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The harsh whistling of the wind softened into the crackling of a fire, and the tingling cold at the tip of his nose dissolved into a steady ache. At first, Credence thought he had been dreaming, but Mr. Graves’ arms were still tightly wound around him. His soft gloves brushing away Credence’s salty tears made the boy open his eyes.
“Oh, my dear boy. Come, let me take care of you.”
Mr. Graves gently took Credence by the elbows and walked him over to the bed. He helped him sit, still slightly disoriented from the sudden use of magic. The plush bed barely moved under the underfed boy.
He glanced around Mr. Graves’ apartment. It was nothing like he’d have thought for such a high-ranking wizard. Instead of a door, the bedroom was separated by an arch. The bed took up most of the bedroom area, and most everything else was in the large living room. There were two doors next to each other, one clearly the front door. The other must have been a bathroom.
Mr. Graves returned from around the corner, supposedly where the kitchenette was, carrying a mug. He handed it to Credence, the smell of tea overpowering the smell of the near fireplace. “It’s still hot.”
Mr. Graves always took such good care of Credence. He held him when the day became too much, healed him when Ma became too horrible. He even promised to teach Credence magic.
“Where did she hurt you?” Mr. Graves’ warm voice always felt promising to Credence, even when he hadn’t promised anything, even before they became so close.
“My—she, uh—” stammered Credence, chest still pounding. Mr. Graves placed a comforting hand on Credence’s shoulder. When he flinched, his hand let go. “My back, Mr. Grave—Graves.”
Carefully, always carefully, Mr. Graves took the tea from Credence and set it on a shelf. He unbuttoned Credence’s coat, finally noticing the missing layers. Credence’s breath hitched as Mr. Graves’ no-longer-gloved fingers moved to undo his button down.
Credence trembled as Mr. Graves moved behind him to examine the damage, feeling more exposed than he’d like. Though… the second Mr. Graves’ hands started trailing over his back, Credence’s body shivered from something other than the cold.
Mr. Graves didn’t move back in Credence’s view when the drumming warmth was stripped from his back. Instead, the warmth of his breath trailed up his back, retracing the steps of his palms.
“Mr— Mr. Graves?”
Mr. Graves’ ungloved hands circled Credence’s hips. “You know I would never do anything to hurt you, Credence?”
“I… I know, sir.”
“Then let me take care of you, forget about the pain.”
“You already help me so much, Mr. Graves.”
“I won’t get nothing out of it.” His stubble tickled Credence’s neck as his lips pressed down.
Credence’s breathing stammered, and his body did something it wasn’t supposed to. Ma always said it was the work of the devil, that he shouldn’t give into these earthly desires. But Ma had been wrong about many things, and Mr. Graves wouldn’t ever hurt Credence.
One of Mr. Graves’ hands ran over Credence’s thigh, spreading his legs. It then traced back to the bulge in Credence’s trousers. He rubbed just right, making a foreign sound slip from the youth’s lips.
“Mr—”
“You trust me, yes?”
“Yes—yes, of course I do, Mr. Graves.”
“Then take off your clothes. I’ll make you feel better.”
Credence stood. He started to unbutton his trousers, but turned to face Mr. Graves, who was watching him endearingly. He scooted to the edge of the bed, sitting so Credence was between his legs. He gave a slight nod to continue.
Anxiety overwhelmed Credence when he finally stood bare before Mr. Graves. His gaze wanted to stick to the ground, but his appendage kept creeping into view. Mr. Graves reached out, running his fingers over Credence’s hip, getting dangerously close to his rear. His breath hitched.
Mr. Graves guided Credence closer to him until his thighs pressed against the foot of the bed.
“Look—look at me, Credence. That’s it. This will feel unusual, it may even hurt. But I need you to relax, and to trust me. Can you do that?”
Credence nodded, confused and nervous for what awaited him. Then, Mr. Graves’ finger slipped in his ass. It burned, and he felt himself clenching, trying to keep it out.
“Credence—”
“I’m sorry, Mr—Mr. Graves.”
“That’s all right. Breathe. Here, hold onto me, if you need.”
Hesitantly, Credence wrapped his arms around Mr. Graves. He leaned into him. That finger began moving in and out. It burned still, but not so bad. When a second finger started prodding, he shuddered. They began to scissor, opening him up. Credence had an idea of what Mr. Graves was going to do.
As the burning subsided, small, pleasure-filled noises stumbled out of Credence. He didn’t feel embarrassed with Mr. Graves, even though he was the only one in undress. Then a pop disconnected them.
Mr. Graves placed a kiss on Credence’s temple, pulling him off.
“Mr. Graves?” Credence asked, watching as his senior began to strip. “Will you—will it hurt?”
“Yes. However, the pain will subside, and you’ll care more for the pleasure. I’ll use a sort of lubricant, which will ease the discomfort—”
Although he had asked the question, Credence stopped paying attention when Mr. Graves’ shirt came off. He was muscular, much more so than meek Credence. When his shaft came out, Credence let out a small noise that Mr. Graves snickered at.
“Lay on the bed, dear boy.”
Credence laid awkwardly, but his eyes traveled back to Mr. Graves’ undressing form. More specifically, his rear. One of his hands disappeared to his front, and reappeared stroking his shaft when he turned.
Mr. Graves watched Credence’s face carefully, focusing on how he bit at his lip. Mr. Graves crawled over the bed, above Credence. His hands fondled and groped Credence’s thighs, inching closer to his ass. He pressed light kisses over the boy’s neck, then up his jaw, then against his lips.
Credence’s lips parted obediently for Mr. Graves’ tongue, which seemed to enter at the same time as his shaft. He felt so snug and tight around Mr. Graves.
The first few thrusts were slow and thoughtful, letting Credence get used to the burn. Only when their lips parted did Mr. Graves speed up. A sigh of relief left his lips, and Credence knew they needed this.
“It—it feels so good, Mr. Graves.”
“I told you it would, dear boy.” Credence let his moans out freely, much to Mr. Graves’ enjoyment. His hips kept rocking steadily into the welcoming gape, whatever brought them to this long forgotten. And then—
“Oh,” moaned Credence. Mr. Graves hit something deep within him, something that made his legs shake. He could’ve sworn he heard Mr. Graves mutter ‘there it is.’
Mr. Graves continued rubbing against that spot, making something leak from Credence’s shaft. He knew it was natural from the smirk on Mr. Graves’ face. The almost-white fluid dripped onto his abdomen. Mr. Graves pressed a hand over the shaft, ensuring it stayed dripping onto Credence.
It felt like a dream come true. So nicely taken care of, and bodily pleasures being so… pleasurable. Credence was on a high from the adoring Mr. Graves that he never wanted to come down from. Knowing that it felt good for him too, that Credence wasn’t being selfish, made him feel weak—in all the right ways.
When Mr. Graves got louder, Credence knew he was getting closer to feeling the ecstasy he was. He felt himself twitch below Mr. Graves’ hand. Mr. Graves buried his face in Credence’s shoulder. When white stars speckled his vision, Credence felt on top of the world. And Mr. Graves moaned a name nowhere near ‘Credence.’
“Oh, Albus.”
Credence didn’t have time to dwell on the slip up, though, because pleasure so intense he couldn’t speak began coursing through his body. His stomach tensed, and something sticky spurted over him. He could feel himself tightening around Mr. Graves, then Mr. Graves filling him.
Panting, Mr. Graves pulled out of Credence. He grabbed a tissue from the only nightstand, dabbing it over Credence’s face, then his mess. He kissed Credence gently, his hand, now freed from the tissue, brushing through Credence’s hair.
“Thank you, Mr. Graves.” His voice, smaller than usual (if at all possible), whispered. Mr. Graves rearranged them both, making Credence lie on his chest.
“You’re welcome, my dear boy.”
Mr. Graves fell asleep first, promising to return Credence to the orphanage first thing tomorrow morning. Credence’s mind lingered on Albus, a man he had never heard of. Maybe it was a mishearing on Credence’s part, an intimate term he never heard of. He fell asleep clinging to Mr. Graves.
He wouldn’t remember the slip-up come morning.