Krem let himself just breathe. He focused on the still concentration of Thomas's body, the focus written across his forehead and neck and shoulder, the way he breathed. He tried to be still as well, when all he wanted was to move, to shift, to feel every inch of their skin pressed together.

Slowly, he lifted the hand he was holding, kissing Thomas's fingers and knuckles and wrist once more. It was a reassurance, a grounding, a confidence without words. He was here, not going anywhere, and they had all the time in the world. This felt good, searingly warm in comparison to everything else Krem knew.

His thighs trembled a little, brushed up close to Thomas's hips, as he waited patiently for him with a tender smile on his lips.