Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9129433.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Fantastic_Beasts_and_Where_to_Find_Them_(Movies), Harry_Potter_-_J._K.
      Rowling, Léon_|_The_Professional_(1994)
  Relationship:
      Credence_Barebone/Original_Percival_Graves, Credence_Barebone_&_Original
      Percival_Graves
  Character:
      Credence_Barebone, Original_Percival_Graves, Gellert_Grindelwald
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Modern_Setting, Assassins_&_Hitmen, Alternate
      Universe_-_Movie_Fusion, Fluff_and_Angst, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without
      Plot, Seduction, Credence_is_the_seducer, Original_Percival_Graves_is_Bad
      at_Feelings, Happy_Credence_Barebone, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Implied/
      Referenced_Child_Abuse, Dubiously_Consensual_Blow_Jobs, Underage_Kissing,
      Orgasm_Denial, Mild_S&M, Daddy_Kink, Praise_Kink, Come_Marking
  Collections:
      Anonymous_Fics
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-31 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 11028
****** Lots of Bad Ideas ******
by Anonymous
Summary
     Credence's entire family has been murdered, all because of a mistake
     his mother made, and now, he's out for revenge.
     Unfortunately, he's just a kid, and he's gonna need the help of his
     neighbor, a hit man, to get said revenge.
Notes
     the Leon:The Professional AU you didn't know you wanted but tada here
     it is.
      
     also please punch your ticket for hell this is where we get off.
     literally.
***** Chapter 1 *****
 
 
Crying was probably a bad idea.
Knocking on the quiet and somewhat judgmental neighbor’s door was a much worse
one.
But the culmination of the week’s events had driven Credence to do just that.
Make a few poor decisions, all in the name of trying not to die.
He’d come up the stairs, returned from the store with all that he’d been asked
to get, including the half gallon of milk for said neighbor, and walked towards
his family’s apartment, seen Mary Lou’s dead body and Chastity’s lying down the
front hallway, and kept walking.
He’d only seen them out of the corner of his eye, but he was pretty sure they’d
been shot.
Someone was still walking around in the apartment, and there was a big guy with
an unfriendly expression standing right outside the door.
Credence kept walking.
Straight until he got to the last apartment at the end of the hallway, and he
couldn’t help it, he reached out to knock, fervently clutching the grocery bag
in his other hand.
Tears started streaming down his face as he heard footsteps on the other side
of the door, and he knew the man who lived there was able to see him.
“Please… open the door.”
He waited a few moments, and when nothing happened neither of them moved,
Credence reached out to knock again, feeling something like desperation and
fear beginning to crawl up his throat, threatening to choke his voice.
“Please… please open the door.”
Another heart pounding few seconds, and then it was as if God himself stepped
down from heaven, the door swung inward, revealing the man with the dark brows
and silver streaks above his ears, and he reached out to yank Credence inside,
shutting the door securely behind him, before the thug outside of the Barebone
apartment could give him a second look.
“What the fuck is going on kid?”
Credence shook his head, bee lining straight for the man’s kitchen, and
beginning to carefully and methodically unpack the grocery sack.
The milk needed to go in the fridge, the bread could go beside it. Everything
else was put away, in his best guess for where the man would want it.
“I don’t know why I did that… why did you make me do that? I’m involved now. I
can’t just…”
“I’ll leave in the morning. When those guys are gone. I promise.”
The man was shaking his head, walking into the kitchen to look over at
Credence, one hand behind his head, rubbing at his neck. He was wearing a pair
of navy sweats and a white tank top. Credence looked away before he stared too
long, afraid to get caught.
“You can’t just go out off on your own. You’re just a kid.”
Credence took offense to that.
“I’m almost fifteen. I can drive after my next birthday. I’ll be fine. I’ll go
stay with some friends…”
He didn’t really have friends. Not anyone that mattered. He’d been skipping
school for nearly a week, and now it wouldn’t even be noticed or reported. His
whole family was dead.
Sobs wracked his body until he slid to the floor, and curled up into a ball,
unable to stop shaking, or crying.
“Hey, hey, don’t do that.”
The man was kneeling down beside him, awkwardly placing a hand on his shoulder
and another on his head, trying to comfort him, Credence supposed.
“I’m sorry… I just, I can’t believe they’re dead.”
He managed to get out between sobs, and the man winced,
“Yeah. Seems like your mom messed with the wrong people. Was she a dealer?”
Credence nodded.
“It’s too bad your sisters had to get dragged into that mess. Too bad.”
Credence shook his head,
“I don’t care about my mom or my older sister. They were horrible people. But
Modesty? She was just a little kid. She’d never hurt nobody. She didn’t deserve
to die.”
“Yeah.”
*
Percy wasn’t really sure what to do. He’d never been good with kids, even kids
he didn’t have to worry about taking care of.
The kid from down the hall, the quiet one with the dark eyes and dark hair and
always a healing purple or green bruise on a cheek or shaky hand was something
else entirely.
When he’d shown up on his doorstep with a whole army of DEA agents looking for
him, he’d known it would be a bad idea to let him in.
But he couldn’t just leave him to die… that would be worse than killing him
himself. Worse than not plucking the cigarette he’d caught him with on the
stairs last week out of his mouth, away from those perfect healthy pink lips.
Fuck.
Stop that.
Young.
Too young.
He was already fingering the pistol hidden behind his back, tucked into his
pants as the kid started crying again, mumbling about his baby sister, and he
wondered, if it would be better to just put the silencer on his pistol and put
the kid out of his misery.
Then he reached out, took one of Percy’s hands, and clung to it like a
lifeline, turning those dark eyes, wet with tears up to him,
“Mister, let me cook some dinner for you. Earn my keep.”
“It’s Graves. No mister.”
He found himself saying, encouraging the fucking kid to call him by his
surname, better that way. Less personable.
He couldn’t stop his mind from running through several better ways the kid
could ‘earn his keep’ for the night, but that wasn’t cool.
The kid seemed to know what he was doing when it came to eggs and toast, and
Percy poured them both a glass of milk so that when they sat down, their plates
and cups were identical.
Percy ate methodically, and the kid ate like he was expecting the food to
vanish at any second. It was kind of cute.
“So you’re a hit man right?”
Percy nearly choked on his sip of milk. Some of it did escape his mouth and run
down his chin before he could grab a paper towel to stop it.
“Uh, what? Where did you hear that?”
The kid just smirked, and Percy decided he looked way too pretty when he did
that.
“I’m not an idiot even if I am just a kid. And it's Credence. Forget the
Barebone part. You are a hit man. What if you could teach me? Train me a
little. So I could go after those bastards who killed my sister.”
Percy was already shaking his head. No amount of training could make the kid
into a killer. He didn’t have it in him.
“Absolutely not.”
“You won’t even try?”
Percy looked at him, really looked at him, in his little white tee shirt that
hung off shoulders as sharp and thin as a hanger, and the eager glint to his
eye.
Well. Maybe he wouldn’t be completely useless.
*
Credence was watching Mister Graves strip and clean his favorite gun, and he
found himself leaning in, close to the man as he could get, arms crossed and
eyes locked on the man’s hands, moving so fast it was almost impossible to
blink, or he might miss something.
He’d never seen Mister Graves actively apply cologne, but he could swear that
he always smelled something spicy and woodsy like, the scented candle Modesty
had always insisted they light a week before Christmas.
“Now you try it.”
Mister Graves passed over the gun, perfectly reassembled, and Credence could
almost feel the warmth from the man’s hands on the metal, and though his
movements were much more sluggish, clumsy even, he did get it pulled apart
properly.
“Very good.”
A rush of heat swirled down his spine at the compliment, and Credence knew the
man meant it sincerely, he rarely handed out such words lightly.
“Am I ready to go try and kill someone?”
He looked up at the man, eyes wide, and the man shook his head at once, so
fervently that his styled hair started to fall down into his face, threatening
to compete with his heavy brows.
“No. We’ll be needing a practice round before that sort of thing. Besides, you
don’t think we’re going to get to that agent so easily. Come on, finish up
here, and then we’re going down to see my boss. I need to pick up a real
assignment.”
Credence was standing outside the Italian restaurant that Mister Graves had
gone into, and he was more than a little bored.
When a young man walked by and spotted him lingering at the doorway, he gave
him a friendly smile, and Credence returned it.
“Need a light?”
The guy said, and Credence shrugged,
“Need a whole cigarette if I’m honest.”
The guy smirked,
“I got ya. This is nice place. You come here a lot?”
Credence shook his head, gratefully accepting the offered cigarette, waiting to
reply until the guy had withdrawn his lighter, a metal one, which clicked shut
as he slid it back inside his jacket.
“This is my first visit. I’m here with my… dad.”
The story came to him in a heartbeat, and Credence realized that even if the
word had a couple different connotations, he certainly didn’t want Mister
Graves ever thinking of him like a son.
He took a long drag on the cigarette, and the guy made some chit chat, until
the door flew open behind them, and Mister Graves was storming out, walking
right up to Credence to pluck the cigarette right out of his mouth.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Credence locked eyes with him, well aware of the guy watching them.
“I wanted a smoke. So I bummed a smoke off this guy. What’s the big fucking
deal?”
He felt a little frission of excitement when he saw Mister Graves eyes flare,
and his jaw tighten at Credence’s cursing.
“Don’t talk like that. You know I don’t like it when you smoke. It’s not good
for you.”
Mister Graves pointedly flicked the cigarette away, and then grabbed Credence’s
arm, starting to walk away from the restaurant back towards the apartment.
“I don’t get why you’re being so bossy all of a sudden.”
Credence finally said, and Mister Graves sighed, not letting up his hold on his
arm.
“Don’t smoke, don’t talk to strangers, and don’t say ‘fuck’ when you’re talking
to me. Got it?”
Credence chanced a look over at the man and instead of finding anger in his
gaze, he just looked tired.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Mister Graves looked at him, catching Credence staring, and he blushed,
dropping his eyes from the man’s face.
“And stop saying okay all the time.”
“Okay.”
Mister Graves coughed, but to Credence it sounded a lot like a laugh.
*
Another day another fuckup, and Credence was responsible for them having to
change apartments for the third time in a month.
He couldn’t say he minded the change of scenery, but he also didn’t like the
new smaller living space. Percy could swear the boy had walked in on him when
he was getting out of the shower on purpose, and only a quick slamming of the
door in his face stopped him from catching sight of him naked.
“The fuck is wrong with you?”
He muttered to himself, mainly in the direction of his crotch, where his cock
had decided it rather liked the idea of running into Credence naked.
He was beginning more and more to wake up painfully hard and had to run to the
bathroom first, lest the boy catch him in compromising position at breakfast.
It was just a lucky thing he still had his own room. There was plenty of money
to be used, but he suspected the next time they had to move, and he knew there
would be a next time, judging by how reckless Credence seemed to enjoy being,
he would shoot the kid before having to share a bedroom with him.
Well, not really.
Every day he got better and better at cleaning his weapon, loading it and
firing properly, with a silencer, at random targets from the rooftop.
Didn’t mean he was ready to take out the dirty DEA agent that had been
responsible for the murder of his whole family, but the kid was a far cry from
the wounded creature that had shown up on his doorstep a few months back.
“Hey. When’s your birthday?”
He wasn’t asking for any reason other than trying to decide what to do, whether
or not to get him something nice, or maybe just a proper holster for his
pistol.
Credence looked up and over at him from where he was sitting at the kitchen
table, drinking his glass of milk, good boy, Percy thought to himself, before
mentally slapping himself, and he shrugged.
“It’s in a couple weeks. Why?”
Percy chuckled,
“Why does anyone care about when anyone’s birthday is?”
Credence blinked over at him,
“Do you care? About me?”
His voice sounded like it had been threatening to break, and Percy bit his
tongue, far too late. Fuck.
Of course he cared, but in about a million and one wrong ways. He was training
the kid to be a killer, like himself! How much more fucked up could it get?
A lot.
Very many more fucked up things that Percy had promised himself he would stop
thinking about.
The image of the boy wrapped up in just a red bow for his birthday popped into
his head before he could stop it, and he missed what the kid had said.
“What?”
Credence smiled, somewhat sadly,
“If you want, maybe we could go have dinner somewhere. I know I’m not really a
good cook, and if your boss can give you a bit extra, it could be really nice.
Not just for me, but for you too. I know, it’s stupid.”
Percy was already nodding, one hundred percent on board that idea.
“Of course. That’s a great idea. I think Picquery can spare enough for me to
take you somewhere they’ll sing to you.”
She could.
The restaurant was one of the finest places Percy had ever been, and he felt
more uncomfortable and out of place than Credence looked, still just in his
almost threadbare white shirt and navy jacket he’d borrowed, or stolen, from
Percy’s own closet. But he’d never looked so excited to be poured a glass of
water by a waiter in a suit, and told the menu specials that were printed in
French.
Once the waiter had left with their orders, Credence had leaned forward to
whisper to him,
“I think this place is too nice, I don’t think they’ll let us stay, I think he
just went to call the police.”
Percy smirked,
“Stop it. I think you’re too hard on yourself. You clean up pretty nice. Your
hair is getting long. Might need to let me give you a trim.”
Credence was already reaching up to finger his own growing dark locks, almost
kissing the sides of his jaw, and now Percy was imagining he was the one
kissing that bit of skin and he fought the urge to dig his fork into his thigh.
*
Credence wasn’t sure if it had been the one or two glasses of champagne that
Mister Graves said he could try, or just because he really wanted to know what
else he had gotten for his birthday, but he was leaning on the man more so than
usual as they climbed the rickety stairs back to their apartment.
“Mister Graves, is it just me or is the floor moving?”
The man huffed out a sigh and put an arm against his shoulders, helping guide
him more strictly,
“Credence. I told you to just call me Graves.”
“Mmm sorry Mister Graves.”
The man’s voice could now be called a soothing lullaby in his ears, and he
didn’t want to fall asleep, not yet, so he began to force his eyes open after
every blink, and kept walking past his room towards the man’s room, falling
down backwards on his bed, arms spread wide, and heart pounding.
“I think I love you.”
Mister Graves followed him quickly enough and seemed to only catch the last few
words, walking over to the side of the bed, and staring down at him with a
bemused expression.
“What’s that now?”
Credence smiled dreamily, and hummed to himself for a moment before nodding,
“I love you. I can feel it here. In my stomach. There used to be a knot there,
for the longest time since I can remember, but now it’s gone. I just feel,
light, free.”
Mister Graves looked skeptical, and began to undo his gun belt and take off his
jacket,
“How can you know if its love, if you’ve never been in love before? You’re just
a kid.”
For some reason, it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than
Credence, and he wasn’t quite sure why.
“I just know. I hope you don’t mind. I know I’ll probably grow out of it, but
you are kind of my hero. Promise you won’t hurt me, don’t tease me about it?”
“You probably won’t remember a word of this tomorrow morning Credence. Don’t
worry too hard.”
Credence’s eyes shot wide open and he sat up, seeming to startle Mister Graves,
“I won’t remember anything tomorrow?”
Mister Graves chuckled,
“I mean from tonight. You’ve never had anything like that, wine or alcohol
before right?”
Credence nodded,
“Not even at church. It was just grape juice.”
“So there you go. It’s sort of a memory eraser, if you have too much, or it’s
your first time.”
Credence’s eyes dropped from the man’s face to his stomach, where he’d shifted
and his shirt had risen up to reveal a sliver of skin, as he hung up his gun
belt.
“Um.”
Mister Graves was looking at him now, eyes dark and intense, and Credence
couldn’t look away, he was moving and his body seemed to be following orders he
didn’t remember giving it.
“Mister Graves, what did you get me for my birthday?”
He was so close he could count the man’s eyelashes, and freckles on his nose,
and the man seemed frozen, trapped beneath Credence’s stare.
“I uh, hadn’t really gotten to get anything, besides that dinner reservation…
hope that’s okay.”
The man’s hands were lifting to rest on Credence’s waist, as if he might pull
him in for a hug, but that was not the ultimate goal.
“I think I know what I want.”
Credence leaned in closer, so close he was overwhelmed by the scent of the
man’s cologne, and without a thought, he pressed his mouth to Mister Graves,’
feeling the scratch of his stubble against Credence’s chin.
For a moment, the man relaxed into the kiss, and his hands tightened on
Credence’s hips, but then he was jerking back, and shoving Credence forward, so
that he fell back on the bed again, hands empty and mouth cold.
“Credence! You shouldn’t have done that. Get out of my room. Go lay down. Let
the champagne wear off.”
Heart still pounding in his ears, Credence nodded, and did as he was told. He
didn’t want to make Mister Graves angry, and he wished he could take it back.
Everything. The stupid words, the failed attempt at romance or whatever the
hell he thought it was.
He prayed he would forget it all, and hoped Mister Graves would too.
*
Percy found himself lying awake for almost the entire night, and trying to
sleep was a fruitless endeavor. Not until he’d allowed himself to reach down
and take care of the almost painful erection he’d gotten the second his
innocent little Credence had tried to kiss him.
Forget confession a deep seated love and adoration, the mere fact that he’d had
the balls to actually do it, to kiss him, a cold blooded killer, and he’d
probably not even planned it, just done it, was mind blowingly sexy.
It almost pissed Percy off how sexy it was. He wanted to get out of bed and go
crawl into Credence’s excuse for a mattress, pin him to it, and grind against
his hips until they both were panting for breath.
But he couldn’t.
He was just a kid.
A kid in Percy’s care now.
A kid with a job to do, once Percy declared him ready.
Fuck.
How much longer could he keep that up? Pretending that everything between them
was okay, that every morning at breakfast he hadn’t just spent ten minutes in
the shower thinking about Credence until he came against the poor tile walls,
and washed away the evidence right after?
“Thank you for dinner by the way. Sorry I forgot to tell you sooner.”
It had been over a week.
A week of pure agony.
Percy nodded,
“It’s fine. You’re welcome. Go get your pistol, start stripping it down. We’ll
run through it again.”
Credence left the kitchen and returned with the black cloth and the gun, and
did as Percy had told him. That was the other thing.
So happy to learn every little thing, so eager to please following every
command he would give, it made Percy almost sick with need.
Wondering if the kid would obey him if he ordered him to get on his knees, if
he finally caved in and visited him in the dead of night, told him how he
wanted to fuck him seven ways to Sunday, asked him to be perfectly quiet no
matter what he did.
God.
There was a special place for people like him, and it never ended well.
Percy looked up to find Credence almost done, and when the final piece slide
into place, the kid beamed like it was fucking Christmas morning.
“How was that?”
Percy managed a smile,
“Less than two minutes. You’re getting really good. Almost ready to go get your
revenge I think.”
Credence’s eyes widened, and he looked down at the gun,
“Wow. You really think so?”
Percy nodded.
“Absolutely.”
*
Credence hadn’t told Mister Graves he’d be leaving. He’d promised he’d stand
still. Wait for him outside Miss Picquery’s restaurant.
Well, he caught sight of the guy he’d seen in his apartment, standing over the
bodies of his family, and he’d made a snap decision.
“Follow that car.”
He’d barked at the taxi driver, and when he’d tried to argue, Credence had
shoved two hundred dollar bills in his face, and spoke again, that time his
voice deadly calm,
“Drive fast, and shut up.”
The building that the guy with the bleached hair got out at was a tall one, and
it was downtown.
Credence didn’t know the area except that his old church was somewhere nearby,
the steeple about half as high as the brick office place in front of him.
He followed the guy as close as he dared, ducking around metal detectors and
lingering at ladies’ with nice purses sides, until he reached the stairs where
he could get to the floor he’d seen man take an elevator to.
His silenced pistol was heavy and hot in his pocket, begging to be taken in
hand and used, but it wasn’t time yet. He didn’t want to be spotted by anyone.
He emerged from the staircase just in time to see the man slip into a restroom
on the current floor.
“Hope it’s not too crowded.”
He mumbled to himself.
Pushing open the door slowly, he didn’t see anyone else, just the bleached hair
belonging to the man who was his target, and Credence did reach back now,
pulling out his gun and moving as close to the man as he dared, finger pressed
to the trigger, poised to fire.
“What did I ever do to you?”
The man was turning around, walking over to the nearest sink and starting to
wash his hands, barely sparing a glance to Credence, which only served to make
him that much angrier.
“You killed my baby sister.”
The man looked over at him, finally a proper final glance, and he shrugged,
“I’ve killed a lot of baby sisters of poor sad angel’s like you. I’m gonna need
you to be more specific.”
Credence braced himself, backed away slightly, and shook his head,
“I don’t owe you any explanations, you bastard.”
“So go on then. Pull the trigger. Be a man. I don’t think you can, you wouldn’t
hurt a - ”
Credence blinked.
He had.
The silencer had made it much quieter than he was expecting, and the man
actually looked surprised too, for the few seconds he had before his brain shut
down, and he fell backwards, blood starting to pool out from underneath him.
Credence swallowed, and tried to catch his breath.
He needed to leave, now. Quiet and careful.
Down the stairs, the way he’d come.
Less chance to be spotted and stopped.
So he ran.
*
When Percy came outside and found Credence gone, he thought he would have been
more upset, or angry, but instead of all that, he was just hurt. He looked
around, walked up and down for about five blocks, saw nothing, and no one knew
anything. He eventually began to walk back home, to the apartment he’d started
to consider, well, not just his anymore, and trudged up the stairs.
Opening the door, he didn’t even notice there were candles lit until he turned
around and closed the door proper behind him.
“What the fuck.”
“You’re home!”
Credence appeared out of nowhere, and was running straight for him, making
impact with his chest, and forcing the wind out of his lungs, as his arms
automatically wrapped around the boy.
“Where the hell were you?”
Percy tried to keep his voice low, tried to fight the urge to yell, to grab him
by the shoulders and shake him until he could hear his brain rattling, but the
kid just looked so happy, giddy almost, he didn’t know how to begin to chastise
him.
Oh he was so fucked.
“I did it! I got the guy.”
Percy felt his heart skip a beat.
“What?”
Credence was still beaming,
“I saw him! Across the street. I took a cab to follow him to his office, and
then I cornered him, and killed him. Very professional.”
Percy pulled back, and gripped Credence by his shoulders, staring him right in
the eye,
“You’re sure he’s dead?”
Credence nodded,
“He didn’t even think I could do it, so I held it right up to his head, and
pulled the trigger.”
“Well, damn.”
Percy was completely stunned, amazed, and more than a little aroused at the
idea of Credence pulling off his first kill, and completely on his own.
“Where’s your gun?”
He suddenly asked, and Credence grinned,
“I cleaned it and stripped it already.”
Percy stepped away from the kid as fast as he could, hoping he hadn’t noticed
that he had already angled his body so that he wouldn’t be actually touching
him with his front.
It was time for some more distance, and a long hot shower.
“That’s truly a job well done Credence. I’m proud of you.”
He didn’t see the sad look Credence shot him as he walked away, and definitely
didn’t see how he flinched when Percy slammed his bedroom door shut.
 
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     if you dont want smut where credence is 15.5 and graves is whatever
     30 ish, time to go bye bye
It had been Credence’s idea to go to Paris.
He said how much he had always wanted to see it, and Christmas was coming up,
so ‘Couldn’t they go pleeeease?’
Percy also knew Credence wanted to visit Paris because of the French restaurant
they had gone to for his fifteenth birthday.
Percy decided he couldn’t say no to that.
They deserved a vacation anyway after the incident with the DEA Grindelwald.
So when Percy had gone to Picquery, and asked her for money to take his new
little… apprentice to Paris for Christmas, she had nodded, handed over the
money, and left Percy in a daze.
He had never realized just how long he’d been working without ever cashing in
any of his paychecks.
He’d gotten the bare minimum to survive and then a bit extra when he had taken
Credence in, and it had been enough.
                But now?
He was going to Paris with Credence, and several hundred thousand dollars in
his suitcase.
Suffice it to say, he never let it or the kid out of his sight for the whole
plane ride over.
Credence was running around and fucking jumping up and down when they finally
settled into a modest flat which his boss had called ahead to arrange.
Percy had been unsure how long they would be staying in Paris, but Picquery had
said he only needed to give her a call and they would be booked a flight back
to New York.
Credence ran from the front hallway to the first bedroom he saw and pulled open
the empty closet to gasp.
It was huge!
Nearly as big as his entire old room in the apartment before he’d come to meet
Percy.
“When can we go shopping?”
Percy looked a bit taken aback, which was surprising, because he rarely showed
anything but mild amusement on his face, at least at the kid.
“Shopping.”
It wasn’t a question.
Credence nodded so hard Percy thought his brain might have rattled.
“Er… what for?”
“For fun! You don’t have to do anything, you just come along, and watch me try
on stuff. Unless you decide you want to get a new leather jacket or something…”
Credence trailed off, eyeing the man’s rather frayed one, and Percy blinked.
Was that an insult, a nice way of saying he was in need of a new wardrobe?
He supposed maybe, just maybe, the kid was right.
*
As he watched Credence spinning around in front of the changing room mirror,
clad in the most outrageous flower print pants and shirt, he tried to keep from
thinking too hard.
He really didn’t like the way he lost control when Credence said things like he
loved him or how he knew he loved him.
So what if he did love him?
That didn't change anything. It was still wrong.
But his body hadn’t felt things like he felt for the kid in well over a decade.
He hadn’t known he still could.
The problem was, Credence was just so young.
No longer as innocent and fragile as he might have looked, but still.
The kiss they had shared the night of Credence’s birthday had been on his mind
more and more, and it was driving him insane.
Percy’s hands balled into fists and he shoved them into his pockets as Credence
bounced around him, waiting expectantly.
Certainly the idea of letting the kid roam around Paris without him was more
than out of the question.
He sighed.
“Okay. Let’s get your things paid for, then we can go visit the Eiffel tower.”
Credence’s wide grin of delight and eager clapping nearly undid him.
When the kid leapt at him for a hug, Percy’s arms opened automatically.
Credence clung to him, without the same frenetic energy as the last time, but
with incredible strength none the less.
*
It didn’t take very long to fill up the closet, and they’d only been in Paris
two weeks.
Half of it was supposedly Percy’s and the other half was full of shoes and
clothes that were Credence’s.
However, everything that was on his side, well, 80 percent, the kid had picked
out for him. They were nice things he was too afraid to wear, too afraid to
wrinkle or tie wrong.
Credence had said they had to dress up for Christmas Dinner in Paris, so Percy
had caved and bought a suit that he knew he’d rather burn than wear again.
Credence’s frilly yellow jacket had pink specks of flowers and had somehow
slipped past Percy’s radar until the kid put it on.
He was wearing it over a plain white shirt, almost translucent, with bright red
pants and black shiny shoes. He looked at once completely ridiculous and almost
more grown up than Percy could ever remember him being.
Also, the outfit was too loud and he rather wanted to rip it right off of
Credence’s body and just let him walk around naked.
Percy could have slapped himself for even thinking about that.
But those designers knew exactly what the fuck they were doing.
Credence had looked in a way, his own glorious way, beautiful.
Now the kid was calling him.
Percy sighed, and got up from the golden marble flecked kitchen table where
he’d been attempting to read the newspaper, with his chilled glass of milk at
his right hand.
They always slept in every day; after all, what was a vacation for if not that?
He didn’t let himself respond to Credence, he simply walked until he found him.
Credence was inside the closet.
Percy sighed, he should have known.
“Mister Graves! Which do you think I should wear tomorrow night when we go to
the ballet?”
Credence was holding up two jackets, one deep navy, with silver embellishments,
and the other a bright pink, with red sparkles dotted here and there.
The pink was a bit too much, and Percy opened his mouth to say so, but he
immediately dropped them both and rushed him.
Percy was used to the kid hugging him at all moments of the day, but Credence
still managed to take him by surprise. He was tucked so closely to Percy’s
body, head beneath his chin, it was easy to forget they were almost the same
height.
“Oof. Stop calling me Mister.”
“Tell me something, is this trip my Christmas present? Or can I make a wish
too?”
Percy stroked a hand through the kid’s dark hair that was quickly growing out
to wave and wisp gently below his chin and nearly touching his shoulders about
five seconds before he realized how inappropriate such a gesture was. He jerked
his hand back like he had been burned, and Credence hadn’t even seemed to
notice.
“Mmm.”
Credence yanked his head back up to look at Percy,
“Is that a yes?”
He shrugged.
Percy really wasn’t sure where the kid was going with the question.
The trip was a present for them both. A vacation and their destination of
choice. Couldn’t beat a Christmas miracle like that. Even if it was technically
funded by Percy’s savings.
“I want you to kiss me. For my present.”
Percy blinked down at Credence, and the boy’s smile seemed to only grow wider.
“Credence!”
He managed to splutter, and the kid nodded.
“Yep, that’s me.”
“I can’t.”
Percy protested, halfheartedly, as his mind was already racing at the simple
fact the boy was in his arms and all it would take would be one swift pull, a
few inches of space closed, those perfect pink lips would be on his.
Despite the kid’s ferocity in the face of danger, he was still a lanky and
light little thing.  It just meant he could move fast when he needed to, and
couldn’t quite yet manage a rifle.
Percy could carry Credence fairly easily in his arms like he weighed nothing at
all, and he had, at least twice.
Once when he had fallen asleep after watching the fireworks die out on July
Forth, Percy had carried him to bed and placed the gentlest of kisses on
Credence’s forehead.
Every once in a while the kid would crawl out of his bed, and slip into
Percy’s.
He made excuses, telling Percy in the mornings, when he talked to him about
something other than normal chatter and babble for him, that it helped Credence
sleep without nightmares.
In the early part of the morning Percy always felt him get up, and leave his
side cold, so as not to bother him.
He loved every second of it, and then cursed himself for feeling such joy from
the kid being in his bed.
How many times had he imagined doing the same thing himself, visiting Credence
in the dead of night, just to listen to him breath, and feel his warmth against
him?
Dozens.
“Sure. Just get down on your knees.”
Credence’s authoritative voice broke through his foggy memories, and Percy
blinked again.
“What? Why?”
The kid’s face scrunched up in concentration, as he reached up to brace himself
on Percy’s shoulders, but of course, he didn’t budge.
“So we’ll be the same height. No tip toes needed.”
Credence was smiling, only a hint of mischief in his eyes, and Percy wasn’t
buying it.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Credence rolled his eyes, and skipped over to the wall, flicking off the light
switch in one swift movement.
“Credence, why did you do that?”
Percy couldn’t see the grin, but he could hear it.
“Making it easier for you.”
Eventually, Percy found himself complying, and he got down to his knees in the
middle of the closet, reluctantly, feeling the piles of sweaters and coats they
used somewhat regularly for the Parisian winter padding the floor.
“Okay.”
He didn’t like it, but if Credence reallywanted a kiss for Christmas, he
guessed he could do that. A short one and it would be as chaste as a fucking
nun kissing a crucifix.
Credence’s hands clasped over his shoulders again, but now Percy could sense
the kid only inches away from his face.
His sweet breath tasted like peppermint and chocolate.
“Hold still.”
He wanted to say ‘I am’but that would have been pointless.
Suddenly Credence pushed him backwards, and Percy lost his balance, toppling
back onto the soft covering of fabric.
“Wha-?”
Small but sturdy, Credence had pounced on top of him, and Percy’s hands moved
of their own accord to grasp his hips, feeling the kid’s sharp edges and bony
frame squirming just slightly over top of him, seeming to be getting his
bearings in the dark.
Light from the bedroom window streamed in, and leaked up under the bottom of
the door, so there wasn’t total blackness, but Percy’s eyes were still getting
used to so much dark.
Credence’s hands braced themselves on the sides of his face, and then he was
there, kissing Percy with tentative and soft lips.
Slightly chapped from the winter air and pinked from the chapstick he’d begged
Percy to buy for him, at one of the stalls at the airport in New York, unable
to resist the allure of the flashy packaging, Credence’s mouth had indeed
looked very kissable that morning, but Percy had pretended not to notice.
Now he was doing his best not to react, his hands simply resting on Credence’s
body, and hoping he wouldn’t wiggle around too much while on top of him.
Credence had really never done something as brazen before, not sober at least,
and Percy had done his best to keep the kid from ever seeing him truly
flustered.
Credence couldn’t see him anyway, but Percy was blushing. A few accidental
‘almost’ encounters in the bathroom post shower were nothing compared to this,
this attack and the threat of dozens of weeks of tension preparing to snap.
Percy’s cheeks felt very hot, and the second that heat started moving south, he
gently prodded Credence back, continuing pushing and nudging for him to get off
of his body.
He tried to break the kiss, which he was barely contributing to anyway, and
Credence was insistent, he refused to stop.
“Mm-mm.”
The kid hummed, and his legs suddenly slipped down and around to grip Percy’s
upper body, locking himself firmly in place.
One of Percy’s hands slid up Credence’s back, and he felt the boy shiver, as
the other hand reached blindly to pet his hair.
“Credence.” Leaving his throat sounded more like ‘Reeddance’ with the lack of
his voice.
Finally! Finally he started to pull away, and Percy knew he was looking at him
with a quirk to his brow,
“What?”
“That’s enough. You got your present of a kiss.”
Credence was pouting, he had to be.
“But I didn’t say how long I wanted it to be.”
“Any longer and I wouldn’t have been able to breathe.”
“Am I that heavy?”
Percy let his head fall back against the down of a coat and sighed,
“No Credence. That’s not what I meant.”
Sitting on his chest, Credence could no sooner hurt Percy or keep him from
getting back up than move a mountain.
But it wasn’t just the boy’s body keeping him down.
Percy didn’t trust himself.
Percy trusted Credence, enough, but the careful control he’d been forming was
starting to fracture.
“Am I doing it wrong?”
The boy’s voice broke, and Percy suddenly hoped that he wasn’t about to cry.
“No, no Credence. You did fine. But it’s time you let me up, and we can get
ready to go out.”
“I’m not done.”
“What?”
Credence’s hands left his face and crept down to his shirt, a white tank that
was meant to just be an undershirt, so it was pretty thin and well worn, and
the boy’s touch burned through to his skin, making him jump.
“What are you doing?”
“Just wanting to check on the goods.”
The boy’s hands dropped from tracing a path along his stomach past his waist
and right over the seam of his sweats.
Percy nearly had a heart attack as Credence’s tentative fingers brushed over
his no longer inattentive ‘goods.’
“Credence!”
“What? I’m not stupid. I know what to do. I want to make sure everything’s ok
for when I’m ready to sleep with you.”
“Fuck!”
Percy couldn’t stop himself from cursing, and Credence’s answering giggle was
extremely unnerving,
“Or that. Fuck. Sleep. Make love.”
The boy was still palming his fabric covered cock, but it was becoming rapidly
more and more impossible to control himself. Percy wanted desperately to thrust
up against the boy’s hand, and even reach down and confirm the hard lump he
felt against his thigh was the boy’s own hardening cock.
Percy couldn’t not react.
His hands grabbed the boy’s smaller ones with lightening speed, yanking them
off and away from his groin.
“Stop.”
“But…”
Percy could see the quavering of the boy’s bottom lip, or he could imagine it
well enough.
“This is wrong. You need to stop talking like that. I’m old enough to be your
father. This cannot happen.”
“I didn’t mean right now. I was just trying to make you feel good.”
“Credence…”
“I’m sorry.”
Percy’s hands loosened, and he wrapped his arms around Credence, pulling him in
for a crushing embrace.
“Don’t apologize, just listen to me. Don’t do it again.”
“No kissing either?”
The boy finally asked, after a moment of silence.
Percy blinked into the dark.
He wasn’t sure he could say no to that.
“What about holding hands when we go out?”
Credence tried again.
“That’s okay.”
Percy answered, relieved at an easy question.
That he could do all day long.
The boy’s smaller hand fit into his perfectly, and it also served as insurance
that he couldn’t wander off.
Credence sighed, and Percy felt him nod against his chest.
“Okay Graves.”
*
Letting the boy continue to crawl into bed with Percy was a bad idea, in
hindsight, he knew it perfectly well. It didn’t mean he had the heart to tell
the boy to stop.
The other day, Credence had chosen the pink jacket.
It was dreadfully girly and should have made him look ridiculous, but instead,
Percy was reminded of the birthday dinner, and how pink the boy’s lips and
cheeks had been from just one glass of champagne.
Percy knew that in five years Credence could be making a killing, breaking
hearts left and right and he’d be tossed aside for a new model the second the
boy figured it out and truly went off on his own.
Or maybe Credence wasn’t like that.
Percy stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep since the moment the boy crept
in his room and curled up at his side.
The blankets formed a nest around the boy’s slender body, and he was breathing
steadily, his eyes moving about beneath his lids as he dreamed.
Credence never looked more beautiful then like that.
It was why Percy couldn’t resist touching him. That was what he told himself.
Innocent ways he could forgive himself for, like just tracing a hand over the
arm that stuck out from the comforter, and then a fingertip along the boy’s
forehead, brushing back the grown out bangs that tickled his eyebrows.
There was a war raging inside Percy. He wanted Credence to be able to grow up
happy, well adjusted, and eventually find his own way in the world, but Percy
also didn’t want to let him go, and wondered how well he could be after growing
up orphaned and sheltered by a hit man.
His hands began to shake, so he pulled away, and shrunk back to his side of the
bed.
Well, all of it was his bed, but he’d begun to think of it as theirs instead of
just his, for the nights when the boy didn’t come to him were almost
nonexistent.
“Percy…”
Credence breathed in a sigh, and Percy knew he was still sleeping, he had to
be. The boy had never used his first name like that before, even though he had
told him, had seen him write it every time they changed apartments, three times
in one month thanks to the boy’s antics.
But he dreamed of Percy?
Credence’s angelic face contorted in a frown, and he shifted around, seemingly
distressed.
“Mister Graves… no…”
Percy could have died in that moment to know what was happening in the boy’s
head.
Was he hurting him? Was he in trouble and Percy couldn’t get to him? Was-
“Percy… please don’t go…”
The same words he’d said to him that night. Drunk. He’d probably long forgotten
it.
He’d come to check on the boy around four in the morning, found him curled
against the side of his bed, almost falling out, and when Percy had re-tucked
Credence in, the boy had caught his wrist, and begged him not to leave. Still
asleep, but somehow aware.
It had haunted Percy’s mind for the rest of the night.
Percy reached out for him, unable to stop himself, and he pulled Credence
close, with all the blankets, providing a cocoon of warmth and comfort.
“Credence… shhh, it’s okay. I’m here.”
Credence woke with a start, and Percy saw tears glistening in his warm brown
eyes.
“I thought you had died. You left me, and you went and got yourself killed.”
Credence spoke in a hushed whisper, and sounded so hurt and betrayed, Percy
wasn’t sure he knew what to say.
“I’m sorry.”
It was all he could think of.
“Hold me.”
“I am.”
The boy squirmed out of the blankets and Percy tried to ignore the fact he just
had on a pair of white silk boxers that he had insisted he just couldn’t live
without from some shop that looked more like a candy than a store. In Paris,
they sold lingerie for both sexes, it seemed. Percy couldn’t remember exactly
how he’d been persuaded to go inside that store in the first place.
“No, I mean really hold me.”
Keeping any distance was apparently out of the question, and Credence scooted
under the covers to pull Percy flush to him, curving against his body, and
spreading warmth throughout him.
Well, mostly in one direction.
“Credence…”
His voice was a warning, but the boy wasn’t listening.
“Mmm.”
Credence snuggled right up under Percy’s chin, tucking his head into the cleft
between Percy’s neck and shoulder, and the boy’s stray long hair tickled his
nose.
“Are you comfortable?”
Percy finally asked, a hushed whisper.
“Mm-hmm.”
Credence hummed, and Percy sighed, pulling the blanket the boy pushed away over
them both.
There was hardly a speck of space between them, and Percy could already feel
the regret seeping into his bones.
*
Percy’s eyes snapped open instantly as the rapid coil of pleasure built in his
stomach, and his heart nearly skipped a beat as he looked down to find Credence
stroking and playing with his morning hardened cock.
Normally when he was able to wake up alone, he could rush to the bathroom to
take care of it before joining Credence for breakfast, but more and more he
hadn’t been able to, not without sneaking away. Credence had gotten the jump on
him, and Percy was frozen in shock.
His breathing sped up and he tried to find a way to tell the boy to stop that
didn’t sound like begging.
“You’re so big. I mean I suppose it could just be me, my hands are kind of
small, but wow, I think you’re really big. It’s nice. You feel okay?”
Thousands of replies were stuck in Percy’s throat, as Credence’s long fingered
hands continued to move up and down over the shaft, and his hips jerked
involuntarily closer.
“Ye-e-ep.”
He managed to croak out after a moment, and the arousal that had just been
simmering on low heat kicked into high gear as Credence beamed at him.
“Great!”
The boy shifted closer, his hands never stilling, and he kissed Percy, slightly
sloppily but with boundless enthusiasm.
It didn’t take much.
To Percy’s shame, he knew he had made a mess of the pretty white silk of
Credence’s shorts.
“Wow. I didn’t know that would happen.”
Catching his breath, Percy leaned back against the pillow, his hands opening
and closing on the sheets, doing everything in his power not to pull Credence
back to him.
“It’s normal. You mean, you’ve never touched yourself? Not once?”
He mostly gasped out, shocked and also impressed.
Credence shook his head,
“Wasn’t allowed to. Then when I came to live with you, I just, didn’t. I mean,
I don’t get hard very often, unless you touch me…”
Then Credence was shucking his shorts off, and wiping Percy down with such
gentleness he could have cried.
 But now the boy was also naked in his bed.
Never mind the fact Credence’s slim body was tiny by comparison to Percy, and
just hardly developing, building muscle was a long way off, he was incredibly
tempting.
Percy needed to stop things before they got dangerous.
Credence’s smaller hands tugged Percy’s boxers back up, and he tucked the man’s
now softened cock away.
“Okay.”
Credence looked down at him with wide innocent eyes, and Percy gritted his
teeth to keep from yelling at the boy.
“What?”
Blink, blink.
“Credence…”
“I know, I know, you said not to. I couldn’t help it. I had such a nice dream
after you pulled me into your arms. I woke up and wanted to pay you back.”
Percy frowned.
“What?”
“In my dreams, we, well, made love. It was probably not all how you do it, like
how we, two men,” A blush colored the boy’s cheeks, and he continued, “But I
liked it so much, it made me feel so nice, I wanted to make you feel the same.”
Percy pressed a hand to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his
head.
“Credence… you’re going to be the death of me yet.”
“No!”
The boy jumped onto him, wrapping himself tightly around Percy’s body, never
mind the fact every place their skin met skin he swore he might burst into
flame.
“Okay, okay you need to get up, go put something on. Please.”
The word slipped out accidentally.
Credence sat up and stared down at him, his hair falling into his face in a
dark curtain,
“Okay. Whatever you say… daddy.”
‘He did not just say that.’ Percy thought to himself, in a bit of a daze.
Percy caught the tail end of the boy’s cheeky grin as he bounded out of the
room, and most decidedly did not look at his bare ass.
Percy slumped against the sheets, and sighed.
There was no way he wasn’t going straight to hell when he did die for every
minute spent with him.
*
Credence could hardly believe it, the most magical Christmas he could ever
remember, and Mister Graves was now cooking him breakfast, in the fabulous
kitchen of their enormous apartment in Paris.
He looked over at the man standing over the stove, shirtless and wearing black
lounge pants, and tried to hold back a sigh.
He’d woken his hero up with something he’d always wanted to do, in truth, and
it hadn’t gone as badly as it could have.
True, he hadn’t given the man much chance to protest, but still, seeing the
look on his face as he came was incredible.
He might have fibbed a little bit.
Not knowing what it meant to jerk off. Please.
Credence did that almost every day, and he always thought of Mister Graves,
without fail. Usually he pictured the man bending him over any flat surface, or
kissing him against the wall and fucking him while standing on tip-toe.
In fact, he really wanted to see if he could trap Mister Graves in the closest
again, and maybe do a bit more than groping in the dark.
“Whatcha making for us… daddy?”
He didn’t put any emphasis on it, sort of just let the word roll off his
tongue, but the reaction he got from Mister Graves was priceless. He spun
around and pointed the spatula at Credence, with a frown causing his dark
eyebrows to meet on his forehead,
“Stop that. Right now.”
Credence put on his best innocent little lamb expression,
“What?”
Mister Graves shook his head, and clicked his tongue, and Credence instantly
wanted him to do it again, but with his cock in his mouth.
“I think you’re grumpy. I can’t imagine why. Best way to wake up right there.”
Mister Graves grunted slightly, and resumed cooking, pointedly not looking at
him. Credence smirked down into his espresso. He didn’t care if the man was
grumpy, he couldn’t stay mad at him forever.
It was practically impossible.
By the time breakfast was over and cleaned up, Mister Graves was a bit restless
and went to his room to retrieve his guns, rolling out a cloth on the table to
begin pulling them apart and cleaning them.
It was his way of self care and therapy, and Credence adored him for it, but it
was also fucking boring to watch. He didn’t have any guns of his own to worry
about, well, except for the one pistol, so he started wandering back into his
room, stepping inside his closet, debating putting anything else on besides his
white cotton tee shirt.
Besides being comfy, it was just long enough to be covering, until he bent
over.
He snorted a laugh to himself, and ran his hands over the various shirts
hanging in his closet, wondering which color was Mister Graves’ favorite.
Maybe it was a childish question, but he really did want to know. He would
endeavor to always wear it if it meant Mister Graves would look at him more,
and longer.
He hated the way the man looked at him those days. He would never do it for too
long, and always acted like someone was about to arrest him.
It didn’t matter, didn’t he know?
Credence wanted him right back just as much, maybe even more, he couldn’t be
sure.
After a few moments of lingering, and deciding he didn’t care, he took off his
cotton shirt, and left it lying on the end of his bed, and made a bee line for
Mister Graves’ room instead, slipping under the covers and blanket and curling
against the pillow.
When the man finished his incessant cleaning and brought his guns back into his
room to place them in the bureau drawer he kept them in, he turned around to
find Credence in his bed and looked as if he had almost shouted.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Credence smirked, and then sat up, slowly letting the blankets and sheet slide
down his body, just revealing his bare chest.
“Waiting for you.”
“Stop it. I’m going to shower, and then you’re going to get dressed, and we’re
going out.”
“Want me to join you?”
Credence cocked a brow and made as if to pull the covers down further, and
Mister Graves shook his head, walking over to the bathroom as quick as he
could.
Credence was still faster.
“Why are you doing this? Why do you want to torture me?”
Mister Graves really did look upset, and Credence wondered just how many
orgasms he would need before he could truly relax.
He lifted a hand to stroke the man’s cheek, and his eyes fluttered shut,
“Please… let me love you.”
Credence may have started out with less than pure intentions, but he meant
every word, and he could see that Mister Graves wanted to, very much so.
His entire body seemed to shudder, and the man’s eyes flicked open suddenly,
and before Credence could blink, he was being shoved into the mattress, as
Mister Graves kissed him breathless.
*
Enough was enough.
It was his damn vacation. Credence was a persistent little thing.
His body writhed around beneath Percy and he couldn’t help smiling against the
kiss as he felt the boy start to slip his hands into his pants, clearly
insistent on touching him.
“Stop. Lay back. I’m going to do you this time. Got it?”
Percy opened his eyes to find Credence nodding, looking more excited than he
could ever remember, and he grinned.
“Good boy.”
Credence shifted upwards on the bed just slightly, so he could grip the
headboard, and more properly hold still, even though Percy hadn’t quite said
anything of the sort, but hey, he could deal.
He shucked off his pants, and kicked them aside, bringing a hand down to stroke
his cock a few times, just because he could, and he glanced up to find Credence
watching him, slack jawed and glassy eyed.
“What?”
Credence licked his lips,
“You’re just so hot, I can’t believe you’re all mine.”
“God, you really know how to flatter a guy.”
Percy almost growled, before moving back up to kiss him so hard he knew it
would make his lips pink for the rest of the day, and he eased back, to kiss
the boy’s cheek, before starting the delicious journey of tasting down his
neck, his collarbone, chest, and finally pausing to kiss right beside his
navel, as he felt Credence shifting his hips, hard cock curving up almost
against his stomach.
“That’s not going to make me move any faster. Calm down. Behave.”
There was a low whine threatening to escape the boy’s throat, but he finally
did as he was told, and laid back against the bed, even as Percy brought both
hands to brace on his slim hips, ensuring he couldn’t buck up the second his
lips made contact with the boy’s cock.
“Fuck! Goddamn that feels amazing…”
Percy was prepared to slap the boy if he called him ‘daddy’ one more time, but
luckily it appeared he’d gotten the message, and stopped the bullshit, so as a
reward, he took the boy’s cock as deep as he could in one swallow, and licked
purposefully at the underside of the shaft, enjoying how it made him squirm.
“Ugh, I’m gonna come, please, please…”
Percy pulled back and away, and only brought a hand up from the boy’s hips to
grasp at the base of his cock,
“Oh yeah? I don’t think so. Not yet.”
Credence looked completely stunned.
“What are you doing?”
Percy smirked,
“Do you really think I didn’t know what you were up to? First this morning, and
now this, being naked in my bed? You think you’re clever. Baby boy, I’ve wanted
you since the day I saw you, but I was already a murderer. I wasn’t about to
commit another crime, all in the name of a pretty face.”
Credence rolled his eyes, and let out a moan,
“Don’t even start that bullshit Mister Graves. I’ve been trying to fuck you for
the better part of three months. Why do you think I keep coming to bed with
you? I don’t have nightmares. I have wet dreams if I’m not with you.”
Percy decided to let the ‘Mister’ bit slide, it was still better than ‘daddy,’
but he was amazed that the boy had been out to seduce him for so long.
“All this time huh? Well damn. Fuck me sideways.”
“If I knew how, I sure as hell would.”
“How about that bullshit about you dreaming of me ‘making love’ to you? Did you
really dream that, or just make it up?”
Credence shrugged, as best he could, still being kept heavily on edge by
Percy’s hand on him, tightening his fingers and occasionally teasing the head
of his cock.
“It happens a lot. I dream about you regardless. Sometimes it’s sweet and sexy,
sometimes it’s rough, and dirty.”
“Is that right? And which would you prefer?”
Percy shifted up so that he could kiss just below Credence’s ear, prepared to
mark him if he tried to squirm closer, tried to force him to let him get off.
“Frankly, I’ve had just about enough of the roses and romance. This is Paris.
France. They’re kinky fuckers. I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk
straight.”
Percy growled low in his throat,
“God, the things you do to me. You really are trying to kill me.”
Credence sounded like he wanted to laugh, but another perfect stroke and stop
of Percy's hand on his cock stole the breath from him, and he simply gasped,
“Maybe.”
*
Credence was dying, drowning in sensation, and so happy he could hardly stand
it. Mister Graves currently had two fingers inside of his ass, slowly starting
to scissor along with the helpful slick of lube, and he was already sobbing
into the sheets, silently mouthing the words he can’t bear to beg.
He wasn’t going to beg, he wasn’t, considering how annoyed Mister Graves
seemed, that he’d kept his intentions so quiet and so sinister, as he put it.
But the second the man added another finger, and had leaned down to press a
kiss to the back of his right shoulder blade, it was all okay again.
Every second Mister Graves spent touching him like that, meant he was one more
step closer to actually being fucked.
“Oh god, please.”
He did it. Credence could bite his own tongue until it tasted like rust and
iron in his mouth, and he did.
Begging was so pathetic, so gone, so lost.
He was already head over heels for the man, no need to admit that he was
willing to die for him. Well, maybe there was. Maybe that was the type of
pretty words that Mister Graves would like to hear more than the usual.
None of that mattered now, because Credence could feel the head of Mister
Graves cock pressed against his ass now, and he swallowed, trying to breathe
steady, as the man pushed in.
Slow, careful.
Credence had been fragile, so breakable once, but now? He’s been molded into
the ideal assassin by Mister Graves himself.
Falling in love along the way had been an accident, but a hazard of the
situation.
“Harder.”
He didn’t beg that, he demanded.
“I don’t actually want to hurt you my boy. I know you think you’re tough, but
for your first time…”
“Hit me. Please.”
The first slap on his ass as Mister Graves fucked into him surprised him, and
he jumps a little, but then he moaned, and he could feel the man’s hips
stuttering.
He wasn’t expecting that.
“I’m going to come, but you can’t come until I say. Got it?”
Mister Graves practically hissed in his ear, and Credence shivered, and then
nodded.
His cock was already making a mess of the sheets below him, but he could do
that, he could hold on, and be obedient.
He was desperate to.
Mister Graves came with a groan and had already pulled out to mark Credence’s
back, and he felt the man’s come hit his back in warm wet spurts, and it made
him shiver again.
“How are you feeling?”
Mister Graves was kissing the side of his neck, biting down slightly, and
shifting up to drag his lips along his jaw, kissing his cheek, just shy of his
lips.
“Good. Can I come?”
“Of course baby.”
Mister Graves dipped another finger inside of him, then two, and they were
curling, pressed right against the spot that made Credence see stars every time
the man’s cock brushed by it, and he gasped, slack jawed on the pillow, rubbing
himself over the edge on the sheets and making a mess of his stomach.
“Oh god.”
Mister Graves’ tongue ran down his spine, and he knew that the man was cleaning
him up.
“You are perfect, you know that?”
Credence couldn’t fight the smile that was overtaking his face, and he hummed
in delight.
“Thank you…”
He could almost hear Mister Graves’ breath hitch in anticipation of a
chastisement, but he doesn’t say it, and won’t use the name if the man really
doesn’t like it, since he promised.
Later, when Mister Graves had brought him to a fancy restaurant, and the entire
menu was in French, of course, so he let the man order for him.
He was leaning over his soup, staring at the flecks of basil in the red tomato,
and Mister Graves asked him something.
“Hmm?”
“Why are you touching your face?”
Credence blinked, and he realized he’d been absentmindedly stroking his cheek,
where the man had kissed him right before he let him come.
He could feel his cheeks heating up, and he shrugged.
“Because you’re too far away to do it.”
Mister Graves nudged his foot under the table, and he smirked.
“I’ll do it plenty when we get home.”
Credence bit his lip,
“Good.”
===============================================================================
 
the END
 
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