[ percival graves is in love with his underage charge, and he can never act on it -- not when it's exactly seventy six days to his birthday and all graves thinks about when he takes a shower is how that sinfully plush mouth would feel wrapped around his cock, what credence would look like with legs spread as he sprawls in his armchair and waits for graves to kneel between them. credence is already giving him plenty of fodder, providing temptation at every turn, as if he could read his fucking mind and is just making life miserable for him.
there are so many reasons why they shouldn't doing this -- chiefly the fact that graves is forty-one and is more than twice his age; secondly, he's the scion of one of the world's biggest crime families, and he is expected to provide an heir, and he damn well can't do that with graves.
but despite all the many reasons they shouldn't, graves finds himself stealing kisses from him every chance they get. in the limousine on the way to school, in bathrooms like these, when credence turns in for the night. he's sure no has suspected yet, but it's only a matter of time, and they cannot take chances.
it had nearly gone out of hand last week, when one kiss turned to two, three, eight, and credence had almost managed to get his lovely fingers wrapped around his dick before graves had recoiled, rejecting him because they can't, they shouldn't -- no matter how desperately he wanted him and how his eyes were still so dangerously ravenous as he refused his young charge, those kiss-swollen lips a promise that graves cannot afford to contemplate.
he had left his room then, a touch more disheveled than his usual impeccable self, and graves has staunchly not spoken about it since, forcing himself to keep a distance from the boy who has so shamelessly ensnared his attention.
he still jerks himself off to the memory of that night, allowing himself to wonder just what if.
he comes to pick credence up this afternoon -- the private school is a lavish affair only for the sons of the richest families in the country, exclusive and privileged, and today, it seems, he'd been held back for special lessons. the classroom was empty when he had arrived, and curious, graves had gone over to the set of washrooms not too far away, massive, sprawling bathrooms that are the very image of opulence.
empty, except for a soft sweet moan from a door that's carefully ajar. graves had been about to leave when he realizes that he recognizes that voice, the alluring lilt and the accompanying, lower groan.
credence.
he pauses, moving closer as dread curls in his stomach. he's not stupid, he knows what this sounds like -- and it's exactly what it looks like when he sees them.
β i can't go on
there are so many reasons why they shouldn't doing this -- chiefly the fact that graves is forty-one and is more than twice his age; secondly, he's the scion of one of the world's biggest crime families, and he is expected to provide an heir, and he damn well can't do that with graves.
but despite all the many reasons they shouldn't, graves finds himself stealing kisses from him every chance they get. in the limousine on the way to school, in bathrooms like these, when credence turns in for the night. he's sure no has suspected yet, but it's only a matter of time, and they cannot take chances.
it had nearly gone out of hand last week, when one kiss turned to two, three, eight, and credence had almost managed to get his lovely fingers wrapped around his dick before graves had recoiled, rejecting him because they can't, they shouldn't -- no matter how desperately he wanted him and how his eyes were still so dangerously ravenous as he refused his young charge, those kiss-swollen lips a promise that graves cannot afford to contemplate.
he had left his room then, a touch more disheveled than his usual impeccable self, and graves has staunchly not spoken about it since, forcing himself to keep a distance from the boy who has so shamelessly ensnared his attention.
he still jerks himself off to the memory of that night, allowing himself to wonder just what if.
he comes to pick credence up this afternoon -- the private school is a lavish affair only for the sons of the richest families in the country, exclusive and privileged, and today, it seems, he'd been held back for special lessons. the classroom was empty when he had arrived, and curious, graves had gone over to the set of washrooms not too far away, massive, sprawling bathrooms that are the very image of opulence.
empty, except for a soft sweet moan from a door that's carefully ajar. graves had been about to leave when he realizes that he recognizes that voice, the alluring lilt and the accompanying, lower groan.
credence.
he pauses, moving closer as dread curls in his stomach. he's not stupid, he knows what this sounds like -- and it's exactly what it looks like when he sees them.
him.
he freezes in the doorway. ]