[ 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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[ 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?