Krem sighed a laugh that turned into a moan as Chris's fingers sank into him again. He shuffled closer, leaned in. His attentions were still inexpert, inexperienced, but there was an abandoned enthusiasm to it that wasn't just because he was buoyed by those drugged pies that made him overly truthful and exceedingly amorous.

As slow as Chris was with his fingers, Krem was with his mouth. He started at the head, working down with wet, exploratory kisses toward the root of Chris's cock. It was a bit of an awkward angle to stroke him while he tongued and sucked at his balls, but he did it, groaning softly. And then it was more slow work back up to the head.

He looked up at Chris with storm grey eyes, pupils wide and dark, as he opened his mouth and took the first few inches. His gaze unfocused with an obvious sort of pleasure as the weight and heat and taste filled his mouth.