Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/2517242. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Rape/Non-Con, Underage Category: M/M Fandom: 逆転裁判_|_Gyakuten_Saiban_|_Ace_Attorney Relationship: Mitsurugi_Reiji/Naruhodou_Ryuuichi_|_Miles_Edgeworth/Phoenix_Wright, Karuma_Gou/Mitsurugi_Reiji_|_Miles_Edgeworth/Manfred_von_Karma Character: Mitsurugi_Reiji_|_Miles_Edgeworth, Karuma_Gou_|_Manfred_von_Karma, Karuma Mei_|_Franziska_von_Karma, Naruhodou_Ryuuichi_|_Phoenix_Wright Additional Tags: Rape_Fantasy, Sexual_Identity, Self-Discovery, Dreams, Phoenix_Wright Kink_Meme Series: Part 1 of Desires Stats: Published: 2014-10-26 Words: 6144 ****** Troubling Desires ****** by Tilea Summary Sixteen-year-old Miles Edgeworth is horrified to realize that he has started having fantasies about being raped, some of which involve people in his life. Notes Disclaimer: Don't own Ace Attorney or the characters. Inspired by a Kink Meme prompt. The sting of the first slap had barely begun to fade when the second marked his opposite cheek. Miles managed not to bite his tongue this time around, though perhaps it deserved the punishment more than his face; his inability to hold said tongue had gotten him in trouble in the first place. “I will not tolerate such insolence beneath my roof!” Manfred von Karma was declaring, seeming to tower over him even though Miles was only a few inches shy of matching his height by the age of sixteen. “Do I make myself clear?” “…Perfectly…. Sir…” Miles realized that his heart was hammering, and he also realized that he hadn’t yet backed away, as he normally would when he invoked the more violent side of his mentor’s temper. He was tense and frozen to the spot, but not out of an inability to retreat. Sure, he was a bit afraid, but he also felt a sense of anticipation. Suddenly, a smirk seemed to melt onto the aged prosecutor’s face, and a dark chuckle escaped him. “Really? I do wonder about that…” Miles felt his heart skip a beat. “Sir?” He placed his left hand over his chest, as if to sooth the pounding within. “You claim to understand,” Manfred began to explain, his words slow and deliberate just like the pacing he had started, hands clasped behind his back. Miles stood still as a statue as he was circled, like a petrified fawn under the hungry gaze of a lion. “Yet, again and again you repeat your mistakes like a stubborn or… ignorant child. Perhaps your punishments have not been harsh enough… Perhaps I have not yet taught you proper respect.” Miles forced himself to swallow a breath. “I-I’m sorry, Sir. I-it won’t happen again. There’s no need for-“ Miles gasped as he was seized from behind, one powerful arm encircling his middle while a large hand closed around his throat, making it impossible to take that sharp breath in all the way. He tilted his head back to try and escape the chokehold, but all this accomplished was to lay his head back against the broad shoulder of the man now crushing him against his body. Then, he heard Manfred’s voice right beside his ear, so close that the hot breath washed over his face and he could detect the scent of Earl Grey. “I do believe it is time to teach you a lesson you will not soon forget, Miles Edgeworth.” He was being shoved, pushed forward toward the large mahogany desk in Manfred’s office. Soon, he was pressed up against it and pushed down, bent over the edge with such force that he barely had time to catch himself. …And then… =============================================================================== “Miles Edgeworth! Wake up!” Miles lifted his head up from the table with a small gasp, looking into the glaring eyes of his nine-year-old step-sister, who was holding up a riding crop threateningly. He cringed away, looking at her with wide eyes. “I… I fell asleep…?” …Of course he’d fallen asleep… That had… been a dream… Of course it had been a dream…! A nightmare, surely! …So then, why wasn’t he more upset…? “Yes, you fell asleep!” Franziska snapped, looking as though one wrong move would incite the bite of the thin rod in her hand. “You fell asleep and drooled all over your notebook!” His gray eyes shifted downward to the open three-ring binder he’d been using as a pillow. It was perfectly dry! “I didn’t droo—Ach!” He winced and inwardly kicked himself as she struck his shoulder with the crop. “If you must sleep, do it upstairs, in your own bed! Your snoring is distracting!” With that, Franziska turned and marched away, going to another table where her notes and books were laid out. Miles was reasonably sure he hadn’t been snoring either, but he had no way of proving that, and arguing wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He had learned to pick his battles. With a heavy sigh, he gathered his belongings and tucked them under an arm, leaving the library of the Von Karma Manor and heading upstairs to his own room. His head was spinning. That dream… What had that been about…? Sure, Manfred got a bit violent sometimes when either of them really provoked him, but… what had been about to happen before he’d been awakened… would he do something like that? Surely not! That was just going way too far! So then… why was he so disappointed he’d been awakened? Was that possible?! No, surely he was GLAD to have been awakened before things could go any further! Miles dropped his study material onto his desk and then went to collapse onto his back on the bed, putting an arm up behind his head and staring at the ceiling. Surely he should be disgusted! Manfred was forty years his senior and the closest thing to a father figure he had left! Okay, so… he didn’t really think of Manfred as his father, and legally, he was nothing more than a guardian, not an adopted parent. Still… As he thought back to the dream, about how he’d been seized from behind, held so firmly against the larger man, choked and forced to bend over the desk… it didn’t make him sick… He could actually feel himself getting… aroused? Now that thought set his nerves on edge. Miles swallowed, his eyes going wide. Why would that arouse him?! He hadn’t wanted it, and he wasn’t attracted to Manfred! It had been a nightmare, a nightmare about a rape! Why… was he now thinking about where that dream should have gone had he not been so abruptly awakened…? He had to ignore it. That was the only decent solution. He just had to think about how old Manfred was! Yes, that would work. He was probably all wrinkly and… saggy… and… …Okay, so the old prosecutor was actually pretty strong and fit for his age. He was always wearing those thick, fancy suits, but it was obvious in the way he moved and how hard he could hit when he got angry enough and felt the need to punish them physically. He probably… didn’t look all that bad, if Miles was honest with himself, and-- Wait, what?! No! No, that didn’t matter at all! It had been rape! Punishment in the form of sexual assault! That shouldn’t excite him at all! It should horrify him, make him utterly sick to his stomach and not want to go anywhere near that man… …but it didn’t… Miles squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel a headache coming on. At least all this stress had made the beginnings of his arousal subside… He just couldn’t understand why it had happened in the first place. It was so wrong! Maybe… he just needed a nap. He’d have some incredibly strange dream that he would probably cease to remember upon waking up, and everything would go back to normal. He just needed to reset his brain… He hadn’t slept well the previous night thanks to one of the usual nightmares he was always plagued with, so that probably had a lot to do with it as well. Yes… he just needed to sleep… and all of this would go away… =============================================================================== It was completely dark. That was really all he could discern, at least at first. It was when Miles attempted to move that he figured out he was bound. His hands were tied behind his head, and he was lying on his back. There was something in his mouth… some kind of gag. He couldn’t tell if he was blindfolded, or if it was just pitch black in… wherever he was. He gasped when he felt a rush of air beside him: movement. Then, a large hand pressed down on his stomach, and he could feel someone’s breath on his face; this time, it smelled of some kind of alcohol. “Finally awake, I see…” He didn’t recognize the voice. It was very deep… almost unrealistically so… like it was being masked. “Good. I want you to feel this.” A rough hand caressed his cheek, and he cried out protests against the obstruction in his mouth. “Such a pretty little boy… I’m going to enjoy tearing you open.” All Miles could do was toss his head side to side and struggle ineffectually against his binds as the man’s hands moved down to begin tugging at his trousers. The sound of ripping fabric seemed to echo in the darkness as they were torn away, letting cold air reach his bare skin. His rapid breaths hitched in his throat as the chill enveloped him, and then he cried out in protest again as a firm hand closed around his member. “Don’t pretend you don’t want this, boy. I’d take that gag out so I could hear you beg for it… but I plan on making you scream, and I don’t think any passersby would appreciate that…” That hand began to stroke and tug at him roughly, and all Miles could do was yell against the gag, insist that he didn’t want this, beg for it to stop, to be let go. Of course, none of it could be understood and he was ignored regardless. Then, that hand moved downward, teasing at his entrance. The bound, helpless teen protested even louder, but the words just couldn’t be heard. Fingers forced themselves inside of him, and tears began to leak from the corners of his eyes. It hurt! Those fingers were large and jabbing him mercilessly. “You like that, you little whore?” the unknown voice growled. “Wait ‘til you feel my cock. If you’re good, I’ll let you suck on it, too.” “No! No, stop!” he was trying to yell, but it was useless. Why did he even keep trying? Sobs began to wrack his body and he sagged against the hard surface he was lying upon. He couldn’t fight this… This unseen, unknown man was going to have his way and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it… Hot tears streamed down the sides of his face as he endured those probing fingers, and he began to shake terribly when they were removed and his legs were lifted. His knees were pushed back against his chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe and exposing him fully to his captor. He could feel something large and hot pressing against him, seeking to force its way in despite his unwillingness. ===============================================================================   Miles blinked his eyes open, met with the sight of the white ceiling above him. He had dozed off… He didn’t feel all that rested, but he instantly knew he’d fallen into a light sleep… enough of a sleep to dream. He felt hot. His face was wet with sweat and… tears? His heart was pounding, his breathing coming in rapid pulls, and the muscles in his abdomen felt so damn tight it almost hurt! Afraid of what he’d find, he brought his hand down, over his stomach and down to where he felt his own member, stiff and erect. He lurched in horror, but… he was so painfully aroused that he couldn’t ignore it anymore. Swallowing hard, Miles rose from bed and went to his adjoining bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. He couldn’t stop thinking about it… how he’d been tied up and so helpless… completely at the mercy of his mysterious captor. He’d not gotten to experience it, but he could just imagine that huge, hard cock tearing into him, stuffing and stretching him, pounding him mercilessly while he screamed and wept with the pain of it! His hand had barely done anything when he felt the orgasm hit. His world went white and he was sure he’d collapse to his knees with the power of it. A low moan escaped him and his body shook, causing him to grab the edge of the counter beside him to keep his balance. He held fast, gritting his teeth with the effort of remaining upright and somewhat in control. When it all passed, he let go and stumbled back until he hit the wall behind him, panting. He didn’t… understand… This wasn’t right! Sure, he had realized and contended with the fact that he was gay a couple of short years ago, but this… this was something else entirely. He wasn’t just fantasizing about being beneath some handsome, muscular Adonis; he was fantasizing about being taken against his will! He would call it a nightmare, a fear, but… nightmares didn’t arouse him, didn’t make him want to stick around to see what would happen. He felt the fear; he really did, but it was coupled with an undeniable sense of excitement, like adrenaline junkies must feel when doing some death-defying stunt. Miles redid the clasp of his pants, flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and then held his aching head. His thoughts were racing just like his heart. Did he… want to be raped…? That didn’t make any sense! How could one want something they didn’t want?! If he wanted it… could it really be called rape…? If not, what was it…? Was this normal? It couldn’t be! There… was something wrong with him! He was being stupid and… and he needed help and… he was probably insane! Miles splashed some cold water on his face, gazing at himself in the mirror. He was flushed and looked a right mess. He needed to go back downstairs… get back to his studying, but he couldn’t do so looking like this. He had to forget these dreams, these… feelings… He couldn’t function like this, and he certainly couldn’t let ANYONE know about them. He wet his comb with some cold water and began combing out his disheveled hair. Then, he worked on straightening out his clothes. No one had to know… No one could ever know… They’d commit him or something… He’d get over it! He would just… go on with life, and soon, he’d forget all about this and just get back to normal. Replaying that sentiment over and over in his head, Miles exited his bathroom and headed back downstairs to continue his studying, picking up his materials when he passed his desk. It was just hormones… He was sixteen, after all, and he was well aware that – as a teenager – he would feel strange things and have a little trouble controlling his desires. He was intelligent enough to be self-aware, and that was his advantage. He could set this aside and ignore it because he knew that it would go away soon enough! …At least… he hoped it would… Miles nearly careened into his mentor as he rounded a corner heading toward the library. He stumbled back and clutched his books to his chest to keep from dropping them. Manfred – calm and collected – turned a hard look on him. “There you are,” he said, clearly displeased. “Perhaps you should pay more mind to your surroundings, Miles Edgeworth… or are you still not fully awake?” Miles sucked in his lower lip, biting it to try and keep a hold on his anxiety. So, Franziska had told on him. Of course… She wasn’t going to let him get away with dozing off during his studies. She viewed it as a service, ensuring that he stayed focused even if it was only under the fear of punishment. “I- I apologize, Sir…” he murmured, bowing his head subserviently. “I slept poorly last night, and allowed my fatigue to—“ “I do not want excuses!” Manfred snapped, causing his ward to flinch. “How can you expect to learn anything if you allow yourself to slack off so easily? Your mind is on other things; I can tell simply by looking at you!” He was right… but if he only knew just what was racing through the mind of his young apprentice. Miles was thinking back to the dream he’d had during the nap for which he was being scolded. He could feel his heart beating faster again, and the panic at realizing Manfred might notice something was off was only making it worse. In his mind, the older man was grabbing his shoulders, slamming him up against the wall, grinding his hips so hard against him that-- No! He had to stop, had to clear his head and pay-- The slap jolted him out of his confused thoughts and back to reality… then reminded him of the dream again. He swallowed, tasting blood from his poor bottom lip. “What has gotten into you, boy?!” Manfred demanded angrily. “Pay attention! How DARE you ignore me!?” “I-I wasn’t ignoring you, Sir, I swear it!” Miles exclaimed, eyes wide as he clutched his books even tighter. “I-I’m sorry, I just… don’t know what has gotten into me today. It won’t happen again.” Manfred glared daggers at his student, and Miles felt so certain he would be hit again, knocked to the floor, beaten, punished… …And yet, Manfred just scoffed at him, turned, and walked away. Miles stood frozen to the spot, watching him go, feeling as though… he’d just been teased? What? Why would he think that? Manfred hadn’t been teasing him; he’d been scolding him! That was all! How could he possibly confuse the two? How could this strange, newly-realized fantasy of his be so affecting his life? It had to be the whole hormone thing! He had to suppress it, ignore it… …But he didn’t understand. It was a fantasy; he just… couldn’t deny that fact, no matter how hard he tried. He stepped sideways to lean up against the wall, taking several deep, controlled breaths to calm himself. He didn’t like being hurt… He’d never liked it, had he? He’d always wanted to avoid punishment, and when it came down to violence, he always wanted it to stop. Still… wasn’t that the thing about fantasies? They were never realistic, never made real sense, did they? That was why they were fantasies! Miles put a hand to his temple, squeezing his eyes shut. Each time he thought about it, his head hurt even worse. Yet, he feared that – if he stopped thinking about it – he’d do something stupid and give away what he was thinking. Oh, for the love of God! Couldn’t he just be a normal gay teenager and think about normal gay teenager things! Accepting homosexuality had been difficult enough, but now this?! He had to struggle mightily to resist the urge to throw everything he was holding across the room and just marched stiffly toward the library, so tense he thought he might explode.   =============================================================================== He was tied again. Miles blinked several times, trying to clear his vision and get his bearings. At least, this time, he was not blindfolded, but he could feel something thick stuffed in his mouth and knotted at the back of his head: another gag. A quick survey of his surroundings found him in his room, on his own bed, wrists fastened tight to the headboard. He then glanced down at his own body; he was already naked. He laid his head back, taking deep, controlled breaths to try and keep himself calm. Odd… how he was comparing this to some other time… as if it had happened to him before. That had been a dream… Was this a dream? His pounding heart was telling him ‘no’, yet it all seemed so unreal. How had he gotten here, or rather, in this position? Another quick look around and he realized his bedroom window was open. He was on the second story! Had someone really come into his room through his window while he slept? He felt cold… exposed… so very, very anxious. He jolted at the sound of movement somewhere behind him, then he heard the creak of the office chair sitting at his desk. He turned his head to the side, his eyes falling on the form of a man silhouetted against the lamplight. As the figure drew closer, the shadows melted away from him, revealing color and detail. “Hello, Miles.” Standing over him was an older version of his childhood friend, Phoenix Wright. Miles stared up at him with wide eyes, astonished and so very confused. He looked just like he did in those photographs he would sometimes send with his letters, letters Miles had neglected to answer for somewhat… complicated reasons. What was Phoenix doing here, and why…? …Why would his old friend have done this to him? “You look surprised,” Phoenix noted, a little smile on his lips. “Haven’t you been reading my letters; I said I wanted to come visit, didn’t I?” That smile vanished, becoming a thoughtful frown. “Then again… you haven’t even written me back once… Maybe you haven’t been reading them after all. You probably just chucked them in the trash, huh?” Suddenly, Phoenix rushed forward, grabbing a handful of his silver hair and tugging roughly as he leaned over, mere inches from Miles’ face. “I thought we were friends, Miles. What, you too good for me now? That rich prosecutor adopts you and suddenly you’re too fuckin’ high and mighty for your friends?” Miles was staring up into an expression of hurt and rage, and that voice was dripping with said emotions, growled low and promising retribution. Trembling, Miles shook his head frantically, desperately wishing he could speak, could explain. He hadn’t thrown the letters away! He’d kept every last one! They were in a box under his bed, neatly arranged according to when he’d received them. No, he had not felt compelled to respond to them, but he had not had it in him to dispose of them, either. “Mm-mm!” was the best verbal protest he could make, but Phoenix only pulled harder at his hair, straining the roots painfully and stopping him from moving his head. “You’re a fuckin’ liar, Miles,” Phoenix hissed. “Pretty shitty of you, lying to your best friend. You’re a stuck-up, arrogant little prick!” His voice became almost a shout as he spat that last insult, but suddenly, it dropped down to a low, dark, passionate murmur. “But I fuckin’ love you…” Phoenix dipped his head, his lips finding Miles’ exposed throat. With his head held back, Miles could not lower his chin to try and push him away, so he was left to endure as his captor’s lips began kneading hungrily, promising teeth. Phoenix kissed, licked, sucked at, and dragged his teeth over every bit of accessible flesh on his neck, making him whimper and squirm in protest. This only worsened as the man’s free hand went to his chest, seizing a nipple between thumb and forefinger, squeezing and twisting mercilessly. No! He wasn’t a liar! He could prove it, if he could just get Phoenix to pull up the bed skirt and look! He would find the box; he would find the letters! Miles had proof! Finally, Phoenix released that harsh grip on his hair in order to molest his captive with both hands. His mouth traveled downward, replacing the work of his fingers. Teeth bit down on the sensitive flesh as he sucked greedily, ignoring – or perhaps relishing – the muffled gasps and groans of pain. Miles began tossing his head side to side, jerking his body in an attempt to throw Phoenix off of him. His hands were the only things bound; he could still fight, still resist! Phoenix drew back quickly and clamped a hand down around Miles’ throat, squeezing hard enough to cut off his air. Then, he could feel something cold and metallic against his stomach, and without even looking, he knew what it was. “I suggest you lay still, like a god little fuck toy,” Phoenix warned, pressing his knife threateningly into the soft skin of Miles’ flat stomach, just enough to make his point. “I don’t wanna’ have to hurt you too bad, but don’t think I won’t make a few new holes to try out.” The smirk on his lips was utterly chilling, freezing Miles’ blood and – thus – his body. “That’s better.” As Miles lay as still as possible – though he was unable to stop trembling, or lightly coughing once his throat was released – and Phoenix explored to his heart’s content, he desperately wondered how this could be happening. He remembered Phoenix… Sure, it had been nearly seven years, but he remembered a kind, caring boy who would never DREAM of hurting anyone. Even in his letters, he was always so optimistic, regardless of whether things were going well for him or not, and he still sounded so genial. What would drive a boy – a man – like that to do something like this to him? Had he really hurt Phoenix so badly by not answering those letters!? “I think it’s time to take that gag out,” Phoenix finally decided after he’d kissed, licked, bitten, and groped his fill. Miles was certain he had very few secrets left after such a violation. “Just… keep quiet, will you? Make any trouble for me, and I’ll make ten times more for you. Got it?” Miles swallowed as best he could around the gag and nodded meekly. “Good boy,” Phoenix said with a mocking grin before leaning over to pull Miles’ head forward with one hand and untie the cloth with the other. When it was gone, Miles closed his mouth briefly to relieve his jaw muscles and moved his tongue around, trying to get some saliva flowing. He then took in a breath, hoping he could somehow talk his way out of this. “Phoenix… Phoenix, I’m s-“ The slap was hard enough to knock his head to the side. “I didn’t take it out so you could talk!” Phoenix snapped angrily. “Toys don’t talk, Miles! You should know THAT by now, at least!” So much for that… Miles slowly turned his head back, looking at his childhood friend with tears in his eyes, his look pleading, begging him to stop as Phoenix unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers. Phoenix paid that look no mind, letting his pants and boxers slide to the floor and climbing up onto the bed. He straddled Miles’ chest, taking his partially erect member in one hand and grabbing Miles’ hair roughly with the other. “This is all that smart mouth of yours is good for,” Phoenix sneered, pushing himself against his captive’s lips to prompt him to open his mouth. “Now, suck on it. How well you do will determine how little – or how much – the next part is going to hurt.” Frightened and unable to resist, Miles parted his lips and allowed his head to be pulled forward, letting the hot, hard organ slide over his tongue, deeper and deeper. He closed his eyes with a light sob, wishing he had just worked up the nerve to answer at least some of those letters… or even make a single phone call. This was his fault… He deserved this… He had been an awful excuse for a friend and he deserved everything he was- BANG! =============================================================================== Miles sat bolt upright with a sharp gasp, eyes flying wide and heart hammering as if it wished to flee right out of his ribcage. A gunshot! He’d heard a- …Oh… Groaning, Miles flopped back against his pillow, reaching up to wipe the sheen of sweat from his face. That nightmare… a gunshot in the dark… The fear… Being trapped… suffocating… That scream… …Wait… Slowly, he sat up again, blinking. That… hadn’t been what he’d dreamt about at all. Also, the sweat wasn’t cold. In fact, he felt extremely hot, and… He looked down, not really because he could see himself in the dark and under the blanket, but more out of instinct as he noticed the feeling in his abdomen and lower. Waking up aroused was nothing new; in fact, it happened most mornings. He’d heard that was normal, but never had he awakened from those nightmares in this state. He then heard another gunshot, though it wasn’t very loud, and it was followed by quiet shouting. His confusion slowly clearing, he turned to look at his computer screen, now at last locating the source of the sound that had awakened him. He’d fallen asleep watching old movies, in the hopes that they would distract him from the disturbing places his mind had been wandering all throughout the day. The volume was so low that he couldn’t make out most of the dialog, but the gunfire currently being exchanged was clear enough. …And what was more, his strategy hadn’t worked. Yet again, Miles lay back, putting his arm up behind his head to prop it up even further. He stared at the ceiling, reluctantly allowing his mind to drift back to what it had shown him while he slept. Phoenix… Phoenix Wright had been there, had been… Miles sucked in his lower lip, drawing his free arm across his stomach to grip at his opposite side. Phoenix had looked like he did in the photos he sometimes sent with his letters, and his voice… Well, Miles could hardly remember precisely what it had sounded like, but his mind must have just constructed it somehow. It had felt so real, yet again. Though dreams could never really cause pain, his mind had believed those things were hurting him… as strange as that sounded as he thought about it. In the dream, Phoenix had been so angry with him that he’d sneaked into his bedroom at night, tied him up, undressed him, and then proceeded to use him… abuse him… …Rape him… Miles swallowed. His mouth felt dry and his heart was beating faster again. He recalled how Phoenix’s lips and hands had been everywhere, all over him, doing whatever they wanted, taking whatever they wanted. He recalled how Phoenix had called him a ‘fuck toy’, and how – under the threat of violence – he’d been commanded to lie still and keep silent. His blood was pounding now, rushing through him to get to his manhood. A fuck toy… Was that what he wanted to be now? Was that his goal? Had that first little daydream about Manfred taking punishment too far at last awakened something within him that now refused to return to slumber, in effect preventing HIM from getting even the few precious nights of decent sleep he managed to snatch? Did he like that…? Images from the dream kept flashing before his mind’s eye, and what he’d missed thanks to the movie waking him was being supplemented by his suddenly-active imagination. What would Phoenix have done with him? Would he have continued exploiting his mouth until he climaxed, or would he only use that to get ready before plunging in between his legs and drilling him into the mattress while he sobbed and screamed in anguish? Would he have done both, having the stamina to torture and punish him all night? He couldn’t take it anymore: Miles launched himself out of bed and made a beeline for the bathroom. Just like the last time, he barely had to touch himself to finish, getting off on just the fantasy alone. Never once since he had discovered his own sexuality had he ever been so turned on by anything, and he could not wrap his mind around how contradictory that fact really was. It was impossible to want something you didn’t want! Needing something you didn’t want was one thing, but this was different. It was not a necessity that he despised; it was a fantasy of being taken against his will! When he had composed and steadied himself after another extremely intense orgasm, Miles left his bathroom and trudged toward his bed. However, about halfway there, he changed course and went to his computer instead. Maybe… maybe he could look this up. Yes, that was the logical thing to do! Wasn’t that part of what he was supposed to learn here in this household? When he did not know or understand something, it was his duty as a future prosecutor to find answers, to make logical and concrete conclusions. Ignorance and bewilderment were weaknesses that could cost him dearly. …He would just need to be sure to thoroughly clear out his search and browsing history. The last thing he needed was for Manfred or Franziska to discover ‘rape fetish’ having been typed into his default search engine at any point. What Miles found surprised him… and disturbed him… yet it also brought him a strange sense of relief. He wasn’t alone. He’d been so sure that there was something broken, something sick in his brain, something that would require heavy counseling and behavioral modification, which he would never undergo because that sounded humiliating. Instead, he learned that the fascination was at least common enough to have several pornography websites dedicated to it, and others where people discussed such things openly, offering advice and support for those who wished to indulge their fantasies in the form of role- play. Slowly, Miles sat back in his chair, the creaking sound it made now reminding him of his most recent fantasy-inspired dream. He stared at the screen, though he wasn’t reading anymore: he was thinking. So… maybe somewhere down the line, if he ever got a chance to truly explore his human desires with another man, he could… suggest role-playing. That wouldn’t be wrong… as long as the other person was accepting of it. Of course, he supposed they would have to be… good at it, make it convincing… Some of the discussions encouragingly stated it took practice and discovery, finding out what each person likes or is comfortable with… Combing his fingers through his sweat-dampened bangs, Miles let out a long breath, trying to come to terms with all of this. It was still strange and somewhat frightening to him, but at least he knew more about it, knew he wasn’t some freak of nature with a horrible psychosis. Now, he just needed to figure out how to control his fantasizing about the people he had to see on a daily basis: Manfred von Karma, specifically. As he leaned forward to start erasing the evidence, his thoughts drifted back to Phoenix and the box of letters under his bed. Phoenix had grown… handsome in the past couple of years, changing from a child into a man, though he still had a bit of that boyish charm Miles doubted he would ever lose, at least not for a long time. Maybe he could start thinking of that dream he’d had as… role-play. Phoenix had been acting out a scene, playing a part, and Miles himself had REALLY gotten into it, so much that he’d actually felt fear. …But, not REAL fear… Probably… After he was through with his cover-up, Miles sat back again, arms folded and tapping his index finger against the opposite arm. Maybe… Maybe it was about time he wrote back. All the pain and guilt he felt about that incident… the incident that had taken his father from him, and thus his childhood, had prevented him from confronting anything from his past. That included the friends he’d left behind, but even after nearly seven years of no response, Phoenix refused to give up on him. …Maybe he owed Phoenix a reply. Maybe he owed Phoenix much more than that. He leaned down, pulling open one of his desk drawers to retrieve some stationary, and then plucked a pen from the holder atop the desk. He flicked on the desk lamp, as the light from the computer screen just wasn’t ideal for writing, and after tapping the pen against his lips for a time in thought, he began to write: “Dear Phoenix, I apologize that this is my first letter to you. I should have written back long ago, but complicated circumstances have prevented me from doing so. I won’t discuss it here: it is all quite heavy and extremely personal. Perhaps someday I will share those reasons with you, but for now, I simply wished to inform you that you have not been writing for the blind. I have read all of your letters, and I have kept them. It was actually a particularly strange dream that at last compelled me to send one of my own. I will admit, it is astonishing to me that you continue your attempts to contact me, even after all this time. Your devotion is admirable, albeit just a tad creepy. Regardless, from now on, I shall do my best to correspond with you when I have the time, and – perhaps in time – we can upgrade to modern forms of communication that do not require the expense of international shipping. With Regards, Miles P.S. I have enclosed a current photograph of myself. It is nothing special, but I would rather you did not continue to picture me as an elementary school student.” Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!