They have to be careful, they both know it. Neither of them are really out of their heads enough yet to think they can push too far, so instead of an intense fumble to remove as much clothing as possible, they both take their time with what they can do, driving one another crazy with lingering touches, little things. Phoenix's hands are still shaking when he reaches down to finger the buttons of Miles' vest open; strangely, irrationally happy that the man wears so many layers because it's like unwrapping the best present of his life - just one happy surprise after another, especially because Miles' hands are coming up to his chest too, undoing the buttons of his white dress shirt and pulling his tie loose and finally off with an almost agonizing slowness.

Phoenix can't help but shiver as he leans forward to meet Miles' lips again, pouring all of the passion and vehemence they can't risk playing out with their hands into the embrace. He knows somehow, without ever needing to ask, that Miles is taking it extra slow so that they can match each other's progress. By the time the reddish-pink tie's hit the floor, Phoenix is only just barely starting to undo the tiny pearl buttons of Miles' shirt, the man's vest finally hanging open.

He's been good so far, nearly silent except for little, stifled murmurs of encouragement, but the moment Miles' fingers brush against his skin, working slowly, methodically down Phoenix's chest, he can't help but cry out. Miles seems to sense it and just pulls Phoenix closer again, parting his lips with his warm, soft tongue and inhaling the shout like he needed it to live. The added distraction of Miles sucking on his tongue, mapping the inside of his mouth and making more of those gorgeous hungry sounds makes it harder to get his fingers to deal with the tiny buttons on his shirt, but god, it's worth it. It's torture, and it's so goddamned worth it, because he finally manages to get the last button loose at the same time as Miles very deliberately parts the fabric of his own shirt and starts running his warm, soft hands along the contours of his chest like he wanted to memorize them while Phoenix did the same, sending the both of them careening towards sensory overload and they hadn't even gotten to the best part yet.

It's too much, and both of them know it. They're pressed so close together that Phoenix can't tell the difference between the pounding of his own heart and Miles', and if it hadn't been earth-shatteringly important that they saw this through to the end before, there was no way that they could stop now. Half of the building could parade past them on the stairs and they wouldn't even dream of letting go...

Phoenix freed a hand from its grip on Miles' hip at the same time as one of Miles' hands traced its way down his stomach, coming to a wordless, mindless agreement as they continued to kiss. Phoenix's hands had finally stopped shaking, but it was only because there was no time to be nervous, they needed this...

"Oh god Miles!"

Too good. Too hot...Miles' hand felt better on his erection than his ever had, than anything ever had, and it had to be good for him too because he wasn't trying to reclaim the kiss, just leaning his forehead into the crook of Phoenix's neck, moaning softly and maddeningly as they matched each other's pace.

"Ph-Phoenix..."

Phoenix could feel his orgasm creeping up on him already, they'd only just started but god, Miles' skin, his breath, everything was just making this too much, too goddamned hot. The only thing that made it okay was the fact that he could hear Miles' voice, the little noises he was making were becoming as desperate as Phoenix's own.

And then it was over. Phoenix felt a flood of warmth in his hand just as climax crashed down around him and he jerked his hips into Miles', biting down on the other man's clothed shoulder to muffle the sound of the cry he could feel tear out of his throat. Miles came nearly silently, but no less intensely - if the nearly crushing grip he kept around Phoenix's back with his free hand was any indication - and they just stood there, pinned against one another for a long moment as they fought to regain their breath.

"...Wright...?"

Phoenix tensed up just a little, his face still pressed against Miles' shoulder. He had a good idea what had put that questioning tone into the other's still breathless voice...

"Did...you mean that?"

He took a deep breath, running over his options for a moment before coming to the decision that there was no other answer he could give. He was, after all, dedicated to uncovering the truth...

"Yes, Miles," he pulled back far enough to look the other man in the eye, slightly taken aback by the vulnerability he saw in the usual steely gaze. "I meant it."

If Phoenix had thought that the moment couldn't get any more perfect, Miles proved him wrong yet again. The defense attorney found himself with an armful of warm, solid prosecutor as Miles crushed their bodies together, completely uncaring of the mess they'd made...

"I love you too, Phoenix."


"You don't look so hot, Mister Edgeworth. Your cheeks are all red."

Again, the glare-of-death didn't have its desired effect. Miles could hear little strangled noises behind him - the idiot had better not laugh now or no matter what kind of agreement they'd come to in the stairwell just now, there'd be hell to pay. It was, however, Phoenix - there was no way he could go on calling the man who was effectively his lover (there, he'd admitted it) by his last name in his own head - who saved the day when Miles couldn't quite find the appropriate words to push the good Detective's well-meant but bullishly stubborn concern to one side.

"Mister Edgeworth's been having a bit of trouble with his allergies," Phoenix's voice was as smooth as it had ever been in court, and for a split second, Miles envied him. He was still feeling a tad bit...flustered. "Haven't you, Edgeworth?"

"Thank you for removing those...roses, Detective," Edgeworth managed to pull himself together, but didn't bother masking the glare he shot Phoenix, who was grinning like the cat that had gotten the canary. So much for admiring his subtlety.

"Oh, no problem, pal!" Gumshoe grinned, then flinched, rubbing the back of his neck. "Er, sir. But maybe you oughtta go home? You still look a little under the weather. I mean, it even looks like you're breathin' kinda heavy..."

"You know, I think I shall," Miles replied quickly, he could feel his cheeks heat up even more. They had to nip that little line of thought in the bud quickly. Gumshoe might not be the quickest member of the investigative team, but he stuck with an idea until he ran it into the ground... "My entire office is still undoubtedly flooded with pollen, which will only make things worse."

"I can give you a ride home, if you're not up to drivin', Mister Edgeworth sir."

The idea nearly made him wince - he'd seen the rolling junk-heap that Gumshoe called a car. Its primary color was Bondo.

"No, I think I'll be alright. I-"

"I'll go with him to make sure he gets home okay," Phoenix had finally, to his credit, managed to school his expression into something a little more reasonable...if you ignored the almost painfully suggestive twinkle in his eyes.

Luckily enough, as blatantly obvious as Phoenix's behavior was to Miles, Gumshoe completely missed it, and the dark haired attorney even behaved himself on their way down to the parking garage. Once they got back to Miles' house, though...well that was another matter entirely.