an easy one to make; by himself percival graves had looked like another mark, simple and easy. but nothing can be simple or easy and he'd almost been relieved when there were guns pointed at him. so end it, he'd thought, it's a better end than many.
the rest of him is far too stubborn for that, far too resilient and even though he'd been so suspicious when the older man had asked him to dinner, he'd accepted. if he's going to die anyway, it may as well be with a full stomach.
credence had been doubly suspicious of the invitation to live with him and he'd battled his demons for less time than he'd like to admit before deciding that he could accept being under the thumb of one man. graves hadn't seemed cruel, though it could be a lie. still, he's handsome and apparently does have money (and power, credence thinks, an unkind reminder to himself), and it's better than what he has.
he spends the next span of months expecting the other shoe to drop: he slowly gets used to having somewhere to stay, to having the kind of freedom that graves grants him without the worry of where he'll go next, and he wonders each night how long it will be before the truth comes out.
this isn't to say that credence isn't attracted to him - he's woken more than one night dreaming of him and feeling hot and shaking and hard - but that the thought of being indebted when the price is himself makes him feel ill. over time he comes to realize that perhaps graves is waiting for credence to come to him, an obedient puppy that knows what he must pay. he wonders if the older man will get too impatient if he waits much longer, and one night he decides to just be done with it, at least on his own terms.
when credence stands before graves it is late, very late, and he's wearing little more than the over-sized shirt he'd gone to bed in hours earlier. his hair is longer now, framing his face a little more kindly, and he looks less hollow, less sunken. still pale and lovely though, and credence spends a moment studying the lines of graves' face before he replies. there are worse men to be beholden to, he thinks.
at first he just shakes his head. then: ] No. It's late for you too, though. When do you sleep?
[ it's flighty, a little devil-may-care, but there's something a little strange about the way he says it. nervous. he presses forward though, a coy smile playing across his lips as he moves closer to the older man, surveying him. it's only when he's close enough for graves to smell his shampoo, to practically taste the saltiness of his skin from the sweat that wearing as many blankets as he does causes, that he speaks again. ] You've been very patient with me, I'm sorry for making you wait this long. I've only just realized. [ what is he talking about?
it becomes crystal clear when he climbs onto graves' lap, slinging a leg over him (shirt riding up to show one pale, bare thigh) and settling primly atop him. he's smiling but it's stilted and nervous, the set of his shoulders tense and tight while his eyes are shuttered away to hide any emotion.
he's hovering over him a moment and then he leans down to kiss him, equal parts urging against him and shaking with something that's almost fear. ]
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an easy one to make; by himself percival graves had looked like another mark, simple and easy. but nothing can be simple or easy and he'd almost been relieved when there were guns pointed at him. so end it, he'd thought, it's a better end than many.
the rest of him is far too stubborn for that, far too resilient and even though he'd been so suspicious when the older man had asked him to dinner, he'd accepted. if he's going to die anyway, it may as well be with a full stomach.
credence had been doubly suspicious of the invitation to live with him and he'd battled his demons for less time than he'd like to admit before deciding that he could accept being under the thumb of one man. graves hadn't seemed cruel, though it could be a lie. still, he's handsome and apparently does have money (and power, credence thinks, an unkind reminder to himself), and it's better than what he has.
he spends the next span of months expecting the other shoe to drop: he slowly gets used to having somewhere to stay, to having the kind of freedom that graves grants him without the worry of where he'll go next, and he wonders each night how long it will be before the truth comes out.
this isn't to say that credence isn't attracted to him - he's woken more than one night dreaming of him and feeling hot and shaking and hard - but that the thought of being indebted when the price is himself makes him feel ill. over time he comes to realize that perhaps graves is waiting for credence to come to him, an obedient puppy that knows what he must pay. he wonders if the older man will get too impatient if he waits much longer, and one night he decides to just be done with it, at least on his own terms.
when credence stands before graves it is late, very late, and he's wearing little more than the over-sized shirt he'd gone to bed in hours earlier. his hair is longer now, framing his face a little more kindly, and he looks less hollow, less sunken. still pale and lovely though, and credence spends a moment studying the lines of graves' face before he replies. there are worse men to be beholden to, he thinks.
at first he just shakes his head. then: ] No. It's late for you too, though. When do you sleep?
[ it's flighty, a little devil-may-care, but there's something a little strange about the way he says it. nervous. he presses forward though, a coy smile playing across his lips as he moves closer to the older man, surveying him. it's only when he's close enough for graves to smell his shampoo, to practically taste the saltiness of his skin from the sweat that wearing as many blankets as he does causes, that he speaks again. ] You've been very patient with me, I'm sorry for making you wait this long. I've only just realized. [ what is he talking about?
it becomes crystal clear when he climbs onto graves' lap, slinging a leg over him (shirt riding up to show one pale, bare thigh) and settling primly atop him. he's smiling but it's stilted and nervous, the set of his shoulders tense and tight while his eyes are shuttered away to hide any emotion.
he's hovering over him a moment and then he leans down to kiss him, equal parts urging against him and shaking with something that's almost fear. ]