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Zipp O. DeLypps was practically daring Phoenix to try something. His arms were locked tight across his chest, his jaw set like granite.
For twenty minutes, Phoenix had sat across DeLypps in his corporate office, throwing everything at him, and DeLypps hadn’t even blinked. He was a total vault.
Phoenix let out a sigh, running his hand through his spiky hair. He turned toward Detective Gumshoe, who was pacing near the windows, looking equally stressed.
“It’s no use, pal,” Gumshoe muttered. “You’re getting nowhere by just askin’ the same questions and showin’ the same stuff over and over again!”
“I know…” Phoenix whispered back. “He didn’t even say anything when I presented my badge! That always works!” He sighed, glancing at the smug suspect. “I’ve tried every angle I have, Gumshoe. Unless you have a sudden piece of definitive evidence in your pocket, we’re stuck.”
Gumshoe’s face suddenly lit up, his eyes widening. “Wait! We gotta call Mr. Edgeworth. He can do that… that chess thing!”
“The... chess thing? Gumshoe, what are you talking about? I know Edgeworth can play chess, but—”
“No, no, pal, you don’t get it!” Gumshoe hissed, his hands gesturing in low, excited motions. “It’s not real chess! It’s like... a psychological takedown! It’s incredible. He just sits there, completely quiet, and he does this mental chess match with ’em. He reads their minds or something, bides his time, and then bam! He uses their own words to completely destroy them!”
Phoenix raised an eyebrow, a little skeptical but thoroughly desperate. “A mental chess match? Right. Well, we don’t have many options. Call him.”
Ten minutes later, the doors clicked open, and Miles Edgeworth stepped into the corporate suite. He looked immaculate, his maroon coat billowing behind him like a cape, his cravat crisp and white. It was completely unfair how ravishing the man looked just walking into a room, with the elegant way he moved and his perfect broad shoulders and his perfect tailored coat. He surveyed the room with a cool, untouchable aura.
Edgeworth then took his seat next to Phoenix. He leaned back, legs elegantly crossed. His grey eyes were narrowed, locked onto DeLypps with a marauding focus.
In the quiet theater of Edgeworth’s mind, the reality of the room dissolved. He was standing on a grand, blue chessboard that extended all around him and DeLypps.
DeLypps’ stubborn silence manifested around him as a black pawn and ebony king.
He believes that by withholding information entirely, he remains invulnerable. A fatal miscalculation. Edgeworth observed, his inner voice analyzing. I simply need to bait him into deploying his pieces. Once he moves, he leaves a trail. Let the match begin.
Edgeworth let the silence stretch. One minute. Two minutes. The quiet in the room became heavy and thick.
There was something terrifyingly beautiful about Edgeworth when he was in full hunter mode—the absolute confidence in his posture, the precise, predatory stillness of his hands resting over his crossed knee, the subtle, arrogant tilt of his head.
Man... when I do this, I just look like I forgot what I was going to say, Phoenix thought, swallowing hard. But Edgeworth? He is so intimidating it’s unreal. He’s just sitting there, arms crossed, boring his scowl right into the guy. Honestly... it’s a little scary. And... wow. Okay. Phoenix’s collar suddenly felt way too tight.
“You’re wasting your time,” DeLypps growled, his voice rough. “I don’t care how long we sit here. I’m not talking.”
Edgeworth tilted his head, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. When he spoke, his voice was a low, velvet baritone that sent a shiver straight down Phoenix’s spine.
“Silence is a convenient shield, Mr. DeLypps,” Edgeworth murmured, the words rolling off his tongue like a slow drawl. “But it is perplexing. Most innocent people would be desperate to clear their name.”
DeLypps’ eyes flared. “I ain’t stupid. I know how you lawyers work. You want me to say I was there so you can pin it on me.”
“Ah, then you weren’t there?” Edgeworth asked innocently.
“No!” DeLypps snapped, his pride getting the better of his resolve. “I didn’t even enter the victim’s apartment that night. I stayed out in the hallway the entire time, minding my own business.”
He is lying. There is not a shred of doubt in my mind, Edgeworth thought to himself. I would do well to catalog this claim immediately.
The moment the words left his mouth, DeLypps realized he’d broken his own rule. He instantly clammed up, slamming his jaw shut. He glared directly at Edgeworth. “And that’s it. I’m done. I’m not saying another damn word to you.”
Edgeworth didn’t press. He didn’t jump on the admission, and he didn’t argue against the refusal to speak. I must read my opponent’s reactions and feelings, and strike with the right words at the right time.
He slowly shifted his posture, crossing his arms over his chest. He fixed DeLypps with his signature glare. Then, his index finger began to tap a slow, rhythmic, agonizing cadence against his forearm.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Edgeworth just bided his time, letting the quiet put weight on DeLypps’ shoulders. The premeditated patience was thrilling. He was completely content to let the silence stretch until the pressure became unbearable.
Geez... he’s not even saying anything, but he might as well have his hand right around the guy's throat. Every line of Edgeworth’s body was locked into a posture of flawless, suffocating control, and it was devastatingly effective. And devastatingly handsome.
Edgeworth’s unbothered dominance turned Phoenix’s insides completely molten. He completely owns everything and everyone in here right now. His skin prickled with a dangerous heat that rushed straight south, making his thighs tighten instinctively against the edge of his chair.
DeLypps shifted in his chair, his eyes darting to Edgeworth’s tapping finger. He gripped his own elbows, jaw locked, trying to force himself to stick to his word.
Edgeworth just kept staring, his expression an unreadable mask of smooth authority.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Finally, DeLypps slammed a hand on the table, the frustration boiling over just to break the silence. “Look, it was a long, tedious night, alright? I was just staring at the wall, waiting for my buddy to finish up inside. That’s all I did!”
Edgeworth’s finger stopped tapping.
“Then it must have been a terrible shock,” Edgeworth said, his tone casual, conversational, completely hypnotic. “To have that peace shattered. Did you hear a struggle?”
DeLypps caught himself again, a look of pure panic flashing across his features before he forced his expression back into a sneer. He locked his jaw tight a second time. “I told you, I’m not talking anymore. You can play your little quiet games all you want, but I’m shut up for good now.”
Edgeworth simply returned to the glare. He tilted his head slightly, his arms remaining crossed, his finger resuming its tap against his sleeve. He just watched DeLypps sweat, letting the suspect’s own desperate desire to defend himself do the heavy lifting.
He is advancing his pawns in a panic, oblivious to the trap I am weaving around him. One more blunder, and his king will be entirely exposed.
Phoenix, next to him, was sweating for entirely different reasons. He was becoming unraveled by how insanely attractive it was to watch Edgeworth just sit there and dismantle a man’s sanity through just a look in his eyes and a flick of his finger.
He looks like a god, Phoenix admired helplessly. He looks like a merciless, sexy god. I want to worship him so badly right now. I want to eat that mouth. I want him to bite my lip. I want to sink to my knees right here on the floor. I want to take every inch of him. I want to taste him on my tongue. I want to swallow him down. I want to, I want to…
Ten seconds passed. Twenty. Thirty.
DeLypps’ breathing grew shallow. He couldn’t handle the silent judgment radiating off the prosecutor. He kept shifting, opening his mouth to speak, shutting it, until the sheer weight of Edgeworth broke his resolve entirely.
“I didn’t hear a thing!” DeLypps burst out, defensive, angry, and reckless. “Like I said, I was minding my own business. I didn’t know anything was wrong until the police finally got there. By the time they arrived, the whole place was already a mess. Blood all over the living room rug. Horrible. Now leave me the hell alone.”
Edgeworth paused. He leaned forward, just an inch, his silver bangs casting a shadow over eyes that were burning with lethal certainty.
There is the contradiction. If I force him to commit to this claim, he will walk straight into my trap.
“Ah. So you only discovered the tragedy once the authorities arrived?” Edgeworth asked softly.
DeLypps ground his teeth, but his ego wouldn’t let him back down. “Yeah. Exactly. I saw it when they opened up the place.”
Precisely as anticipated. Time to deploy my clue and finish this match.
“But just a second ago,” Edgeworth began, “you explicitly claimed you did not even enter the apartment. You insisted you stayed out in the hallway the entire time.”
In Edgeworth’s mind’s eye, he envisioned his white knight sweeping across the board, striking DeLypps’ overextended black king. The phantom piece spun around aimlessly.
DeLypps’ composure completely fractured. Realizing his mistake, his jaw slammed shut for a third time. He pressed his lips into a line, eyes darting around the room, desperately trying to re-erect his wall of silence, his eyes wide with horror.
Phoenix himself almost forgot to breathe. It was intoxicating. Edgeworth hadn’t brought in a single piece of outside data. No forensics, nothing. He had simply sat there, let the man talk, clam up, and talk again, trapping him entirely within his own sentences. Gumshoe hadn’t been exaggerating—it was the most brilliant display of intellectual dominance Phoenix had ever seen in his life and he was so hopelessly turned on.
It was so incredibly hot. Watching Edgeworth effortlessly suffocate the room, relying purely on the razor-sharp edge of his own mind, sent heavy pulses straight to Phoenix’s groin. He was aching and desperate to be the next thing Edgeworth completely conquered.
Edgeworth let out a soft, humored breath—a dark, low sound that made Phoenix’s stomach do a violent flip. He uncrossed his arms, leaning all the way over the table, delivering the final, crushing blow with devastating grace.
“You can try to remain silent again, Mr. DeLypps,” Edgeworth purred, his voice dripping with authority. "But you’ve already given me everything. You claim you stayed out in the hallway the entire time and did not even enter the apartment. Yet, you just told me you saw blood all over the living room rug. Tell me, Mr. DeLypps... how does a man who never crossed the threshold know exactly what the inside of the living room looked like?”
Edgeworth saw DeLypps’ king spin helplessly again, then disappear into the void. It was a decisive, clean capture—the logical culmination of a trap meticulously laid, leaving his suspect’s flank exposed.
DeLypps froze. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. The contradiction was absolute, entirely born out of his own mouth. His shoulders slumped, his head fell into his hands, and he began to sob, stammering out the details of how the argument had escalated and where he had hidden the knife.
Checkmate, Edgeworth thought to himself, completely satisfied. The truth always reveals itself to those with the patience to obtain it.
"Gumshoe," Phoenix snapped suddenly, his voice rough and incredibly urgent as he stood up so fast his chair flew backward.
“Whoa, pal!” Gumshoe blinked, startled by the sudden noise. “Did you hear that? Mr. Edgeworth totally broke him!”
“Take the confession,” Phoenix ordered, not even looking at the detective. He stepped around the table in two long strides, his eyes locked entirely on Edgeworth.
Edgeworth stood up slowly and let out a soft exhale, his voracious aura melting back into his usual, regular-levels-of-scary professional demeanor as he reached for his briefcase.
“Well. That was a rather textbook breakthrough.” He clicked his briefcase shut, clearly not thinking much of the masterclass he had just delivered.
He paused, noticing a frantic look on the defense attorney’s face. “Wright? Are you quite alright?”
No, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen and I am absolutely not quite alright. If I cannot eat your face in the next thirty seconds I think I will spontaneously combust.
Without a word, Phoenix dragged the prosecutor straight out of the glass-walled office, leaving a completely bewildered Detective Gumshoe behind with the weeping suspect. Phoenix pulled Edgeworth down the hallway, prowling with a single-minded focus until he found a dimly lit copy room tucked away.
Phoenix threw the door open, pulled Edgeworth inside, and slammed it shut behind them.
“W-Wright?! Have you lost your—”
Phoenix cut him off by burying his mouth against Edgeworth’s.
Phoenix was out of his mind, consumed by the heat of what he had just witnessed. He pressed his weight hard against Edgeworth, backing him into the heavy metal copy machine. The sharp clatter of Edgeworth’s briefcase hitting the floor went entirely ignored as Phoenix’s hands tangled frantically into the prosecutor’s perfectly styled silver hair, ruining it, pulling him closer. He tasted like Ceylon and power.
Edgeworth stiffened in shock, his hands hovering in the air, his mind struggling to catch up to the sudden onslaught.
“Fuck, Edgeworth,” Phoenix breathed, breaking the kiss just enough for the words to tumble out of him in a desperate, dazed rush against Edgeworth’s lips. “You have no idea what that just did to me. Gumshoe was hyping it up, but I didn’t think—I mean, god—”
Before Edgeworth could answer, Phoenix was devouring him again, bruising his lips, groaning low in his throat as he pressed his hips firmly against the prosecutor’s. Edgeworth let out a soft, helpless gasp into the kiss, his hands finally coming down to grip Phoenix’s shoulders for balance.
When Phoenix finally pulled back to take in a second of air, Edgeworth’s chest was heaving, his cravat completely askew, his face flushed a brilliant, furious pink. “Wright, please—”
“That was the most attractive thing I have ever seen in my entire life,” Phoenix ranted against his lips, his hands sliding down to grip Edgeworth’s waist with possessive force, “You always do everything perfectly, but watching you completely break a guy without a single piece of evidence? Just playing with him? I—”
Phoenix cut himself off by devouring Edgeworth again, crowding him so hard that the prosecutor had to arch his back, his head almost hitting the wall as Phoenix’s tongue slid into his mouth, hot and demanding.
Edgeworth gasped out the moment he could get a sliver of air. “It is... a standard psychological method.”
He tried to pull his head back, but Phoenix just followed him, his lips brushing aggressively against Edgeworth’s jawline.
“I don’t care what you call it,” Phoenix murmured against his skin, his breath scorching. “If you ever do that in front of me again, we’re not making it out of the room.” His hands moved lower, gripping Edgeworth’s hips tightly and lifting him slightly, pulling their lower bodies completely flush together. Phoenix pulled one of Edgeworth’s legs around his waist, grounding them against each other with zero space left between them.
“I didn’t think you could get any more terrifying. Or sexy. Or perfect. I swear my heart stopped. I forgot how to breathe.”
Edgeworth himself let out a strangled breath, his fingers grasping the fabric of Phoenix’s blue suit jacket to keep from sliding down the copy machine.
“Wright,” Edgeworth managed. “If you continue this relentless… assault, it is I who will be entirely incapable of breathing!”
Phoenix didn’t care. He just leaned in, his breath hot against Edgeworth’s ear as he whispered:
“... I want to suck your cock until I can’t breathe on it. Then, I want you to bend me over this copy machine, and twist me into a checkmate position…”
“W-Wright!” Edgeworth choked on his own breath, clutching tightly to Phoenix’s jacket as if he’d fall over if he let go. His grey eyes were wide, completely blown out with a mixture of shock and desire. “Control your tongue! Someone could... anyone could walk past that door.”
"Let them," Phoenix growled, a wicked, completely undone smile spreading across his face. He looked up, locking eyes with Edgeworth, his gaze dropping to the prosecutor’s swollen, parted lips.
Phoenix went back in for more carnage, his mouth slamming back down onto Edgeworth’s with a feral intensity, his pulsing tongue breaching immediately. Edgeworth parted his lips willingly, allowing Phoenix to deepen the kiss, his own quiet groans echoing in the cramped room.
"God, Edgeworth," Phoenix panted, breaking the kiss again for a split second. “It’s unfair how good you are at that. You are entirely too hot for your own good. I swear on my life—"
Phoenix chuckled darkly, his hands tightening on Edgeworth’s hips, ready to slide his pants down right then and there—
“Mr. Edgeworth? Wright, pal?” Gumshoe’s muffled, booming voice rumbled from the corridor, followed by the sound of a door opening nearby. “Where’d you guys run off to? What should I do with this crying guy?”
Inside the copy room, both men froze. Phoenix shook with a frustrated laugh. Edgeworth looked absolutely mortified, his hands immediately coming up to try and smooth down his disastrously messy silver hair, his chest still heaving.
“Ah—we’ll be right there, Detective!” Phoenix called out.
Edgeworth glared at Phoenix, though his eyes were dark with desire. "Get off me, you brute."
Phoenix didn’t let go immediately. He slowly slid Edgeworth’s leg back down to the floor but kept his eyes on Edgeworth’s puffy, wet lips.
“This isn’t over,” Phoenix promised.
Edgeworth looked down, a smile finally touching his lips as he adjusted his cravat.
“I expect nothing less, Wright. I look forward to seeing your next move.”