Thomas’ lips are soft. They are a pillow upon which Milo is glad to place their kisses. Their doubts evaporate as mist before a sizzling, rising sun. The blazing fire that bloomed from their heart claws its way further up their chest as Thomas curls a careful hand across their lower back, pushing Milo closer as their kiss increases in intensity. 

Milo is not used to having lungs but when Thomas slips his tongue between their lips, it leaves them gasping for air. They instinctively push back against his tongue, possessed by the natural knowledge of a thousand lovers, and cup their hands over his cheeks. 

They are enjoying this game of picking Thomas apart... They like the shifting of his muscles underneath their fingertips, tensing and relaxing under a single touch. But, more than that, they enjoy being picked apart by Thomas. They wonder who will fall apart under the other’s touch first. They wouldn’t mind being the first to give in. 

Thomas subtly slips his thumb beneath Milo’s clothes, circling the small of their back while their kiss reaches a frantic crescendo. When the rest of his hand disappears below their waistline, Milo breaks away with a gasp. Thomas’ look is one of alarm -of a startling fear that he might have done something to upset Milo- but when Milo leans forward and whispers something in his ear, this expression disappates. 

“Let’s take this to your bed, shall we?” Milo whispers coyly. The heat in their breath makes Thomas’ hair stand on end.

They squeal when Thomas grabs a hold of their thighs. He lifts them onto his hips as he stands up. Milo looks startled and temporarily loses their balance but then their expression turns sly. “You bastard! Don’t do such things without warning.” 

Thomas expels a throaty laugh. He carries Milo to the other side of the room and gently pins them down on the soft mattress. “My apologies, I believed you wouldn’t mind being swept off your feet.” He smirks with glee.

“Ah, but you already have!” Milo replies flippantly, their gentle fingers now trailing the length of Thomas’ neck before elegantly swooping down to follow the collar of his white shirt. They pinch the soft cotton, tugging at the fabric with a bold twinkle in their eyes. “I’m sorry to request this of you, considering the numerous outfit changes of this eve, but a shirt and sweater vest will simply not do for a gentleman in the bedroom, I’m afraid.” 

“Very well...” Thomas relents with a courteous smile and he slips the sweater vest over his head. “Would you assist me?” He fixes Milo’s gaze with piercing eyes and brings their hand to the buttons of his shirt. “It is only proper after all the trouble you have caused.” 

“Most gladly…” Milo’s voice hitches in their throat. They try to swallow their excitement as their trembling hands unbutton Thomas’ shirt. Instead of revealing an undershirt, each opened button unveils more of Thomas’ delicious dark skin. First, his smooth chest, well-groomed and well-trained, then dipping down to a soft stomach. 

“For shame! No undershirt? And you call yourself a designer?” A nervous smile tugs at the corners of Milo’s mouth as they hide their hunger behind mock offence. 

Thomas laughs. His voice is deep and seemingly hints at the same eager lust that is swirling in Milo’s stomach. He shrugs off his shirt after allowing their fingers to linger a moment longer. 

Thomas likes this slow build-up. He adores seeing Milo squirm under every modest touch, but he loves seeing them fight the urge to put their hands all over his body. It must be driving them mad, but this is the nature of the game they are playing, and Milo was the one to set the rules. 

“I don’t like seeing my esteemed guest lag behind. Would you like me to undo your garments as well?” His words are cordial but their meaning is not at all gentlemanlike. A sly fox he is indeed when he leans in close to pepper delicate kisses all over Milo’s neck. 

Milo throws their head back in ecstasy and manages to utter a “Yes- yes please.” They are unable to keep the desperation out of their voice when Thomas pushes aside their collar and bites into the soft flesh of their collarbone. 

Thomas takes his time, slowly uncovering pieces of Milo’s body from the top down. He delights in the wonders he finds: the perfectly placed moles, the symmetry of a stomach rising and falling with every breath. And, when by sight he has memorised all that can be seen, he starts over again from the bottom by memorizing all he can by scent and touch and sound. 

It starts with gentle kisses to the top of their toes and the bal of their foot. The same mouth travels upward to bite into the soft skin of their thigh, each touch adding to the anticipation of what will soon be. Then his warm tongue laps around Milo’s most sensitive places, spreading fire further down. He tests and teases until Milo’s moans beg him for more -nose brushing against their bush- but he only follows the trail upward when Milo’s body spasms in pleasure, not quite at the height of ecstasy but certainly close.

He cherishes Milo’s audible gasps and shallow-breathed pleas as his callused hands press into the perfectly soft dough of their sides and stomach. Milo’s skin, white as a marble statue, creates an agreeable contrast to his own; a fact he will surely notice with his eye for aesthetics.  

Not for the first time, Milo is tempted to compare themselves to the classics. Like Pygmalion, Thomas molds their stone, blows warmth into perfect but lifeless features, introducing a human sensibility to an otherwise empty shell. 

However, Thomas -in his humanity- is beyond beautiful. Is he the sculptor, willing his dreams alive by worship and adorement? Or is he Adonis, a favourite of Aphrodite, leaving budding flowers wherever he touches? 

This body that does not yet feel like their own shudders when Thomas’ tongue flicks over hardening nipples, draws moans from deep down their throat and curls toes in delight. As his lips roughly -obsessively- mark up their chest, bruises bloom starkly against snow-white skin. But other things -other feelings- are blooming as well. 

With every touch, with every word, Thomas is making Milo human. They feel themselves align with the person they were destined to be all along; a Milo of ‘Blue Mondays’, of friends and family who love them. A Milo who can go to Italy on holiday and end up falling in love with a millionaire designer, a plot taken straight from a sappy romcom. They are becoming the person they’ve always longed to be.