[ the son of the family's head doesn't want to carry on the business. he has dreams, aspirations, and none of them involve crime. his father hopes he'll change his mind, though. credence will do what he's told either way - such is his lot in life - but that doesn't mean he's going to enjoy it. much like he doesn't enjoy having to have a bodyguard whenever he leaves his own home. he bucks against it every time, but it doesn't get him anywhere. mostly it just makes him take longer to get where he's going, bodyguard still in tow.
at least percival is attractive, he thinks - he's insisted on first-name familiarity from the start, stubborn and spoiled, but it goes both ways whereas most people wouldn't dare. he likes percival - of course he does - but the fact remains that he just wants to live his life like someone normal. normal in the face of being the tall, lanky son of a crime magnate. he does what he's supposed to; suits at events, a charming look, never besmirching the family name. it's so tiring and he would, at most points, love for it to end.
today he wants to go out. that's all he'd said. out. in reality he wants to go to a museum like everyone else, to not have his father buy out the entire building and post guards. he just wants to be a regular young man that doesn't have to worry about the day that an entire crime syndicate will answer to him. the mere thought of it is daunting and makes him feel nauseated.
anyway, about going out: the answer of course had been no unless he took percival with him, which had just put him in a sour mood and he'd stalked back to his room, sinking into a chair by the window and practically sulking. ] I'd be fine, you know. [ it's soft but pointed: he knows percival will be right there as always. ] Don't you get tired of being forced to follow some dumb asshole around? [ a beat. ] Be honest.
[ graves does this for a living. it's what he does best, and he's very handsomely rewarded for it. he kills for this family because he owes them a life debt -- and the head of the family is an impressive man, shrewd and cunning but with a moral code that graves comes to admire. he doesn't ask for much, not really; only for the leeway to do his job. after all, he's a specialist, and he's the only one credence's father has in mind to protect his son.
they meet in an official capacity one day; graves has watched him grow up, caught glimpses of him every few months or so when he's off to do his father's dirty work, and on occasion to negotiate on his behalf with otherwise hostile business partners -- but this here, this is an explicit show of trust. the scion of a powerful family, his life in his hands.
credence insists on a first name basis, something which secretly amuses graves but he capitulates all the same, and the longer he's his bodyguard, the more he's come to care for him beyond the confines of the job. here's a young man who has no interest in the family business, a lonely soul yearning to spread his wings and fly beyond the confines of expectations.
he's still young -- seventeen? -- and burning with the need to go beyond the vast reaches of his father's criminal empire. he stays with him, before tapping out a cigarette from a silver case and offering it to him. ]
That depends on which dumb asshole you're talking about.
[ for a long time, credence just turns a little to look at him. he's never actually liked any of his bodyguards before, and none of them had lasted long - not from being killed, but from either proving themselves untrustworthy or being too annoyed by the headstrong heir that they snap. but percival stays on, stoic as ever. percival offers him a cigarette. his father would be furious.
which means he smiles and takes it, nodding his thanks. ] Father would be angry knowing you encouraged my bad habits. [ there's something sharp there but it's not threatening - it's more as though they're conspiring, which is a big step. ] I won't tell. [ he'll need a light of course, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. it makes him look a little older, perhaps thankfully so. ] Mm, I mean any of them. [ he reaches out, tugging at the older man's sleeve playfully. ] How about me? Am I tiring? I won't get mad. Most of my bodyguards have left because I pissed them off.
[ he pauses thoughtfully, dropping his hand like he's just realized he shouldn't be quite so familiar. ] It'd not you, anyway. I know you're just doing your job but I wish I could just... have a day on my own.
[ credence is definitely headstrong, insistent on having his own way all the damn time -- but that's actually what graves comes to like about him. the young man has a brain, a keen sense of self that goes beyond the confines of this family. he's smart, driven, and self-possessed the way most brats aren't, too caught up in the family name to make something of themselves.
but credence, credence is different. the young man smiles at him, those lovely features softening, and graves is acutely aware of how he feels for him, even though he keeps it locked away securely. he gets to see more of credence than even his father does -- the chinks in the armor, the vulnerability and the frustration beyond the icy, withdrawn front that he puts up.
he flicks his lighter, lighting the cigarette up for him with a faint smile of his own. ] Your bad habits flourish on their own without need for my encouragement. [ he responds easily, before credence asks that question, soft and hopeful despite the cigarette dangling from full, lush lips, and graves again stifles the desire to kiss him. ]
That's because they can't control you, and they hate that. [ he says after a moment, raising his eyes to meet his gaze. a part of him misses when credence feels more at ease with him -- more familiar. instead of immediately declining, however, he pauses a moment before he asks. ]
[ credence is still smiling when graves lights the cigarette, holding it between two fingers and pursing his lips to take a drag that will keep it lit. he's looking at graves through his lashes and whether it's on purpose or not isn't clear. but he smokes it lazily, exhaling toward the ceiling slow and deliberate like it's an idle seduction. maybe it is - credence is oddly precocious, always has been, and getting a crush on the man tasked with protecting him isn't particularly far-fetched.
anyway.
graves is the only person he ever does feel comfortable with; he's less tense, less terrible, less angry at the world for forcing him into a mold that he hates and doesn't fit into. graves lets him be himself. ] Why should they control me? I'm a person, not a plaything or some puppy to break with obedience classes.
[ it's said with a frown before he swivels a little, resting on his knees with his elbows crossed at the back of it, backwards as he looks at the older man. ] Am I? Some unruly pup to break? [ he sounds unsure of himself suddenly, taking another drag like he's nervous. he is - he doesn't want graves to think that of him, and the desire to know differently wears on him.
then, at graves' interest in where he'd go, there's a shyness that flutters up in him unbidden. ] The metropolitan. Maybe MoMA. Maybe both. If father knew, he'd...want to buy out the whole place, make me go alone except for guards. I just want to be normal for once. It's definitely not that you'd be with me. I like spending time with you. It's everything else that goes with it.
[ it's so rare to see credence so shy, graves supposes. the young man is usually bold, self-assured and at times imperious, much to graves' secret amusement, but it does seem like there is so much more to him that meets the eye, doesn't it? credence is by far one of the more compelling people that has ever come under his care; he draws the eye, captures graves' attentions in ways he knows is dangerous, and his eyes linger on the purse of his lovely, full mouth, the smoke that curls around them, rich and tenuous.
credence looks so much younger now, fair and pale, and he contemplates him for a few brief moments. perhaps he can break some rules; perhaps he can show him what the real world is like -- after all, he is bound to step out of his father's shadow, and this is no reason to keep him hidden.
nobody will find out, he'll make sure of it. ] You're not for anyone to break. [ he says gently, firmly, fixing him with a steady gaze, unwavering in its intensity. ] You're your own man, and I pity the people who make the mistake of underestimating you.
[ because underneath that youthful mask is a man who cannot be discounted, a keen, sharp mind that is capable of so much. he gestures to the door, after. ] Shall we, then? We'll just have to make sure he'll never know.
Thank you. [ for the reassurance. credence studies graves for a moment, trying to decide whether the offer is genuine and then he smiles, taking a slow drag as he gets up from the chair to look up at him. he still has a growth spurt in him, lurking until it can place him taller than graves. for now the older man is still several inches taller.
he hadn't missed the way graves had watched him with the smoke and he uses it to bolster his confidence as his hand grasps at the back of his neck gently and pulls him down for a kiss, slow and sensual. it's oddly practiced for someone like him - when did he learn? anyway, he's urging the smoke into graves' mouth instead before relenting and taking a step back.
he's grinning as he takes yet another drag and exhales toward the ceiling. ] I think we can rack up a few things he doesn't need to know about.
[ he's not even eighteen, graves thinks to himself when he watches credence slink over to him, lovely and sensuous and completely aware of what he's doing. the young man is stunning when he's on a mission, and graves can't help but be fixated on him -- no matter how wrong it is.
he's good at this, and graves wonders just how many people he's kissed to be this gifted, tasting of smoke and impossible sweetness, a potent, intoxicating mix as he breathes him in and exhales smoke, stinging and all-encapsulating at the same time. graves is seduced, just so, and he finds himself aching when credence steps back out of his reach, with only the lingering warmth of the kiss on his lips and the pleasant burn in his mouth.
he wants more. credence tastes better than he'd imagined him to in his most secret fantasies, and it seems like the young man can see right through him, down to every single filthy, unspeakable thing graves has once thought of doing to the teenager.
he resists the urge to lick his lips. ] What was that for?
[ credence isn't blind to the way graves seems to look at him when no one is around to see. he likes it, first off, and he likes graves too, and it presents itself as a challenge - to ensnare a man he'd thought he couldn't have, to see how far he could bring him in toward the taboo. the son of his boss, just a few months shy of his eighteenth birthday. he's wondered if he could manage it in that time but it's clear he'll be able to with enough effort put in.
he smiles, soft and coy, looking at him through his lashes. credence does lick his lips, pointedly, seeking the taste of him, not sated in the least. ] I wanted an answer. I have it, now.
Come here. [ he takes one last drag before stubbing out the cigarette on the bottom of his shoe and dropping the butt into a nearby ashtray that's ostensibly for the guard staff but is mostly used by credence himself.
more importantly in the next second he's pressed close against him, arms around his neck as he turns his head away to blow the smoke away - perhaps a disappointment after that last kiss, but all the same: ] What do you want it to be for, Percival? [ there's something promising but dangerous there as he kisses him again, lingering there against his mouth and still tasting of sweetness and sharp smoke. when he pulls back, he's the cat that caught the canary. ] For what reason would you like me to kiss you?
[ graves's words are honest, but not sharp -- he's standing so closely to him now, so acutely aware of his body heat as he finally gives in to the powerful temptation to hold him close, an arm coming to wrap around that slender waist because oh, he's wanted to do this for so long.
the kiss ends too quickly, tasting like smoke and something else so unmistakably credence that he cannot help but move to capture his mouth again. the son of his boss, just a few months' shy of his eighteenth birthday, is locked in graves' arms in his own room and with no one the wiser. credence asks him questions graves cannot answer, not if he wants to keep his job and all his limbs. ]
I can't answer that.
[ he mustn't. still, his lips haunt him, the softness of his mouth and the passion in his kiss, and he seeks him out again instead of answering, pushing him up against the immense window before taking another kiss for himself, more heated and passionate, aching to kiss the smugness off that exquisitely, boyishly handsome face.
this is what he wants. this is what he can never have; credence's heart, his desire, his full, unwavering attention. he knows how he yearns to spend hours with him like this, to know every inch of him intimately, to feel that nubile young body open up under him like a flower to the sun.
he pours all of that into the deep, sensuous, unyielding kiss, his tongue slipping into credence's mouth, sliding against his again, again and again, as if he cannot have enough. ]
[ he aims for imperious but when graves' arm comes to wrap around him he trembles slightly, overtaken by the moment as he leans toward the older man, pressing into the kiss until it ends and when he exhales it's shaking. it's everything he's wanted - and when graves kisses him again something in him sings. ]
You can. You won't.
[ it's not sharp either, somehow. he can feel the cool glass at his back even through his clothing and he practically whines into the kiss, pressing into it and deepening it, teeth catching his lower lip and tongue brushing against tongue insistently. he wants this always, wants more than this, wants everything.
he only breaks the kiss when he needs to breathe, hands still on him though they've shifted so that he can rub his thumbs over graves' lapels. ] Please. [ it's soft and vulnerable and needy and he looks up at graves again, searching and wanting. ] I've wanted you for so long. Please.
[ for so long? how long has credence nursed these desires? they've worked together quite a while now, how old was credence when this began? ]
[ graves is surprised, forgetting to answer to what credence wants, what he wants the young man to kiss him for. he doesn't move away from him, his gaze tracking over where his hands trail down is lapels, drawn to every small movement, every touch.
he's vulnerable, needy and soft, and graves cups his face to kiss him again, harder this time. he's addicted to the taste of him, he finds -- the kisses expose him for what he wants, and it's credence. young, pliable, passionate; he feels like a filthy old man, but he doesn't give a shit. ]
[ by the time graves kisses him again, credence has wound his arms around the older man's neck and he's standing on tiptoe to receive the affection, pressing up against his mouth insistently and carrying on with the kiss so that he doesn't have to answer for a moment.
but he knows he does, eventually. even so he buries his face in graves' shoulder briefly with a shake of his head before he finally speaks. ]
Almost since you started. Definitely since you treated me like a person instead of some annoying pet that needs looking after.
[ he's a little tense - that was some time ago. credence was... sixteen? then. no, not even. three weeks shy of sixteen the day graves became his companion and guard.
fifteen. no wonder he's a little embarrassed. it had just been a tiny puppy crush then of course, but it's blossomed into something more. ] Sorry.
[ graves has more to be sorry about, when he cups his face and draws him forward, pulling him in to kiss him. ] I wanted you since the moment I saw you.
[ fifteen, young and lush and so impossibly beautiful that graves had steadily pushed that urge away, again and again, forcing it down and pretending it didn't exist. his kiss is harder now, more demanding, and he relishes the way credence pushes his body up against his, lean and lithe and so impossibly tempting that he has to take a breath when he breaks the kiss, eyes so dark with unfettered longing.
but he can't. he can't. credence's embarrassment is endearing, attractive, but he's the older of them both here, and even when the kiss is still warm on his lips, graves knows he has to be the one to have this under control. perhaps it's only a crush credence will grow out of. ] You haunt my thoughts when I'm not with you.
[ rather than think graves needs to apologize, the knowledge feeling warm in his chest. he knows it was just want and not an emotion but it's still nice to know, something that makes him smile as he curls and uncurls his toes in his shoes, letting out a little hum.
all shyness gone, credence kisses graves back hungrily, one hand coming to rest at his nape and dragging nails gently across, aiming to make him react in some way.
but then graves pulls back and speaks and something tightens in him, hot and cold at once as it grips his heart. he wants that, wants graves to crave him always, and he leans up to press their foreheads together, almost sly but not quite. ] Do you like it? Thinking of me always? [ he licks his lips - this is a dangerous game they're playing. ] How do I haunt you?
[ this is a very dangerous game they're playing all right -- credence asks something graves should not answer, his coy words the very nature of a young man who's discovered that he is desired, needed, and graves knows he cannot give him that. he craves him, is addicted to his kisses, and something in his eyes darkens as he grasps him by the back of his neck, keeping him close. he's hissing softly when he feels credence cradling the nape of his neck, when he plays with him, every sensation greedily swallowed up because he doesn't know when this will stop. ]
You don't need to know that, Credence. [ he brushes his mouth over his lightly. he doesn't need to know how he's the star of his filthiest dreams, his most impossible desires. ] You don't need to know how much I want you. How I'd kill to have your mouth on me. Or imagine what you'd look like spread wide on my bed, ripe for the taking.
[ credence shakes his head there against him, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye still. ] I do, though.
[ he noses a kiss to graves' jaw, to the corner of his mouth. ] I need to know everything.
[ there's a moment where he returns that gentle kiss but also tries to tease it into more - breathing out against his mouth and nipping at his lower lip, still as needy as ever. ] Don't stop kissing me.
[ credence rarely gives orders, but this certainly seems to be one. ] And tell me how you'd kill to have my mouth on you. How you imagine me naked and splayed, looking up at you while I wait for you to fill me--
[ suddenly he just smiles. ] I could show you, if you wanted. What that looks like.
[ graves' breath catches in his throat when credence offers those words to him, and when he orders him not to stop. the young man isn't afraid of what graves can do to him -- he doesn't have to be; despite the fact that graves can easily kill him, credence has him in his thrall, fascinated and drawn to him despite himself.
he gives him more, kissing him back, once and again, tongue pressing lightly against his own. ]
You don't know what you're saying. [ graves breathes, rough and harsher than he intends, because he's thinking about it, so hard in his pants but he's thinking of it, his lovely charge entirely naked, milk-white, smooth skin as he spreads his limbs, his cock hard and jutting proudly between his legs, and right there, spread before him, is a body ready to be fucked, to be ravished.
he swallows, his eyes dark and burning with unspoken desire. oh, how he wants to fuck him. ] You've never had a man before.
[ credence melts into each kiss easily, granting him a soft and sweet moan against his mouth. there's something powerful in knowing that he can have this kind of effect on graves and he urges close against him. he can feel just how hard he is and aches to take him in hand, to feel the weight of his cock in his hand.
instead he'll content himself with this, the roughness in graves' voice making him shiver. ] Is it a problem? To have never been with a man before you?
[ an easy confirmation to make. he leans to nip at his lower lip with a hum, looking as pleased as anything. ] Or are you going ot tell me to go practice on someone my age first?
[ he says sharply, a little too quickly than he likes. the idea of credence doing this with someone else makes something dark twist in his chest, a kind of anger that he recognises. it's possessiveness, fierce and unyielding. credence is his, and the thought of anyone touching him, kissing him like he has makes him want to punch things.
preferably the perpetrator in question. but graves composes himself, and he brushes credence's hair back from his face, kissing him again, lips trailing over his jaw. ] None of them will know what they're doing. You deserve better.
[ the show of possessiveness makes credence smile but he doesn't comment on it - instead he kisses him back, then stretches out his neck a bit to encourage graves' lips to move ever-lower with a soft whine. keep going, it goads, trying to see just how far-- ]
And it's all right if I don't know what I'm doing with you? By your logic, you deserve better if I don't have that kind of experience.
[ he doesn't seem put out by it - his fingers are trailing up and down his back and he smiles, raising his eyebrows even if graves can't see it. ] Unless those rules are different?
[ graves confirms, because credence is being a little shit and as much as graves likes it, he enjoys getting to shut him up as well. and that he does when he sucks a little lovebite at his collarbone, marking pristine fair skin for himself because he can.
he undoes one button, two, testing and exploring, guilt and pleasure coiling in his chest -- it's dangerous and wrong, but the pull is so very potent. ] Do you want me to be your first, Credence? The first man to kiss you, to touch you, to whisper things in your ear you wish you could do.
[ the fact that graves is willing to leave any evidence behind at all is almost more thrilling than the action itself. credence shivers and breathes out a little moan despite himself, one hand coming to rest at the back of the older man's head, nails scraping just so.
he wants more, more - exhaling shakily is just evidence of how much he wants it as his fingers tighten in his hair. otherwise he stays still for the way graves is toying with undoing his buttons, licking his lips. ] You're not my first kiss-- [ more acting like a little shit, but: ] You're definitely the first one that matters, the first good one. [ a pleasant hum, one hand trailing fingers down his shoulder briefly. ] I want everything you're willing to give me. Everything you'll let me drag right out of you.
[ this is evidence that cannot be tied back to him -- even in this state graves knows how much credence wants him, how he will keep this a secret; after all, if he breathes a word of it, they can never see each other again. and credence, his sweet, yearning boy; will never allow that, will he?
he has to smile at those promises and the provocation -- oh, he knows better than to rise to it, but he knows he has to stop. they have to stop, or graves will push it too far and do something they'll both possibly regret. ]
[ it's as true as anything can be. credence will keep graves at his side until one of them dies, it's that simple. he wants him, needs him, isn't going to let anyone snatch him away because of some stupid mistake. he's a teenager, besides: who's going to ask a seventeen year old who gave him love bites? more likely he'll just get grounded on principle.
(to think, percival is courting someone that can still be grounded.)
credence's eyes on graves are dark and wanting. he's not thinking about potential regrets. he's thinking of how to get more. ] I just said you were the first good one, didn't I? Unless you'd like me to test it more.
[ both arms around his neck, pressing their foreheads together, ghosting his lips across the older man's: all meant to reel him in just a little more. ]
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→ i know we're right
at least percival is attractive, he thinks - he's insisted on first-name familiarity from the start, stubborn and spoiled, but it goes both ways whereas most people wouldn't dare. he likes percival - of course he does - but the fact remains that he just wants to live his life like someone normal. normal in the face of being the tall, lanky son of a crime magnate. he does what he's supposed to; suits at events, a charming look, never besmirching the family name. it's so tiring and he would, at most points, love for it to end.
today he wants to go out. that's all he'd said. out. in reality he wants to go to a museum like everyone else, to not have his father buy out the entire building and post guards. he just wants to be a regular young man that doesn't have to worry about the day that an entire crime syndicate will answer to him. the mere thought of it is daunting and makes him feel nauseated.
anyway, about going out: the answer of course had been no unless he took percival with him, which had just put him in a sour mood and he'd stalked back to his room, sinking into a chair by the window and practically sulking. ] I'd be fine, you know. [ it's soft but pointed: he knows percival will be right there as always. ] Don't you get tired of being forced to follow some dumb asshole around? [ a beat. ] Be honest.
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they meet in an official capacity one day; graves has watched him grow up, caught glimpses of him every few months or so when he's off to do his father's dirty work, and on occasion to negotiate on his behalf with otherwise hostile business partners -- but this here, this is an explicit show of trust. the scion of a powerful family, his life in his hands.
credence insists on a first name basis, something which secretly amuses graves but he capitulates all the same, and the longer he's his bodyguard, the more he's come to care for him beyond the confines of the job. here's a young man who has no interest in the family business, a lonely soul yearning to spread his wings and fly beyond the confines of expectations.
he's still young -- seventeen? -- and burning with the need to go beyond the vast reaches of his father's criminal empire. he stays with him, before tapping out a cigarette from a silver case and offering it to him. ]
That depends on which dumb asshole you're talking about.
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which means he smiles and takes it, nodding his thanks. ] Father would be angry knowing you encouraged my bad habits. [ there's something sharp there but it's not threatening - it's more as though they're conspiring, which is a big step. ] I won't tell. [ he'll need a light of course, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. it makes him look a little older, perhaps thankfully so. ] Mm, I mean any of them. [ he reaches out, tugging at the older man's sleeve playfully. ] How about me? Am I tiring? I won't get mad. Most of my bodyguards have left because I pissed them off.
[ he pauses thoughtfully, dropping his hand like he's just realized he shouldn't be quite so familiar. ] It'd not you, anyway. I know you're just doing your job but I wish I could just... have a day on my own.
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but credence, credence is different. the young man smiles at him, those lovely features softening, and graves is acutely aware of how he feels for him, even though he keeps it locked away securely. he gets to see more of credence than even his father does -- the chinks in the armor, the vulnerability and the frustration beyond the icy, withdrawn front that he puts up.
he flicks his lighter, lighting the cigarette up for him with a faint smile of his own. ] Your bad habits flourish on their own without need for my encouragement. [ he responds easily, before credence asks that question, soft and hopeful despite the cigarette dangling from full, lush lips, and graves again stifles the desire to kiss him. ]
That's because they can't control you, and they hate that. [ he says after a moment, raising his eyes to meet his gaze. a part of him misses when credence feels more at ease with him -- more familiar. instead of immediately declining, however, he pauses a moment before he asks. ]
Where would you go?
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anyway.
graves is the only person he ever does feel comfortable with; he's less tense, less terrible, less angry at the world for forcing him into a mold that he hates and doesn't fit into. graves lets him be himself. ] Why should they control me? I'm a person, not a plaything or some puppy to break with obedience classes.
[ it's said with a frown before he swivels a little, resting on his knees with his elbows crossed at the back of it, backwards as he looks at the older man. ] Am I? Some unruly pup to break? [ he sounds unsure of himself suddenly, taking another drag like he's nervous. he is - he doesn't want graves to think that of him, and the desire to know differently wears on him.
then, at graves' interest in where he'd go, there's a shyness that flutters up in him unbidden. ] The metropolitan. Maybe MoMA. Maybe both. If father knew, he'd...want to buy out the whole place, make me go alone except for guards. I just want to be normal for once. It's definitely not that you'd be with me. I like spending time with you. It's everything else that goes with it.
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credence looks so much younger now, fair and pale, and he contemplates him for a few brief moments. perhaps he can break some rules; perhaps he can show him what the real world is like -- after all, he is bound to step out of his father's shadow, and this is no reason to keep him hidden.
nobody will find out, he'll make sure of it. ] You're not for anyone to break. [ he says gently, firmly, fixing him with a steady gaze, unwavering in its intensity. ] You're your own man, and I pity the people who make the mistake of underestimating you.
[ because underneath that youthful mask is a man who cannot be discounted, a keen, sharp mind that is capable of so much. he gestures to the door, after. ] Shall we, then? We'll just have to make sure he'll never know.
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he hadn't missed the way graves had watched him with the smoke and he uses it to bolster his confidence as his hand grasps at the back of his neck gently and pulls him down for a kiss, slow and sensual. it's oddly practiced for someone like him - when did he learn? anyway, he's urging the smoke into graves' mouth instead before relenting and taking a step back.
he's grinning as he takes yet another drag and exhales toward the ceiling. ] I think we can rack up a few things he doesn't need to know about.
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he's good at this, and graves wonders just how many people he's kissed to be this gifted, tasting of smoke and impossible sweetness, a potent, intoxicating mix as he breathes him in and exhales smoke, stinging and all-encapsulating at the same time. graves is seduced, just so, and he finds himself aching when credence steps back out of his reach, with only the lingering warmth of the kiss on his lips and the pleasant burn in his mouth.
he wants more. credence tastes better than he'd imagined him to in his most secret fantasies, and it seems like the young man can see right through him, down to every single filthy, unspeakable thing graves has once thought of doing to the teenager.
he resists the urge to lick his lips. ] What was that for?
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he smiles, soft and coy, looking at him through his lashes. credence does lick his lips, pointedly, seeking the taste of him, not sated in the least. ] I wanted an answer. I have it, now.
Come here. [ he takes one last drag before stubbing out the cigarette on the bottom of his shoe and dropping the butt into a nearby ashtray that's ostensibly for the guard staff but is mostly used by credence himself.
more importantly in the next second he's pressed close against him, arms around his neck as he turns his head away to blow the smoke away - perhaps a disappointment after that last kiss, but all the same: ] What do you want it to be for, Percival? [ there's something promising but dangerous there as he kisses him again, lingering there against his mouth and still tasting of sweetness and sharp smoke. when he pulls back, he's the cat that caught the canary. ] For what reason would you like me to kiss you?
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[ graves's words are honest, but not sharp -- he's standing so closely to him now, so acutely aware of his body heat as he finally gives in to the powerful temptation to hold him close, an arm coming to wrap around that slender waist because oh, he's wanted to do this for so long.
the kiss ends too quickly, tasting like smoke and something else so unmistakably credence that he cannot help but move to capture his mouth again. the son of his boss, just a few months' shy of his eighteenth birthday, is locked in graves' arms in his own room and with no one the wiser. credence asks him questions graves cannot answer, not if he wants to keep his job and all his limbs. ]
I can't answer that.
[ he mustn't. still, his lips haunt him, the softness of his mouth and the passion in his kiss, and he seeks him out again instead of answering, pushing him up against the immense window before taking another kiss for himself, more heated and passionate, aching to kiss the smugness off that exquisitely, boyishly handsome face.
this is what he wants. this is what he can never have; credence's heart, his desire, his full, unwavering attention. he knows how he yearns to spend hours with him like this, to know every inch of him intimately, to feel that nubile young body open up under him like a flower to the sun.
he pours all of that into the deep, sensuous, unyielding kiss, his tongue slipping into credence's mouth, sliding against his again, again and again, as if he cannot have enough. ]
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[ he aims for imperious but when graves' arm comes to wrap around him he trembles slightly, overtaken by the moment as he leans toward the older man, pressing into the kiss until it ends and when he exhales it's shaking. it's everything he's wanted - and when graves kisses him again something in him sings. ]
You can. You won't.
[ it's not sharp either, somehow. he can feel the cool glass at his back even through his clothing and he practically whines into the kiss, pressing into it and deepening it, teeth catching his lower lip and tongue brushing against tongue insistently. he wants this always, wants more than this, wants everything.
he only breaks the kiss when he needs to breathe, hands still on him though they've shifted so that he can rub his thumbs over graves' lapels. ] Please. [ it's soft and vulnerable and needy and he looks up at graves again, searching and wanting. ] I've wanted you for so long. Please.
[ for so long? how long has credence nursed these desires? they've worked together quite a while now, how old was credence when this began? ]
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[ graves is surprised, forgetting to answer to what credence wants, what he wants the young man to kiss him for. he doesn't move away from him, his gaze tracking over where his hands trail down is lapels, drawn to every small movement, every touch.
he's vulnerable, needy and soft, and graves cups his face to kiss him again, harder this time. he's addicted to the taste of him, he finds -- the kisses expose him for what he wants, and it's credence. young, pliable, passionate; he feels like a filthy old man, but he doesn't give a shit. ]
Tell me when you wanted me.
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but he knows he does, eventually. even so he buries his face in graves' shoulder briefly with a shake of his head before he finally speaks. ]
Almost since you started. Definitely since you treated me like a person instead of some annoying pet that needs looking after.
[ he's a little tense - that was some time ago. credence was... sixteen? then. no, not even. three weeks shy of sixteen the day graves became his companion and guard.
fifteen. no wonder he's a little embarrassed. it had just been a tiny puppy crush then of course, but it's blossomed into something more. ] Sorry.
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[ graves has more to be sorry about, when he cups his face and draws him forward, pulling him in to kiss him. ] I wanted you since the moment I saw you.
[ fifteen, young and lush and so impossibly beautiful that graves had steadily pushed that urge away, again and again, forcing it down and pretending it didn't exist. his kiss is harder now, more demanding, and he relishes the way credence pushes his body up against his, lean and lithe and so impossibly tempting that he has to take a breath when he breaks the kiss, eyes so dark with unfettered longing.
but he can't. he can't. credence's embarrassment is endearing, attractive, but he's the older of them both here, and even when the kiss is still warm on his lips, graves knows he has to be the one to have this under control. perhaps it's only a crush credence will grow out of. ] You haunt my thoughts when I'm not with you.
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[ rather than think graves needs to apologize, the knowledge feeling warm in his chest. he knows it was just want and not an emotion but it's still nice to know, something that makes him smile as he curls and uncurls his toes in his shoes, letting out a little hum.
all shyness gone, credence kisses graves back hungrily, one hand coming to rest at his nape and dragging nails gently across, aiming to make him react in some way.
but then graves pulls back and speaks and something tightens in him, hot and cold at once as it grips his heart. he wants that, wants graves to crave him always, and he leans up to press their foreheads together, almost sly but not quite. ] Do you like it? Thinking of me always? [ he licks his lips - this is a dangerous game they're playing. ] How do I haunt you?
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You don't need to know that, Credence. [ he brushes his mouth over his lightly. he doesn't need to know how he's the star of his filthiest dreams, his most impossible desires. ] You don't need to know how much I want you. How I'd kill to have your mouth on me. Or imagine what you'd look like spread wide on my bed, ripe for the taking.
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[ he noses a kiss to graves' jaw, to the corner of his mouth. ] I need to know everything.
[ there's a moment where he returns that gentle kiss but also tries to tease it into more - breathing out against his mouth and nipping at his lower lip, still as needy as ever. ] Don't stop kissing me.
[ credence rarely gives orders, but this certainly seems to be one. ] And tell me how you'd kill to have my mouth on you. How you imagine me naked and splayed, looking up at you while I wait for you to fill me--
[ suddenly he just smiles. ] I could show you, if you wanted. What that looks like.
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he gives him more, kissing him back, once and again, tongue pressing lightly against his own. ]
You don't know what you're saying. [ graves breathes, rough and harsher than he intends, because he's thinking about it, so hard in his pants but he's thinking of it, his lovely charge entirely naked, milk-white, smooth skin as he spreads his limbs, his cock hard and jutting proudly between his legs, and right there, spread before him, is a body ready to be fucked, to be ravished.
he swallows, his eyes dark and burning with unspoken desire. oh, how he wants to fuck him. ] You've never had a man before.
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instead he'll content himself with this, the roughness in graves' voice making him shiver. ] Is it a problem? To have never been with a man before you?
[ an easy confirmation to make. he leans to nip at his lower lip with a hum, looking as pleased as anything. ] Or are you going ot tell me to go practice on someone my age first?
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[ he says sharply, a little too quickly than he likes. the idea of credence doing this with someone else makes something dark twist in his chest, a kind of anger that he recognises. it's possessiveness, fierce and unyielding. credence is his, and the thought of anyone touching him, kissing him like he has makes him want to punch things.
preferably the perpetrator in question. but graves composes himself, and he brushes credence's hair back from his face, kissing him again, lips trailing over his jaw. ] None of them will know what they're doing. You deserve better.
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[ the show of possessiveness makes credence smile but he doesn't comment on it - instead he kisses him back, then stretches out his neck a bit to encourage graves' lips to move ever-lower with a soft whine. keep going, it goads, trying to see just how far-- ]
And it's all right if I don't know what I'm doing with you? By your logic, you deserve better if I don't have that kind of experience.
[ he doesn't seem put out by it - his fingers are trailing up and down his back and he smiles, raising his eyebrows even if graves can't see it. ] Unless those rules are different?
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[ graves confirms, because credence is being a little shit and as much as graves likes it, he enjoys getting to shut him up as well. and that he does when he sucks a little lovebite at his collarbone, marking pristine fair skin for himself because he can.
he undoes one button, two, testing and exploring, guilt and pleasure coiling in his chest -- it's dangerous and wrong, but the pull is so very potent. ] Do you want me to be your first, Credence? The first man to kiss you, to touch you, to whisper things in your ear you wish you could do.
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he wants more, more - exhaling shakily is just evidence of how much he wants it as his fingers tighten in his hair. otherwise he stays still for the way graves is toying with undoing his buttons, licking his lips. ] You're not my first kiss-- [ more acting like a little shit, but: ] You're definitely the first one that matters, the first good one. [ a pleasant hum, one hand trailing fingers down his shoulder briefly. ] I want everything you're willing to give me. Everything you'll let me drag right out of you.
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he has to smile at those promises and the provocation -- oh, he knows better than to rise to it, but he knows he has to stop. they have to stop, or graves will push it too far and do something they'll both possibly regret. ]
They're not as good as I am, and you know it.
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(to think, percival is courting someone that can still be grounded.)
credence's eyes on graves are dark and wanting. he's not thinking about potential regrets. he's thinking of how to get more. ] I just said you were the first good one, didn't I? Unless you'd like me to test it more.
[ both arms around his neck, pressing their foreheads together, ghosting his lips across the older man's: all meant to reel him in just a little more. ]
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