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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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"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.
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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.
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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.
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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?"
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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."
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"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?"
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Thomas nodded and spent a second or two focusing. He wanted to touch Krem, he did, but the dumb part of him, the part of him that had scant few memories and little to know experience felt suddenly shy about not knowing how to do that.
"I do. I wanna touch you," he mumbled, licking his lips and nodding. "Do I just pull it up like a regular tee shirt? I'm sorry. I've -- "
The only shirts he'd taken off before had been his own.
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Krem's own voice sounded breathless to his ears. There was a tumultuous moment, a nervous flutter in his stomach, like swimming--the consideration of will I, won't I--before he briefly took his hands off of Thomas so that he could sit up and take off his shirt.
The binder cut off at his ribs, a bit rucked up from the way he'd been squirming about and from their kissing. The velcro on the side, under his arm, was still neatly smoothed, even after all the twisting about. He sat there, straddling Thomas's thigh, bold but nervous all at once, looking at Thomas softly.
He put a hand on Thomas's hip, gentle, smoothing the fabric of his shirt. "Still alright?"
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"Are you?" he asked, peering up at Krem and blinking slowly. "Should I -- show me how?"
The words were shy again but there was an undercurrent of want, of desire because this was something he wanted to do more and more with each passing moment.
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There was no hesitation in his hands, though he was slow and cautious, cradling Thomas's gently. He showed him how to peel back the velco, parting it slowly, and the way it easily slipped off once it was loosened.
Then, once it was gone, he gently let go of Thomas's fingers and twined his arms around his neck. He sat there a moment, still and silent so that Thomas could take him in before he decided where he wanted to put his hands.
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"I - I can touch you?" he asked, looking for permission this time, this first time. Thomas hadn't done this kind of touching before and while he wasn't exactly sure where to touch and what would feel good, he knew he wanted to try. If he did it wrong, he hoped Krem would tell him, at least, and nudge him towards better touches and pleasures.
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He picked up Thomas's hands again, this time to bring them up to his mouth, and he kissed his fingertips gently, lingering softly on each one. After he'd kissed each finger and both of his thumbs, he slid Thomas's hands down. Down his chin and neck and to the swell of his chest--the firmness of muscle, but the softness that remained of his femininity.
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He swallowed and looked up at Krem as his hands moved, fingers feathering over the muscles now. They were hard and ropy, lean and long and Thomas found himself wondering how long it had taken Krem to become like this, so well defined and incredible to touch.
A laugh fell from his lips and he looked momentarily abashed before saying, "I'm not laughing at you, Fluffy, I promise. I just never though I'd be in this position right now and you feel -- you feel good."
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"It's okay," Krem said, petting Thomas's hair back from his forehead, leaning in to start kissing across his face. "Take your time. We've got plenty of it. There's no rush."
He left Thomas's hands to roam however they'd like, one of his own hands cupping the back of Thomas's neck gently while the other sank back down between his legs again. This time, he ran his thumb gently along the fly.
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"Keep going," he murmured, giving permission even if Krem hadn't asked for it. His hands roamed down towards Krem's hips, wanting to touch all the skin that he could see. His fingers passed over fading bruises, skimmed dimples and moles before moving back up towards Krem's chest.
He knew what he wanted to touch and what he wanted to touch was right there in front of him. He'd avoided Krem's breasts up until now but no more. He finally reached to touch the soft, soft skin and shivered again.
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As Thomas touched and explored, Krem let himself be equal parts bold and nervous again, kissing at Thomas's jaw and neck, opening Thomas's fly with a cautious deliberation. The noise of his fly sinking down seemed to fill all the space between their breathing. He shivered, even though he felt overly warm.
He slipped his hand into the front of Thomas's jeans. The angle was a bit odd, his wrist tilted too much to do much more than feel the warmth and the shape under his palm and fingers, but it made him sigh ecstatically against Thomas's skin.
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Thomas's hips skipped and arched, pressing forward of their own volition and Thomas's touch got a little firmer in direct reaction to that. Instead of skimming, he squeezed, cupped and held Krem's breasts in his hands, trying to make a memory that not even WICKED's intervention would make him forget.
His touch, a touch that had been tentative, grew bolder, grew stronger. His fingers didn't fumble so much (though there was still some) and he traced the soft curves and muscles with his fingers reverently.
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His hips stuttered to meet Thomas's, pinning his hand for a moment. He longed, desperately, that Thomas could feel just how much this affected him as well; that it was as obvious to Thomas as it was to him, without having to ask Thomas to touch him as well.
"Feels good." He let out another whispering laugh at the words, unsure if he was speaking for himself and Thomas's touch, or asking Thomas if he agreed, or both.
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He licked his lips again and then leaned forward, pressed those same lips against Krem's chest and nuzzled his nose against the skin there. He wondered if he could use his mouth in other places, wondered if that was stepping over a line or if it was even wanted.
"Keep going?" he asked quietly, quizzically.
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He shifted his hand a little, too nervous to touch skin but able to feel all the warmth of him as he whimpered softly in his throat. His back arched, pressing his chest closer to Thomas's mouth as his thighs trembled slightly.
"Oh, Maker." The words came out a ragged, messy sort of thing, barely a whisper, barely a breath. He moved his hand along Thomas as best he could inside his jeans, squeezed his fingers on him, tried to find a good angle that would feel nice for him the whole way through. His other hand buried in Thomas's hair, guiding his head gently until a nipple slipped against Thomas's lips and he let out a shuddering, desirous whine. "Maker, Thomas..."
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His body betrayed him though. He hadn't really been paying that much attention to himself and he should have been before Krem's fingers, the touch and press and stroking, even through his boxers was too much for him.
He moaned against Krem's chest and then smothered a shout against a patch of skin right above Krem's nipple. His hips bucked against Krem's hand and that was when Thomas knew what was happening.
He couldn't stop it, the combination of Krem's fingers, his voice, the fact that Krem was on his lap without a shirt and the friction of fabric against his cock made it impossible to stop from coming against his boxers.
For several seconds, he pressed his forehead against Krem's chest, breathing hard before letting out an embarrassed sound and saying, "Oh god. Oh god, I'm sorry."
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The first drip of apology, the cant of Thomas's shoulders toward shame, pulled Krem's mouth down into a frown. "What are you apologizing for? Hey."
Krem slipped his hand from Thomas's hair along his jaw to cup his face, as he had been early. He tilted his chin up gently, so he wasn't buried into his chest, and smoothed his thumb across Thomas's cheekbone.
"...you wanted that, right?"
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"I wanted that, I did," he said, sounding less shattered finally. "I just didn't want to..."
He gestured down at his pants, wet and sticky, before looking back up. "I don't know a lot about this but I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to make a mess like that."
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He did pull back after just a few kisses, because Thomas deserved to be reassured. "It happens, there's nothing wrong," he said, voice calm and adoring, lips brushing against his. A flush whispered up the back of his neck, and he gently slid off Thomas's lap.
"Come on. You'll put on some fresh shorts, and we'll lie in bed this time." He gave him a smile that he hoped was charming, maybe cheeky, but mostly he just felt flushed and a little shy for trying to be so bold. "I can be the pillow? I'm not quite all muscle, like this, even. You can put your head on my chest."
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Thomas spent a few moments just looking at Krem standing before him and he flushed again because it was beautiful and he liked looking and even if he'd just come, it was still pleasurable to see something like this so close up.
"Okay," Thomas said, nodding and standing up. It felt awkward and gross considering the current state of his shorts but it wasn't that long a walk to the bedroom. "Okay, let's do that."
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