Krem was vaguely, distantly aware of the raspy, rushed way he was gasping for breath, the soft keen to his voice, the desperate edge to the tone of his wordless voice. He stayed as close to Thomas as he could get, tangled and clinging, absorbing the way that he was trying so hard to make a good showing of it, like he had something to prove here.

When he lost it, when his hips stuttered and jolted and rushed, Krem bit his lip. It half smothered a noise he made, high-pitched and needy, right on the edge of his own orgasm. He slipped his hand down from Thomas's cheek to touch himself, rubbing urgently, breath stuttering out.

"Yeah--yes. Yes."