Krem wasn't feeling in any great hurry. Even if his body was slowly heating up, slowly turning over with every wonderful possibility of how the morning could unravel around them, it was a slow sort of unraveling. It involved exploration and these gentle kisses until they both couldn't stand it and then, maybe, more than that. All their fumbling over each other so far had been a bit hurried; all of Krem's in general had been a bit rushed, a bit over the top. It was nice to just enjoy the feeling of everything.

So he left his fingers wound in Thomas's hair. They were gentle, just another point of contact. No pushing or pulling, no urging him anywhere on his body. Thomas's pace was his own, and it was a wonderfully maddening one.

When Krem glanced down, on chance more than anything else, he caught that mischievous glance and smirk that Thomas was giving him. It knocked a soft groan out of him. He arched slightly off the bed, but still didn't urge or rush Thomas on. His head lulled back into the pillow as he let out a soft, breathless laugh.

"I'd accuse you of teasing," he murmured, "but that implies I don't like it."