by his tie, so that she can kiss him.
“Is anyone gonna walk in on us?” she asks, pulling back for a moment.
“Nah. It’s Saturday, there are no cases. Athena’s with her friends from Themis. Truce and Polly are off to visit Vera Misham. You should meet her she’s a good kid. Kinda shy.”
“Nick, are you trying to set me up in the middle of making out with me?”
“What? No! I’m serious! She could use some extra friends.”
“Whatever you say, Nick,” and where the hell does she even get her ideas? He swears, this woman’s crazy. Mostly, mostly in all the best ways possible. He locks the office door, just in case. With his luck, someone would walk in if he leaves it. Ema Skye with a new invention. Klavier Gavin, looking for Apollo to tease or argue about a case with. Manfred Von Karma, back from the grave. ...Urk, bad thought, bad thought!
Maya pulls him toward the couch, kissing him again, en route. Her mouth tastes like beeswax chapstick, peppermint and tacos al pastor. She sprawls on the cushions, leaving no space for him, and he can’t even bring himself to mind because she looks glorious like this, all languid and… he won’t call it posh, even if posh really is the first word that comes to mind. It just so happens to be a stupid word, and he’ll have none of it.
“Well, Wright?” And that? That is not a Maya smirk at all, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t leave him hard as hell. “We both know you’re so very fond of flapping your tongue needlessly in court. What say you put it to better use?” It’s not really Miles’s accent, but she’s got the spirit of it down, somehow, with those long, soft vowels and those crisp consonants.
Far be it from him to disappoint. He sinks to his knees, till he’s kneeling between her thighs. The suit still smells faintly of Miles’s soap and cologne, but the musky scent flooding his nose now is all hers. He rubs the heel of his hand against her, and she arches, makes a breathless noise. He pulls down her zipper, glimpses what looks like silk boxer-briefs. “You know, this part would be much easier with a man.”
“Yeah, well, you’re easier. Cause you’re- nnnnnngh- easy!” He lifts her hips, pulling down the slacks and underwear in one sweep, and buries his face in her. She’s already slick, and she swears and ululates as he slides his tongue as deep into her as it will go. He pulls back, licking her in broad strokes and fuck, she tastes fantastic. All sea salt and incense and the sharp, rich taste of a woman. Her hips buck up, and he swears he’s gonna lose a tooth like this, one of these days, try explaining that to the dentist!
He works a finger inside her, then a second, and he swears his cock can feel the echo of her squeezing around them. The feel of it makes his head swim, suddenly unable to breathe. He curls his fingers, angles them just right, and she howls, as he finds her clit, swirls his tongue around it in tighter and tighter circles. He can feel her thighs tremble as she gets closer and closer to the brink, her fingers clenching in his hair to the rhythm set by his tongue, her entire feet arching as her toes curl.
She’s surprisingly quiet when she comes, mouth open in a giant O, voice caught in her throat, or possibly all used up from the noise she’s been making. She pulses around him, and he doesn’t let up till she pushes him away. Actually, not till a couple of seconds after that. Because he’s evil, and because you betcha she’d do the same to him.
She makes a noise something like a “fuuuuaaangh,” and flops back, eyes half-lidded. “Mmm, that was satisfactory, Wright. Which, as you know, is Miles Edgeworth for ‘god, you’ve blown my mind. I love you, marry me forever!’”
For some reason, that’s so funny he can’t stop laughing. Mostly because it’s true. That’s about how Miles would put it.
She slides off the couch, utter boneless grace, and curls up next to him, head on his shoulder. “Man,” she says, “you have got to replace this rug already. What color even is this, anymore?” Phoenix shrugs. It’s been that color since before he came to work for Mia. Same beige-ass rug. Only one patch of it’s ever been replaced; the one next to the window. Same Charley. Charley’s going to outlive them all, assuming Polly doesn’t forget to water him, one of these days. And huh, it’s starting to feel like it’s been more than ten years, finally. Thinking about Mia doesn’t hurt as much.
Maya can tell that he’s getting melancholy, so she pokes him in the side. “What, you think I’m done with you, Mister?” She rolls and straddles him, arms and legs braced on either side of him. “Hmmm… Someone’s been lying to me. Feels like your boner’s not dead after all.”
“It’s been resurrected. It’s a miracle.” Res-erected. No, dammit, he will not make the awful pun. He’d have to couch himself for that one. Though with the things they’ve been doing on the couch, that’s a pretty bad term for it, isn’t it?
She leans closer to him, and he can feel her hand on his cheek, cool and light. Her eyes abruptly turn serious. Still warm, still utterly genuine, while at the same time sharper, sadder, more hesitant. “What do you want me to do, Wr-” a headshake- “Phoenix?” He could almost believe those eyes are grey instead of brown, and when had she become such a fine actress? Maybe it’s all those years of channeling the dead, though it’s a living man she projects this time. It’s no surprise that the look on her face makes him want to reach out, press his lips against her forehead, heart aching a little.
Looks like she’s still at her game. Not like he’s going to complain. “I want you,” he says, and he means it for every variation involved here.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Wright. I’m a busy man. I haven’t got all day, you know.”
He smirks right back. “You just want to hear me talk dirty, don’t you?” She continues to look smug. “Fine,” he says. “How about you return the favor? You want to suck me off, don’t you?”
A small huff. “If you want to be that crude about it.” Barely-hidden mirth.
“Hey, you try and find a way to talk about sex, without resorting to crude or violently floral.”
She huffs again, as if to say ‘anything to make you shut up already, Wright.’ Her hands curl around his wrists, lifting them above his head. “Keep them there.” A hint of that smirk again, eyes burning holes into him.
And god help him, he does exactly what he’s told. He’s weak to all of it. This, him, her. Every part of the whole, overly-complicated, slightly kinky equation.
She undoes his pants slowly and with great care. Or possibly great sadism- definitely great sadism, if she’s going to go any slower. As though she’s read his mind, she reaches up to undo his tie, slip free his shirt, button by button, kissing a fiery trail down the skin she uncovers. “Hmm,” she says. “You’re right, this really is easier with a man.” And then, she slides the head of his cock into her mouth and his brain starts packing for vacation. Who needs a brain, when you’ve got a hot, wet mouth, tongue darting out for a taste. One of her hands reaches down to cup his balls, while she uses the other to stroke him where her lips can’t reach.
He clenches his fists into the couch cushions, keeping his hands out of her hair, as promised. His breathing stutters, and his heart hammers in his chest like a construction worker on methamphetamines. Her lips and tongue slide further and further down, leaving him in heaven before pulling back again. Faster and faster, speeding up before he gets frustrated, and he can’t get enough of watching her like this, she’s so fucking beautiful, with her hair messy and streaked with baby powder, half undressed, half scandalously proper, face flushed, eyes squeezed shut. She groans around him, music, like an obscene flute, and he loses it, with a cry of his own.
When she looks up at him again, her eyes are all pupil, and she’s making a ‘bleh’ face. “That’s it, someone needs to feed you more yogurt and oranges stat.”
“Hey, you volunteered.”
She kisses him, shoving her tongue into his mouth. “You like the taste of jizz so much, you eat it.” It tastes. Well, like jizz, pretty much. What’s he supposed to say about it? She curls against him again, keeps kissing him. He feels warm and relaxed, tight muscles in his back unkinking.
“You don’t have to go back to Kurain anytime soon, right?”
“Nuh-uh. If they can’t run things without me for a couple of days, the whole operation’s already borked, right?” He digs his thumbs into her shoulder blades, starts massaging her back as she makes small, happy noises, interspersed with the occasional ‘ow.’ Looks like she could use the relaxation too.
“So,” he asks eventually, “how did you get your hands on the suit?”
She bites the side of his neck, leaves a hickey. “He loaned it to me. Duh.” A beat. “I think it’s gonna need dry cleaning now.”
Phoenix shrugs. “If the Chief Prosecutor can’t afford dry cleaning, we’ve all got bigger problems.” And he thinks, this is my life. Unpredictable. Surreal as hell. Back on track. Kind of wonderful.
****
Notes:
Yes, there's at least one seventies musical porno out there. It's very loosely based on Alice in Wonderland. I'd say 'don't ask me how I know this,' but honestly, that's just called 'I went to Bennington; someone screened it.'
Also, man, I don't even ship Phoenix and Maya on their own. I tend to see them more as siblings. But apparently I *do* ship them in a V with Edgeworth. The kind of V where it would have been a threesome, if Miles was even remotely attracted to women, but he and Maya do get along like a house on fire aside from that, watch a hella lot of Steel Samurai and trust each other intimately with Phoenix.
Title: Whatever Suits Her
Characters: Phoenix Wright, Maya Fey
Pairings: Phoenix/Maya, offscreen Phoenix/Edgeworth
Rating: E/NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Maya wears Edgeworth's suit. Phoenix is intrigued. Porn ensues.
His mouth goes dry when he sees her walk through the door in that suit. Magenta wool, woven lightly enough for the California spring, probably more expensive than all the furniture he’s ever owned. The trousers are slightly long on her legs, cuffed around the ankles, but the seat of them clings to her hips like it was tailor-made just for her. Maya’s got the jacket buttoned all the way, her modest breasts pressed down beneath the fabric. The arch of her throat rises up from a lace jabot.
One arm folded over her chest, the other behind her back, she gives him that bow they’re both so very familiar with. The impish grin, though? That’s all her. “Like what you see?”
He swears his eyebrows are going to climb straight to the top of his head. “Where did you get that?”
“Oh, please, like I’d give up my trade secrets that easily.”
He pulls a face. “Yeah, never paraphrase my daughter’s catch phrases at me again, in this kind of setup.”
“Oooh, whoops! I swear that wasn’t on purpose. Geeeez.” She gives him a sheepish look. “Did I totally kill your erection.”
“You did,” he says, very solemn and mournful, and hey, he’s gotta get some use out of all those theatre classes, right? “Good night, sweet cock, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”
She crosses the room like she owns it, hands on her hips. “And here I thought you’d go with ‘alas poor dick, I knew him well, Horatio.’ That one’s even got bones in it, come on.”
“Nah, too obvious. Don’t want to become a cliche at my old age, right.” He gets up to pull her into a hug. She’s warm and full of laughter, and her face gets squished into his collarbone. A dry, familiar scent hits his nose, making him sneeze. She’s got talcum powder in her hair, shading it closer to Miles’s grey. “You went all out, and it’s not even Halloween.”
“Nick,” she says. “You just set me up for a terrible trick or treat joke. The worst. Straight out of a seventies porno. With musical numbers.”
There’s porn with musical numbers out there? Is he curious, or does he really not want to know? He bends his head to nip the rim of her ear. “Mmm, delicious. I’m gonna go with ‘treat.’”
Maya laughs. “If you’re going to eat me, you sure as hell better do it properly.”
“Sounds good to me,” he says, and she pulls him down by his tie, so that she can kiss him.
“Is anyone gonna walk in on us?” she asks, pulling back for a moment.
“Nah. It’s Saturday, there are no cases. Athena’s with her friends from Themis. Truce and Polly are off to visit Vera Misham. You should meet her she’s a good kid. Kinda shy.”
“Nick, are you trying to set me up in the middle of making out with me?”
“What? No! I’m serious! She could use some extra friends.”
“Whatever you say, Nick,” and where the hell does she even get her ideas? He swears, this woman’s crazy. Mostly, mostly in all the best ways possible. He locks the office door, just in case. With his luck, someone would walk in if he leaves it. Ema Skye with a new invention. Klavier Gavin, looking for Apollo to tease or argue about a case with. Manfred Von Karma, back from the grave. ...Urk, bad thought, bad thought!
Maya pulls him toward the couch, kissing him again, en route. Her mouth tastes like beeswax chapstick, peppermint and tacos al pastor. She sprawls on the cushions, leaving no space for him, and he can’t even bring himself to mind because she looks glorious like this, all languid and… he won’t call it posh, even if posh really is the first word that comes to mind. It just so happens to be a stupid word, and he’ll have none of it.
“Well, Wright?” And that? That is not a Maya smirk at all, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t leave him hard as hell. “We both know you’re so very fond of flapping your tongue needlessly in court. What say you put it to better use?” It’s not really Miles’s accent, but she’s got the spirit of it down, somehow, with those long, soft vowels and those crisp consonants.
Far be it from him to disappoint. He sinks to his knees, till he’s kneeling between her thighs. The suit still smells faintly of Miles’s soap and cologne, but the musky scent flooding his nose now is all hers. He rubs the heel of his hand against her, and she arches, makes a breathless noise. He pulls down her zipper, glimpses what looks like silk boxer-briefs. “You know, this part would be much easier with a man.”
“Yeah, well, you’re easier. Cause you’re- nnnnnngh- easy!” He lifts her hips, pulling down the slacks and underwear in one sweep, and buries his face in her. She’s already slick, and she swears and ululates as he slides his tongue as deep into her as it will go. He pulls back, licking her in broad strokes and fuck, she tastes fantastic. All sea salt and incense and the sharp, rich taste of a woman. Her hips buck up, and he swears he’s gonna lose a tooth like this, one of these days, try explaining that to the dentist!
He works a finger inside her, then a second, and he swears his cock can feel the echo of her squeezing around them. The feel of it makes his head swim, suddenly unable to breathe. He curls his fingers, angles them just right, and she howls, as he finds her clit, swirls his tongue around it in tighter and tighter circles. He can feel her thighs tremble as she gets closer and closer to the brink, her fingers clenching in his hair to the rhythm set by his tongue, her entire feet arching as her toes curl.
She’s surprisingly quiet when she comes, mouth open in a giant O, voice caught in her throat, or possibly all used up from the noise she’s been making. She pulses around him, and he doesn’t let up till she pushes him away. Actually, not till a couple of seconds after that. Because he’s evil, and because you betcha she’d do the same to him.
She makes a noise something like a “fuuuuaaangh,” and flops back, eyes half-lidded. “Mmm, that was satisfactory, Wright. Which, as you know, is Miles Edgeworth for ‘god, you’ve blown my mind. I love you, marry me forever!’”
For some reason, that’s so funny he can’t stop laughing. Mostly because it’s true. That’s about how Miles would put it.
She slides off the couch, utter boneless grace, and curls up next to him, head on his shoulder. “Man,” she says, “you have got to replace this rug already. What color even is this, anymore?” Phoenix shrugs. It’s been that color since before he came to work for Mia. Same beige-ass rug. Only one patch of it’s ever been replaced; the one next to the window. Same Charley. Charley’s going to outlive them all, assuming Polly doesn’t forget to water him, one of these days. And huh, it’s starting to feel like it’s been more than ten years, finally. Thinking about Mia doesn’t hurt as much.
Maya can tell that he’s getting melancholy, so she pokes him in the side. “What, you think I’m done with you, Mister?” She rolls and straddles him, arms and legs braced on either side of him. “Hmmm… Someone’s been lying to me. Feels like your boner’s not dead after all.”
“It’s been resurrected. It’s a miracle.” Res-erected. No, dammit, he will not make the awful pun. He’d have to couch himself for that one. Though with the things they’ve been doing on the couch, that’s a pretty bad term for it, isn’t it?
She leans closer to him, and he can feel her hand on his cheek, cool and light. Her eyes abruptly turn serious. Still warm, still utterly genuine, while at the same time sharper, sadder, more hesitant. “What do you want me to do, Wr-” a headshake- “Phoenix?” He could almost believe those eyes are grey instead of brown, and when had she become such a fine actress? Maybe it’s all those years of channeling the dead, though it’s a living man she projects this time. It’s no surprise that the look on her face makes him want to reach out, press his lips against her forehead, heart aching a little.
Looks like she’s still at her game. Not like he’s going to complain. “I want you,” he says, and he means it for every variation involved here.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Wright. I’m a busy man. I haven’t got all day, you know.”
He smirks right back. “You just want to hear me talk dirty, don’t you?” She continues to look smug. “Fine,” he says. “How about you return the favor? You want to suck me off, don’t you?”
A small huff. “If you want to be that crude about it.” Barely-hidden mirth.
“Hey, you try and find a way to talk about sex, without resorting to crude or violently floral.”
She huffs again, as if to say ‘anything to make you shut up already, Wright.’ Her hands curl around his wrists, lifting them above his head. “Keep them there.” A hint of that smirk again, eyes burning holes into him.
And god help him, he does exactly what he’s told. He’s weak to all of it. This, him, her. Every part of the whole, overly-complicated, slightly kinky equation.
She undoes his pants slowly and with great care. Or possibly great sadism- definitely great sadism, if she’s going to go any slower. As though she’s read his mind, she reaches up to undo his tie, slip free his shirt, button by button, kissing a fiery trail down the skin she uncovers. “Hmm,” she says. “You’re right, this really is easier with a man.” And then, she slides the head of his cock into her mouth and his brain starts packing for vacation. Who needs a brain, when you’ve got a hot, wet mouth, tongue darting out for a taste. One of her hands reaches down to cup his balls, while she uses the other to stroke him where her lips can’t reach.
He clenches his fists into the couch cushions, keeping his hands out of her hair, as promised. His breathing stutters, and his heart hammers in his chest like a construction worker on methamphetamines. Her lips and tongue slide further and further down, leaving him in heaven before pulling back again. Faster and faster, speeding up before he gets frustrated, and he can’t get enough of watching her like this, she’s so fucking beautiful, with her hair messy and streaked with baby powder, half undressed, half scandalously proper, face flushed, eyes squeezed shut. She groans around him, music, like an obscene flute, and he loses it, with a cry of his own.
When she looks up at him again, her eyes are all pupil, and she’s making a ‘bleh’ face. “That’s it, someone needs to feed you more yogurt and oranges stat.”
“Hey, you volunteered.”
She kisses him, shoving her tongue into his mouth. “You like the taste of jizz so much, you eat it.” It tastes. Well, like jizz, pretty much. What’s he supposed to say about it? She curls against him again, keeps kissing him. He feels warm and relaxed, tight muscles in his back unkinking.
“You don’t have to go back to Kurain anytime soon, right?”
“Nuh-uh. If they can’t run things without me for a couple of days, the whole operation’s already borked, right?” He digs his thumbs into her shoulder blades, starts massaging her back as she makes small, happy noises, interspersed with the occasional ‘ow.’ Looks like she could use the relaxation too.
“So,” he asks eventually, “how did you get your hands on the suit?”
She bites the side of his neck, leaves a hickey. “He loaned it to me. Duh.” A beat. “I think it’s gonna need dry cleaning now.”
Phoenix shrugs. “If the Chief Prosecutor can’t afford dry cleaning, we’ve all got bigger problems.” And he thinks, this is my life. Unpredictable. Surreal as hell. Back on track. Kind of wonderful.
****
Notes:
Yes, there's at least one seventies musical porno out there. It's very loosely based on Alice in Wonderland. I'd say 'don't ask me how I know this,' but honestly, that's just called 'I went to Bennington; someone screened it.'
Also, man, I don't even ship Phoenix and Maya on their own. I tend to see them more as siblings. But apparently I *do* ship them in a V with Edgeworth. The kind of V where it would have been a threesome, if Miles was even remotely attracted to women, but he and Maya do get along like a house on fire aside from that, watch a hella lot of Steel Samurai and trust each other intimately with Phoenix.
