[ credence is pliant under graves' hands, moving and curling close and nuzzling into his neck. he accepts his punishment with a faint whine - later he'll touch the bruises before the mirror reverently, brushing his fingers over them and remembering the feel of fingers pressing hard into his hip.

he's distracted by the hand on his cock, though--despite all of the verbal teasing and even the obscene calls--this is new, this is brand new and credence draws in a shaking breath, clutching close to him with trembling fingers. he feels stupid and childlike but it's just that he's wanted it so long and the idea of actually getting this is a little overwhelming.

and first he lets out on a moan: ] Really? You're--ah--not going to stop and tell me we can't? [ it's not biting, but he doesn't want to get riled up for this worse than usual just to have it end abruptly again. as for the question... ] He's pretty good at it but I wasn't enjoying myself until I pretended it was you.

[ a pause and he looks away, embarrassed. ] I almost came when I saw you there but he doesn't deserve it.