Make Sure They See My Face (The Love and Peace or Else Interlude, NC-17)
I've been leaving people Shia/Milo MSTSMF cookies all over town -- #1 #2, #3, #4 -- which I blame very thoroughly on Shia. And Milo. But mostly Shia. And then I realized, you know, the epilogue is going to be great, but sometimes… sometimes the world just needs pron. In order to get this you really need to have read Act V, because well, stuff happens there.
hackthis Productions Present:
Make Sure They See My Face (The Love and Peace or Else Interlude)
Milo Ventimiglia/Shia LaBeouf
NC-17 for porn. Like a lot of porn.
For antheia and sameoldhope.
Milo has no business in Chicago. None. He's supposed to be filming Heroes today. In Burbank. In California. He's supposed to be on set, despite it being day 3,812 of the Writer's Strike. They're finally filming Nathan and Peter's reunion today. This is big fucking stuff. Milo wasn't supposed to call in sick, coughing and wheezing and lying, making everyone except Adrian think he had, like, the bird flu or something. But whatever. Milo can get in trouble tomorrow. Adrian will forgive him.
Adrian was actually the one who told Milo he had the bird flu or diphtheria -- whatever that is. Adrian was also the one who told him to stop being a fucking idiot, because it was just a fucking photograph and people took photographs all the time.
There were millions of people around the world who thought Adrian and Milo were fucking based on photographs of them on the World Tour and that wasn't true, so why couldn't Milo give Shia the benefit of the doubt? Why wouldn't Milo believe that it was just a goddamn photo? It wasn't like Shia and Alexis had put out a sex tape, and yeah, that's really not going to help Milo right now.
Of course, nothing is going to help Milo if he doesn't knock on Shia's door, and he has to give Kerry a lot of credit for this, because she's pretty much the one who got him here.
Well, her and John, but John couldn't stop asking who was on top long enough to be helpful. Kerry, though (despite her still being in Saskatoon, drinking with James McAvoy), had told him Shia had been arrested, and that it was probably Milo's fault, and that he was an idiot, and that being in love didn't mean you had to be this fucking stupid.
And this is sort of how Milo finds himself outside Room 513 of The Drake Hotel. It's a Tuesday and Shia is supposed to be filming some movie today, but Milo's got this sneaking suspicion -- confirmed by a phone call or two (thanks, Kerry) -- that Shia's busy flogging himself for being stupid and being drunk at Walgreens and getting fucking arrested.
Milo's done some stupid shit, but wow, that takes the cake.
He's really glad he's not Shia's age anymore, because in the current police state he'd have a record as long as his arm. And he doesn't even drink.
Milo's just sort of standing there, wondering what the fuck he's going to say to the guy who he's been sleeping with on camera and off, when the door flies open and Shia's standing there in his boxers.
"Jesus," is about as far as Milo gets before he's being dragged inside the hotel room and shoved against the wall behind the door.
Shia doesn't kiss him, he attacks.
He bites at Milo's mouth and grabs Milo's head, holding him still and fucking Milo's mouth with his tongue. It takes Milo a minute to realize what's going on, because they're supposed to be talking. Shia's supposed to be explaining, not yanking off Milo's belt with a crack of the leather hitting the wall behind them.
"I thought you were the press, staking out my room," Shia breathes against Milo's mouth. His eyes are huge and wondering, and Milo doesn't really know what to do. "I thought -- I thought you were gone."
Shia's breathing on him, and he's kind of naked, and Milo's wearing, like, three layers of clothing. Somebody is behind the curve.
Milo puts his hands on Shia's chest to calm him down, to slow things down, but instead his thumb flicks at Shia's nipple and Shia hisses. "Fuck, Milo."
Shia makes Milo's name eight syllables long, and when Shia grabs Milo's wrists and pins them above his head, Milo can't help being slightly amused. And a little relieved. Shia's in one piece. He the same as ever. He just -- "You got arrested," Milo says mildly. "For being drunk at a fucking Walgreens. What the hell were you doing?"
Shia leans in and kisses Milo softly once, twice. He pulls at Milo's lower lip with his teeth, and something tight in Milo's spine unwinds. Finally. It's been days since everything went wrong at the wrap party. It feels like it's been years. He hasn't slept. He's been buying packs of cigarettes at the store, opening them, and then flushing them down the toilet.
That's a very apt metaphor for something.
Milo turns his head away when Shia leans in for another kiss. "Arrested, Shia." Shia scowls when Milo denies him another kiss. "Explain. Now."
"I was upset," Shia says blandly.
"Really?" Milo prompts. "About what?"
Shia's hair is soft against Milo's cheek as Shia mouths Milo's collarbone through his shirt. It's Milo turn to hiss when Shia bites him. Shia's voice is a big mumble when he talks into Milo's shoulder. "You what?" Milo presses.
"You left me," Shia says accusingly, standing up straight and letting go of Milo's wrists. "You looked at some fucking photo, and decided I'd fucked some chick I'd never even met before, and you left me."
Milo opens his mouth to protests and shuts it again. The truth is a bitch.
"You're 21," Milo says as though that explains it all. "You don't know what you're doing. You're getting arrested at fucking Walgreens. I'm 30. I'm done with that sort of shit. I can't be with you."
Shia's entire face falls, and Milo feels like he just got punched. "I want to be with you," spills out of Milo's mouth. "I do. I just…"
"You're just afraid," Shia sneers.
It's Milo's turn to be annoyed. "Do you have any idea what it's like to have your fucking heart broken?!" Milo snaps back, taking a step forward and directly into Shia's space.
Shia glares. "I know a lot more than you think I do!"
"And that's another fucking thing that's wrong with you!" Milo retorts, stepping forward again and forcing Shia back. "You're fucking arrogant! And you're 21! And no matter how much maturity you think you have going on, I have years that you haven't lived yet, Shia, and guess the fuck what? Those matter."
Milo's got Shia against the wall now, and even though Shia's got an inch and some change on him, Shia's the one who's looking up, his chin thrust out defiantly. "You're afraid to be in love with me," Shia repeats stubbornly.
"You're fucking right I'm afraid of being in love with you," Milo snaps, "because I know what it's like to have the whole thing blow up in your face!"
Shia's defiant look falls away fractionally. "I can make it work."
Milo pins Shia to the wall. "You really think you can make this work?" he says with a smirk. "You really think you're that good?"
Shia leans away from the wall, trying to kiss Milo, but Milo tightens his hold and leans further, keeping himself just out of reach.
"I think we're that good," Shia breathes against Milo's face. "I think we can do anything. I think if we don't do this, we're going to be sorry for a long time."
Milo's mouth twists into a grin. The young are so fucking naïve. "You have a lot of confidence for somebody who didn't even get arrested for something good, like stripping on Sunset."
Shia scowls again at the same time Milo loosens his grip on Shia's wrists, and then there's this massive crash-thud as Shia shoves at Milo and Milo grabs at him, and they both fall to the floor.
Milo scrambles for position, and Shia snorts as Milo straddles his lap and begins taking off his own clothes.
"I feel like you're denying me a lot of enjoyment," Shia says conversationally as Milo finally gets his jacket off and tosses it towards a chair in the living room. Milo can feel Shia's erection through his boxers, but first things first.
The next items to go are Milo's cufflinks, because being pseudo-sick and having a lover who got himself arrested over something stupid is no reason not to dress properly. Milo puts the cufflinks in his pocket and unbuttons his shirt slowly.
Shia folds his hands behind his head and thrusts upwards as though Milo's forgotten all about him. "Don't mind me," he says, "I'm enjoying the show."
Milo snorts as he gets to his feet and unbuttons his pants. Shia pushes himself to his elbows. "I've died and gone to heaven."
Milo pauses in slipping off his shirt. "Is this that movie star heaven with Brad and George and Viggo, because you know, as hot as that is, I don’t share well."
Shia rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I get that impression from you."
Milo kicks off his loafers, making sure to aim one at Shia's head. Shia ducks the shoe with a laugh before rolling onto his side and sitting up. "Wow, I avoid jail time just to lose an eye during sex."
Milo tosses his shirt on the same chair as his coat and cocks his head to the side, giving Shia his most eviscerating look. "What makes you think you're getting laid?" Milo says in a perfect deadpan tone.
Shia licks his lips and grins broadly. "You mean apart from you standing in my hotel room wearing nothing but some pants, which I think need to be removed right now?"
Milo unzips his pants and pushes them down over his hips. They puddle around his ankles and he steps out of them easily, bending down to grab them up and throw them after the shirt and coat. When he stands back upright, Shia's staring. "You're not wearing any underwear," he says disbelievingly.
Milo has a moment of uncertainty, but now's not really the time for that. Instead he smirks and shrugs nonchalantly. "They ruin the line of my pants."
Shia exhales for a long time. "Fuck."
Milo's smirk broadens. "Maybe."
Shia is fast. Very, very fast. Milo knows this, because one minute he's standing naked in the middle of the living room and the next Shia's got him pressed against the wall, kissing him and rutting against Milo in his boxers. Shia doesn't ask, he demands, and his kisses suck all of Milo's brain cells out via his mouth.
Milo bites down sharply on Shia's lip when Shia grabs his ass and hikes Milo a few inches up the wall so he can insinuate his thigh between Milo's legs. Milo's cock is rubbing against Shia's boxers, which isn't bad, but it could be so much better.
"Too many clothes," Milo protests, shoving at Shia and yanking at the waistband of his boxers.
Their hands get tangled together until Shia pushes Milo's hands away and yanks them down on his own. He bends over to get them free of his feet and only comes up halfway. Milo's breath catches when Shia looks up at him under his eyelashes, his mouth inches away from Milo's cock.
"I was thinking," Shia says, kicking the boxers away and dropping to his knees, "since I'm down here anyway..."
Milo opens his mouth to say something, but he forgets the entire English language when Shia's tongue flickers over the head of his cock. Shia's tongue is wet and hot, and it's a shock to Milo's entire body. "Shia," comes out like a prayer and a plea, and Milo sees all kinds of stars when Shia grabs his hips and pulls him forward.
Neither one of them is particularly skilled at giving blow jobs yet, but they give a lot of points for attempting. Milo scrabbles at the wall to get purchase, because the last time Milo went down on Shia, Shia almost pulled out his hair, and Milo was so pissed off that he stopped mid blowjob and went for a run instead.
Milo's got to set an example, even though Shia is being noisy and messy, and Milo makes this weird dying noise when Shia hums around his cock.
Petting is okay, yanking is not, and Milo's hands forgo the wall for Shia's face and his hair and his ears and -- Milo slams his head against the wall hard when Shia's finger presses inside him.
In fact, Milo's hits his head so hard he kind of misses his orgasm. Eventually, he slides down the wall and onto Shia's lap, humming happily when Shia cups the back of his head and kisses him sloppily. Shia's got saliva on his chin and Milo can taste himself on Shia's tongue and it's -- fuck, it's really hot.
One of the things that really sold Milo on the Gay for Shia thing was the way he kisses. Shia tends to kiss as though he's got nothing else he wants to do for the rest of the day. As though the rest of the world could fall into the void and as long as Shia was kissing Milo that wouldn't matter. Milo once tried to convince himself that this was all a part of Viggo's method acting, but that didn't explain the 3am "rehearsing", or Shia at Milo's door every morning demanding he kiss him.
Shia breaks away and Milo makes a protesting noise. He's sweaty and sticky, and dirty from his flight, and he's rocking back and forth on Shia's lap like a professional hooker. Milo shudders again when Shia nips at his earlobe.
"As much as kissing you is the best thing ever," Shia begins, his voice gravelly and used, "I'd really like to fuck you now."
Milo puts his head down on Shia's shoulder, because he has no brain cells left. None. All gone. It's all animal instinct that makes Milo slam Shia back on the floor. "Stay there," he commands, getting to his very protesting feet and looking around the hotel room for the bedroom.
He stalks off, climbing over furniture it would be much easier to walk around, slamming the bedroom door open and heading for the closet. Sure enough Shia hasn't bothered to unpack anything, and Milo just grabs his suitcase and upends it all over the floor.
Milo narrows his eyes, looking for the brown paper bag that--
"Do you have any idea how hot you are right now?" Milo jumps slightly at Shia's voice coming from the doorway.
Shia's leaning against the doorframe, naked and hard, and Milo's inner voice makes that weird keening noise again. "I thought I told you to stay put," Milo says, glancing from Shia back to the mess he's made and then back to Shia. Shia's very distracting.
"Yeah, you did," Shia agrees, crossing the room, "but I'm really bad with instructions." He stops right in front of Milo and drops down to his knees again.
"I'm not 21 anymore," Milo protests sadly. "I need at least another 20 minutes."
Shia grabs something from the mess Milo's made and stands up. "Yeah," he agrees, grabbing Milo's wrist and dragging him towards the bed. "You do, but I don’t."
Milo knows what's going to happen the minute Shia tries to throw him on the bed, which is why Milo grabs at Shia and brings him along. They bounce once, twice, and then roll over. Milo's heard about The Drake Hotel, but nobody mentioned the beds the size of small countries. Milo's going to have to visit Shia on location more often.
Milo's on his back with Shia looming over him, and he twitches when Shia drops two condoms and a small bottle of lube on his stomach. This is new to them too, but the learning curve here is a lot better.
Not in a million years did Milo ever think he'd take it up the ass from anyone, but Shia's got a way with his fingers and his mouth, and Milo hooks his right calf over Shia's shoulder to give him better --
"Fuck," Milo grits out as Shia slides in two slick fingers without preamble. "Oh, fuck that's --"
"Yeah," Shia agrees, watching what he's doing very avidly. After several minutes he's breathing hard and the warm air is tickling Milo's thigh, so Milo yanks on Shia to bring him further up.
Kissing is good. Kissing is great. Fucking is better though, and Shia's fingers are long and thick. He fucks Milo with them like this is even better than making out all day. Milo kicks Shia trying to get a better angle, not that there's anything wrong with the angle right now, even Milo's cock has decided that another 20 minutes isn't necessary.
Eventually Milo reaches down stops Shia's fingers. "Fuck me now," he demands pulling his mouth away from Shia. Shia gives him this look like he's sort of lost track of what's happening, but Milo doubts that's the case considering the way Shia's cock is leaving wet streaks on Milo's body.
Milo grins. "On your back, now," he orders.
Shia can be very good at taking orders when there's incentive, and he rolls over, rescuing the condoms from where they've slid off of Milo and onto the bed. Milo sucks in his cheeks and waves at Shia to get on with it. The 'it' in this case being putting on a condom. When that's done, Milo smacks Shia's thigh, "bend your legs," he demands.
Milo likes leverage.
Shia shakes his head. "Jesus fuck, can you just be bossy all the time?"
Milo bites his tongue around a grin. "If you can stay out of jail," he says blithely before swinging a leg over Shia's hips.
Shia goes very still when Milo takes his cock in hand and takes a deep breath. Milo pauses with Shia's cock at his entrance. "You're not going to get arrested anymore, are you?" he prompts.
"If you shut up and fuck me, I promise not to do anything else ever again unless you say so," Shia agrees.
Milo can feel his nose crinkling when he smiles broadly. "Works for me," he says, sitting down slowly. His breath catches in his throat, and he has to sit down in increments until he's finally all the way down and Shia's looking at him like he just fell from the sky.
"Move," Shia pleads. "Milo, just fucking-"
Milo puts a finger over Shia's lips. "Shut up," he says fondly. "I'm trying to get fucked here."
Shia snickers and Milo rises up on his knees, slamming himself back down hard enough to make them both whimper. He does it again and again, and Shia grabs at his hips, his fingernails digging into Milo skin and leaving half-moon imprints.
Milo leans forward, fucking himself on Shia's cock and fucking Shia with his filthy demands of more and harder and now. Shia curls up to kiss him and Milo bites him hard on the lip. Hard enough to draw blood.
This is fucking at it's best -- primal and animal and possessive. Milo wants Shia, and they're so goddamn hot that Milo can't help jerking himself off all over Shia's chest. The mess doesn't matter; Shia's his property now anyway.
Milo can feel the bruises form under the pads of Shia's fingers when he comes. It hurts and it's perfect and Milo knows that this is worth fighting for.
He collapses on top of Shia and then rolls over onto his back. He's sore and used and loved. He wouldn't have it any other way. "You realize we're all wearing Walgreens shirts to the premiere, right?" he says to he ceiling.
Shia rolls over and slings an arm across Milo's waist. "You're going to be my date, right?"
Milo raises an eyebrow. "Why, so we can stand next to each other on the press line and people can say we're fucking?"
Shia laughs into Milo's shoulder. "Works for me."
-- Act VI: Lloyd--
I am going to be so fucking sad when this universe is done. Fuck.
hackthis Productions Present:
Make Sure They See My Face (The Love and Peace or Else Interlude)
Milo Ventimiglia/Shia LaBeouf
NC-17 for porn. Like a lot of porn.
For antheia and sameoldhope.
Milo has no business in Chicago. None. He's supposed to be filming Heroes today. In Burbank. In California. He's supposed to be on set, despite it being day 3,812 of the Writer's Strike. They're finally filming Nathan and Peter's reunion today. This is big fucking stuff. Milo wasn't supposed to call in sick, coughing and wheezing and lying, making everyone except Adrian think he had, like, the bird flu or something. But whatever. Milo can get in trouble tomorrow. Adrian will forgive him.
Adrian was actually the one who told Milo he had the bird flu or diphtheria -- whatever that is. Adrian was also the one who told him to stop being a fucking idiot, because it was just a fucking photograph and people took photographs all the time.
There were millions of people around the world who thought Adrian and Milo were fucking based on photographs of them on the World Tour and that wasn't true, so why couldn't Milo give Shia the benefit of the doubt? Why wouldn't Milo believe that it was just a goddamn photo? It wasn't like Shia and Alexis had put out a sex tape, and yeah, that's really not going to help Milo right now.
Of course, nothing is going to help Milo if he doesn't knock on Shia's door, and he has to give Kerry a lot of credit for this, because she's pretty much the one who got him here.
Well, her and John, but John couldn't stop asking who was on top long enough to be helpful. Kerry, though (despite her still being in Saskatoon, drinking with James McAvoy), had told him Shia had been arrested, and that it was probably Milo's fault, and that he was an idiot, and that being in love didn't mean you had to be this fucking stupid.
And this is sort of how Milo finds himself outside Room 513 of The Drake Hotel. It's a Tuesday and Shia is supposed to be filming some movie today, but Milo's got this sneaking suspicion -- confirmed by a phone call or two (thanks, Kerry) -- that Shia's busy flogging himself for being stupid and being drunk at Walgreens and getting fucking arrested.
Milo's done some stupid shit, but wow, that takes the cake.
He's really glad he's not Shia's age anymore, because in the current police state he'd have a record as long as his arm. And he doesn't even drink.
Milo's just sort of standing there, wondering what the fuck he's going to say to the guy who he's been sleeping with on camera and off, when the door flies open and Shia's standing there in his boxers.
"Jesus," is about as far as Milo gets before he's being dragged inside the hotel room and shoved against the wall behind the door.
Shia doesn't kiss him, he attacks.
He bites at Milo's mouth and grabs Milo's head, holding him still and fucking Milo's mouth with his tongue. It takes Milo a minute to realize what's going on, because they're supposed to be talking. Shia's supposed to be explaining, not yanking off Milo's belt with a crack of the leather hitting the wall behind them.
"I thought you were the press, staking out my room," Shia breathes against Milo's mouth. His eyes are huge and wondering, and Milo doesn't really know what to do. "I thought -- I thought you were gone."
Shia's breathing on him, and he's kind of naked, and Milo's wearing, like, three layers of clothing. Somebody is behind the curve.
Milo puts his hands on Shia's chest to calm him down, to slow things down, but instead his thumb flicks at Shia's nipple and Shia hisses. "Fuck, Milo."
Shia makes Milo's name eight syllables long, and when Shia grabs Milo's wrists and pins them above his head, Milo can't help being slightly amused. And a little relieved. Shia's in one piece. He the same as ever. He just -- "You got arrested," Milo says mildly. "For being drunk at a fucking Walgreens. What the hell were you doing?"
Shia leans in and kisses Milo softly once, twice. He pulls at Milo's lower lip with his teeth, and something tight in Milo's spine unwinds. Finally. It's been days since everything went wrong at the wrap party. It feels like it's been years. He hasn't slept. He's been buying packs of cigarettes at the store, opening them, and then flushing them down the toilet.
That's a very apt metaphor for something.
Milo turns his head away when Shia leans in for another kiss. "Arrested, Shia." Shia scowls when Milo denies him another kiss. "Explain. Now."
"I was upset," Shia says blandly.
"Really?" Milo prompts. "About what?"
Shia's hair is soft against Milo's cheek as Shia mouths Milo's collarbone through his shirt. It's Milo turn to hiss when Shia bites him. Shia's voice is a big mumble when he talks into Milo's shoulder. "You what?" Milo presses.
"You left me," Shia says accusingly, standing up straight and letting go of Milo's wrists. "You looked at some fucking photo, and decided I'd fucked some chick I'd never even met before, and you left me."
Milo opens his mouth to protests and shuts it again. The truth is a bitch.
"You're 21," Milo says as though that explains it all. "You don't know what you're doing. You're getting arrested at fucking Walgreens. I'm 30. I'm done with that sort of shit. I can't be with you."
Shia's entire face falls, and Milo feels like he just got punched. "I want to be with you," spills out of Milo's mouth. "I do. I just…"
"You're just afraid," Shia sneers.
It's Milo's turn to be annoyed. "Do you have any idea what it's like to have your fucking heart broken?!" Milo snaps back, taking a step forward and directly into Shia's space.
Shia glares. "I know a lot more than you think I do!"
"And that's another fucking thing that's wrong with you!" Milo retorts, stepping forward again and forcing Shia back. "You're fucking arrogant! And you're 21! And no matter how much maturity you think you have going on, I have years that you haven't lived yet, Shia, and guess the fuck what? Those matter."
Milo's got Shia against the wall now, and even though Shia's got an inch and some change on him, Shia's the one who's looking up, his chin thrust out defiantly. "You're afraid to be in love with me," Shia repeats stubbornly.
"You're fucking right I'm afraid of being in love with you," Milo snaps, "because I know what it's like to have the whole thing blow up in your face!"
Shia's defiant look falls away fractionally. "I can make it work."
Milo pins Shia to the wall. "You really think you can make this work?" he says with a smirk. "You really think you're that good?"
Shia leans away from the wall, trying to kiss Milo, but Milo tightens his hold and leans further, keeping himself just out of reach.
"I think we're that good," Shia breathes against Milo's face. "I think we can do anything. I think if we don't do this, we're going to be sorry for a long time."
Milo's mouth twists into a grin. The young are so fucking naïve. "You have a lot of confidence for somebody who didn't even get arrested for something good, like stripping on Sunset."
Shia scowls again at the same time Milo loosens his grip on Shia's wrists, and then there's this massive crash-thud as Shia shoves at Milo and Milo grabs at him, and they both fall to the floor.
Milo scrambles for position, and Shia snorts as Milo straddles his lap and begins taking off his own clothes.
"I feel like you're denying me a lot of enjoyment," Shia says conversationally as Milo finally gets his jacket off and tosses it towards a chair in the living room. Milo can feel Shia's erection through his boxers, but first things first.
The next items to go are Milo's cufflinks, because being pseudo-sick and having a lover who got himself arrested over something stupid is no reason not to dress properly. Milo puts the cufflinks in his pocket and unbuttons his shirt slowly.
Shia folds his hands behind his head and thrusts upwards as though Milo's forgotten all about him. "Don't mind me," he says, "I'm enjoying the show."
Milo snorts as he gets to his feet and unbuttons his pants. Shia pushes himself to his elbows. "I've died and gone to heaven."
Milo pauses in slipping off his shirt. "Is this that movie star heaven with Brad and George and Viggo, because you know, as hot as that is, I don’t share well."
Shia rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I get that impression from you."
Milo kicks off his loafers, making sure to aim one at Shia's head. Shia ducks the shoe with a laugh before rolling onto his side and sitting up. "Wow, I avoid jail time just to lose an eye during sex."
Milo tosses his shirt on the same chair as his coat and cocks his head to the side, giving Shia his most eviscerating look. "What makes you think you're getting laid?" Milo says in a perfect deadpan tone.
Shia licks his lips and grins broadly. "You mean apart from you standing in my hotel room wearing nothing but some pants, which I think need to be removed right now?"
Milo unzips his pants and pushes them down over his hips. They puddle around his ankles and he steps out of them easily, bending down to grab them up and throw them after the shirt and coat. When he stands back upright, Shia's staring. "You're not wearing any underwear," he says disbelievingly.
Milo has a moment of uncertainty, but now's not really the time for that. Instead he smirks and shrugs nonchalantly. "They ruin the line of my pants."
Shia exhales for a long time. "Fuck."
Milo's smirk broadens. "Maybe."
Shia is fast. Very, very fast. Milo knows this, because one minute he's standing naked in the middle of the living room and the next Shia's got him pressed against the wall, kissing him and rutting against Milo in his boxers. Shia doesn't ask, he demands, and his kisses suck all of Milo's brain cells out via his mouth.
Milo bites down sharply on Shia's lip when Shia grabs his ass and hikes Milo a few inches up the wall so he can insinuate his thigh between Milo's legs. Milo's cock is rubbing against Shia's boxers, which isn't bad, but it could be so much better.
"Too many clothes," Milo protests, shoving at Shia and yanking at the waistband of his boxers.
Their hands get tangled together until Shia pushes Milo's hands away and yanks them down on his own. He bends over to get them free of his feet and only comes up halfway. Milo's breath catches when Shia looks up at him under his eyelashes, his mouth inches away from Milo's cock.
"I was thinking," Shia says, kicking the boxers away and dropping to his knees, "since I'm down here anyway..."
Milo opens his mouth to say something, but he forgets the entire English language when Shia's tongue flickers over the head of his cock. Shia's tongue is wet and hot, and it's a shock to Milo's entire body. "Shia," comes out like a prayer and a plea, and Milo sees all kinds of stars when Shia grabs his hips and pulls him forward.
Neither one of them is particularly skilled at giving blow jobs yet, but they give a lot of points for attempting. Milo scrabbles at the wall to get purchase, because the last time Milo went down on Shia, Shia almost pulled out his hair, and Milo was so pissed off that he stopped mid blowjob and went for a run instead.
Milo's got to set an example, even though Shia is being noisy and messy, and Milo makes this weird dying noise when Shia hums around his cock.
Petting is okay, yanking is not, and Milo's hands forgo the wall for Shia's face and his hair and his ears and -- Milo slams his head against the wall hard when Shia's finger presses inside him.
In fact, Milo's hits his head so hard he kind of misses his orgasm. Eventually, he slides down the wall and onto Shia's lap, humming happily when Shia cups the back of his head and kisses him sloppily. Shia's got saliva on his chin and Milo can taste himself on Shia's tongue and it's -- fuck, it's really hot.
One of the things that really sold Milo on the Gay for Shia thing was the way he kisses. Shia tends to kiss as though he's got nothing else he wants to do for the rest of the day. As though the rest of the world could fall into the void and as long as Shia was kissing Milo that wouldn't matter. Milo once tried to convince himself that this was all a part of Viggo's method acting, but that didn't explain the 3am "rehearsing", or Shia at Milo's door every morning demanding he kiss him.
Shia breaks away and Milo makes a protesting noise. He's sweaty and sticky, and dirty from his flight, and he's rocking back and forth on Shia's lap like a professional hooker. Milo shudders again when Shia nips at his earlobe.
"As much as kissing you is the best thing ever," Shia begins, his voice gravelly and used, "I'd really like to fuck you now."
Milo puts his head down on Shia's shoulder, because he has no brain cells left. None. All gone. It's all animal instinct that makes Milo slam Shia back on the floor. "Stay there," he commands, getting to his very protesting feet and looking around the hotel room for the bedroom.
He stalks off, climbing over furniture it would be much easier to walk around, slamming the bedroom door open and heading for the closet. Sure enough Shia hasn't bothered to unpack anything, and Milo just grabs his suitcase and upends it all over the floor.
Milo narrows his eyes, looking for the brown paper bag that--
"Do you have any idea how hot you are right now?" Milo jumps slightly at Shia's voice coming from the doorway.
Shia's leaning against the doorframe, naked and hard, and Milo's inner voice makes that weird keening noise again. "I thought I told you to stay put," Milo says, glancing from Shia back to the mess he's made and then back to Shia. Shia's very distracting.
"Yeah, you did," Shia agrees, crossing the room, "but I'm really bad with instructions." He stops right in front of Milo and drops down to his knees again.
"I'm not 21 anymore," Milo protests sadly. "I need at least another 20 minutes."
Shia grabs something from the mess Milo's made and stands up. "Yeah," he agrees, grabbing Milo's wrist and dragging him towards the bed. "You do, but I don’t."
Milo knows what's going to happen the minute Shia tries to throw him on the bed, which is why Milo grabs at Shia and brings him along. They bounce once, twice, and then roll over. Milo's heard about The Drake Hotel, but nobody mentioned the beds the size of small countries. Milo's going to have to visit Shia on location more often.
Milo's on his back with Shia looming over him, and he twitches when Shia drops two condoms and a small bottle of lube on his stomach. This is new to them too, but the learning curve here is a lot better.
Not in a million years did Milo ever think he'd take it up the ass from anyone, but Shia's got a way with his fingers and his mouth, and Milo hooks his right calf over Shia's shoulder to give him better --
"Fuck," Milo grits out as Shia slides in two slick fingers without preamble. "Oh, fuck that's --"
"Yeah," Shia agrees, watching what he's doing very avidly. After several minutes he's breathing hard and the warm air is tickling Milo's thigh, so Milo yanks on Shia to bring him further up.
Kissing is good. Kissing is great. Fucking is better though, and Shia's fingers are long and thick. He fucks Milo with them like this is even better than making out all day. Milo kicks Shia trying to get a better angle, not that there's anything wrong with the angle right now, even Milo's cock has decided that another 20 minutes isn't necessary.
Eventually Milo reaches down stops Shia's fingers. "Fuck me now," he demands pulling his mouth away from Shia. Shia gives him this look like he's sort of lost track of what's happening, but Milo doubts that's the case considering the way Shia's cock is leaving wet streaks on Milo's body.
Milo grins. "On your back, now," he orders.
Shia can be very good at taking orders when there's incentive, and he rolls over, rescuing the condoms from where they've slid off of Milo and onto the bed. Milo sucks in his cheeks and waves at Shia to get on with it. The 'it' in this case being putting on a condom. When that's done, Milo smacks Shia's thigh, "bend your legs," he demands.
Milo likes leverage.
Shia shakes his head. "Jesus fuck, can you just be bossy all the time?"
Milo bites his tongue around a grin. "If you can stay out of jail," he says blithely before swinging a leg over Shia's hips.
Shia goes very still when Milo takes his cock in hand and takes a deep breath. Milo pauses with Shia's cock at his entrance. "You're not going to get arrested anymore, are you?" he prompts.
"If you shut up and fuck me, I promise not to do anything else ever again unless you say so," Shia agrees.
Milo can feel his nose crinkling when he smiles broadly. "Works for me," he says, sitting down slowly. His breath catches in his throat, and he has to sit down in increments until he's finally all the way down and Shia's looking at him like he just fell from the sky.
"Move," Shia pleads. "Milo, just fucking-"
Milo puts a finger over Shia's lips. "Shut up," he says fondly. "I'm trying to get fucked here."
Shia snickers and Milo rises up on his knees, slamming himself back down hard enough to make them both whimper. He does it again and again, and Shia grabs at his hips, his fingernails digging into Milo skin and leaving half-moon imprints.
Milo leans forward, fucking himself on Shia's cock and fucking Shia with his filthy demands of more and harder and now. Shia curls up to kiss him and Milo bites him hard on the lip. Hard enough to draw blood.
This is fucking at it's best -- primal and animal and possessive. Milo wants Shia, and they're so goddamn hot that Milo can't help jerking himself off all over Shia's chest. The mess doesn't matter; Shia's his property now anyway.
Milo can feel the bruises form under the pads of Shia's fingers when he comes. It hurts and it's perfect and Milo knows that this is worth fighting for.
He collapses on top of Shia and then rolls over onto his back. He's sore and used and loved. He wouldn't have it any other way. "You realize we're all wearing Walgreens shirts to the premiere, right?" he says to he ceiling.
Shia rolls over and slings an arm across Milo's waist. "You're going to be my date, right?"
Milo raises an eyebrow. "Why, so we can stand next to each other on the press line and people can say we're fucking?"
Shia laughs into Milo's shoulder. "Works for me."
-- Act VI: Lloyd--
I am going to be so fucking sad when this universe is done. Fuck.