"I'm not worried about hurting you," Thomas mumbled, pressing another kiss down onto Krem's lips before he started to slide off, to move so he could be on his back comfortably and so Krem could -- could climb on top of him, he supposed.

Thinking of it like that made the blush shoot down his arms and further down his chest. He was hopeless.

"I'm worried about being bad at new things," he admitted with a shrug and sheepish expression. "I'm always going to worry about that."