second-salemite:

Agreed. Completely. When Graves lets Credence fuck him, it’s precisely that– *letting* him– and he doesn’t let Credence forget this for one second. I think the position would really reflect this, honestly? Graves on his back on a table or counter, legs spread, and credence between them while he works; no way would he let Credence take him from behind, impersonal, and he’s certainly not going to ride him, because far too much work, quite fucking honestly, and besides– the whole point of this is for credence to show *his* devotion and commitment. Graves reasons it would be entirely cruel to deny him a chance to excitedly (if sloppily, shakily) fuck out his enthusiasm into his savior/father/lover/what-have-you, whatever graves is to him.
When Credence fucks Graves, it’s intensely intimate, praise dropped warm and close between them like kisses from Grave’s strategic tongue, his hands smoothing up and over Credence’s biceps as he bends in two with his effort, fly in a honey trap, in-in-in and done so quick that graves just reaches up to palm his cheek and says, “look at you.” Grave’s ass is full of come and his cock is hardly stiff, lolling, brazenly unaroused, between his legs (Credence is bad at this, and knows it, only one sweet stroke for every ten, worthless). But as Credence pulls out and Graves pulls in, calloused hand on neck and ribs, so that his boy might fortify himself against his chest, he tells him: wonderful. He is so proud, he says, as Credence’s wobbling arms loop around his neck and don’t let go.
He is so proud of his boy.