Bruno a kiss from me!’
‘And me!’ sang out Milo, manifesting beside Frank and offering his face to receive a kiss on each cheek.
‘You,’ Gabey said, obliging him, ‘keep out of trouble. You too,’ she said as she kissed Frank.
Gabriella leaving was a signal for the exodus in groups of twos and threes. Cody’s hug lingered a little long for good taste but before Frank had to actively make him let go, Cody kissed him on the cheek and withdrew. ‘Happy birthday, mate,’ he said. ‘See you at the studio next week. I’m open to any more brilliant ideas you have.’
‘Course you are,’ said Milo, slotting in beside Frank again. His expression was friendly and innocent of double meaning. ‘He’s a brilliant producer and you should listen to all his bright ideas.’
‘Never mind him,’ said Frank, attempting humility. ‘Milo’s my cheer squad.’
‘Not wrong though,’ asserted Milo.
‘Not wrong at all,’ Cody agreed. ‘Next week, then!’
Frank went off to hug a few more people farewell while Milo watched Cody definitely leave. Then Milo leapt in to organising taxis for the stragglers before returning to where Frank was idly picking at the birthday cake’s mousse filling.
‘Hey, stranger.’
‘Hey yourself.’
‘You look sexy, old man.’ The tip of Milo’s tongue darted out to provide a delicately suggestive lick of his lips. ‘Let’s blow this joint and come to my place for a tumble.’
Frank’s eyebrow arched at “old man”. ‘I’m only six months older than you.’
‘Oooh, deliciously ripe then. Yum.’
Frank laughed. ‘You’re a menace to society, Milo Bertolone.’
‘I’m a menace to your society. Come home and let me ravish you.’ Milo enfolded Frank in his arms and kissed his neck. ‘Unless you’re too full of cake.’
‘I am, but as it’s my birthday, you can do all the work.’
‘Who’s a cheeky wench now, hmm?’
‘Me. I’m the birthday wench. Don’t you forget i-‘ The sentence was lost in a demanding kiss that Frank happily surrendered to.
They bundled gifts and cards into a box and walked home across Argyle Square between the elm trees. The cool blue piazza lighting glowed at the north end of the park; at this end, among the deep night shadows, the air tasted of high summer heat, parched leaves and bark.
By the time they were through the front door, ardour had cooled. Ardour had a way of doing that lately. Milo, however, dumped the box in the hall and pulled Frank into a nuzzling kiss.
Frank wasn’t sure he could recapture the mood now. Too full, too tired. But then Milo bumped noses with him and said softly, ‘I’ve missed you, babe. All this running around, working all the time. I miss this. Just being with you.’
Frank kissed Milo’s lips, his cheek. ‘I’ve missed you too.’ They kissed again, loving if not passionate.
‘How about that birthday blow job?’ Milo offered again. ‘Unless you’d rather just cuddle up?’
A cuddle-up sounded pretty damned good, actually, which made Frank feel just that bit older, but also a bit relieved. Milo, reading his mood, took Frank by the hand and led him into the living room and onto the sofa.
Milo shoved cushions aside and flopped down, drawing Frank alongside him. For a while they snuggled, before Frank tilted his face up and Milo obliged him with a kiss. Several kisses. Several more.
Before long, Frank was on his back on the sofa with his shirt shoved out of place so that Milo could kiss his chest and lick at his nipples. Then Milo kiss-licked his way over Frank’s ribs, dragging his teeth slightly across bare skin, until he could squish his face into Frank’s slight podge to suckle at the pale skin.
‘Don’t.’ Frank squirmed, self-conscious.
‘You don’t,’ Milo told him. ‘I love your belly.’ He suckled at it again to prove the point.
‘Yeah, right. Dead sexy.’
Milo wriggled up again, took Frank’s face in his hands and looked him straight in the eye. ‘Yes. You are. My sexy Bear.’
‘I’m a grumpy bear.’ That was how Frank had earned the pet name in the first place, years ago, when Milo would turn on the lascivious charm to convert him from a grumpy growler to a languid teddy bear.
‘Grumpy bear, cuddly bear, sexy bear.’ Milo kissed him between each iteration. ‘I love your little belly and I love your crow’s feet and I love the grey hairs you keep pulling out thinking I haven’t noticed. And do you know why?’
‘Why?’ Frank grumbled.
‘Cos you’re growing old with me, baby Bear, and at least twice over the years, we didn’t think we’d get that chance. But here we are.’ Milo pulled Frank close and held him tight. Frank wrapped his arms around Milo too, happy to be reminded.
‘Here we are,’ said Frank. He brushed his thumb across Milo’s cheek. ‘God, I love you.’
They kissed again, and Milo used his mouth to retrace earlier steps, smearing lips, tongue and teeth over Frank’s skin to the swell of his stomach. He looked up, dark eyes pleading the question under his lashes.
‘Didn’t you promise me a birthday ravishing?’ Frank asked.
Milo grinned. ‘Get your pants off, birthday boy.’
Frank put his hands behind his head. ‘I thought you were going to do all the work.’
Milo gleefully proceeded to do all the work, and Frank to make almost all of the noise.
*
‘Do you get a trophy if you win the skating thing?’ Frank asked. He and Milo were still cosied up on the sofa, Frank lying in the V of Milo’s legs, Milo’s arms around him and his head on Milo’s chest. He was gazing up at the row of music awards on the mantelpiece.
Milo nuzzled Frank’s hair. ‘Don’t know. Reckon I should?’
Frank ran his hands down Milo’s bare thighs. ‘Definitely. You should have all the trophies.’
‘You’ve got enough trophies for both of us.’ He kissed the back of Frank’s neck.
A prickle of irritation crawled up Frank’s spine; a sense that the comment was somehow a criticism. They’d argued before about Frank’s long hours at the studio and his single-minded focus on making every album for every artist was as perfect as it could be. Milo hadn’t minded when it was their own album they’d been making just right, and he didn’t mind when Frank was making the singles that raised money for the Foundation.
Milo
