[ credence watches graves for a moment, trying to gauge what's happening and why - but when graves speaks credence exhales a shaky breath, looking at him and trying to not appear too startled or hopeful either one. ]
I--I didn't know you were there. I'm sorry, he tries it every so often but I always say no. [ he's flushed slightly, though he's tentatively moving around the kitchen island so that he can be closer to him, studying his face up close for the first time in ages.
finally, he speaks again. ] But you know that now, don't you? That I tell him no. If you heard what I said, I mean. [ he wants his trust, his faithfulness, to mean something. he's pushing slightly to see what graves will pull out of it, what he will say.
he's close, maybe too close, but he can't help it. he's always been like a flower toward the sun with graves.
(something in his eyes begs please.) ]
I tell him no because there's no one else I want but you.
[ he knows. oh, he knows. he knows what credence means and why, he knows that this love is something that comes only once in a long, long while -- because credence proves him wrong, and after failed relationships with so many lovers here's one that bucks the trend, one who insists on putting his faith in him even when graves had given him no reason to do so.
he's close, so close to him now that graves can smell the cologne on him, the one he wears after a show, faint but there, and it means the world to him. he reaches out and tugs him close, wrapping his arms around his lover to hold him tight, to breathe him in as he presses his face into the crook of his shoulder.
there is only so much work he can drown himself in, there is so long he can fool himself. ] I know. I know. I heard all of it. [ something in credence tugs at him, how he pleads, asks graves for what he should have given him so long ago. guilt curls in his chest, as does the relief after a terrible fear that he will lose him after all -- and he murmurs, muffled into his neck the one thing credence has sought all along. ]
[ credence breathes. oh, but he breathes and it's like a drowning man coming up for air, like the world has bursts of color again, like anything can possibly be all right any more - and things are. things are perfect suddenly even as he buries his face in graves' hair and lets out a low sob, clutching so tightly to him that it's as though they are one person instead of two.
i love you.
one of his breaths chokes and he clutches at the back of graves' clothing before he straightens and takes a step back - but it's only to seek out graves' mouth to kiss him deeply, fervently, to pour everything overwhelming he feels into it.
i love you.
he presses their foreheads together and smiles and everything slots right back into place where it's meant to be. ]
I love you too. So much.
[ this is all he'd ever wanted. he kisses him again, backing graves up against the edge of the counter, lips curving up against his mouth. when he speaks again, it's soft - his cheeks are still wet from crying, but he looks happy. ]
[ there it is, there is what he's missed -- credence's relief and delight, the way he clings to him and kisses him; graves kisses back just as fiercely, desperate and eager. he's missed him, he's missed him so much he aches with the passion of it, and now they're slotting back together the way they've always done.
graves huffs a soft sound of amusement and allows himself to be backed against the counter, reveling in credence's desire, in the well of his emotions. this is what he's owed for so long, and graves finds himself saying it again, whispered against his mouth.
this is not defeat, this is the extension of trust -- of faith that is promised. credence has loved him despite everything, and graves is moved, and he's kissing his cheeks, tasting the salt of his happy tears, wiping them away with with a tenderness reserved only for him. ]
Yes, of course. Or we can spend the night here and you can show me around. Break in your new bed before we leave.
[ credence carving out his own independence is fascinating, and while this apartment is an unwelcome reminder of their separation, he's intrigued by what he's made for himself -- and possessive, too; he will claim credence in his own place, to remind him that they belong together. ]
[ he says it again. god, credence feels like he could die happy. maybe he will. but instead he smiles into the kiss, returning the affection just as fervently as he kisses him. it's so much all at once but it's all he wants. his hands lift to cup graves' face and he looks at him for a long moment before he just smiles. ] Just the bed?
[ ... well. after a moment credence shifts, moving away so that he can hop onto a clean spot on the counter. ] You know, I appreciate your cooking for me, but I'm a little hungry for something else.
[ as ridiculous as it sounds, he's canting his head aside and crooking a finger toward graves to lure him closer. ] What do you think?
[ graves is watching him hoist himself up onto the counter, warmed by how easily they fall back together with each other again, each finding the other's rhythms, and graves is reluctant to release him from his hold. his hands come to slide up his thighs, resting on his hips, and he feels the warmth of his lips lingering on his mouth.
he loves how credence has never looked happier, the shadow in his eyes finally, finally dispelled. stepping between his thighs, leaning up to kiss his chin, his bottom lip, graves' words are a low purr. ]
I've been starved of you, Credence. Am I what you're hungry for?
And I've missed you like ripping out my own heart and leaving it behind.
[ it's true - he's felt so hollow these weeks past like he's an empty shell and nothing more. perhaps he was, but now he needn't worry about that. he's as receptive and reactive as ever, an appreciative little rumble dying in his throat in response to the hands at his thighs, his hips.
credence tips down into those little kisses, kissing him softly and almost teasingly. he runs his fingers through graves' hair before tucking it back into place.
then he nods. ] You, always. Like a man starving, it's true.
[ then he grins, something that almost never, ever happen, and hooks a leg over one of graves' shoulders. ] Is that how much you've missed me? As though starving? Tell me about it.
graves is too distracted by that wicked little grin to catch most of what he's saying -- he hasn't seen it in a long time, hasn't felt like every word isn't loaded for so many, many months, when he'd deliberately ignored the weight of credence's most intimate desires.
those three little words have unlocked something in the both of them, lifted a weight that had pressed between the both of them almost to breaking point. he's leaning into his touch, accepting the way credence seems to love his hair, and he shakes his head as a hand comes to rest on his thigh, nuzzling against it. ]
Almost like starving. [ graves still has a long way to go where expressing himself in ways that don't involve anger / disappointment is concerned. he leans down to nose against his crotch, pushing credence's shirt up as he looks into smoky dark eyes. ] You belong with me, Credence. You've always known that. Your place is by my side.
[ perhaps he does have a long way to go, but the show of possession is enough for now. he feels so much lighter, brighter, pleased. all he wants is this, the man before him. what else could he possibly want? other than moments like these, of course.
he licks his lips in response to those little nuzzles, to graves being so close to where he wants him. he hums softly, sitting up and looking down at him. ] And you belong with me. Nowhere else. You need me as much as I need you, wanting you like you want me. [ he wants this so badly, wants to lift his hips--but he shakes his head, moving so that he can rest one pristine dress shoe against graves' shoulder and press down, so reminiscent of their first time together - though he'd been bare-footed that time. he looks thoughtful, contemplative. ] I have plans for you. Down.
[ graves remembers this, the way his foot presses against his shoulder -- his shoe, now; the silent command in that gesture. credence will not be denied, and there is everything exhilarating in how he demands obedience from him, and graves is more than willing to give it to him. why not, when his words hold so much promise?
graves moves down, mouthing against his crotch, warm and wanting. the most powerful man in america, his mouth pressed to his lover's cock, isn't that something?
his eyes are dark, feral and full of promise. how has he even thought that giving this up would be in any way an acceptable option? how could he have let credence slip from his grasp for so long? credence's words curl around him, tighten around his chest like a welcome leash, and graves claiming him as his own in turn.
this is how they love each other, like wolves, like lions, and graves unzips his young lover smoothly, meeting his eyes. ] Tell me your plans. Tell me what you want me to do to you.
[ credence sucks in a breath and then lets it out slowly - it's a lot, to feel him so close after so long. this time when his fingers trail through graves' hair they grip slightly, tug, instead of fixing it again afterward. he licks his lips and smiles, dark eyes raking down his body appreciatively. he doesn't say anything for a few moments, just watching him. when he speaks his voice is low and a little rough. ] It's been too long since I've felt your mouth on me.
[ he cants his head and smiles, bright-- ] But I don't want to come until you're fucking me and we get a noise complaint from the neighbors.
[ how... oddly specific. still: a young man wants what he wants. he looks coy and sly all at once, lids low over his eyes. ] Up to the challenge of making me scream?
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I--I didn't know you were there. I'm sorry, he tries it every so often but I always say no. [ he's flushed slightly, though he's tentatively moving around the kitchen island so that he can be closer to him, studying his face up close for the first time in ages.
finally, he speaks again. ] But you know that now, don't you? That I tell him no. If you heard what I said, I mean. [ he wants his trust, his faithfulness, to mean something. he's pushing slightly to see what graves will pull out of it, what he will say.
he's close, maybe too close, but he can't help it. he's always been like a flower toward the sun with graves.
(something in his eyes begs please.) ]
I tell him no because there's no one else I want but you.
no subject
he's close, so close to him now that graves can smell the cologne on him, the one he wears after a show, faint but there, and it means the world to him. he reaches out and tugs him close, wrapping his arms around his lover to hold him tight, to breathe him in as he presses his face into the crook of his shoulder.
there is only so much work he can drown himself in, there is so long he can fool himself. ] I know. I know. I heard all of it. [ something in credence tugs at him, how he pleads, asks graves for what he should have given him so long ago. guilt curls in his chest, as does the relief after a terrible fear that he will lose him after all -- and he murmurs, muffled into his neck the one thing credence has sought all along. ]
I love you.
no subject
i love you.
one of his breaths chokes and he clutches at the back of graves' clothing before he straightens and takes a step back - but it's only to seek out graves' mouth to kiss him deeply, fervently, to pour everything overwhelming he feels into it.
i love you.
he presses their foreheads together and smiles and everything slots right back into place where it's meant to be. ]
I love you too. So much.
[ this is all he'd ever wanted. he kisses him again, backing graves up against the edge of the counter, lips curving up against his mouth. when he speaks again, it's soft - his cheeks are still wet from crying, but he looks happy. ]
Can we go home tonight? Please?
[ home. together. ]
no subject
graves huffs a soft sound of amusement and allows himself to be backed against the counter, reveling in credence's desire, in the well of his emotions. this is what he's owed for so long, and graves finds himself saying it again, whispered against his mouth.
this is not defeat, this is the extension of trust -- of faith that is promised. credence has loved him despite everything, and graves is moved, and he's kissing his cheeks, tasting the salt of his happy tears, wiping them away with with a tenderness reserved only for him. ]
Yes, of course. Or we can spend the night here and you can show me around. Break in your new bed before we leave.
[ credence carving out his own independence is fascinating, and while this apartment is an unwelcome reminder of their separation, he's intrigued by what he's made for himself -- and possessive, too; he will claim credence in his own place, to remind him that they belong together. ]
no subject
[ ... well. after a moment credence shifts, moving away so that he can hop onto a clean spot on the counter. ] You know, I appreciate your cooking for me, but I'm a little hungry for something else.
[ as ridiculous as it sounds, he's canting his head aside and crooking a finger toward graves to lure him closer. ] What do you think?
no subject
[ graves is watching him hoist himself up onto the counter, warmed by how easily they fall back together with each other again, each finding the other's rhythms, and graves is reluctant to release him from his hold. his hands come to slide up his thighs, resting on his hips, and he feels the warmth of his lips lingering on his mouth.
he loves how credence has never looked happier, the shadow in his eyes finally, finally dispelled. stepping between his thighs, leaning up to kiss his chin, his bottom lip, graves' words are a low purr. ]
I've been starved of you, Credence. Am I what you're hungry for?
no subject
[ it's true - he's felt so hollow these weeks past like he's an empty shell and nothing more. perhaps he was, but now he needn't worry about that. he's as receptive and reactive as ever, an appreciative little rumble dying in his throat in response to the hands at his thighs, his hips.
credence tips down into those little kisses, kissing him softly and almost teasingly. he runs his fingers through graves' hair before tucking it back into place.
then he nods. ] You, always. Like a man starving, it's true.
[ then he grins, something that almost never, ever happen, and hooks a leg over one of graves' shoulders. ] Is that how much you've missed me? As though starving? Tell me about it.
no subject
graves is too distracted by that wicked little grin to catch most of what he's saying -- he hasn't seen it in a long time, hasn't felt like every word isn't loaded for so many, many months, when he'd deliberately ignored the weight of credence's most intimate desires.
those three little words have unlocked something in the both of them, lifted a weight that had pressed between the both of them almost to breaking point. he's leaning into his touch, accepting the way credence seems to love his hair, and he shakes his head as a hand comes to rest on his thigh, nuzzling against it. ]
Almost like starving. [ graves still has a long way to go where expressing himself in ways that don't involve anger / disappointment is concerned. he leans down to nose against his crotch, pushing credence's shirt up as he looks into smoky dark eyes. ] You belong with me, Credence. You've always known that. Your place is by my side.
no subject
he licks his lips in response to those little nuzzles, to graves being so close to where he wants him. he hums softly, sitting up and looking down at him. ] And you belong with me. Nowhere else. You need me as much as I need you, wanting you like you want me. [ he wants this so badly, wants to lift his hips--but he shakes his head, moving so that he can rest one pristine dress shoe against graves' shoulder and press down, so reminiscent of their first time together - though he'd been bare-footed that time. he looks thoughtful, contemplative. ] I have plans for you. Down.
[ it's not a request. ]
no subject
graves moves down, mouthing against his crotch, warm and wanting. the most powerful man in america, his mouth pressed to his lover's cock, isn't that something?
his eyes are dark, feral and full of promise. how has he even thought that giving this up would be in any way an acceptable option? how could he have let credence slip from his grasp for so long? credence's words curl around him, tighten around his chest like a welcome leash, and graves claiming him as his own in turn.
this is how they love each other, like wolves, like lions, and graves unzips his young lover smoothly, meeting his eyes. ] Tell me your plans. Tell me what you want me to do to you.
no subject
[ he cants his head and smiles, bright-- ] But I don't want to come until you're fucking me and we get a noise complaint from the neighbors.
[ how... oddly specific. still: a young man wants what he wants. he looks coy and sly all at once, lids low over his eyes. ] Up to the challenge of making me scream?