There was something lurking in Thomas's gaze, some worry or concern, that had nothing to do with Krem's bruises. Gently, Krem pushed Thomas back, until they were both sitting up. He wrapped his arms around Thomas's shoulders and leaned his forehead against Thomas's, the warm flush of his skin touching against his own.

"I want," Krem murmured, rubbing slightly tense muscles and warm cheeks with softly coaxing fingers, "for you to be comfortable. With me on my back or you on yours. Or--we don't--"

He hesitated, exhaling slowly. He breathed. "You don't have to, just because I want to. We can just keep kissing."