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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Krem smiled, laughing a little as well. The nickname raced through him, a thrill. With his shirt off, all the dimples and freckles in his skin were visible, all the stretch marks and the mostly faded bruises. Even if he felt he'd let himself go in the months in Darrow, there was no sign of it. He was still narrow in the waist and hip and broad in the shoulders.

"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.

Thomas shivered and he knew it was from a combination of his hands on Krem's chest and Krem's finger against his pants, against his fly. His breathing came out raggedly and he shook his head at himself, laughing again.

"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.

The tentative, almost nervous touches, exploratory touches sparked fires under Krem's skin. He leaned into each and every one. Thomas's fingers tripped and tracked across his torso, down his sides and stomach, back up his ribs to his breasts.

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.

Thomas was pretty sure he was going to pass out before this was all over. This was touching of another kind, something different, something that he'd only done to himself and very infrequently at that.

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.

Krem's mind was swarming with questions. He wanted to have Thomas talk him through the touch, tell him how to touch, where to touch, but the words were out of him entirely, incapable of translating the questions tripping around his head into words on his tongue. Thomas's hands, growing more and more bold and focusing steadily, only strove to break the connection between Krem's mind and his tongue, until all he could do was let out a breathless, laughing little noise of pleasure.

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.

"It does," Thomas exhaled, blinking up and focusing back on Krem's face. He smiled once he could see straight, once his vision was tipping over and blowing up right in front of his eyes.

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.

Thomas's lips, even more than his hands, were a static sort of electricity, a needful sensation that jolted from Krem's skin where they brushed--soft and gentle and led by his nuzzling, lightly dampened from his tongue, and so, so warm--and down, down, straight between his legs.

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..."

With Krem's guidance, Thomas's mouth slipped against and then over one of Krem's nipples, tongue flicking out gently and then slightly firmer. It was a different taste, a different sensation and Thomas meant to keep doing it because he wanted to hear Krem's voice like that again.

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."

Krem was a mess of sensations for a moment. Thomas's breath, the hot slick of his mouth, the very edge of his teeth; the tension of his thigh, his stomach, so close to Krem's own skin; and then there was the feel of him, the faint twitch under his palm and then, suddenly, not so faint. Krem inhaled, letting out a faint sound behind Thomas's shout pressed into his skin. He stroked him through it, as best he could.

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?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said, shuddering out that last vestiges of the orgasm before the blush settled in, darkening his cheeks and neck. He grimaced and shook his head again which he knew looked contradictory but it was hard to form words when there was still an undercurrent of pleasure thrumming through him.

"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."

Krem breathed out a laugh that was mostly a sigh of relief. He eased his hand gently and slowly out of Thomas's jeans, twining both arms around Thomas's neck so that he could lean in and kiss him slowly, deeply. They had all the time in the world, for the moment. For now, he wanted to kiss Thomas.

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."

The words and the kiss went a long way to ease the embarrassment that has flooded through Thomas's body after he'd made a complete and total fool of himself and a mess of his pants. He still wasn't really thrilled with his self control but there was nothing he could do about it now.

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."

Krem smiled at Thomas encouragingly. His lingering gaze stirred up his flush again, made him lick his lips a little. He gave Thomas another kiss, turning him toward the bedroom and giving him a gentle push at the small of his back.

"Go get settled. I'll put the food away and be right there." He needed a moment to find his center again, at any rate, to calm the hot roll in his belly that hadn't died down with Thomas's orgasm but was still waiting for his own.

Once the food was all put away, he grabbed them each a bottle of water, too, and then headed toward the bedroom after where Thomas had disappeared to. His whole body was still ringing and excited, his fingers thrilling at the idea of touch. He set the water bottles down on the end of the bed.

Thomas carefully walked back to his bedroom and dug out a bare of shorts. He disappeared into the bathroom, tugging off his pants and shorts and tossing them into a pile of dirty clothes that had slowly grown.

He really needed to do laundry. He cleaned himself up quickly enough before sliding on his clean shorts. He tossed the long sleeved shirt away too, pulling on a tank top before finally padding out into the bedroom.

He was propped up against his pillows when Krem finally arrived and he couldn't help but stare for a few seconds because he was, again, struck by the realization that all of this had happened and wasn't some dream.

"Hi."

"Hi," Krem said back softly. With Thomas stripped down to his shorts and an undershirt, Krem let his eyes skate slowly, consumptively, over his body. He took in the long, wiry muscles of his arms and the thick muscles of his thighs, how rangy he was, still just a growing thing but getting to that settled sort of way that young men got. Very handsome. Krem smiled softly when his eyes came back up to Thomas's face.

He took off his jeans, leaving him only in his own shorts. His own short stature made his muscles look thicker than they were, he thought; if he'd been as tall as Thomas or Noah, he would have been leaner, more elegant. But his thighs and his arms still would have been thick. He wasn't displeased with his body. But he was aware of all the little differences.

He climbed up onto the bed and sprawled beside him, also against the pillows. "This is alright?"

"This is fine," Thomas said, moving closer to Krem when he'd gotten settled. He took a second (or maybe longer) to look him over, see skin he hadn't seen since they'd gone swimming together all those months ago. They'd both been different, their relationship different so Thomas felt like he was seeing Krem with new eyes.

"It's really fine," he murmured, nodding and reaching over to trace one single finger down Krem's thigh towards his knee. He circled around the muscles there, the bones that he could feel before moving back up his thigh and tapping gently.

Krem hummed contentedly, settling back a little more into the pillows. He looped an arm around Thomas, pulling him in just a little closer, so that he could run his own fingers across his shoulder blades with the same slow tracing speed that Thomas was using.

"So I take it looking's going well," he murmured against Thomas's hair, chuckling softly. As much as they joked about it, he just hoped that it wouldn't go back to only looking after this. The very idea of it made his chest ache.

Thomas's fingers were tapping and sliding back up his thigh, and Krem let out a shuddering, soft little sigh, shifting his hips just a little before he settled.

Thomas moved closer easily, quickly, wanting that warmth pressed back against him. His embarrassment from earlier had abated for the most part, left behind in a pile of clothes that he'd left in his bathroom.

"I think it is," Thomas said, walking his fingers up Krem's thigh and towards his stomach again. He traced a few absent patterns there, sighing and closing his eyes.

"I don't think it can be counted as just looking anymore," he added, still tracing loops and lines against Krem's skin.

Krem sighed, pressing a kiss to Thomas's forehead as his fingers traveled around of their own volition now, without guidance or the hindrance of the heaviness of shirts and jeans. Some small part of him speculated on the prospect of if they had tried to do this before Krem had discovered the wonder of sports bras and binders, back when he was still wearing his stay, or any of his other clothing from home. The thought of Thomas trying to navigate the layers of his outer clothes, let alone his under clothes, made him snort softly.

"No, this is definitely a bit past looking," he said gently, mouth lazy with a grin. He tipped his head down to kiss Thomas. "I'm rather alright with that. Though, how do I measure up as a pillow?"

"You're not bad," Thomas mumbled against Krem's lips, shrugging one thin shoulder. He didn't have much to compare it to, of course, but he knew he was comfortable and warm right now so that made Krem a shucking good pillow.

"Could be softer," he teased, pulling away and giving his stomach a light poke. The poking turned into Thomas pressing his hand down and stroking his nails back and forth along Krem's skin. "Should get to work on that. I might need a pillow in the future too."

"Not bad," Krem said, a smile on his lips as he carded his fingers through Thomas's hair. "You're not even on the comfortable parts..."

Krem had meant to say something a little more teasing perhaps, but the words got lost, tripped up and scrambled in a vague little noise as Thomas's nails scraped over his stomach. He shivered, heat racing down his body, sinking low in his belly. Unconsciously, his thighs squirmed together a bit.

Considering Thomas had his hands on Krem's stomach and his eyes on that movement, he didn't miss the movement of Krem's thighs. He reached down and slid his fingers over one of his thighs, lightly, tentatively, not wanting to step over any line Krem had.

"I can find the comfortable parts, if you want," Thomas murmured, glancing up at Krem and smiling gently at him. He knew there were comfortable parts, he wasn't that dumb, but touching them was a whole new thing for him. It'd be fumbly, maybe a little slow but he wanted to try.

Krem's breath hitched up a touch, a ruffling of air across Thomas's dark hair. He nuzzled at him, breathed in against him for a moment. There was a spike of nervousness in him that lasted only a second; not fear or anxiety or any sort of dread, because this was Thomas, and he was nervous and gentle and slow and that helped. But it was a nervousness of the newness of the two of them together.

He slid his hand down, covering Thomas's hand and threading their fingers together. Slowly, he pulled Thomas's hand up from his thigh to the front of his shorts. As when he touched Thomas, he kept their fingers outside, for now, but the warmth and the longing in his stomach begged for it.

"I have a few, if you want to explore," Krem said softly, leaning down to kiss Thomas again.

Thomas shivered but pressed his fingers down more firmly, acclimating himself to the new touch and letting Krem get used to his fingers. He knew he was clumsy and maybe not ideal so he didn't want to go too quick and completely shuck things up for the both of them.

"I've never done this before," Thomas said against Krem's lips, a statement so obvious that it probably didn't need to be said. "Show me. I might need a little help."

The shiver gave way to a blush and he bowed his head, forehead resting against Krem's shoulder. "Sorry."

Krem sighed against Thomas's mouth, the curious, clumsy tough a thrill all on its own for all its uncertainty. He spread his legs, just a bit, lifted the one on the outside of the bed so he could put his foot flat, knee bent; it opened him up a bit more, an exposing gesture, a welcoming one.

"It's okay." He coaxed Thomas gently back up, kissing him again. "As long as you want to. I'm...very easy to please. We can just kiss a while, and I'll probably..."

A flush rushed over Krem's face, and he breathed out a laugh. "The second time, ever, I was with someone, I got off just from kissing and some love bites. You're doing fine."