Unaware of Thomas's stumbling, downturned thoughts, Krem basked in the attention, his face flush and faintly ecstatic. Thomas didn't approach things with the same boundless enthusiasm as Noah or bold knowledge as Hild, but he was thorough and consistent and unrelenting. It drove out the potential to think of anything else but Thomas, anything but their bodies close together and their hands moving clumsily, and every time their mouths pressed together.

He pressed his face into Thomas's neck, breathing raggedly, his thighs trembling. He hurried his hand a little, using his thumb to rub at the head of Thomas's cock a bit, trying to feel out what exactly felt good.

"Won't last," he whispered against Thomas's warm skin, laughing at his own breathlessness. "Maker, Thomas, that's good. Just like that. Almost..."