look at the way he's braced against the mirror, looking back at him in his reflection, his dark curls framing his face so gorgeously, lending him an almost ethereal air. songs can be sung about how beautiful he is, he thinks -- he could be the muse to a lucky songwriter, a reason for their being, and graves' eyes tracks the sleek lines of his body hungrily, ravenous to consume, to claim him as his own.
but he is to be loved tonight, tender and sweet, wiping away the violence that he's suffered this evening -- the violation of his person that the lovebites on his clavicle so aptly reveals. he moves up against him now, still painfully hard and wet, and graves presses kisses against his throat, his jaw, a hand grasping himself and pressing up against his tight, tight hole while the other fondles credence's heavy balls again, grasping him and cradling him in his palm.
he's providing a distraction, when he pushes against the tight pucker of his hole, the flared, rounded head getting the most resistance before he adds more pressure, right until the head of him his buried inside his lover's body. there is more to go, but they'll take it slow tonight, and graves is practically thrumming against his restraint, desperately yearning to fuck him, to draw him close as they melt into each other in a dance that is intimately familiar to them both.
he needs him. he loves him, more than anything else -- it's credence's pleasure that's paramount tonight, and he's not afraid of showing it through actions. ]
[ this is everything he's wanted to remind him. it's perfect, graves is perfect, graves is reminding him that he's a person with agency, that he could stop this right now and graves would listen. that no means something and deserves to be respected.
in any case his eyes are lidded partway shut - still open enough to watch - and he rocks slowly back against him for friction as he stretches out his neck to encourage more of those kisses, more of the delightful attention that's all that he wants and then some.
his fingers curl against the mirror as graves slowly pushes forward, nails scraping uselessly. then he's breathing slow, not looking at that - looking at graves' face, the line of his jaw, the set of it, his eyes, his hair, how everything about him is perfectly made for him so that they fit together like no one else could.
there's no one on earth (or beyond) that he loves more, that he could love more. he used to be practically silent when they slept together but now he's louder, open, and he breathes out a moan, tipping his head back. ] Percival. [ it's soft, murmured, his hands trembling a tiny bit. he's waiting to feel acclimated and finally, finally, he meets graves' eyes in the mirror again and nods. ]
[ percival, he says, and it's the sweetest thing he's ever heard from his lovely lips. graves has always loved the way his name falls from his lips, appreciated every syllable, every lilt. there are a hundred different ways credence says his name, and every one of them infused with a world of emotion, affection.
he reminds him that he's loved and respected, that his kisses, ardent and passionate, are meant to soothe and elevate, not degrade, not the way he had been before. credence had been been so very different the first time he came to him, and graves had taken him up and out, shaped him into the man that he is today -- even if all of it is forged through by credence's talent and will. he meets his gaze when he presses up against him deeper, sinking into him as he feels credence's body stretch, sheathing his cock the way he was always made to.
he takes a deep breath, the sheer tightness and slick heat of him nearly driving him out of his mind. this is good, this is so fucking good and it's easy to be lost in him. he's balls deep now, sinking in completely as his eyes meet his, dark in the mirror. ]
You have all of me, buried inside you. [ his lips brush over his ear. ] You could bring men to their knees, but I love you for more than that. [ he smiles faintly, his mouth finding his throat now, kissing him, tracking heated little kisses down his neck. ]
[ credence respects and is grateful for everything graves has done for him. without him he'd still be on the streets. or in prison. or dead. none of the options are very good but with graves' help he's been able to blossom, to come into his own, to become what he's supposed to be. which is this - lovely, whole, adored.
his back arches, head tipping back and eyes fluttering almost closed with a hissed out curse of pleasure. graves' words hover over him and warm him and he shifts just enough to accommodate their positioning. ] I know. [ it's whispered, barely audible. he's pleased and happy and—he rocks back even though graves is as deep as he can get, purposely tensing around him once before tipping his head forward to look at him in their reflection again, eyes just as merry as the still-rare smile on his face. ]
No one understands me like you do. No one else deserves me. [ he's stretching out his neck, breathing out slow and almost ragged and with a soft i love you passing his lips. then: ] I'm ready for a little more.
[ graves rumbles, low and gravelly when he's buried deep inside of him. he's enjoying credence's pleasure, hoping that it washes away the violations, the memory of the man who'd pinned credence there without his permission, taking what's not his. he can feel credence's bliss when he presses up against him, their bodies made for each other, what with the way they mold so easily against each other.
he can see the smile on his face, and graves cannot help but smile as well. it's such a rare, precious sight, and he commits this moment to memory before he slowly starts to move, his hand coming to curl around the base of credence's cock. his thrusts are long, deliberate, wanting to make him feel every inch of him.
graves adores him, grinding up inside him when he's balls deep inside before he pulls out again, giving him an incredibly thorough fuck. ]
[ and no one else does. no one is made so perfectly for credence like graves is, mind body and soul. with one hand remaining where it is the other moves back to cradle the nape of graves' neck, his head tipping back to rest on his shoulder as he breathes in and out slowly, closing his eyes and just feeling. this is what he wants and needs, the reminder. graves loves him, graves will do anything for him, graves could treat him like a pampered pet or a brat king but instead treats him like an equal. it's taken them so long to get here but they are here.
his moans are low but almost musical for the way graves is playing him expertly like he's an instrument in a master musician's hands - he knows exactly where to touch, how to thrust, what to do to make credence feel like his knees are going to give out beneath him. they almost do, once. he breathes out raggedly and clutches at graves more tightly, eyes barely slitting open to look at him in their reflections. ]
[ no, there's no one else for credence -- and there's no one else for graves. no one is as pliant and lovely as he is, when he moves back to cradle him and graves fucks him even harder, going a touch faster as he pulls out and buries himself balls-deep inside of him. there's something raw and primal about their coupling now, a buildup of tension that he cannot deny.
they've come so far together, tied to each other so powerfully despite trials and tribulations. graves cannot help but rolls his hips the way he knows credence loves, one hand gripping his hip to keep him steady while his other hand moves to jerk him off. ]
Look at you, baby. [ he breathes, low and sultry and deliberate. he's jerking him off where credence can see, how his hand moves up and down his thick, long cock, shamelessly drawing out his pleasure. ] You're so damn beautiful.
[ credence chokes on a moan when graves goes faster, an almost hiccup-like sound escaping him as he rocks back into the thrusts insistently. ] I'm looking— [ the last bit trails off in a whine. he is looking now, eyes staying open to watch in the mirror, body tense but in the most pleasant of ways - he licks his lips, grip on graves' neck tightening just slightly. ]
J-just like that. Percival-! [ credence is always vocal but this is more than usual - louder even - and suddenly his nails scrabble at graves' back a bit. for a while he just breathes; then, finally: ] Harder. Please. I'm so close, I want to come. I want to feel you come inside me.
[ how can he deny him when he asks like this? graves meets him halfway, burying himself balls-deep inside that tight, hot channel, reveling in how good he always feels, how it seems like he's made just for him, pliant and willing and tasting like heaven. he loves the way credence looks at himself in the mirror, how his entire body bounces when graves bucks into him, hard and forceful, and he can't look away from how credence's cock is practically dripping, how his balls are so heavy from unspent seed.
they're desperate, they both are, and he goes even harder, breath catching at how he seems to tighten around him further. he sinks his teeth into the side of his neck, always making sure that his love is in his grasp, and he growls. his orgasm comes as if on command, urged by credence, and he almost draws blood when he comes, emptying his load into his lover in spurts, hips moving slower now as he comes again, again and again, filling him up and flooding those tight walls, marking him with himself, claiming him all over again.
here, now, credence belongs to him, and for a moment nothing else matters but credence and his pleasure. ]
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no subject
look at the way he's braced against the mirror, looking back at him in his reflection, his dark curls framing his face so gorgeously, lending him an almost ethereal air. songs can be sung about how beautiful he is, he thinks -- he could be the muse to a lucky songwriter, a reason for their being, and graves' eyes tracks the sleek lines of his body hungrily, ravenous to consume, to claim him as his own.
but he is to be loved tonight, tender and sweet, wiping away the violence that he's suffered this evening -- the violation of his person that the lovebites on his clavicle so aptly reveals. he moves up against him now, still painfully hard and wet, and graves presses kisses against his throat, his jaw, a hand grasping himself and pressing up against his tight, tight hole while the other fondles credence's heavy balls again, grasping him and cradling him in his palm.
he's providing a distraction, when he pushes against the tight pucker of his hole, the flared, rounded head getting the most resistance before he adds more pressure, right until the head of him his buried inside his lover's body. there is more to go, but they'll take it slow tonight, and graves is practically thrumming against his restraint, desperately yearning to fuck him, to draw him close as they melt into each other in a dance that is intimately familiar to them both.
he needs him. he loves him, more than anything else -- it's credence's pleasure that's paramount tonight, and he's not afraid of showing it through actions. ]
no subject
in any case his eyes are lidded partway shut - still open enough to watch - and he rocks slowly back against him for friction as he stretches out his neck to encourage more of those kisses, more of the delightful attention that's all that he wants and then some.
his fingers curl against the mirror as graves slowly pushes forward, nails scraping uselessly. then he's breathing slow, not looking at that - looking at graves' face, the line of his jaw, the set of it, his eyes, his hair, how everything about him is perfectly made for him so that they fit together like no one else could.
there's no one on earth (or beyond) that he loves more, that he could love more. he used to be practically silent when they slept together but now he's louder, open, and he breathes out a moan, tipping his head back. ] Percival. [ it's soft, murmured, his hands trembling a tiny bit. he's waiting to feel acclimated and finally, finally, he meets graves' eyes in the mirror again and nods. ]
no subject
he reminds him that he's loved and respected, that his kisses, ardent and passionate, are meant to soothe and elevate, not degrade, not the way he had been before. credence had been been so very different the first time he came to him, and graves had taken him up and out, shaped him into the man that he is today -- even if all of it is forged through by credence's talent and will. he meets his gaze when he presses up against him deeper, sinking into him as he feels credence's body stretch, sheathing his cock the way he was always made to.
he takes a deep breath, the sheer tightness and slick heat of him nearly driving him out of his mind. this is good, this is so fucking good and it's easy to be lost in him. he's balls deep now, sinking in completely as his eyes meet his, dark in the mirror. ]
You have all of me, buried inside you. [ his lips brush over his ear. ] You could bring men to their knees, but I love you for more than that. [ he smiles faintly, his mouth finding his throat now, kissing him, tracking heated little kisses down his neck. ]
no subject
his back arches, head tipping back and eyes fluttering almost closed with a hissed out curse of pleasure. graves' words hover over him and warm him and he shifts just enough to accommodate their positioning. ] I know. [ it's whispered, barely audible. he's pleased and happy and—he rocks back even though graves is as deep as he can get, purposely tensing around him once before tipping his head forward to look at him in their reflection again, eyes just as merry as the still-rare smile on his face. ]
No one understands me like you do. No one else deserves me. [ he's stretching out his neck, breathing out slow and almost ragged and with a soft i love you passing his lips. then: ] I'm ready for a little more.
no subject
[ graves rumbles, low and gravelly when he's buried deep inside of him. he's enjoying credence's pleasure, hoping that it washes away the violations, the memory of the man who'd pinned credence there without his permission, taking what's not his. he can feel credence's bliss when he presses up against him, their bodies made for each other, what with the way they mold so easily against each other.
he can see the smile on his face, and graves cannot help but smile as well. it's such a rare, precious sight, and he commits this moment to memory before he slowly starts to move, his hand coming to curl around the base of credence's cock. his thrusts are long, deliberate, wanting to make him feel every inch of him.
graves adores him, grinding up inside him when he's balls deep inside before he pulls out again, giving him an incredibly thorough fuck. ]
no subject
his moans are low but almost musical for the way graves is playing him expertly like he's an instrument in a master musician's hands - he knows exactly where to touch, how to thrust, what to do to make credence feel like his knees are going to give out beneath him. they almost do, once. he breathes out raggedly and clutches at graves more tightly, eyes barely slitting open to look at him in their reflections. ]
Just like this. More like this. Please.
no subject
they've come so far together, tied to each other so powerfully despite trials and tribulations. graves cannot help but rolls his hips the way he knows credence loves, one hand gripping his hip to keep him steady while his other hand moves to jerk him off. ]
Look at you, baby. [ he breathes, low and sultry and deliberate. he's jerking him off where credence can see, how his hand moves up and down his thick, long cock, shamelessly drawing out his pleasure. ] You're so damn beautiful.
no subject
J-just like that. Percival-! [ credence is always vocal but this is more than usual - louder even - and suddenly his nails scrabble at graves' back a bit. for a while he just breathes; then, finally: ] Harder. Please. I'm so close, I want to come. I want to feel you come inside me.
no subject
they're desperate, they both are, and he goes even harder, breath catching at how he seems to tighten around him further. he sinks his teeth into the side of his neck, always making sure that his love is in his grasp, and he growls. his orgasm comes as if on command, urged by credence, and he almost draws blood when he comes, emptying his load into his lover in spurts, hips moving slower now as he comes again, again and again, filling him up and flooding those tight walls, marking him with himself, claiming him all over again.
here, now, credence belongs to him, and for a moment nothing else matters but credence and his pleasure. ]