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[Credence dips his tongue into Graves' mouth, tasting the fine wine that he must have had earlier, the warmth almost as intoxicating - and it does distract him, from the pressure and burn, from the way his body fights it at first. It lets him relax, helps him keep his hips from moving so much.]

I do enjoy i-it. Feels really good.

[When he allows himself to relax long enough for it, anyway.]

I can. [He almost promises, vows that he can and will be patient, but he doesn't. They are newly wed and he doesn't want to commit to something that he fears he won't be able to hold steady to. His body is already impatient for more, for sensation and pleasure, now that he's felt it.] I'll try.

[Parting his lips, he kisses Graves again, hard and open mouthed, sloppy.]

[ Credence is so sweetly honest, earnest that Graves cannot help but feel a ferocious possessiveness over him -- especially when he's obedient and stills under his instruction, knowing that he's consciously trying to make himself relax. It's endearing when he's as passionate as he is impatient, and Graves kisses back with equal ardor, fervent and ravenous, as if he's starved himself for too long and Credence is the only thing that can sate.

He continues to fingerfuck him, slick digit moving in and out in long, smooth strokes, getting him ready as he tries to ignore just how tight and snug he is, how much better it would feel clamped around Graves' cock, how everything in him is roaring to simply turn him over and give him a good, thorough fucking, make him cry out into the night.

No, Credence is not ready for that yet (Graves is not that cruel), and he pushes his second finger on with a soft murmur of approval, tongue slipping against his, snagging a hold of Credence's hand to guide it to his own painfully hard cock, wanting him to know just how much he wants him. Against his mouth, he whispers, hot and fierce. ]

Can you feel how much I want you?

[He can feel a steady ache, tight and shaky, forming at the center of his stomach, getting tighter and tighter and spreading out until it tingles down his legs, making the muscles twitch.

Not having expected it to feel this way, Credence struggles to catch his breath, to keep his eyes open. His back arches and he falls back to the bed, only to arch again, hips trying to rock, move and twist. It's strange having Percival's fingers inside of him, blood-hot and thrusting in and out, a rhythmic pattern that his breathing begins to mimic. He wants to fight against the arm holding him steady, the body pressing him down and the command to maintain control. He wants to roll down on those fingers, he wants more and he's so desperate he wants to beg for it, but he can't convince himself to say it.]

Y-yes. I can feel you.

[His fingers curl, gentle in a way that his body can't seem to manage right then. Credence strokes Graves' cock, carefully, as if he's never done it before and he hasn't, hardly even his own, but he wants it to feel good.]

[ There it is, those sweet words. He knows Credence is getting used to the idea of getting fucked, that he's acquainting himself with Graves, and how they are meant to be intimate. He moves against him, falling into a rhythm that he gently coaxes Credence into, showing him how to move and where, getting him comfortable.

Getting him comfortable is the most important thing; and Graves knows that he's learning. He knows he has to be patient with him, and he gently pushes him while he lightly spreads his fingers inside of him, urging him to relax, to loosen up, because if he doesn't, this is going to hurt. ]

Easy now, my love. [ He whispers heatedly, hips thrusting into his light grip, and Graves' free hand comes to close around Credence's in silent instruction. Firmer. More. ] A little while longer, and I'm going to fuck you.

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