krempuff | (no subject)

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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.

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"Mmn, I think the smile's getting a little bit closer." He reached up with his free hand, not wanting to dislodge his fingers from Thomas's, and tapped him gently on the tip of his nose. It was quick and fleeting, and a second after, he cupped Thomas's cheek, lingering there gently.

"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.

"Closer? Closer to what?" Thomas asked, leaning his face into Krem's hand and closing his eyes for a second. He took comfort in Krem's soft hands and his warm skin. He took comfort and greedily soaked the feeling to enjoy for later.

"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."

"A little closer to a good reward," Krem said. His voice had gotten even softer, maybe a little tender and light. There was a part of him that hated when his voice got like this, sweet and feminine, but he couldn't help it when he was feeling so affectionate.

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.

"You're really good at making my stomach flip around," Thomas murmured, turning his head and pressing a gentle, almost a whisper, really, of a kiss against Krem's thumb.

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.

The kiss to his thumb was so soft that Krem almost thought he'd imagined it, hoping for it in the moment. He sighed a little, almost wistful, and was just starting to tilt his head up again when Thomas moved.

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."

"It's a good sort of flip," Thomas murmured, nodding very slightly. He didn't want to jostle Krem, didn't want him to pull back when he was so close that Thomas could smell him and see all the small freckles and marks on his skin.

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.

Krem hummed softly, a content noise, feeling the way Thomas's chest rose and fell with his breath. His fingers were gentle, a little ticklish but more than that they rose goose flesh along Krem's arms, a creeping sensation of warmth and desire that he tried to keep tight in his chest.

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?"

It took Thomas a little longer to open his eyes. His tongue slipped out, tasted the kiss and then his eyes fluttered open and he smiled. It was mostly shy but there was something else underneath it, something he hadn't really felt before or could remember feeling.

"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.

Krem let out a breathier sigh, a little puff of laughter against Thomas's lips. He shifted, just a touch, so that he was settled more comfortably against him, really pillowed against him. Once he'd settled, he tipped back up until their lips touched again.

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.

Thomas knew he should have practiced kissing. He didn't know how he'd do that or even where to look for directions and tips but he knew he should have because he wanted this moment to be good for the both of them.

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.

If Thomas was nervous about his kissing, it didn't translate through to the act, at least not onto Krem's end. All Krem knew was that Thomas was kissing him back, that they were tangled up close and holding each other.

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.

Krem hadn't pulled away from him so Thomas guessed (hoped) that he was doing this all right, that he wasn't so bad at kissing that Krem would pull back and look at him gently before telling him what he'd done wrong.

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.

The longer they kissed, the closer Krem's kisses slipped more toward headiness, toward a needier press. Thomas's fingers moved from his hair to his back, and a soft noise slipped out of him that he couldn't control, but that he was momentarily embarrassed to let out. A shiver chased down his spine after Thomas's fingers, arching his back up catlike, pressing his hips down just a touch.

"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.

"Why -- " His voice sounded stuttered and low and he cleared his throat before trying again. He didn't move his hands away from where they were clenched in Krem's shirt and didn't try and move his body either.

"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.

The roughness in Thomas's voice dropped the pit out of Krem's stomach, in the best kind of way. The flush under his skin heightened, chased another shiver up and down his spine, and he very nearly ducked his neck into Thomas's neck to kiss the flutter of his pulse under the thin skin of his throat.

"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.

Thomas licked his lips, tasting Krem on them once again. He liked it, he liked it a lot. It took him a few moments to speak again because he was relishing that sensation, that feel of letting someone else that close to him that he'd be able to taste them on his lips.

"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."

Krem tucked his nose down against Thomas's neck, nuzzling gently, as he hand before he started to kiss Thomas. He didn't quite dare kiss Thomas's throat though, even though he wanted to, because that seemed far too bold.

"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."

"I think we should," Thomas murmured, nodding and turning his face towards Krem. He'd considered, for a moment, letting Krem decide for them but a flare of greediness has come to life and he'd grabbed it and gone with it.

"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."

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."

Skin. Thomas was touching skin before he even realized what was happening and that caused a blush, red and bright to start at his cheeks and race down his neck. He spread his fingers out against Krem's back, feeling the slip slide of muscle underneath his hand.

"I'm pretty stubborn when it comes to something I want," he murmured, curling his fingers gently, scraping his blunt nails along the skin before stroking back and forth slowly. "I push and push and push until I get what I want. You might get tired of me wanting the practice."

He doubted that, though. Not if Krem's smile was any indication. Not if how warm and heavy he was against Thomas was any hint as to how much he was enjoying this too.

It wasn't the first time that they'd touched skin to skin, but there was something about touching like this--mouths touching, fingers skating boldly and intentionally, and all their clothes still concealing everything between them--that seemed more than that. Thomas's voice, more than his words, sank through Krem, a slide of cool water on a hot day, or maybe hot drink on a cool night; it filled him up entirely.

The soft scrape of his nails, the gentle caress of his fingers, drove a sigh that was nearly a moan out of Krem that he couldn't quite control. A blush followed after it, nervous again, but he didn't apologize this time. He slid his hand up Thomas's arm until he could curl his fingers comfortably in his sleeve. He fit himself as close as he could get, picking up with where they'd left off with the kissing.

Back home, Thomas had imagined kissing someone maybe once or twice. It had been a fleeting thing, an interaction that he never thought would actually happen to him. He was too bad a person, too terrible for someone to take an interest in him despite any mutual guilt issues.

The Thomas of then hadn't known what he was missing. Kissing was messy and wet and it was also so good. It was warm and it made his stomach turn flips and his skin heat up. He spread his fingers out against Krem's back again, pressing his palm down and sliding it up higher.

The couch was, maybe, not built for two people to lay on top of each other and kiss like this. Krem couldn't help wanting to shift around a little bit, but his only real place to go was off the couch entirely, and that didn't seem like too much fun. He didn't want to pull back from kissing again and risk losing this heat, this momentum they had at the moment.

Slowly, he shifted a little bit, moving his hands around, himself, trying to find that comfortable position again against Thomas's body and against the sofa, all without having to stop kissing him. Thomas's fingers were hot, teasing touch, still on skin, but pressing up toward his binder and working higher, over the taut material.

Krem slid a hand slowly, cautiously, up the inside of Thomas's thigh, up between his legs. He shifted his lips down to Thomas's throat, kissing at his pulse. "Is this alright?"

Thomas's answer came in the form of a sharp inhale and a scrape of fingernails against Krem's back. That was a new touch to him and it ignited something in him that he'd only felt once or twice when he'd been alone. It wasn't as bright as it was now though, wasn't as heady.

He nodded hurriedly lest Krem get the wrong idea from his reaction. It was all right, it was more than all right. He could even feel the desire of his hips wanting to wiggle closer, shift up towards Krem's hand.

Thomas blew out a breath and managed to croak out a, "Yeah, that's all right. Keep -- keep going."

Krem kept going. He didn't chuckle, though Thomas's enthusiastic response made his chest swell with warmth and desire. His hand kept moving slowly over him, exploring, feeling out how he felt through his jeans. He tilted and shifted his whole body a bit, until he was straddling one of Thomas's thighs. It was harder to let on how much the kissing, the touch, just being this close, affected him; saying the words felt silly.

"You can," he started, but his voice was rough, stuttering, and he had to sigh for a moment. His hips rocked a little against Thomas's thigh, even though all he was doing was rubbing between his legs. He tried again, "You can pull up my binder--my undershirt--if you want to touch me?"