credence with his calloused fingers, rough from the work that he does around the house, closing around his cock -- he cannot help a pleased shiver, curling around the young man and stifling a soft groan of approval. he's thick and long in his hand, heavy with arousal and aching to have more of him. eyes lidding, graves finds himself lost in the sensation of the other's intimate touch and almost loses the thread of the question.
his finger pushes fully inside of him, slow and slick, before pulling out. he repeats the movement -- twice, three times, four, getting him acquainted with him before gently introducing the second finger, spreading him open a little more. he doesn't want to scare him off, but he doesn't want to give him a false sense of security either.
credence is new to this, so hopelessly tight that he's driving graves out of his mind with the knowledge that he's deflowering a virgin, a beautiful boy who wants him just as much. breath catching, he presses his forehead to his. ] A little. But I'll make sure you're comfortable, Credence. [ he kisses him softly, sweetly, two fingers pushing slowly inside of him now, waiting for him to open up. ] I'll make sure you can take all of me inside you. Would you like that, snug all around me, keeping me inside you?
[ credence doesn't stop stroking him then, fascinated by the reactions he's getting. it's almost enough to distract him from graves' finger working to relax him. almost. his breathing isn't ragged but it's not even either and at one point his thumb brushes over the head of graves' cock but his focus is too scattered to do much more than that.
the addition of a second finger has his body tensing, tightening around the intrusion briefly before his free hand digs nails into the older man's shoulder and he takes a moment to breathe through it, to relax, to allow him to continue spreading him open. (if you tense up the whip-crack of leather belting hurts more. if you manage to relax it's not as bad. this is different but credence has had a lot of practice.) he returns the kiss, leaning up into it like a flower craving the sun.
he is just that.
finally he gathers himself enough to answer the question even if at first all he manages is a tiny nod. when he speaks his voice is very soft and only minutely strained. he's trying so hard. ] Yes... And it feels good after that, doesn't it? After it hurts. [ of course it does. this part, perhaps surprisingly, sounds less like a question. ] I want to feel you once I'm ready, please.
[ a part of graves wonders just where credence has learned it -- if he's learned it from somewhere else at all and not merely making an educated guess. the young man is bright, clever, and very well versed in the art of surviving a mother like mary lou. he knows that he's formed quite a few defense mechanisms to continue such an existence, and graves, well, he's the unknown variable thrown into the mix, isn't he?
credence kisses him back so greedily that graves can feel his breath catch. credence is trying so hard and graves knows it, even if the knowledge that he's his first time snags and churns and fills a possessive, masculine part of him that he doesn't deny. ]
I'll make sure it won't hurt very much. [ he promises, and he's gentler now, giving him time to adjust to his second finger and trying very hard not to think about the other members of credence's family slumbering on the other side of that door. no, he doesn't need to think about that, the consequences if they're caught. what matters is credence right here, allowing him to do this with him, working to relax so that he won't let him down.
credence yields even when those fingers dig into his shoulder, and graves is enthralled when he begins to fingerfuck him, in and out and again, again -- slow and slick inside of him to get him accustomed. pushing inside of him with his cock is another story entirely, but at least he'll be more ready. ] Ever done this before on your own?
[ it's something a little sadly funny, isn't it? that things he'd learned over the years to protect himself from the pain his mother inflicts on him in her cruelty would help him here too, with the way graves is carefully trying to prepare him for what comes next, for something pleasurable that he's suddenly desperate to feel even though he knows it will definitely hurt at first--this time the pain will wane, turn into something he enjoys, and even any soreness later (that he's not thinking about at the moment) will just be a reminder of something pleasant.
it's no wonder that his heart cries out to graves for this, for anything he can get from him.
it's a combination of forcing himself to relax and the continued gentleness of graves' fingers thrusting into him, pulling back, and pressing in again that slowly eases him into it, allows him to feel better, to feel something good and he lets out a soft oh of surprise that's almost a gasp, back arching just enough to be noticeable. another sound is more like a barely-there mm before he can gather his thoughts enough to answer. ] No... [ a shaking inhale. ] No, never. I was... going to try, once, but I was afraid so I didn't. [ he sounds almost breathless as he speaks, licking his lips. ]
[ there is clearly no love lost between graves and the woman who had taken him in -- even if graves is courteous and polite, unwilling to put credence in a more difficult spot than he already is. credence has gotten himself hurt arguing for him, and graves owes him his life, not mary lou's. not that credence has ever said it; after all, he's capable of putting two and two together.
so graves takes care with him, wanting to show him the pleasures of the flesh, the wonders of sex and intimacy; and maybe, just maybe, credence will help him escape this house. he realizes, after a few moments, that it's starting to feel good for the young man, how the discomfort shifts to become something else more sublime. graves continues, unwilling to cut it short and fascinated by his reaction.
he leans forward to kiss him now, tongue sliding against his sensuously, slowly. ] Keep touching me, Credence. Show me what you've fantasized about. [ he wants him to reciprocate, to respond, to reach for him in turn. He smiles faintly. ] This is not a one man show.
[ it's quiet but trusting - credence could so easily be taken in by someone whose only goal is to harm him, pulled in with a few kind words and assurances. it's everything his heartache has wanted for so long, to be taken care of, to be safe. he needs someone's attentions and care almost more than he needs the air he breathes.
he's trying not to writhe beneath graves' touch but it's difficult. another moment or so has his hips rocking back against his hand of their own accord, but he hears and heeds the words graves says, shifting enough so that he can carefully run his hands over graves' chest, feeling how solid it is before he moves on - ginger touches down his abdomen until he reaches his cock again, long fingers curling around it so that he can stroke him more insistently than before. from root to tip he strokes him firmly, carefully running his thumb over the head, along the ridge. he feels the older man out carefully, touch feather-light only long enough to trail his fingertips along the underside. ] Like this? [ surprisingly, it's not a general question - he's asking what graves likes, specifically. then, after a silence and a breathy noise that might be a moan: ] This is better than those. [ the fantasies. ]
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credence with his calloused fingers, rough from the work that he does around the house, closing around his cock -- he cannot help a pleased shiver, curling around the young man and stifling a soft groan of approval. he's thick and long in his hand, heavy with arousal and aching to have more of him. eyes lidding, graves finds himself lost in the sensation of the other's intimate touch and almost loses the thread of the question.
his finger pushes fully inside of him, slow and slick, before pulling out. he repeats the movement -- twice, three times, four, getting him acquainted with him before gently introducing the second finger, spreading him open a little more. he doesn't want to scare him off, but he doesn't want to give him a false sense of security either.
credence is new to this, so hopelessly tight that he's driving graves out of his mind with the knowledge that he's deflowering a virgin, a beautiful boy who wants him just as much. breath catching, he presses his forehead to his. ] A little. But I'll make sure you're comfortable, Credence. [ he kisses him softly, sweetly, two fingers pushing slowly inside of him now, waiting for him to open up. ] I'll make sure you can take all of me inside you. Would you like that, snug all around me, keeping me inside you?
no subject
the addition of a second finger has his body tensing, tightening around the intrusion briefly before his free hand digs nails into the older man's shoulder and he takes a moment to breathe through it, to relax, to allow him to continue spreading him open. (if you tense up the whip-crack of leather belting hurts more. if you manage to relax it's not as bad. this is different but credence has had a lot of practice.) he returns the kiss, leaning up into it like a flower craving the sun.
he is just that.
finally he gathers himself enough to answer the question even if at first all he manages is a tiny nod. when he speaks his voice is very soft and only minutely strained. he's trying so hard. ] Yes... And it feels good after that, doesn't it? After it hurts. [ of course it does. this part, perhaps surprisingly, sounds less like a question. ] I want to feel you once I'm ready, please.
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credence kisses him back so greedily that graves can feel his breath catch. credence is trying so hard and graves knows it, even if the knowledge that he's his first time snags and churns and fills a possessive, masculine part of him that he doesn't deny. ]
I'll make sure it won't hurt very much. [ he promises, and he's gentler now, giving him time to adjust to his second finger and trying very hard not to think about the other members of credence's family slumbering on the other side of that door. no, he doesn't need to think about that, the consequences if they're caught. what matters is credence right here, allowing him to do this with him, working to relax so that he won't let him down.
credence yields even when those fingers dig into his shoulder, and graves is enthralled when he begins to fingerfuck him, in and out and again, again -- slow and slick inside of him to get him accustomed. pushing inside of him with his cock is another story entirely, but at least he'll be more ready. ] Ever done this before on your own?
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it's no wonder that his heart cries out to graves for this, for anything he can get from him.
it's a combination of forcing himself to relax and the continued gentleness of graves' fingers thrusting into him, pulling back, and pressing in again that slowly eases him into it, allows him to feel better, to feel something good and he lets out a soft oh of surprise that's almost a gasp, back arching just enough to be noticeable. another sound is more like a barely-there mm before he can gather his thoughts enough to answer. ] No... [ a shaking inhale. ] No, never. I was... going to try, once, but I was afraid so I didn't. [ he sounds almost breathless as he speaks, licking his lips. ]
no subject
[ there is clearly no love lost between graves and the woman who had taken him in -- even if graves is courteous and polite, unwilling to put credence in a more difficult spot than he already is. credence has gotten himself hurt arguing for him, and graves owes him his life, not mary lou's. not that credence has ever said it; after all, he's capable of putting two and two together.
so graves takes care with him, wanting to show him the pleasures of the flesh, the wonders of sex and intimacy; and maybe, just maybe, credence will help him escape this house. he realizes, after a few moments, that it's starting to feel good for the young man, how the discomfort shifts to become something else more sublime. graves continues, unwilling to cut it short and fascinated by his reaction.
he leans forward to kiss him now, tongue sliding against his sensuously, slowly. ] Keep touching me, Credence. Show me what you've fantasized about. [ he wants him to reciprocate, to respond, to reach for him in turn. He smiles faintly. ] This is not a one man show.
no subject
[ it's quiet but trusting - credence could so easily be taken in by someone whose only goal is to harm him, pulled in with a few kind words and assurances. it's everything his heartache has wanted for so long, to be taken care of, to be safe. he needs someone's attentions and care almost more than he needs the air he breathes.
he's trying not to writhe beneath graves' touch but it's difficult. another moment or so has his hips rocking back against his hand of their own accord, but he hears and heeds the words graves says, shifting enough so that he can carefully run his hands over graves' chest, feeling how solid it is before he moves on - ginger touches down his abdomen until he reaches his cock again, long fingers curling around it so that he can stroke him more insistently than before. from root to tip he strokes him firmly, carefully running his thumb over the head, along the ridge. he feels the older man out carefully, touch feather-light only long enough to trail his fingertips along the underside. ] Like this? [ surprisingly, it's not a general question - he's asking what graves likes, specifically. then, after a silence and a breathy noise that might be a moan: ] This is better than those. [ the fantasies. ]