all the days of our delights are poison in my veins
Chapters: 1/1 , 13.7k words
Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence
Relationships: Mydei/Phainon, Past Hephaestion/Mydei
Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Temporary Character Death, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Character Study, Heavy Angst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Self-Esteem Issues, Anger, Mental Breakdown, Suicidal Thoughts, Blood and Injury, Stabbing, Choking, Biting, Feral Behavior, Communication, Honesty, Trust, Devotion, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch Mydei/Phainon, Light Dom/sub, Subspace, Anal Fingering, Sexual Overstimulation, Anal Fisting, Praise Kink, Wet & Messy, Watersports, Pissgasm, Anal Sex, Creampie, Come Marking, Hopeful Ending
Mydei’s mouth unexpectedly hardens as he rests his back against the throne, glaring up at Phainon and gesturing loosely at what—as far as Phainon can tell—is all of him.
“This—this softness of yours? It’s worrisome. If something happens to me—if I’m corrupted, if your precious prophecy says you must go through me for the sake of Era Nova—will you be able to fulfill your promise? Or will you be too besotted to do what you must?”
Phainon’s heart sinks almost as fast as his dick does. He doesn’t think he’s lost an erection this quickly in his life.
He closes his eyes, swallowing his misery as he takes a deep breath against the rising tide of panic in his chest. An image of that-which-was-once-Piso surfaces, his flesh hardening and cracking and darkening into a rotting orange-black bloom. A manipulative force in the body of his childhood friend, wheedling to get closer, until Phainon pierced him through the chest and ended his suffering.
Why, Phainon? Aren’t we the best of friends?
His eyes snap back open as he grips Mydei’s bicep too roughly, focusing firmly on Mydei’s frowning face in an effort to shake the image from his head. He scans Mydei’s perfect body, every bit of flesh that’s on display: still human, in every way that counts—or divine, as the case may be.
“I—” Phainon’s voice cracks, and he takes another deep breath. “I can do it, Mydei. I promised.”
Mydei retrieves a dagger from beside the throne, its blade long and wickedly sharp. He places the hilt in Phainon’s hand, closing his fingers around it.
“Then prove it. I challenge you to kill me three times, in whatever way you’d like. If you succeed, I will never bring this up again until it must happen in truth.”
Nausea roils in Phainon’s stomach and he swallows hard, praying his lunch will stay down.
He’s never failed to meet a challenge Mydei issued before. Has always risen to them gladly. Eagerly, even.
This is an exception. He is not as prepared for it as he’d thought, despite spiraling over the possibility so many times. Worry, it seems, does not substitute for ability to perform under pressure.
(AKA Phainon's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day that he somehow walks away from in better shape than when he started.)