[ that's the thing about bliss and contentment -- it makes one complacent. even graves, who had set out to seduce credence for significantly less altruistic reasons, finds himself seduced in turn by the boy's guileless charm, his kindness and that aching sincerity, the powerful desire to please. and underneath all that, a certain kind of backbone.
they've been fooling around behind mary lou's back for days, weeks, even months; all without her knowledge, and some part of graves is perversely pleased to have drawn his son down another path. but this, too, is another kind of strategy; as long as credence is on his side, he will be protected from the confederates, the men who are still out there looking for yankee soldiers even now. it is credence's protection -- mary lou's -- that assures his life.
he recovers more and more as each day passes, and now he can already move around by himself; his movements slower than usual but his health significantly better. but it's not all perfect. some nights, he can still feel the crack of a leather belt on scar-ridden skin, the soft cries credence makes that infuriates him, distresses him as he can only lie in bed and say nothing. with every successive night graves feels his distaste for his hostess grow -- even moreso when credence climbs into bed with him and sobs, tears hot as they stain his shirt.
those are nights when graves simply holds him tight and curses her silently, aching to protect him if only he's healed faster, better.
this morning, he's never felt better when he stretches his legs, happy to have this much progress -- and there's a twinkle in credence's eye, a smile on his mouth that makes graves recklessly tug him into his arms, in his bed. it's playful and passionate and graves knows without a doubt that he has fallen for this boy, and somehow during one of these nights, his heart had been stolen by him.
a complication that he finds he doesn't much mind, even if he doesn't have the slightest clue about loving someone -- but credence makes it easy. he runs his hands through his long, long dark hair, luxurious and silk-soft, remembering the nights he'd grabbed a firm hold of it, taught him how to suck cock, how to move, how to enjoy sex and all the pleasures it brings him. credence has blossomed; become happier, stronger, even if the scars on his hands take longer to heal.
graves has even taken to applying the ointment for him, too; credence takes care of people, but graves will take care of him. he leans up to nudge at him, angling for a kiss to his mouth -- and oh, how lovely that smile is. graves smiles right back, not expecting the worst. ]
Very much so. [ and maybe he can take credence away with him, away from this damned house. ] I want to ask you something, Credence. Answer me honestly.
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they've been fooling around behind mary lou's back for days, weeks, even months; all without her knowledge, and some part of graves is perversely pleased to have drawn his son down another path. but this, too, is another kind of strategy; as long as credence is on his side, he will be protected from the confederates, the men who are still out there looking for yankee soldiers even now. it is credence's protection -- mary lou's -- that assures his life.
he recovers more and more as each day passes, and now he can already move around by himself; his movements slower than usual but his health significantly better. but it's not all perfect. some nights, he can still feel the crack of a leather belt on scar-ridden skin, the soft cries credence makes that infuriates him, distresses him as he can only lie in bed and say nothing. with every successive night graves feels his distaste for his hostess grow -- even moreso when credence climbs into bed with him and sobs, tears hot as they stain his shirt.
those are nights when graves simply holds him tight and curses her silently, aching to protect him if only he's healed faster, better.
this morning, he's never felt better when he stretches his legs, happy to have this much progress -- and there's a twinkle in credence's eye, a smile on his mouth that makes graves recklessly tug him into his arms, in his bed. it's playful and passionate and graves knows without a doubt that he has fallen for this boy, and somehow during one of these nights, his heart had been stolen by him.
a complication that he finds he doesn't much mind, even if he doesn't have the slightest clue about loving someone -- but credence makes it easy. he runs his hands through his long, long dark hair, luxurious and silk-soft, remembering the nights he'd grabbed a firm hold of it, taught him how to suck cock, how to move, how to enjoy sex and all the pleasures it brings him. credence has blossomed; become happier, stronger, even if the scars on his hands take longer to heal.
graves has even taken to applying the ointment for him, too; credence takes care of people, but graves will take care of him. he leans up to nudge at him, angling for a kiss to his mouth -- and oh, how lovely that smile is. graves smiles right back, not expecting the worst. ]
Very much so. [ and maybe he can take credence away with him, away from this damned house. ] I want to ask you something, Credence. Answer me honestly.