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The trouble with planning to not have plans was that, inevitably, it left Krem feeling like he ought to make plans anyway. He'd settled on making the barest plans that he could comfortably suffer while still calling the whole thing an act of relative spontaneity. They had, after all, planned the time together; they'd made sure their schedules were free of work or other obligations, had told their other friends they would be otherwise occupied, and promised each other the time. Neither of them were known for their ability to suffer idleness well, so Krem knew there would be at least one outing. Structured spontaneity. That sounded quite good.
So, he came with a small overnight bag, since they had discussed that option briefly and he liked that potential, the learning of being in Thomas's space for that long--but, more importantly, it had his running shoes in it--and with a large box full of a myriad variety of Chinese foods because he felt that a lie in was obligated to have food that they didn't really have to clean up after.
He'd texted Thomas to let him know that he was on his way after he'd picked up the food, and--grateful that there were no more animals loose in the streets--he headed there presently.
So, he came with a small overnight bag, since they had discussed that option briefly and he liked that potential, the learning of being in Thomas's space for that long--but, more importantly, it had his running shoes in it--and with a large box full of a myriad variety of Chinese foods because he felt that a lie in was obligated to have food that they didn't really have to clean up after.
He'd texted Thomas to let him know that he was on his way after he'd picked up the food, and--grateful that there were no more animals loose in the streets--he headed there presently.
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"No no, I like to eat but not too much," he said, blowing out a breath and leaning back. Big meals were becoming more and more familiar and he was learning how to not gorge but it was still a struggle when he remembered how scarce food was back home.
"I think it can be saved for later or something," he agreed, looking over. "A snack or another meal or something. I don't know if I'll be hungry for a few days after that."
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With the food pushed aside for now--he'd get up and put it in the refrigerator in a moment--Krem curled in even more against Thomas. It was not quite how he'd imagined a lie in, sprawled on the couch and only nominally paying attention to the television when there was a warm body tucked close to him.
He reached for Thomas's hand and tangled their fingers together, the way that their angles were wrapped against each other, and sighed softly. A content smile spread over his face.
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"I had no idea you were so lazy," Thomas said, lowering his voice even though it was just them in the apartment. They had their privacy, they didn't need to talk low to keep a conversation quiet. "I had no idea I was such a good pillow either."
He didn't mind it, not right now. Thomas tucked himself further back against the corner of the couch, letting Krem lean more against him and warming him up where their bodies touched.
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He pillowed himself against Thomas's body, doing his best to not put too much of his heavier weight on him. With his head tucked in close to Thomas's neck and their fingers still tangled together, he sighed contentedly.
"Not a bad pillow, certainly. I've had worse. Sleeping on the ground, for instance."
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It wasn't one that he even minded. He'd slept on the ground and he knew that anything, a balled up jacket, someone's arm, a patch of grass, anything, was more comfortable with that. He'd gotten spoiled in Darrow, having a bed and a couch and other things to laze around on.
"Do I get anything for being a good pillow? Pat on the back? Thumbs up?"
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Part of him wished it was summer again, so that they could go. He missed the sand and the surf and the way it had felt to tumble about in the water with Thomas. He wondered if it would be different now.
Thomas kept teasing, unknowing of Krem's thoughts , and Krem tilted his head up, just a bit. He offered him a little smile. "Is that all you think you deserve? Pat on the back?"
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He hoped that last one wasn't true. His ribs weren't tender and he had a high pain tolerance but it sounded like a positively terrible prize for letting someone use him as a pillow.
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"I promise I'll try to keep my elbows to myself as much as possible, as long as you try to do the same." Though it'd been a while since the fight club, and most of his bruises had faded, his bruises were still a bit tender, and it was probably best to avoid any unnecessary jabs to them.
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"I'm not going to throw any elbows," he promised quietly, smiling. "Not the time or place for it. Even someone with a memory like mine knows that."
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As Thomas leaned his cheek into his touch, Krem's smile widened a little bit. He ran his thumb gently along Thomas's skin, tracing the shape of his cheekbone, then the slope of his jaw. He settled his thumb gently at the corner of Thomas's mouth, moving his fingers instead, caressing gently.
Somehow, like at the Fall Festival, Krem felt at once terribly bold and terribly shy. He ducked his head back down against Thomas's chest, his fingers still moving on his cheek and jaw.
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He didn't know if it was all right, didn't know if Krem even wanted a touch like that but he'd learned that constantly holding himself back wasn't going to get him anything. He had to be brave, he had to take chances.
Thomas finally realized he had a free hand, a free hand that had just been slack against his thigh that he picked up and curved around Krem's neck, fingers inching up into his hair and pressing gently.
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His hand--that was much more real, more concrete. A sure thing, long fingered and firm enough to be no accident, pressing, drawing him in. Krem rose a little, guided by Thomas's hand on the back of his head.
He gently slipped his hand away from Thomas's, so their fingers weren't locked, just because he needed to support his weight a little more easily and he didn't want to take his hand off Thomas's cheek yet. Gently, he brushed their noses together.
"I hope it's a good sort of flip."
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He inhaled slowly, fingers still moving back and forth against the back of his neck. He leaned forward and returned the gesture, brushed his nose against Krem's and felt a smile cross his eyes.
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Gently, he brushed his lips against Thomas's. It was fleeting but not hurried; he was still a little worried his lips might be tinged with the spice from some of the foods.
When he pulled back, he smiled a little. "How's that a reward for being a good pillow?"
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"It's a good reward," he said, sighing. "You should do it again. Since I'm still being your pillow and everything."
Thomas also wanted it to happen again right now with him.
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This time, it was not so fleeting, though it was still slow and mostly soft. He pressed in close to Thomas, settled and warm, running his fingers from his cheek back into his hair until he was nearly mirroring the way that Thomas was holding his head.
Krem parted his lips gently, coaxing, tongue slipping out to brush against Thomas's bottom lip for just a moment.
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The flipping feeling in his stomach turned into a slow fire that gradually spread into his blood. The encouragement from Krem's mouth, Krem's lips made Thomas lean down and respond in kind, mouth opening a touch to kiss and then, very quickly, to taste.
His hand stayed in Krem's hair, fingers curling every so often in reaction to something good, something pleasurable.
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He sighed, shifting and tilting his head to deepen the kiss a little more. It wasn't the fleeting kiss like in his kitchen or the swift, little ones he'd given Thomas since they'd gotten back, nor the tumultuous one from the Fall Festival. This felt much more even keel, like privacy was lending itself toward building to something.
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Krem wasn't doing any of that. Krem's mouth was still sealed over his and Thomas couldn't breathe. He didn't want to breathe and he wanted Krem to be closer to him if that was all possible.
The hand in Krem's hair ventured down, fingers curling in the top of Krem's shirt before letting go and smoothing the fabric down so his hand could continue down the line of Krem's spine while his mouth moved against Krem's, tongue occasionally questing out tentatively but growing more bold each time.
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"Sorry," he breathed, still close, their lips brushing. His skin felt warm all over. He wasn't sure if he ought to pull back or not, if he ought to slow down or stop.
Krem ran his nails, very gently, against Thomas's scalp, staying where he was, pressed in so close against. Thomas's body was warm too, his breath heavy, heart rapid this close. They were tangled together, so close, and Krem didn't want things to seem too fast or soon, but Thomas's hand felt warm and heavily right where it sat on his back.
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"Why are you sorry?" Thomas asked once his voice was back on track. He was blinking slowly, eyes focused but somewhat hazy with the desire and pleasure that had filled up his head.
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"I don't want to rush you," he whispered, like he might break the moment. He leaned back, just a little, looking at Thomas with enough distance that he could get a decent look at him.
He wanted nothing more than to keep kissing, to see where it took them. But he didn't want them to get carried away, to have them do something either of them might be embarrassed about or regret after the moment was over. He doubted either of them would regret keeping kissing, though.
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"I don't feel rushed," he murmured, shaking his head. He wasn't sure how far he would let anything go but he knew he wanted to do more, to feel more. "We can stop if you want, though. We can -- we can watch a movie or something. I'm sure there's something on."
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"I don't feel rushed," he said as well, quiet, working his nuzzle gently up to Thomas's jaw, up until he could smudge a kiss gently on the corner of Thomas's lips. "We don't need to watch a movie, if you want to keep kissing. I'd like to keep kissing, if you do. I like kissing you, Thomas."
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"I think we should keep doing this," he said, nodding. "I like kissing you too. I do. I know I'm not great at it but I wanna keep trying."
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