[Credence has never felt anything for anyone, not like this. He assumes it's infatuation, arousal and attraction, appreciation for the gentle way the King treats him. Even when his fingers grip tighter, when he'd held him down and pushed into him over and over again, he'd still never been rougher than he could handle.

He flushes at the kiss to his hand, at the reminder of where those lips have been, where they could be again.]

Now?

[He asks, but he doesn't hesitate. Nobody would question the King. Not Credence, not any of the people outside these doors. Credence slips into Graves' lap, a little sideways, a knee carefully hooked over one of Percival's. Even through his clothes he can feel warmth.]

What if someone comes in?

[Would they knock first or walk in unannounced like back home? His Ma was cruel to her people, was undeserving of their respect and they showed it in little ways like that. He didn't think it would be the same here, but he was learning, seeing everything for the first time. Credence tries to sit still, he does, but he's still sore, aches for reasons he can't explain. He finds himself squirming, turning a little in Graves' lap so he can place a hand on his chest, gently stroking, soothing himself more than anything else.]

I.. feel empty. Like you've taken something away from me.

[He shifts his hips, face scrunching up.]

I've never felt this way before.