“Mmmph?” Phoenix murmured, his lips occupied, trailing wet kisses down Miles’ neck.
“Can’t… can’t this…” Miles struggled to compose himself, his breath already coming in ragged gasps. It defied explanation, really. The fact that this man, with his annoyingly spiky hair and cheap suit and his simple, single-mindedness, could affect him so powerfully was something that Miles had considered at length. Even now, his suit jacket, vest and shirt cast aside, and his back pressed roughly against the bookcase in his office, the logical centre of his mind attempted to determine exactly how and why Phoenix Wright could elicit this kind of reaction from him.
“Can’t what, Miles?” Phoenix asked, sucking possessively at the base of Miles’ neck, his fingertips trailing down the prosecutor’s toned chest and abdomen.
Miles sighed thickly, the flush on his face beginning to spread quickly down his neck and chest. He arched his neck backwards, resting his head back against the legal tomes that lined the bookcase.
“I think… I think…”
Phoenix pulled away slightly, still fully dressed, a smirk curling his lips. “You think what, Miles?”
“I think it might be best if we continued this at home,” Miles said, pushing Phoenix further away. “Having just recently returned to my position in this office, I would like to maintain some semblance of propriety.”