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Summary
He can almost hear Mydei’s voice in his head, chastising him for being so needy at this hour.
“Your depravement knows no bounds, Deliverer,” Mydei would say in that husky, ridiculously sultry voice, the one he puts on when he knows Phainon’s barely holding onto his composure as is. “Are you that desperate to give into your desires? You couldn't keep your hands to yourself?”
And Phainon would just make a pathetic sound in the back of this throat, half agreement and half shame. It's made worse by the fact that they both know he’s a weak, weak man when it comes to Mydei, and the latter isn’t shy of encouraging this fact whenever he gets the chance.
While Mydei snores, Phainon, unfortunately, does not think he’ll be sleeping at all tonight.