Krem whimpered, softly, squeezing at Thomas's hand that he was still holding, incapable of doing anything more than accepting the way he was moving now. It felt amazing; overwhelming, sweat-slick even in the short time they'd been pressed together, and Thomas's rough cry vibrated on his skin so neat and sharply.

He could feel the way he twitched inside, buried so deep it was almost too much. All Krem could do, then, was hold on and wait for Thomas to relax a little, wait for him to ease himself back, just a little.

Krem's whole body was burning, thrilling, right on the edge. He didn't dare move, wanting to prolong the closeness and contact of their bodies tangled close. He didn't dare say a word, worried Thomas would think he'd done something wrong in how any of that had gone. He turned his head gently, pressing a soft, heavy breathing kiss to Thomas's temple.