[ and no one else does. no one is made so perfectly for credence like graves is, mind body and soul. with one hand remaining where it is the other moves back to cradle the nape of graves' neck, his head tipping back to rest on his shoulder as he breathes in and out slowly, closing his eyes and just feeling. this is what he wants and needs, the reminder. graves loves him, graves will do anything for him, graves could treat him like a pampered pet or a brat king but instead treats him like an equal. it's taken them so long to get here but they are here.
his moans are low but almost musical for the way graves is playing him expertly like he's an instrument in a master musician's hands - he knows exactly where to touch, how to thrust, what to do to make credence feel like his knees are going to give out beneath him. they almost do, once. he breathes out raggedly and clutches at graves more tightly, eyes barely slitting open to look at him in their reflections. ]
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his moans are low but almost musical for the way graves is playing him expertly like he's an instrument in a master musician's hands - he knows exactly where to touch, how to thrust, what to do to make credence feel like his knees are going to give out beneath him. they almost do, once. he breathes out raggedly and clutches at graves more tightly, eyes barely slitting open to look at him in their reflections. ]
Just like this. More like this. Please.