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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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When it came to other people, other people who cared about him, he wanted to be something other than cruel and hated. He didn't want to be someone that people saw in a dream and remembered with fear or hate. He wanted to be better.
"You're old," Thomas quipped, shifting away and wincing at the chill in the room and the stickiness on his legs. He could have done without all that.
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The stickiness, as Thomas pulled away, didn't bother Krem so much. He was used to that being a part of sex with young men. Thomas pulling away, the tone in his voice, made a little flush run up Krem's cheeks, contrition mixed with worry. He tried to not think too much on it. He was old--older, at least.
"We should get a cloth, or shower," he mumbled.
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Shame replaced pleasure, shame at being so self absorbed and selfish and he winced, sitting up.
"I don't care how old you care, I don't care," he reiterated fiercely. "I just want you to...to like being with me. I know you're not expecting anything out of me. I still want to be good."
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He smoothed his fingers across Thomas's shoulders, up to the nape of his neck, and leaned into him gently. "I like being with you, Thomas. I like being with you when we run into each other and just talk, or when we check in on each other, or when we go running. I liked this. I will definitely not turn down opportunities to do any and all of that, including this, again."
He searched Thomas's face a moment, rubbing the back of his neck with his thumbs and the top of his shoulders with his fingers. "We'll wash up, and come back to bed."
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Other times, it was all he could hear.
"Do you want to shower or would you rather me just a few towels?" Thomas asked, sliding carefully to the edge of the bed so he wouldn't make an even bigger mess than he'd already made.
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Instead, he smiled softly. He slid off the bed--mostly stumbled, his legs still jellied from orgasm--and kicked his shorts off the rest of the way, and then took Thomas's hands.
"If we shower together," he said softly, "we'll save water."
Plus, then he would smell, however briefly, of Thomas's soap. It settled the nervous in his stomach, just a little.
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Thomas stood up and shucked his shirt off before finally getting his shorts down the rest of the way. They'd gotten tangled up around his knees when they'd been on the bed and he was glad to be free of them and blushing now that he was bare.
His body was mostly scar free but there were still marks from the Griever injections dotting his skin every so often. Remnants of the Changing from so long ago. "I'd like to shower with you."
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Given the peace of it, the moment of solitude and bald curiosity, Krem traced Thomas's moles and freckles, the wiry definition of muscle in his arms and chest, the small smattering of scars that must have had stories but Krem wasn't sure which had stories that Thomas remembered. He compared everything against his own--the deeper olive tone of his skin and more pronounced scars, some of them newer than others.
He turned, putting his back to Thomas, letting the water run over his face and his hair and down his back. His tattoo, between his shoulder blades, was done healing, sitting colorfully between them, the crook and flail crossed over each other.
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Now though, he was close enough to see all the detail there and he leaned closer until his nose nearly touched Krem's skin to get a better look at it.
The water slicking down his body made his finger glide smoothly and eventually he stopped tracing the tattoo and let his fingers slide over Krem's shoulder and down along the hard ridge of his collar bone.
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"Thank you," he said. "It's healing quite nicely, I think. Maybe I'll get a few more, even. I've a lot of cracks to fill in. Might as well make it pretty."
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"I don't think I'd ever want any," he sighed, leaning his cheek against Krem's back, right over the tattoo. "I like them and I like your tattoo but I don't know if I'd ever find one I like enough to get put on my body."
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"Or. I don't know. I hadn't thought I'd get the one in the first place, but it was...nice." He smiled a little, running his own fingers across Thomas's skin gently.
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"I think it'd make me too visible if I ever were to get back home," he said thoughtfully. "I'm not trying to go back, I know I can't, but if I ever do, it's something that Cranks and WICKED and anyone could identify me by and we need to stay hidden as much as we can."
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"I understand that," Krem said with a little nod. He kept running his fingers over Thomas's skin, fleeting touches on his narrow, firm stomach. "I spent most of my life trying to be as unremarkable as possible."
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"I don't know what I was like before everything," he murmured even if Krem knew that. "Maybe I was all about tattoos and just wasn't old enough to get them. People already know my face back home. WICKED, Gladers, everyone. I like being here and people not recognizing me. I like being in the background."
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He wasn't petty enough to bring it up. It didn't matter. Gently, he laid a kiss against against the arch of Thomas's shoulder blade, tracing the shape of it under his skin.
"Well, you've all your little moles and freckles," Krem said softly. "And I'm quite a fan of those. So no need for tattoos."
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He knew there were more on his back but he couldn't see those. He just sighed and leaned back against Krem, deciding to take advantage of his closeness. "Are you clean? Do you wanna get out or should we stay here?"
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"I washed off with the water," Krem said with a mild little shrug. It was sort of like being clean. He was rewarmed and content, whether or not he'd taken soap to his skin. The final decision on if the shower was over or not was up to Thomas, then.
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"We should probably get out before I use all the hot water and fall asleep in here," he mumbled. He was comfortable and pleasantly drained after all the activities earlier.
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"We'll get out, and we can have a bit of a nap," he said, running his nails gently across Thomas's skin before he came around him gently to turn off the water. "Then see how we feel after that?"
He straightened back up gently and looped his arms around Thomas, dripping wet, to kiss him sweetly even with the shower off.
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"I'm really tired," he admitted with a laugh and a shake of his head. He didn't know if it was the two orgasms or the mental exhaustion he put himself through but he was too tired to really figure it out.
"You're staying," he said. Krem had already spoken like he was staying but Thomas wanted it reiterated.
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"We'll tuck into bed," he said, voice almost lyrical and coaxing, pulling Thomas gently out of the shower with him. He finally located a towel--gave it a sniff to make sure it was clean; clean enough--and started to rub Thomas dry. "Curl up however we want. Sleep as much as we want. In the morning, we'll have more Chinese food for breakfast."
He kissed Thomas again, smiling, just because he could, toweling himself off a little as well. Maybe they would kiss more at some point in there. Maybe they would do more of anything. Right now, sleeping sounded glorious to him as well.