Krem let out a little breath of a laugh, comforted by Thomas's boldness. He worried, sometimes, that he was being too bold or too forward, that he ought to be more calm. He was older than Thomas--as far as either of them knew; he seemed older, and from reading the papers that the city had given Thomas, he could only suppose that he was--and even though he didn't have much experience himself, it was still a worry he had, in with all his other worries.

But this, with Thomas's hand so warm and heavy on his back, and his mouth gentle, and his words slipping toward husky, did a lot for calming the worry. Krem slipped his hand down to touch Thomas's wrist gently. He tilted his head a bit, slipping Thomas another, fresh kiss. He slid Thomas's hand just a little, until his fingers were near the hem of his shirt; then, boldly, he tucked them up underneath, so he could feel them against the space of skin that spanned from the top of his jeans to the bottom of his binder, a bare, warm few inches that seemed terribly scandalous.

"You kiss just fine," Krem murmured against Thomas's lips, a smile curling his own up gently. "But I'm more than happy to help you practice."