[ graves is the farthest thing from a saint. the things he imagines doing to him, with him, the sweetness of his whimpers and cries still ringing in his thoughts, his dirtiest fantasies. credence asks him to keep his heart safe and graves stifles a groan.
he must know what this does to him, how it erodes graves' own control, how it reduces it to bare tatters right here in the school bathroom. they can't do this here, but credence charms and beguiles and graves closes his eyes briefly, tamed for the moment under the touch of his knuckles.
graves has met and dealt with many an adversary in his time -- powerful and strong men and women who killed without a thought, and yet this seventeen year old is the one that manages to have him twined around his little finger.
he gathers himself, the last vestiges of his impressive iron control, jaw clenched with resisting the desire that burns and scorches, screaming for him to make him his. he lowers his head to capture his mouth with his, pushing him up against the smooth wood of the door, pinning him between it and his body.
graves is so hard, fiercely pleased when he realizes just how his young mafioso saved himself for him -- it's strange how dick-sucking is fine but everything else is out of bounds, but graves finds that he doesn't care as long as credence says he belongs to him.
he's fucked. he's so fucked. he wants so badly to be inside credence that he aches, and his hands move to cradle his face, sliding down to tuck credence's shirt back into his pants, brushing lightly over his cock. this is all he allows himself, this is all he can afford. ]
You'll be the death of me. [ he whispers heatedly against his mouth. ] You must know what you do to me.
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he must know what this does to him, how it erodes graves' own control, how it reduces it to bare tatters right here in the school bathroom. they can't do this here, but credence charms and beguiles and graves closes his eyes briefly, tamed for the moment under the touch of his knuckles.
graves has met and dealt with many an adversary in his time -- powerful and strong men and women who killed without a thought, and yet this seventeen year old is the one that manages to have him twined around his little finger.
he gathers himself, the last vestiges of his impressive iron control, jaw clenched with resisting the desire that burns and scorches, screaming for him to make him his. he lowers his head to capture his mouth with his, pushing him up against the smooth wood of the door, pinning him between it and his body.
graves is so hard, fiercely pleased when he realizes just how his young mafioso saved himself for him -- it's strange how dick-sucking is fine but everything else is out of bounds, but graves finds that he doesn't care as long as credence says he belongs to him.
he's fucked. he's so fucked. he wants so badly to be inside credence that he aches, and his hands move to cradle his face, sliding down to tuck credence's shirt back into his pants, brushing lightly over his cock. this is all he allows himself, this is all he can afford. ]
You'll be the death of me. [ he whispers heatedly against his mouth. ] You must know what you do to me.