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fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme) wrote2016-11-23 07:27 am
fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme) wrote2016-11-23 07:27 am
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Prompt Post #1
ROUND 1
FUCK IT WE'LL FIGURE OUT SPECIFICS LATER
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FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 7/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-01-16 03:11 am (UTC)(link)______________
Graves dozed lightly, keeping watch the way he’d learned to during the war. He didn’t think Grindelwald would try and take Credence back before dawn. Maybe he could convince Grindelwald to feed Credence again; Merlin and Morgana knew the boy needed feeding up.
Grindelwald hadn’t bothered to vanish the remains of Credence’s supper. Of the myriad tortures Grindelwald had subjected him to, having perfectly good food going to waste just out of reach was more petty than anything else. He sighed and told himself not to think about it. Thinking about being hungry would only make it worse. He’d been hungry before. He’d endured it then, and he could endure it now, as long as he remembered to think of something else.
Graves considered the boy in his arms instead. Credence really was lovely; it hadn’t just been the desiderata that made him think so. The contrast of dark hair and pale skin was a feast for the senses. Graves wanted to take Credence to his tailor and get him outfitted in proper, well-fitting clothes. Clean cotton shirts that weren’t practically threadbare, silk-lined waistcoats and jackets, trousers that flattered the shape of his ass and those long, long legs. He’d be devastating.
He was devastating. And very good at flattering a man’s ego, for someone who had probably been an innocent a week ago. Part of it might have been the desiderata, but Graves thought some of Credence’s pleasure could be attributed to his own skill.
But the eager, wanton joy Credence took from the act? That was all Credence.
Graves had expected him to be shy, given that he seemed to believe sex between men was some sort of sin. Graves could have dealt with shy. Instead, he’d gotten a joyous, gorgeous nymph who delighted in being touched. Credence was clearly unpracticed, but his innocence only made him more appealing. It made Graves want to keep him, to make sure no one but him experienced the breathless wonder Credence took from sex; the only one to teach him.
If Credence had actually been his lover and not … whatever they were to one another, Graves would have never let him go. He was a possessive bastard, always had been. He didn’t like letting go of the things he’d claimed – his home, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, his place at Seraphina’s right hand.
He tended to be worse about the people he considered his – Seraphina, his team, his protégés. He’d have died for Seraphina and gone to war for his team. He was generally worst where his protégés were concerned, because they were the closest thing to children he’d ever expected to have – his legacy, at least until one of his sister’s children was old enough to join MACUSA. He would have ripped the world apart for them, just like he would have for his niece and his nephews.
His lovers were owed more than just his protection. If Credence was actually his lover, Graves would have taught him anything he wanted to know about the pleasure two people could share, taking care that he learned only the good. He would have done his best to earn the way Credence clung to him during sex, like Graves was the only solid, sure thing in the world he could anchor himself on. He’d have worshipped Credence nightly, except when a case kept him working late, wringing orgasms out of Credence until Credence was breathless and trembling and deliciously oversensitized.
Worse still, he wanted to. Graves liked the way Credence tried to muffle his startled, pleased cries against his skin, and how gratifyingly noisy Credence got when he wanted to hear him. He wanted to experiment, until he knew what the pitch and volume of each delicious sound meant, to pull those noises together like a symphony.
Graves wanted the kindness of his heart and his joyful wonder. He wanted the hot, tight clutch of Credence’s body and the careful sweetness of his kisses.
You’re a sentimental idiot, he told himself. He’d met Credence all of twice now. Admittedly, those had been high energy and somewhat emotional circumstances, between the sex and the torture and Gellert fucking Grindelwald. But that was no reason to get attached to someone he barely knew, except for all the ways he knew Credence intimately.
It’s the desiderata, he reasoned. Except he’d mastered that, hadn’t he? He’d shoved down what the desiderata made him want to do and done what he wanted instead. He’d been careful and kind and he had made love to Credence the way that men did, rather than the mindless animal Grindelwald wanted.
Maybe it was a wartime bond. People who’d been through extraordinary circumstances together tended to form bonds that weren’t easily broken. Graves hadn’t seen Theseus or Merak or Harry or Liam since that pub in Whitehall eight years ago, two weeks that felt like two heartbeats after the war was officially over. They’d toasted the ones who were missing, dead but not forgotten, and he’d shipped home and left them to rebuild theirs. If any of them had turned up on his doorstep asking for help, Graves would’ve given it without a second thought. He’d have fallen into step to fight beside them once more, because that was the kind of bond they had.
That was … Not exactly the sort of bond he had with Credence.
Graves abandoned his attempts to sugarcoat the matter. He wanted Credence. Credence was lovely and joyful and Graves wanted him badly enough that his cock roused with interest just thinking about it, because he was a terrible human being.
“Fuck,” he said. “Percival Graves, you’re an ass.” It didn’t have quite the same sting as when his sister Dindrane said it, but it got the point across.
“Mr. Graves?” Credence asked, sleepy and confused.
No, really, he reminded himself. A terrible human being.
“Just … talking to myself,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”
Credence shifted, accidentally pushing up against Graves’ half-erect cock. He could hardly miss it, pressed close together as they were. “What – Oh,” he said, still sleepy but no longer confused. “You’re. Um.” He blinked, dark lashes curving down to kiss his cheeks. “Can I … is it alright if I touch you?”
Merlin and Morgana have mercy. Graves ought to say no. He knew that, and yet –
“If you want to.”
He should put an end to this. He should move Credence’s hand anywhere but on his cock and tell the boy to go back to sleep. He couldn’t blame the desiderata for this, because there was none in either of their systems. This wasn’t the sort of thing either of them could come back from.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to. Grindelwald had taken everything, but he didn’t get to take this, too. He didn’t get to take the act of love, freely offered and freely given.
Graves wrapped his hand around Credence’s, showing Credence the way he liked to be touched by a lover. He tugged Credence down for a kiss, once Credence found the rhythm he liked. He was too old to let himself believe in fantasies – that Credence wanted him, that this was his bed and not his prison, that Credence was the lover he’d wooed and won – but he ached with how badly he wanted to.
“Come here,” Graves said, hauling Credence on top of him, lining their cocks up and drinking in the startled, pleased sound Credence made. He tangled his fingers with Credence’s, showing him how to bring them both pleasure. “Like this, darling. Look at how good you make me feel.”
“You make me feel good. too,” Credence said, almost shyly. “Can you …” He trailed off, rocking his hips against Graves’ pelvis to convey what he couldn’t bring himself to say.
Graves had the determination and the will to master wandless spellcasting, but his famed willpower was not quite good enough to say no to Credence.
“You’ll be sore, tomorrow,” he warned.
“Good,” Credence said, surprisingly fierce. “Ma’s going to belt me, anyway. I’d rather be sore and remember something good.”
“Then let me make it good,” Graves said, concentrating on the lubricating spells. It had only been a couple of hours since he’d taken Credence; he wasn’t worried about getting Credence open, not with the faint traces of his come still leaking from Credence’s thighs. Credence gasped, thrusting against Graves’ cock with a moan. “Come here,” Graves said, guiding Credence in place on top of him. “There you go.”
“Mr. Graves?” Credence asked, half-aroused and half-unsure, hovering over Graves’ cock.
Graves tugged him down, groaning at how good it felt to be back inside where Credence was slick and tight and hot. “It’ll be easier, like this,” he said. “You can control how fast and deep you want me. You’ll still be sore tomorrow, but it won’t be quite so bad.”
“Oh,” Credence gasped. He rose up, just a little, and dropped down harder than Graves thought he meant to. It had to hurt, pain blossoming rather than pleasure, except then Credence did it again.
“Fuck,” Graves said. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
Credence braced his hands on Graves’ shoulders. “Yes,” he said, dark eyes alight. “But I want it to. I want to remember that it’s a good hurt, and not a bad one.”
“Merlin and Morgana and all of Arthur’s knights,” Graves breathed, tugging Credence down until he could press stinging kisses against his mouth. “You’ll be the death of me.” He rocked into Credence and kissed him until both of their lips were swollen and tender and red.
“Touch me,” Credence begged. “Please, Mr. Graves. I need, I need –”
“I’ve got you, darling,” Graves soothed, wrapping his hand around Credence’s cock and mouthing kisses against his neck, his shoulder, his chest. “All you need to do is let go and let me catch you.”
Credence collapsed against him, coming with a breathless sigh. He went excruciatingly tight around Graves’ cock as he came, wrenching the orgasm out of him with a wordless snarl.
Graves rolled Credence underneath him, where he could keep Credence safe from harm. “Got you,” he said, teasing.
Credence hummed in wordless agreement, pleased.
“My darling,” Graves murmured, pressing kisses against Credence’s pulse. “Kind and lovely and mine.” Somewhere outside of his primitive hindbrain, Graves was fairly certain he was going to regret this tomorrow, or at least have second thoughts. But it was hard to focus on that now, when he was sated and pleased and still inside of his lover.
He hadn’t counted on his stomach ruining the moment by grumbling loudly.
“Oh,” said Credence, squirming free. “Here,” he said, catching hold of his discarded jacket and coming up with the sandwich he’d tucked away earlier.
“I thought this was for your sister,” Graves said, resisting the urge to tear into it.
“Modesty’s not little enough to believe anyone would give me steak or bread that nice,” Credence said, with that terrible matter-of-factness. “And Mr. Grindelwald can’t object if he doesn’t know it’s for you.”
“You are full of surprises,” Graves said, sinking his teeth into the first real food he’d had in weeks. He offered up bites of it for Credence to eat, the primal animal part of him sated when Credence accepted. The meat and bread didn’t last long, but it took the edge off his hunger.
The awful No-Maj woman hadn’t broken him. Maybe Grindelwald couldn’t, either.
Kindness was its own kind of magic. Even if Credence wasn’t whatever Grindelwald thought he was, Graves was still going to show him every wonder the wizarding world had to offer. He’d get an exemption for Rappaport’s Law and deal with the resulting scandal. It would be worth it. Credence deserved nothing less.
“Not so stupid after all,” he teased. “Are you sure you ought to be slumming it here with someone as stupid as me?”
Credence flinched. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice low. “I know it’s not much.”
“What? Oh, fuck. I didn’t mean – I was teasing,” he said, except that didn’t help. If anything, the explanation made things worse. Graves mentally cursed himself for being an absolutely, unredeemable useless ass – that mental voice was all Dindrane, and at Howler volume, too – and told himself to man up. “I was trying to flirt with you.”
“Flirt?” Credence said. “With ... me?”
The lengthy pauses in between all three words suggested Credence was having trouble connecting them in a sentence. As though he couldn’t imagine using those words together, which was just fucking criminal. As sweet as he was, Credence ought to have had his pick of suitors. Men and women closer to his own age, people who would be able to say the right thing when it mattered and not shell shock him with a careless word.
“I’m a bit out of practice,” Graves admitted. And possibly he’d never been very good at it in the first place. Between his name, his power and his looks, companionship had never been hard to find. Or it hadn’t been, back when he’d been one of MACUSA’s twin rising stars. As Director of Magical Security, he supposed the view from the top was a bit lonely. He hadn’t minded. The last thing he wanted to do was give the appearance of favoritism, or risk abusing his position. He could satisfy his needs well enough by himself, thank you very much.
Credence still looked stunned, and maybe a little bit like he thought Graves was making fun of him.
“Very out of practice,” Graves amended.
“Why?” Credence blurted.
“Because you’re lovely and clever and kind and I wanted to,” Graves said. They were veering dangerously close to Healer-Legilimens territory again. He was not qualified to have this conversation. He was much better at deflecting people’s attempts to kill him. He would’ve welcomed one of Grindelwald’s, right at that moment.
“I’m not,” said Credence.
“You are.”
“No, I’m not,” Credence said.
The empty bottle of Felix Fecundus sitting on the supper table shattered.
Credence froze at the sound of breaking glass.
Graves blinked, because he hadn’t lost control of his magic like that since he was four years old. “Credence?” he asked.
“I didn’t,” Credence blurted, desperate. “I swear, I didn’t. I’ll clean it up. Please, don’t –” He lapsed into terrified silence, shaking in anticipation of being hurt.
Please, don’t hurt me, Graves finished for him. He suddenly had a very clear idea of why Credence had enormous reserves of magical ability and no way to use them. He was too afraid to. Wizarding children were taught to embrace their magic, to revel in their birthright, but the Barebone woman had only ever taught Credence fear and pain.
“Oh, my darling,” Graves said, tugging Credence into the shelter of his arms. “You don’t need to be afraid of me. I’m not angry with you. I’m glad.” He held on, trying to anchor Credence through the tremors that threatened to shake him apart. “That was magic, what you just did.”
“I didn’t,” Credence insisted. “I can’t do magic. Mr. Grindelwald said so.”
“Grindelwald doesn’t know everything,” Graves said. “And you can. You were just never taught how. That was magic. You’re magic. You’re a wizard, Credence.”
Re: FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 7/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-01-16 05:44 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 7/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-01-16 11:16 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 7/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-01-16 04:47 pm (UTC)(link)I feel so sorry for both of them, but I'm happy that they are able to get a little bit of happiness from this situation.