[ credence is used to getting what he wants, and what he wants is percival graves. the older man isn't the only one stealing kisses whenever he can. in his room when he's meant to be studying, around a dark corner when they're alone, and most dangerously, out in the hall at home with an implied promise for more.
the problem is, graves isn't taking the bait quickly enough. the recent rejection had been hurtful and infuriating: he knows graves wants him but it's hurt his pride and the fact that graves is keeping such a distance from him does hurt his feelings. it's only partially a game for credence, after all - he wants graves no matter what, but pressing unkindly at all his buttons is simply to see how quickly he can lure in the object of his affections.
(credence thinks about that night too, bitter and needy, rocking down on two fingers even if he knows graves is bigger than that because he has to be able to concentrate enough to fist over his cock with his other hand. it's torture.)
he doesn't want to hurt him, but a little jealousy might do him good. it's what he thinks of when his teacher - how brazen, how idiotic - hits on him. he doesn't mind it though, draws him in over the course of a few days until they come to an accord. i'll let you fuck me if you suck me off first. he knows it's not going to happen - graves isn't going to wait that long to come find him.
and so he doesn't. he hears the older man in the bathroom, knows him by his footfalls alone, and lets out that little moan to draw him in, a sound like his chest is hitching in pleasure. (this man is very good - credence wonders how many students he's seduced over the years.) he waits until the door opens to turn his gaze up from the man below him to lock eyes with graves pointedly, refusing to look away as he breathes out a little moan.
he's using one hand to support himself against the wall of the stall, the other lost in dark hair and gripping tight. one leg is planted flat on the floor and similarly his other one is hooked over one of the man's shoulders, heel of one pristine shoe pressing hard between his shoulder blades. interestingly, his lips aren't kiss-bruised and there aren't any marks that would be hidden by his clothing, even. all business.
still, he doesn't look away when he moans again, eyes dark with want as he breathes out shaking-- ] Percival.
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the problem is, graves isn't taking the bait quickly enough. the recent rejection had been hurtful and infuriating: he knows graves wants him but it's hurt his pride and the fact that graves is keeping such a distance from him does hurt his feelings. it's only partially a game for credence, after all - he wants graves no matter what, but pressing unkindly at all his buttons is simply to see how quickly he can lure in the object of his affections.
(credence thinks about that night too, bitter and needy, rocking down on two fingers even if he knows graves is bigger than that because he has to be able to concentrate enough to fist over his cock with his other hand. it's torture.)
he doesn't want to hurt him, but a little jealousy might do him good. it's what he thinks of when his teacher - how brazen, how idiotic - hits on him. he doesn't mind it though, draws him in over the course of a few days until they come to an accord. i'll let you fuck me if you suck me off first. he knows it's not going to happen - graves isn't going to wait that long to come find him.
and so he doesn't. he hears the older man in the bathroom, knows him by his footfalls alone, and lets out that little moan to draw him in, a sound like his chest is hitching in pleasure. (this man is very good - credence wonders how many students he's seduced over the years.) he waits until the door opens to turn his gaze up from the man below him to lock eyes with graves pointedly, refusing to look away as he breathes out a little moan.
he's using one hand to support himself against the wall of the stall, the other lost in dark hair and gripping tight. one leg is planted flat on the floor and similarly his other one is hooked over one of the man's shoulders, heel of one pristine shoe pressing hard between his shoulder blades. interestingly, his lips aren't kiss-bruised and there aren't any marks that would be hidden by his clothing, even. all business.
still, he doesn't look away when he moans again, eyes dark with want as he breathes out shaking-- ] Percival.
[ oops. :) ]