[ graves is very quickly discovering how credence loves being praised, how he lavishes it on him -- good boy, such a good boy -- and he enjoys the blush on his pale skin when he watches him getting the jar. graves is admiring everything, the bounce of his cock when he walks back to him and climbs back in, the nervousness that tingles on his skin.

his embarrassment is cute, too, and graves can't help but smile as he pulls him under the covers and tangles his limbs with his, taking the ointment from him and smearing some onto his fingers. ]

Tell me, what do you think of? Who fucks you, Credence? Who spreads you open and presses their fingers inside you?