graves stares at him for a few moments, captivated by his lean body, sleek and lithe and so very young -- he's seen glimpses of the scars on his hands, but there is none that he can see on his torso, and graves' mouth is dry when he pushes down his pants further, urging him to kick it off wholly. he wants him naked now, entirely naked in his bed like this, and he spares precious moments simply drinking him in, greedy and full of desire, burning with the need to touch him, to have him.
he pulls him into his arms and wraps his fingers around the boy's cock, his strokes slow and deliberate from root to head, getting acquainted with the shape and feel of him. oh, credence feels so good, and despite best intentions graves knows that there's no way credence is leaving his bed tonight untouched. ]
Spread your legs. [ he whispers softly, kissing his nose, his lips, his chin, thumbing along the underside of his cock. he's delicate with him, but firm, wanting, eager to have him explore, to show him what it can be like with the both of them, if only credence allows it. ] Touch me, Credence. Find out just how much I want you.
[ he feels exposed in a way that has nothing to do with nakedness when graves looks at him like that, with so much desire in his eyes. it almost stops his breath to see it, flush spreading over his skin--
--his breath does hitch when the older man begins to stroke him and he leans against his chest, face burrowed into his shoulder. he doesn't say anything, just soaks in the heady feeling of pleasure spreading through his entire body. he's lifted his head in time to greedily accept those gentle kisses, peering at him through thick lashes before he nods, licking his lips and shifting to spread his legs apart while in the same movement arching his hips into graves' hand with an unspoken please and a breathed out moan. ]
All right... [ he obeys the second request as well, one hand delicately slipping beneath any fabric in his way so that he might wrap his own long fingers around graves' cock. the feel and weight of him are different from his own and he takes a moment to get acquainted with the feeling, gently touching him all over, feeling his hardness. perhaps it will become apparent that credence has in the past touched himself as he's far less fumbling with this than he could be. it's different from doing it to himself but it's the same general idea and he begins to stroke graves' cock in a slow and nearly practiced way - this is the only thing he has experience with, honestly, and it's impressive he can remember to do it when he's so distracted by the hand on his own arousal. ]
Like this? [ he wants to do it right - it's barely breathed out, his hips rocking into graves' hand again insistently. ] It feels good.
[ he tells him quietly, breath hitching when he feels credence obey, those long, elegant fingers (calloused nicely from labor) pleasantly curling around where he's already painfully hard. he's long, thick and heavy in credence's hand, and he rocks into his touch the same way credence does, falling into a familiar rhythm with him. credence is stunning when he's aroused and breathless, beautifully willing when he spreads his legs and graves guides it around his waist, urging him on his side.
graves is in no hurry to escalate this -- no, he wants credence to savor every sensuous, wonderful moment of foreplay, he wants them to understand the intimacy of it as he seduces him all over again, showing him just how intoxicating it is to have another to share this with under the covers, and he pauses only a moment to tuck credence's hair behind his ear, drawing him into another slow, sweet kiss. ]
Yes. Yes, just like this. Let me -- [ credence is a blessedly quick study, and he draws them together, his hand closing around both their dicks as he rubs up against his, deliberate and sure, greedy for more of him. ] Look at me. You don't have to hide.
[ soft, murmured, breathless. he's fascinated by pulling a reaction out of the older man though and continues, insistently stroking over the length of him and teaching himself every difference from his own while tentatively trying things that he knows he personally likes - a gentle squeeze at the base of his cock, fingertips trailing feather-light along the underside.
if graves were only to grip at the back of credence's leg as he moves him he'll be able to feel the roughness of the scarred skin there, evidence of why he craves affection so very much. he's not thinking about it now though, leg tightening around graves' waist even as he returns this kiss, pressing into it with a soft noise against his mouth.
it's when graves urges their cocks against one another to grant them that friction that credence whimpers aloud, hips rolling of their own accord to match him. he obeys yet again, looking at graves, eyes dark and searching as he breathes softly through parted lips. one of his hands is gripping at graves' upper arm as though he needs the grounding. ] Please-- [ it's whispered and barely audible, but he doesn't hide his face this time. ] Wait, I don't let myself... [ he trails off with a little gasping moan, hips jerking again. he doesn't finish the thought but the meaning is clear: even when he touches himself he doesn't let himself come and the thought of it's making him a little anxious. it's not even that he's close yet; it's the eventuality. ]
[ he can feel it, the scar tissue under his fingers, the raised flesh like welts, rough where it should logically be smooth -- but he says nothing. he knows what it is, has suspected even through the closed door and his own isolation. he can sometimes hear snippets of it, the unmistakable sound of leather on flesh and the muted, quiet whimpers that travel to his ears anyway.
graves' heart clenches in his chest, in anger, in protectiveness; credence is quiet, graceful, smarter than his mother can ever give him credit for, with a kindness and hidden steel that anyone would prize in their son. his mother seems to hate him the most, out of all the children in the house, and up until now graves doesn't understand why.
perhaps the fact that credence is willingly naked in his bed, stroking his cock and squeezing it gently in the way that makes him stifle a quiet little moan is the reason why. credence craves affection and graves gives it to him generously, lavishes attention on him partly out of the instinct to survive, and partly because he wants to, because credence ignites a passion and a longing in him he'd feared had been long forgotten. and now, like this, he is all he can think about.
brows raised in surprise at that, he doesn't stop stroking him, kissing that beautifully lush mouth to swallow his little moans. he stills for only a moment, regarding him. ]
You don't spill your seed, Credence? Not even for this, when you're alone in your room? [ his thumb rubs little circles over the head of his cock, lazily shameless, pushing him further because oh, he'll be the first to see it, the first to truly draw it out of him. ]
[ it stands to reason that graves will feel the ones crossing his back as well before too long, but they're there for the same reason: mary lou trying to beat the devil's touch out of her son.
but he's embracing the devil's touch now, isn't he? this is not to say that graves is the devil - hardly - but that mary lou would see him as such, the tempter drawing her son into sin.
but it's as though he's made for it, arching against graves and silencing himself against his mouth and never stopping in touching him, fascinated and exploratory - his hipbones, his abdomen, his chest, back down to his cock. he seems to falter a moment before carefully slipping his hand lower to cradle the older man's balls, caressing them with one hand even as he presses harder into the way he's being kissed.
(it stands to reason that it would feel good as well, considering how sensitive they are.)
the question startles him into stillness though and he finally shakes his head, gaze skirting away briefly. it's clear he's a little embarrassed. ] No, I-- [ he lets out another little whimper at the way graves' thumb rubs over him but he doesn't protest, both hands grasping at his arms now instead. ] If she ever found out somehow that I touched myself like this-- [ so he's afraid of somehow leaving evidence behind, of being caught out. that seems to have flown to the wind though and he doesn't say much more, head dropping back with his lips parted for his breath. ] Please-- [ another barely audible whisper. ] Don't stop.
[ graves promises, words sweet like honey and designed to tempt, to ensnare, to close around him because graves has never wanted someone more than he wants credence now. him and his lovely mouth, his dark hair and eyes, the way he touches him like he's begging to be held down and fucked, right here in the sanctity of this pious little family's house.
he can feel it, how credence so boldly reaches to fondle his balls, and he rocks into him steadily -- yes, yes, just like this -- but when he pulls away graves doesn't stop, rolling him over onto his back with a gleam in his eye. credence's embarrassement and shyness is adorable, but he wants more, and he tracks heated little kisses down his throat, his collarbone, his stomach and to the vee between his hips. ]
My beautiful boy. She will never know.
[ his mouth finds it now, the base of his cock buried under a thatch of curls, lovely and soft. he spreads his legs, insinuating himself between them before he returns the favor, his mouth finding his balls first, taking them into his hot, wet mouth, laving and sucking gently, enjoying the feel of them, the weight and shape, and more than intent on pushing him all the way this time. ]
[ credence is beyond ensnared already. everything that graves says to him coils around him and clouds his mind, his judgment. but a promise is a promise and he nods, content with the reassurance. he doesn't think he'll ever be able to shake that fear but this helps him.
he rolls onto his back easily and looks up at him, face and neck and down onto his chest flushed. as soon as the kisses shift lower credence stretches out his neck, loses his fingers in graves' hair as he arches to try and press closer to his mouth. he gets more and more flustered the lower the older man goes, squirming slightly beneath him.
but then graves' mouth is on him, wet heat and his chest hitches with his breath, feet pressing to the bed to try and keep himself still. another moan, this one louder before he muffles it with his free hand, other fingers tightening in his hair. oh but it feels so good, better than anything he's ever felt already, and he knows how much graves wants him, can feel it in the way he acts, the way he looks at him.
(it's almost overwhelming to think he holds that kind of power over him. he hasn't had power over anything in his entire life but he's somehow made this man heated and wanting just for him.)
he's too distracted from any of that though, gasping out his name into the press of his hand because he's still so terrified of being heard. still, his hips have lifted off the bed slightly, practically begging without so much as a single word. ]
[ he can practically hear him begging for more. the muffled moans and whispers of his name, the way credence is so reactive, his fingers tight in his hair. graves enjoys all of it, savoring the effect he has on this boy, how he plays him like his favorite instrument -- makes him sing so sweetly.
and yet there is more to come, before he leaves his balls and licks a stripe down his cock, sucking gently on the head of it, lips closing wetly around him before taking him into his mouth inch by inch. the lewd, sensusous sound of graves sucking his cock is soft but audible, wet and slick and obscene, as is he between his boy's legs, offering him pleasure only dreamed about in the darkest of night.
he holds his hips down firmly before he takes him deeper, deeper, until the head of his cock presses against the back of his throat and graves is wonderfully, powerfully charmed. he licks and sucks and plays with him, enjoying the feel and shape of his cock in his mouth. he doesn't look away, eyes dark and full of promise. he has him now, and he will never let him go. ]
[ he's not surprised when graves changes his focus but his body jerks slightly anyway, a tiny whine hidden behind his hand. he feels like his head is swimming in the pleasure he feels and he can't help but lift himself up enough to watch him unblinkingly. the sight of him alone is almost as good as the sensation itself and instead of gripping so tightly his fingers smooth through dark hair, nails barely scraping his scalp. with his hips held down it isn't as though he can do much more but his upper body twists, breath catching over and over between moans.
his mind's almost a blank from the sheer pleasure of it, toes pressing down and curling into the sheets.
credence feels so overstimulated, unused to any of this - the next time he says anything he's dropped his hand from his mouth to grip at the sheets that way as well and he just gasps out an oh god, mister graves that almost sounds like a prayer. he's close, but more importantly it seems he's found someone far more tangible to pray to. ]
[ he's close, and graves can taste it on his tongue -- the bittersalty precome, how he feels so coiled and eager, held down and sucked off. he does it harder, sucks and licks and greedily draws in every inch of him, head bobbing up and down as his lips tighten around the base of his dick.
his free hand comes to fondle his balls, before brushing a finger between his cheeks, right where he's yearning to be. credence is a virgin and he will be tight, and he loves how he gasps and says his name, so soft but so lovely to his ears.
come, he wants to tell him. come, and graves will swallow every blessed drop of him. ]
[ by now credence is practically trembling. there's a nervous anticipation at the feel of his hand shifting back further, but he trusts him even if something anxious coils in his throat. also coiling in him is the pleasure in his gut and the quiet fear of being caught that he's been so gently soothed into trying to relax through.
graves' mouth on his cock is impossible to ignore though and it's not that much longer that sees him turning his head to bury his face in the pillow to muffle himself as he lets out a choked moan--it hits him all at once, the unfamiliar sensation of being brought to completion, of actually allowing himself to come, and his entire body language changes so soon as it hits him, tipping him over the edge.
[ it's close, and graves delights in it, smiling at how credence's soft moan is muffled into the pillow, and it makes him wonder just what he will feel like on his hands and knees, when graves is inside him and he has to keep him quiet.
he goes deep, then -- relentless, deepthroating him and drawing him deep inside, stifling a soft answering groan, coaxing him along. he can feel it when he comes, and he takes in everything, swallowing every thick, warm spurt of come, lapping and laving to drag out his orgasm, his finger brushing lightly against that tight, tight hole.
it's approving, how he hums softly, a fierce, masculine sense of pride rising in the face of credence's first ejaculation -- such a curious thing, such a lovely thing, to know that credence has this much self-control over himself. and so he continues, swallowing down every drop, tasting the bittersalty thickness of him and breathing him in before he eventually pulls his mouth away from him, kissing and lapping at his saliva and come-slick cock. he cleans him up, laying a soft, lingering kiss to the head. ]
[ at some point his fingers tighten in graves' hair, body twisting like he's trying to escape the over-stimulation of it, the unfamiliar levels of pleasure overwhelming and eye-opening. he whimpers softly, sitting up to watch him, eyes dark and lids lowered.
(the approving hum feels nice both literally and figuratively.)
he doesn't know what to say. he feels like he's blushing from the top of his head to the tips of his toes and he's sure he is, licking his lips and trying to piece back together his orgasm-shattered mind.
eventually he settles on an answer non-verbal and shifts, practically contorting there on the bed so that he can crush his lips against the older man's eagerly, hungrily, fervently, tasting himself on grave's lips and deciding to coyly try and coax his tongue out so that he can taste more--it's sinful, it's filthy, but he's not thinking about that.
perhaps his eagerness is surprising, but hopefully it's pleasing. very slightly shaking hands rest at graves' shoulders after a moment, fingertips pressing in before he whispers, almost comically shy. ]
[ his shyness even in the wake of his first orgasm is most endearing, a lovely thing that graves finds himself charmed by. they kiss hard, and graves affords him a taste of himself, thick on his tongue. he can feel it, that mischievous flicker of his tongue against his own -- it's sinful and filthy and everything he chooses to indulge credence with. he gives him what he seeks, tangling their limbs together.
he's taken this first time, he thinks, and this is a prize he will always remember. his beautiful pale boy writhing in pleasure and delight, given over to sensual exploits and blushing so sweetly -- credence is magnificent in his innocence, and his hand moves to curve over his ass, lazily possessive. ]
[ it almost makes credence feel proud to know that graves is so pleased with him and he wonders if that's how he's meant to feel - wanted, whole, adored. sin is supposed to be tempting but something that makes him this happy (not even just pleasured - genuinely happy to be so intimately entwined with someone he's utterly smitten with) can't possibly be as bad as his mother has always painted.
he's still somewhat unsure how to kiss properly but his attempts are earnest and he moans softly against his mouth despite himself.
when credence ends up coiled against graves, nuzzling under his ear with the older man's hand on his ass--the question takes him a moment to process but then he nods blearily, gesturing toward his long-ago discarded pants. ] I always carry some with me, [ murmured and barely audible, ] in case one of your wounds needs tending when I see you. [ and his own hands of course, when his mother is in a mood - but he doesn't say that part because it doesn't matter. what matters is there's a small container of the healing ointment there in one of his pockets.
(he feels more shy and almost apprehensive suddenly because he's sure he knows exactly what it's for right now.) ]
[ graves teaches him, patient and teasing, gently angling his head to show him how to kiss, soft murmuring under his breath to praise, to enjoy the innocence of his inexperience, the sweetness of his lips on his. he is wanted, adored -- and how can this be sin when it feels so good? graves is fascinated by his every reaction, how he manages to draw out the sweetest sounds, the most endearing expressions.
he gently pats his ass when credence gestures to the pants, and he kisses his forehead, still so painfully hard that it's very nearly driving him to distraction. credence is shy and graves half-suspects that he already knows what it's for; it's written all over that lovely pale face. ]
Get it for me. [ a gentle order, but an order nonetheless. ] Do you know what I want to do with you, Credence? You inspire in me the most sinful things.
[ every time he's praised is incredibly encouraging - credence is a quick study, learning well what's pleasant and what's more so. even so he's often distracted by the pleasure, pausing to gasp out softly or have to catch his breath.
the pat to his ass doesn't make him jump but it does make him flush hotter, leaning into that gentle kiss before he nods and slowly gets up, moving to go get the small jar from his pocket and bring it back--he's not hesitant when he settles back on the bed, but he is a little nervous. still, at the question he nods. ] Yes... [ there's a pause and he looks away, clearly embarrassed-- ] I've thought about it, before.
[ graves is very quickly discovering how credence loves being praised, how he lavishes it on him -- good boy, such a good boy -- and he enjoys the blush on his pale skin when he watches him getting the jar. graves is admiring everything, the bounce of his cock when he walks back to him and climbs back in, the nervousness that tingles on his skin.
his embarrassment is cute, too, and graves can't help but smile as he pulls him under the covers and tangles his limbs with his, taking the ointment from him and smearing some onto his fingers. ]
Tell me, what do you think of? Who fucks you, Credence? Who spreads you open and presses their fingers inside you?
[ he hasn't heard the phrase good boy in his entire life. it's new and startling and he craves it so deeply that he'd do almost anything - but he does still trust graves to not hurt him. he watches the older man curiously, curled in against him, tangled up with him, almost owlish again but not quite.
graves won't hurt him, but it's clear he'll embarrass him relentlessly. his mouth pulls into a delicate pout and he squirms a little, fussily, but he's not trying to get away, just express mild restlessness. he's practically flushed from head to toe. ]
You... [ he bites his lip, glancing away. ] It's you. Every time.
[ graves smiles, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. credence is pouting and he enjoys every moment of it, relishing the way he's not trying to escape him -- only to signal an indignant shyness that he appreciates. he wraps himself close, gently pressing a slicked up finger against his entrance -- circling around the puckered little rosebud of a hole first.
it's his first time, and he knows to be careful, he knows not to hurt him, but fuck if he doesn't want to rut into him, to fuck him so good and so thoroughly that credence wouldn't be able to think of him without getting hard. it's dangerous, what they're doing now, but graves pushes the boundaries because he can. ]
Be a good boy for me. [ he whispers huskily, kissing his earlobe. ] Relax. I'm going to open you up a little.
[ even that first touch has credence clutching at graves' shoulders, not from nervousness (okay, a little nervousness) or fear but from breathless anticipation, from trying to keep himself from tensing up. be a good boy pulls a quiet breath from him and he nods, pressing his fingertips in just a little more against the skin. ]
Okay... [ he tries to settle the tension in his body, breathing slowly and burrowing against his shoulder. ] I'm trying.
[ he's trying, and that's enough. credence is new at this and graves is forgiving, patient, leaning in to kiss him softly again and again, wanting to take his mind off things. ]
You're being so good right now. Can you feel it, how tight you are? [ his words are almost a purr. he's pushing his slick finger inside now, slowly, surely -- paying careful attention to credence's reactions. ] Touch me. Let me show you how much I want you.
[ he really is trying his best. it's so difficult though - it's only the kisses and murmurs that keep him focused, nosing against graves' cheek. as for the query, well: ] ... Yes. [ it's barely breathed out on a whine because he's trying to stay relaxed, but the way the older man is going slow (just for him, he thinks, and it makes him feel warm) helps. reminders to keep his breathing slow too.
his eyes flutter back open (he doesn't remember closing them this time) and he looks up at graves through his lashes before he nods, shifting his positioning just enough so that he can curl his fingers around graves' cock, touch feather-light at first before he begins to stroke him slowly. he's feeling the size of him, the weight of him, all over again, and suddenly feels mildly skeptical that he's going to be able to--he swallows, gaze flicking back up to him again. it already feels strange, though with one finger it doesn't really hurt so long as he's relaxed, but-- ] How much does it hurt?
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?
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graves stares at him for a few moments, captivated by his lean body, sleek and lithe and so very young -- he's seen glimpses of the scars on his hands, but there is none that he can see on his torso, and graves' mouth is dry when he pushes down his pants further, urging him to kick it off wholly. he wants him naked now, entirely naked in his bed like this, and he spares precious moments simply drinking him in, greedy and full of desire, burning with the need to touch him, to have him.
he pulls him into his arms and wraps his fingers around the boy's cock, his strokes slow and deliberate from root to head, getting acquainted with the shape and feel of him. oh, credence feels so good, and despite best intentions graves knows that there's no way credence is leaving his bed tonight untouched. ]
Spread your legs. [ he whispers softly, kissing his nose, his lips, his chin, thumbing along the underside of his cock. he's delicate with him, but firm, wanting, eager to have him explore, to show him what it can be like with the both of them, if only credence allows it. ] Touch me, Credence. Find out just how much I want you.
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--his breath does hitch when the older man begins to stroke him and he leans against his chest, face burrowed into his shoulder. he doesn't say anything, just soaks in the heady feeling of pleasure spreading through his entire body. he's lifted his head in time to greedily accept those gentle kisses, peering at him through thick lashes before he nods, licking his lips and shifting to spread his legs apart while in the same movement arching his hips into graves' hand with an unspoken please and a breathed out moan. ]
All right... [ he obeys the second request as well, one hand delicately slipping beneath any fabric in his way so that he might wrap his own long fingers around graves' cock. the feel and weight of him are different from his own and he takes a moment to get acquainted with the feeling, gently touching him all over, feeling his hardness. perhaps it will become apparent that credence has in the past touched himself as he's far less fumbling with this than he could be. it's different from doing it to himself but it's the same general idea and he begins to stroke graves' cock in a slow and nearly practiced way - this is the only thing he has experience with, honestly, and it's impressive he can remember to do it when he's so distracted by the hand on his own arousal. ]
Like this? [ he wants to do it right - it's barely breathed out, his hips rocking into graves' hand again insistently. ] It feels good.
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[ he tells him quietly, breath hitching when he feels credence obey, those long, elegant fingers (calloused nicely from labor) pleasantly curling around where he's already painfully hard. he's long, thick and heavy in credence's hand, and he rocks into his touch the same way credence does, falling into a familiar rhythm with him. credence is stunning when he's aroused and breathless, beautifully willing when he spreads his legs and graves guides it around his waist, urging him on his side.
graves is in no hurry to escalate this -- no, he wants credence to savor every sensuous, wonderful moment of foreplay, he wants them to understand the intimacy of it as he seduces him all over again, showing him just how intoxicating it is to have another to share this with under the covers, and he pauses only a moment to tuck credence's hair behind his ear, drawing him into another slow, sweet kiss. ]
Yes. Yes, just like this. Let me -- [ credence is a blessedly quick study, and he draws them together, his hand closing around both their dicks as he rubs up against his, deliberate and sure, greedy for more of him. ] Look at me. You don't have to hide.
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[ soft, murmured, breathless. he's fascinated by pulling a reaction out of the older man though and continues, insistently stroking over the length of him and teaching himself every difference from his own while tentatively trying things that he knows he personally likes - a gentle squeeze at the base of his cock, fingertips trailing feather-light along the underside.
if graves were only to grip at the back of credence's leg as he moves him he'll be able to feel the roughness of the scarred skin there, evidence of why he craves affection so very much. he's not thinking about it now though, leg tightening around graves' waist even as he returns this kiss, pressing into it with a soft noise against his mouth.
it's when graves urges their cocks against one another to grant them that friction that credence whimpers aloud, hips rolling of their own accord to match him. he obeys yet again, looking at graves, eyes dark and searching as he breathes softly through parted lips. one of his hands is gripping at graves' upper arm as though he needs the grounding. ] Please-- [ it's whispered and barely audible, but he doesn't hide his face this time. ] Wait, I don't let myself... [ he trails off with a little gasping moan, hips jerking again. he doesn't finish the thought but the meaning is clear: even when he touches himself he doesn't let himself come and the thought of it's making him a little anxious. it's not even that he's close yet; it's the eventuality. ]
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graves' heart clenches in his chest, in anger, in protectiveness; credence is quiet, graceful, smarter than his mother can ever give him credit for, with a kindness and hidden steel that anyone would prize in their son. his mother seems to hate him the most, out of all the children in the house, and up until now graves doesn't understand why.
perhaps the fact that credence is willingly naked in his bed, stroking his cock and squeezing it gently in the way that makes him stifle a quiet little moan is the reason why. credence craves affection and graves gives it to him generously, lavishes attention on him partly out of the instinct to survive, and partly because he wants to, because credence ignites a passion and a longing in him he'd feared had been long forgotten. and now, like this, he is all he can think about.
brows raised in surprise at that, he doesn't stop stroking him, kissing that beautifully lush mouth to swallow his little moans. he stills for only a moment, regarding him. ]
You don't spill your seed, Credence? Not even for this, when you're alone in your room? [ his thumb rubs little circles over the head of his cock, lazily shameless, pushing him further because oh, he'll be the first to see it, the first to truly draw it out of him. ]
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but he's embracing the devil's touch now, isn't he? this is not to say that graves is the devil - hardly - but that mary lou would see him as such, the tempter drawing her son into sin.
but it's as though he's made for it, arching against graves and silencing himself against his mouth and never stopping in touching him, fascinated and exploratory - his hipbones, his abdomen, his chest, back down to his cock. he seems to falter a moment before carefully slipping his hand lower to cradle the older man's balls, caressing them with one hand even as he presses harder into the way he's being kissed.
(it stands to reason that it would feel good as well, considering how sensitive they are.)
the question startles him into stillness though and he finally shakes his head, gaze skirting away briefly. it's clear he's a little embarrassed. ] No, I-- [ he lets out another little whimper at the way graves' thumb rubs over him but he doesn't protest, both hands grasping at his arms now instead. ] If she ever found out somehow that I touched myself like this-- [ so he's afraid of somehow leaving evidence behind, of being caught out. that seems to have flown to the wind though and he doesn't say much more, head dropping back with his lips parted for his breath. ] Please-- [ another barely audible whisper. ] Don't stop.
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[ graves promises, words sweet like honey and designed to tempt, to ensnare, to close around him because graves has never wanted someone more than he wants credence now. him and his lovely mouth, his dark hair and eyes, the way he touches him like he's begging to be held down and fucked, right here in the sanctity of this pious little family's house.
he can feel it, how credence so boldly reaches to fondle his balls, and he rocks into him steadily -- yes, yes, just like this -- but when he pulls away graves doesn't stop, rolling him over onto his back with a gleam in his eye. credence's embarrassement and shyness is adorable, but he wants more, and he tracks heated little kisses down his throat, his collarbone, his stomach and to the vee between his hips. ]
My beautiful boy. She will never know.
[ his mouth finds it now, the base of his cock buried under a thatch of curls, lovely and soft. he spreads his legs, insinuating himself between them before he returns the favor, his mouth finding his balls first, taking them into his hot, wet mouth, laving and sucking gently, enjoying the feel of them, the weight and shape, and more than intent on pushing him all the way this time. ]
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he rolls onto his back easily and looks up at him, face and neck and down onto his chest flushed. as soon as the kisses shift lower credence stretches out his neck, loses his fingers in graves' hair as he arches to try and press closer to his mouth. he gets more and more flustered the lower the older man goes, squirming slightly beneath him.
but then graves' mouth is on him, wet heat and his chest hitches with his breath, feet pressing to the bed to try and keep himself still. another moan, this one louder before he muffles it with his free hand, other fingers tightening in his hair. oh but it feels so good, better than anything he's ever felt already, and he knows how much graves wants him, can feel it in the way he acts, the way he looks at him.
(it's almost overwhelming to think he holds that kind of power over him. he hasn't had power over anything in his entire life but he's somehow made this man heated and wanting just for him.)
he's too distracted from any of that though, gasping out his name into the press of his hand because he's still so terrified of being heard. still, his hips have lifted off the bed slightly, practically begging without so much as a single word. ]
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and yet there is more to come, before he leaves his balls and licks a stripe down his cock, sucking gently on the head of it, lips closing wetly around him before taking him into his mouth inch by inch. the lewd, sensusous sound of graves sucking his cock is soft but audible, wet and slick and obscene, as is he between his boy's legs, offering him pleasure only dreamed about in the darkest of night.
he holds his hips down firmly before he takes him deeper, deeper, until the head of his cock presses against the back of his throat and graves is wonderfully, powerfully charmed. he licks and sucks and plays with him, enjoying the feel and shape of his cock in his mouth. he doesn't look away, eyes dark and full of promise. he has him now, and he will never let him go. ]
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his mind's almost a blank from the sheer pleasure of it, toes pressing down and curling into the sheets.
credence feels so overstimulated, unused to any of this - the next time he says anything he's dropped his hand from his mouth to grip at the sheets that way as well and he just gasps out an oh god, mister graves that almost sounds like a prayer. he's close, but more importantly it seems he's found someone far more tangible to pray to. ]
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his free hand comes to fondle his balls, before brushing a finger between his cheeks, right where he's yearning to be. credence is a virgin and he will be tight, and he loves how he gasps and says his name, so soft but so lovely to his ears.
come, he wants to tell him. come, and graves will swallow every blessed drop of him. ]
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graves' mouth on his cock is impossible to ignore though and it's not that much longer that sees him turning his head to bury his face in the pillow to muffle himself as he lets out a choked moan--it hits him all at once, the unfamiliar sensation of being brought to completion, of actually allowing himself to come, and his entire body language changes so soon as it hits him, tipping him over the edge.
he's not writhing but it's close. ]
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he goes deep, then -- relentless, deepthroating him and drawing him deep inside, stifling a soft answering groan, coaxing him along. he can feel it when he comes, and he takes in everything, swallowing every thick, warm spurt of come, lapping and laving to drag out his orgasm, his finger brushing lightly against that tight, tight hole.
it's approving, how he hums softly, a fierce, masculine sense of pride rising in the face of credence's first ejaculation -- such a curious thing, such a lovely thing, to know that credence has this much self-control over himself. and so he continues, swallowing down every drop, tasting the bittersalty thickness of him and breathing him in before he eventually pulls his mouth away from him, kissing and lapping at his saliva and come-slick cock. he cleans him up, laying a soft, lingering kiss to the head. ]
How did that feel, Credence?
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(the approving hum feels nice both literally and figuratively.)
he doesn't know what to say. he feels like he's blushing from the top of his head to the tips of his toes and he's sure he is, licking his lips and trying to piece back together his orgasm-shattered mind.
eventually he settles on an answer non-verbal and shifts, practically contorting there on the bed so that he can crush his lips against the older man's eagerly, hungrily, fervently, tasting himself on grave's lips and deciding to coyly try and coax his tongue out so that he can taste more--it's sinful, it's filthy, but he's not thinking about that.
perhaps his eagerness is surprising, but hopefully it's pleasing. very slightly shaking hands rest at graves' shoulders after a moment, fingertips pressing in before he whispers, almost comically shy. ]
It felt like I want more.
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[ his shyness even in the wake of his first orgasm is most endearing, a lovely thing that graves finds himself charmed by. they kiss hard, and graves affords him a taste of himself, thick on his tongue. he can feel it, that mischievous flicker of his tongue against his own -- it's sinful and filthy and everything he chooses to indulge credence with. he gives him what he seeks, tangling their limbs together.
he's taken this first time, he thinks, and this is a prize he will always remember. his beautiful pale boy writhing in pleasure and delight, given over to sensual exploits and blushing so sweetly -- credence is magnificent in his innocence, and his hand moves to curve over his ass, lazily possessive. ]
Ointment. Do you have any with you?
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he's still somewhat unsure how to kiss properly but his attempts are earnest and he moans softly against his mouth despite himself.
when credence ends up coiled against graves, nuzzling under his ear with the older man's hand on his ass--the question takes him a moment to process but then he nods blearily, gesturing toward his long-ago discarded pants. ] I always carry some with me, [ murmured and barely audible, ] in case one of your wounds needs tending when I see you. [ and his own hands of course, when his mother is in a mood - but he doesn't say that part because it doesn't matter. what matters is there's a small container of the healing ointment there in one of his pockets.
(he feels more shy and almost apprehensive suddenly because he's sure he knows exactly what it's for right now.) ]
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he gently pats his ass when credence gestures to the pants, and he kisses his forehead, still so painfully hard that it's very nearly driving him to distraction. credence is shy and graves half-suspects that he already knows what it's for; it's written all over that lovely pale face. ]
Get it for me. [ a gentle order, but an order nonetheless. ] Do you know what I want to do with you, Credence? You inspire in me the most sinful things.
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the pat to his ass doesn't make him jump but it does make him flush hotter, leaning into that gentle kiss before he nods and slowly gets up, moving to go get the small jar from his pocket and bring it back--he's not hesitant when he settles back on the bed, but he is a little nervous. still, at the question he nods. ] Yes... [ there's a pause and he looks away, clearly embarrassed-- ] I've thought about it, before.
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his embarrassment is cute, too, and graves can't help but smile as he pulls him under the covers and tangles his limbs with his, taking the ointment from him and smearing some onto his fingers. ]
Tell me, what do you think of? Who fucks you, Credence? Who spreads you open and presses their fingers inside you?
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graves won't hurt him, but it's clear he'll embarrass him relentlessly. his mouth pulls into a delicate pout and he squirms a little, fussily, but he's not trying to get away, just express mild restlessness. he's practically flushed from head to toe. ]
You... [ he bites his lip, glancing away. ] It's you. Every time.
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[ graves smiles, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. credence is pouting and he enjoys every moment of it, relishing the way he's not trying to escape him -- only to signal an indignant shyness that he appreciates. he wraps himself close, gently pressing a slicked up finger against his entrance -- circling around the puckered little rosebud of a hole first.
it's his first time, and he knows to be careful, he knows not to hurt him, but fuck if he doesn't want to rut into him, to fuck him so good and so thoroughly that credence wouldn't be able to think of him without getting hard. it's dangerous, what they're doing now, but graves pushes the boundaries because he can. ]
Be a good boy for me. [ he whispers huskily, kissing his earlobe. ] Relax. I'm going to open you up a little.
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Okay... [ he tries to settle the tension in his body, breathing slowly and burrowing against his shoulder. ] I'm trying.
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You're being so good right now. Can you feel it, how tight you are? [ his words are almost a purr. he's pushing his slick finger inside now, slowly, surely -- paying careful attention to credence's reactions. ] Touch me. Let me show you how much I want you.
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his eyes flutter back open (he doesn't remember closing them this time) and he looks up at graves through his lashes before he nods, shifting his positioning just enough so that he can curl his fingers around graves' cock, touch feather-light at first before he begins to stroke him slowly. he's feeling the size of him, the weight of him, all over again, and suddenly feels mildly skeptical that he's going to be able to--he swallows, gaze flicking back up to him again. it already feels strange, though with one finger it doesn't really hurt so long as he's relaxed, but-- ] How much does it hurt?
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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?
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