I would love to see Malcolm/Milo/MC in a party seething 👀 Milo and MC being drunk and flirting with Malcom?
"Just look at him," I murmured, leaning heavily against Milo. "He shouldn't look that good."
Milo's arm was slung loose around me, taking most of my weight as he slumped within the booth, drink in one hand while the other hand was on my thigh. "Fucker knows wha' he's doin', too," Milo slurred. "Wearin' that shirt. Sluttiest thing I've ever seen."
We both were staring across the bar at Malcolm who was presumably getting us water. He wore a loose fit tank top that dipped downwards, showing off the tanned line of his sides. The fabric stuck to his chest with sweat, and he had long ago thrown his hair up into a knot at the back of his head.
"He's going to lecture us," I warned Milo. We had gotten drunk. Very drunk. The bartender had to contact Malcolm by pixie to come collect us. "Gonna say we're degener-- designerates?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "Detergent."
Malcolm was walking to us both now, eyes narrowed in that sexy smoldering way that made both of us weak in the knees.
"Flash 'im your bits," Milo said urgently. "He can't be mad then."
"That only works on you."
The water hit the table, wet glasses sliding over to the two of us. "You are both going to drink these," Malcolm said without a hello. "We are going to sit here until you two feel like you can walk, then we will head back to my place where you will craft some sort of apology to the bartender for breaking the table over there."
We had unsuccessfully tried to table dance. It had not gone well.
"Hey, Mal," Milo tried, putting on his best purr. "You look nice tonight. New skin care treatment? Or uh-- did you sleep."
I snorted. "That was terrible."
"Like you can do better."
I could. I really could. Sitting up straight, I looked at Malcolm through the thick of my lashes, biting my lower lip. "You do look nice tonight, Mal. Kind of like a piece of charcoal. I'd love to draw with you." Milo began laughing into his water. "Shut up, Milo! He's art and I want to use him as a pen. Or use his pen?" I devolved into a series of giggles then, knowing how bad it all sounded.
"Hey, hey, Mal," Milo wheezed. "My doctor told me that I need some vitamin U. Can you help me?"
I cackled, nearly knocking over my own water. Malcolm caught it and placed it against my palm, helping me curl my fingers around it.
"Did you see that?" I asked Milo. "Fast. Why isn't he fast in bed?"
"Told you. Power thing. He's pent up and has to spend hours fu--" Milo spluttered as Malcom tipped the glass to his lips, making him drink.
"Both of you should be ashamed of yourselves," he said. "Those pick-up lines are amateur at best."
"Oh yeah?" Milo challenge, water all down the front of his shirt. "Think you could do better?"
I clapped, bouncing in my seat. Malcolm could never resist a challenge.
Leaning forward, Malcolm grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me halfway across the table. His tongue traced the whisky from my lips as he opened me up, swallowing my moan. Delicate fingers worked their way from the nape of my neck to cup my chin, angling me in just such a way that I was slumped towards him, taking whatever he would give me.
When Malcolm pulled back, I stayed there, mouth open and eyes still close. I could feel his smirk, however, as he looked at Milo.
"Behave," he said, "and this could be you."
Next to me, Milo groaned. "Drink your water, darlin'. We need to go home." I couldn't agree more.
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