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No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin

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Credence brims with innocence but something dark lingers just below the surface. Graves can see traces of the shadow in Credence’s eyes, feel it thrumming beneath his skin, taste it in the air.

He presses his hands against Credence’s cheeks, cups his jaw and murmurs reassurances in his ear. Graves offers comfort even as he drinks in the conflict. Credence is overflowing with untapped power, raw energy, and the flavour is tantalizing against Graves’ tongue.

“Mr Graves.” Credence’s voice is unsteady as he sinks to his knees.

He looks up worshipfully through lowered lashes, fear and desire waring in his eyes. Credence’s hands tremble when they reach out, fingers clumsy as they fumble with Graves’ fastenings. Graves’ hands tangle into his thick, dark hair.

Credence is eager—eager to be accepted, eager to be loved, eager to please. He’s inexperienced, clumsy, unsure. He’s divine. Graves closes his eyes and surrenders to the wet heat of Credence’s mouth, to the warm pressure surrounding him. Credence makes greedy noises, desperate and wanting.

White hot pleasure shoots through Graves and his body shudders in the aftermath. The bright light fades as the dark of night reenters, haunting and desolate like Credence’s woeful eyes. Graves lowers his hand and wipes Credence’s mouth clean with his thumb.

“Perfect, beautiful creature.”

Credence sighs brokenly—half pleasure and half pain—as he leans his face into Graves’ hand.

The light and darkness both burn fervently inside the boy, fighting for dominance and eating him alive. Graves won’t be satisfied with just part of him—he intends to have him all.