krempuff | Seeking some thrills, I been wanting one more

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Seeking some thrills, I been wanting one more

It was late when the Fight Club broke, or early, depending on how you looked at it. Krem was sore, aching, starting to get that shake in his limbs that spoke of the adrenaline finally leaking out of his systems. He took the collection of weaponry he'd taken out to the grounds back to his apartment, just so they were collected and safely stored. And then, too agitated to be alone, he walked.

His legs and lungs were aching. When he stopped, he was standing in front of the Bramford. He slid his hands over his gym slacks, realized he was wearing a pair that didn't have pockets and that he hadn't brought his phone anywhere with him. That was stupid of him.

It was late. He should, he knew, just go back home.

But then, aching, he was standing in front of Thomas's door. He knocked, hard enough that it would be able to be heard all the way back to the bedroom--he knew the acoustics of the inside of Thomas's apartment well by now--but almost hoping that Thomas would be asleep, and able to sleep through the noise of him coming by. If he didn't answer within a couple moments, Krem would go.

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"When have I lied to you?" Still, Thomas was right that he'd probably stand a better chance with a cane or something, the way that Kaz or Grantaire fought, instead of just hand to hand. But that would be a whole different group of fighters.

"Maybe you'll just watch, if you decide to come," Krem murmured, not really pulling away from their lips brushing. He gently pulled Thomas over top of him, fitting himself underneath his warm chest. His ribs twinged uncomfortably, bruises and something more than that. "You can give me disapproving looks after all my fights."

"You haven't lied to me but that doesn't mean you're not telling the whole truth," Thomas pointed out, bracing a hand down against his bed to keep some of his weight off Krem.

"This has to be hurting you," he murmured, pressing a light kiss to Krem's nose and shaking his head. "I can give you disapproving looks right now if you're doing this and you're in pain and I'm causing more of it. I've been told I make great faces."

Krem laughed airily. He'd been caught out, though not entirely. It didn't mean he was going to say anything, to the contrary about Thomas's ability to hold his own despite his doubts, or about the fighting last night, or anything else.

"I'm fine," Krem assured to Thomas's concern. He was sore, aching, but it wasn't the worst he'd ever felt. At some point, he might need to see if Dorian could make him a potion. Now, he didn't want to get out of his bed.

"If you're so worried about laying on top of me, I could lay on top of you instead." Even with all the bruises and aches and pains, it wasn't particularly hard to reverse their positions. Now that Thomas was awake, Krem felt gently playful about being safely ensconced in the bed with him, being close and warm and swathed in the borrowed shirt from last night.

He rolled them so Thomas was under him and then settled himself promptly on top. "There. Now you don't have to worry about me."

"This wasn't exactly what I meant," Thomas said but he was laughing, rubbing a hand over his eyes and through his hair. It was his own fault, really, for not being more specific.

"What's gotten into you this morning?" Thomas wondered, curling his fingers into the fabric of the borrowed shirt. "I would have thought you'd just want to lay here, still and quiet, so you wouldn't get a headache or a backache or any other ache that someone who's old like you gets."

"Not like I'm saying we should go on a ten mile hike or something. I'm perfectly content to stay right here," Krem said, settling down contentedly against Thomas. Most, if not all of his current aches and pains were familiar ones. He'd known them for years, nearly half his life or more in one way or another, and Darrow had been a strange vacancy of them.

"I just...wanted to be here with you." He hummed a little. "I like being with you, Thomas."

"But I like ten mile hikes in the morning," Thomas said, only half joking. Maybe not ten miles but he'd taken some early morning hikes since arriving to Darrow. They got him outside, let him run and allowed him to explore.

"I like being with you too," he murmured after a quiet moment. "And I wasn't trying to sound otherwise. You're just surprisingly cuddly a day after you got the shuck beat out of you."

"I know you do," Krem said, and smiled despite the ache in his jaw. He nuzzled at Thomas's throat gently, humming. "And I wouldn't even stop you if you abandoned me to go on one. Would just lie here and enjoy your bed until you came back."

He turned his head a little, pillowed against Thomas's shoulder and sought out his hand to hold gently. Maybe Thomas was right. Maybe he'd been knocked a little too hard in the head a couple too many times last night. But that seemed alright right now.

"Better than the alternative, I suppose. I could be picking more fights."

"Would you?" Thomas asked, pushing himself up slightly to peer down at Krem. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. For a second, Thomas thought of Gally. Gally who always wanted to fight, who always was spoiling to be aggressive and angry and mean. Newt had said he wasn't always like that but that's the only side of Gally he knew.

"Who would you go picking fights with?" he wondered. "You have a list of people? Something titled 'Krem's List of Potential Fight Targets' or something like that?"

"Oh, not at the moment." He might have, last night. And there were people who he enjoyed a good scrape with, people who he had had a good scrape with last night. Gannicus had been good, Isabelle, Dorian; Athos and Eowyn were both good for it.

But his mind flooded him with having to have Tris pry him and Ronan away from each other before they did something stupid, and then--then, later, seeing Ronan stalk off entirely, Blue close behind, looking honestly injured. Nothing could make that fight any more pleasant, nor watching Ronan's retreat less worrisome.

"I'm just saying. I could be picking fights. I'd much rather be in your bed."

"That's the first time anyone's ever said that," Thomas said, sighing and closing his eyes. He wasn't in danger of falling asleep but he still felt lazy and boneless, like he could stay in his bed all day.

"Probably the last too," he joked, shaking his head. "My bed's typically an empty place."

"It doesn't seem empty when I'm around," Krem said, ducking his chin a little and glad to have his head tucked against Thomas's shoulder to hide his smitten, suggestive smile. He turned his face down, briefly, to laugh at his own words. What a line. But it was nice, if not always true. They weren't always here--sometimes out running, sometimes making time for each other, sometimes curled up on a couch together. But every space was full.

"Well obviously I didn't mean it was empty right now," Thomas said, rolling his eyes gently. He'd meant generally. It wasn't like Newt or Minho or Alby had crawled into bed with him back in the Glade.

Teresa hadn't. He probably would have had a panic attack if that had happened.

"Darrow's a strange place," he mumbled, sighing. "Things like this happening to people like me. Strange, strange place."

"People like you," Krem said, contemplatively, and then dug a knuckle gently into Thomas's ribs for the self-deprecation. He wasn't going to deal with it right now. He could agree with all the rest of that--Darrow was strange, and things like this were new and strange--but he wouldn't listen to Thomas act like he didn't deserve as much kindness and gentleness as anyone else here, if not more of it.

He leaned up again and bumped a soft kiss against Thomas's neck, his chin, each cheek. It was easy to fall into showering him in affection, even if Thomas didn't think he was worth it.

"Yes, people like me," he said, sounding like he was trying not to laugh. Between the knuckle in his ribs and the kissing, his body was slowly getting overloaded on light, gentle sensations.

It wasn't a bad thing. Just a still unfamiliar experience. He'd come from a place where everything was hard, difficult, sharp, and bloody. This wasn't.

"You're strange too," Thomas said fondly. "Don't ask me why. You just are."

"I'm definitely strange," Krem agreed, giving a bit of a nod, not giving up on his little shower of kisses. He liked that warm, fond note in Thomas's voice, liked being the cause of it, liked his strangeness being a part of that in some way--not because he was strange, and not in spite of his strangeness, but simply because he was him and he happened to be strange.

Krem hummed a little and lifted his hands to Thomas's cheeks, smudging his thumbs against the arch of his cheekbones, then kissing him more decisively. Contentedly, he murmured through the kiss a meek, "I love you, Thomas."

It seemed important, to say it then and not just when they were in the midst of something overt and sexual. When things were tender and private, but not laden.

That was a strange thing too, those words. He didn't know if anyone had ever said them to him before. He liked to hope his parents had at one point and maybe he'd even had a friend who'd told him so but those memories were lost to him so, from what he knew, Krem was the first.

It made him shiver and he blushed, almost shy at the words being directed towards him. He didn't know if he'd done anything to deserve them and a part of him wanted to argue, to tell Krem that he couldn't love him but Thomas shut that part of himself down.

Thomas was never good with words and that hadn't changed so when Krem uttered those words, Thomas leaned forward and captured his lips with a gentle kiss, fond and lingering. He was better with actions.

Krem sighed, a smile curving his lips, as Thomas kissed him in return of the words. He didn't expect a response, he thought. Not really. It was complicated, and Thomas was young. Krem wouldn't ask that of him. But it was nice to be able to say the words and have any sort of response.

He slipped his fingers gently into Thomas's hair, deepening the kiss just a touch as he settled himself intently so their hips lined up against each other.

If Thomas hadn't been awake before, that shift and press would have definitely woken him all the way up. As it was, Thomas just pulled back from Krem's lip a touch and quirked an eyebrow playfully at him.

"What are you doing?" Thomas laughed, resisting the urge to roll his hips, push down, find some friction that would feel pleasurable.

The pull away from the kiss almost dragged a disapproving sound out of Krem, but he managed to hold it in. It would have come out more of a petulant whine, anyway. He smiled at Thomas's curious expression instead and, a bit playfully, continued to subtly shift about to see what sort of reaction he could pull out of him.

"Getting comfortable," he said, as perfectly innocent as he could possibly be.

"Getting comfortable," Thomas repeated, trying to hide the small squeak that wanted to slip out, to give away what all that shifting was doing to him. It was early anyway and he was a teenager so things happened that he was helpless against.

"You telling me you weren't comfortable before, shank?" Thomas asked, clearing his throat. "You seemed pretty comfortable last night when you fell asleep and snored."

Thomas didn't know if he'd actually done that but he figured Krem couldn't prove him wrong.

Krem laughed, short and happy, shifting and squirming now that Thomas's cheeks were a little flushed and he was trying not to squeak. He dug his knuckles into Thomas's ribs, gently, teasingly, and grinned at him.

"Oh, I was snoring, hm? Mister fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow again."

He smoothed his hands down Thomas's sides, well aware of how their hips were lined up and the effects of close, warm bodies and early mornings. "Do you want me to stop?"

"If your memory's a little hazy, you woke me up in the middle of the night from a sound sleep. Was I supposed to stay up and cook you dinner?" Thomas asked, looking at Krem with mock annoyance.

"Next time when you wake me up that late, I'll be sure to be more entertaining," he joked with a shake of his head.

"Do you to stop?" Thomas asked, deciding to turn the question back on Krem, make him be the eloquent one because Thomas certainly wasn't.

"Dinner would have been very nice, actually," Krem said contemplatively, a little pout on his lips that Thomas hadn't been so considerate the night before when he'd arrived. He kept his hands soft and gentle on Thomas's ribs, able to feel the relaxation there to assure him that Thomas wasn't actually irritated with his having come and woken him so late.

The question was an important one, and Krem knew it. He didn't want to stop, and he could say that, but he didn't want Thomas to feel like he had to agree to something too.

Even if he was better at words than Thomas sometimes, they were both better at actions. He collected Thomas's hands and slipped them under the borrowed tshirt, against the warmth of his ribs, with no binder in the way.

"No," he murmured. He rolled his hips gently. "This is a good way to spend the morning, right?"

"The next time you show up in the middle of the night, you can get your own shucking dinner," Thomas told him, shaking his head. "You've been here enough times to know where everything is and I don't like you enough to cook you dinner in the middle of the night."

He was teasing, feeling playful because he did like Krem a lot and he probably would have made him dinner if he hadn't been half out of it and could cook anything decent. Sandwiches were about the extent of his culinary skills.

Thomas spread his hands out against Krem, letting his fingers trail over his ribs and down to his hips before moving back up.

"It's pretty good," he agreed with a sigh. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

Krem chuckled, smiling contentedly at Thomas's teasing. He was half right, after all: Krem knew where everything was and could throw himself something together from Thomas's meager groceries if he was really that hungry if he came over in the middle of the night.

Thomas's hands were warm and firm enough to be sure-seeming, which was a wonderful comparison to the first time they'd fallen to kissing and touch like this. Krem was feeling lazy enough to not push anything, either. He hummed and shook his head, bending back down to kiss Thomas again.

"Just don't squeeze too tight," he said against the kiss. "It all looks worse than it feels, I promise."

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