Sugar

09

Milo moves around so quietly, light on his feet and discreetly, that what wakes Amir up a bit past four in the morning isn't him getting out of bed and getting ready for work, but his phone ringing and vibrating obnoxiously.

He whines, burying himself in the pillows, whole body wriggling so the covers slips down to his hips, and it's warm and comfortable and Milo has really nice sheets, so soft against his skin, and Luka's notification tone is ruining everything.

He grunts when it doesn't relent, and he bemoans his peaceful, perfect sleep, and he takes his phone, rubbing his eyes with his free hand as he answers, bringing it up to his ear.

"Hey, genius, this is FaceTime," Luka's voice is loud, and Amir groans, bringing it away from his ear. He adjusts on the bed, lays down on his stomach as he blinks in the darkness sleepily, staring at the screen, and Luka is grinning stupidly, waving, Yuri and Zane and Kris audible in the background, a party evidently ongoing with the music and strobe lighting and shouts for drinks, and he's too tired but he doesn't hang up just yet. "Come over, Zane's movie wrapped up, and it's an open bar."

"It's four in the morning, Luka," Amir mutters, burrowing into the soft pillows.

"It's barely started!" he says cheerfully, idiot that he is, and Sehun groans, wanting to end the call. "Get your ass out of bed and dress up, I'll even send Kris over to your place-"

"Leave me out of this," he hears Kris in the back, and Luka waves him off.

"I'm not at home, so don't bother," Amir says, yawning a little, and the door to the ensuite bathroom opens, and Milo comes out, naked and wet and glorious, rubbing at his head with a towel. He smiles at his view, very appreciative, and Milo catches him, smirking, then shaking off his hair a bit, wrapping the towel around his waist, regrettably.

"You're not?" Luka says, "Hey, why are you smiling? Mirrie? Where are you?"

"Who's this?" Milo comes closer, lowering himself down onto the bed, settling on top of Amir comfortably and looking at his phone screen.

"Oh, shit," Luka mumbles, eyes wide as he stares at Milo, and Amir would laugh, but Milo is kissing his shoulder, his neck, his ear, all while looking at the screen, beautifully nonchalant at the reaction of shock he's receiving. "Is, are you at Milo's place?"

"He is," Milo answers for him, and his chest is still wet against Amir's back, but Amir wriggles back, wanting him closer. "Luka, yes?"

"Uh huh. Thank you for the wedding cake, I cried," he says a little dumbly, still staring. In true Luka fashion, his eyes dart back to Amir, asking loudly, "Did you finally get nailed in the ass, Mirrie?! Was it good?"

Milo blushes, but he laughs, standing up to get dressed, not without a little slap at Amir's butt.

"My muscles ache, there are bruises on my ass, and he made me forget my name," he says, so fucking smug. "I'm living my best fucking life."

"Shit, Mirrie, was I right or was I right?"

"Don't be too crude," Milo is on top of him again, underwear and dark blue jeans on, the fit on him perfect and snug, but his chest is warm and welcome on his back, and he's lifting himself up a little, enough to lick up Amir's spine, make him shiver.

"Oh fuck, please don't stop on my account."

"But we must," Milo says, face still red but lips looking smug in a smirk, and he snuggles him. "Bye."

"But-"

"Mine, Luka," Amir says, and he's waving, before ending the call with satisfaction.