[ he can feel it, the scar tissue under his fingers, the raised flesh like welts, rough where it should logically be smooth -- but he says nothing. he knows what it is, has suspected even through the closed door and his own isolation. he can sometimes hear snippets of it, the unmistakable sound of leather on flesh and the muted, quiet whimpers that travel to his ears anyway.
graves' heart clenches in his chest, in anger, in protectiveness; credence is quiet, graceful, smarter than his mother can ever give him credit for, with a kindness and hidden steel that anyone would prize in their son. his mother seems to hate him the most, out of all the children in the house, and up until now graves doesn't understand why.
perhaps the fact that credence is willingly naked in his bed, stroking his cock and squeezing it gently in the way that makes him stifle a quiet little moan is the reason why. credence craves affection and graves gives it to him generously, lavishes attention on him partly out of the instinct to survive, and partly because he wants to, because credence ignites a passion and a longing in him he'd feared had been long forgotten. and now, like this, he is all he can think about.
brows raised in surprise at that, he doesn't stop stroking him, kissing that beautifully lush mouth to swallow his little moans. he stills for only a moment, regarding him. ]
You don't spill your seed, Credence? Not even for this, when you're alone in your room? [ his thumb rubs little circles over the head of his cock, lazily shameless, pushing him further because oh, he'll be the first to see it, the first to truly draw it out of him. ]
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graves' heart clenches in his chest, in anger, in protectiveness; credence is quiet, graceful, smarter than his mother can ever give him credit for, with a kindness and hidden steel that anyone would prize in their son. his mother seems to hate him the most, out of all the children in the house, and up until now graves doesn't understand why.
perhaps the fact that credence is willingly naked in his bed, stroking his cock and squeezing it gently in the way that makes him stifle a quiet little moan is the reason why. credence craves affection and graves gives it to him generously, lavishes attention on him partly out of the instinct to survive, and partly because he wants to, because credence ignites a passion and a longing in him he'd feared had been long forgotten. and now, like this, he is all he can think about.
brows raised in surprise at that, he doesn't stop stroking him, kissing that beautifully lush mouth to swallow his little moans. he stills for only a moment, regarding him. ]
You don't spill your seed, Credence? Not even for this, when you're alone in your room? [ his thumb rubs little circles over the head of his cock, lazily shameless, pushing him further because oh, he'll be the first to see it, the first to truly draw it out of him. ]