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Summary
Competitiveness flares into Mydeimos’ chest, especially now that he’s thinking a bit clearer with a climax out of the way. He turns and meets Phainon’s eye. “You damn boaster,” he accuses, pushing himself up on shaking limbs. “I’m gonna make you work for it now that you’ve pleased me.”
Those words seem to coat Phainon from head to toe as Mydeimos speaks them, and realization crosses his face. “Mydeimos.. Mydei, no, you can’t seriously-”
“Oh, I can. And I’m going to. On your feet, dog.”
The petname makes Phainon jump, and Mydeimos watches his eyes go wide with understanding. The demon scrambles to obey, standing from the bed and crossing his arms behind his back. Mydeimos regards him with a critical eye, searching for flaws in Phainon’s perfect, military positioning.
“Kneel.”