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As soon as Graves wakes up the first thing he feels is cold .
His chest aches as his breaths come in harsh, sharp bursts, skin freezing and burning all at once, covered in a sheen of sweat thanks to a nightmare he can’t remember. His mouth is dry, heart pounding, and his back protests in the form of a tender throbbing as he tries to sit up. A shaky sigh leaves his lips as he tries to look around the room, tries to find anything that could serve to ground him, but his vision is swimming, eyes refusing to adjust to the darkness,
And then a figure shuffles and moves in the bed beside him, causing him to practically jump out of his skin, a fresh spike of adrenaline rushing through him. Distantly, he’s aware that he has nothing to be afraid of- he’s aware that it’s only Tobias, but it’s like he doesn’t know it in that moment- his body betraying him, bombarding him with every physical response of fear at once while his mind is still trying to wake itself up.
He’s not crying but his eyes are welling up, stinging with tears his body creates more than his mind. There’s a disconnect between the two- mentally, he’s fine- he’s fine- physically, he’s terrified. It’s not the first time this has happened- where his systems set off every fear response he has while his brain has no idea what he’s meant to be scared of- but it never feels any better or less disorienting.
In frustration, he groans, digging his palms into his eyes, and pulling his knees to his chest slowly to avoid waking the man beside him. All he can hear is his blood churning through his ears, his heart pounding in his chest- almost seeming to shake his whole frame, and his unsteady, shallow breaths. He debates on reaching for the flask of water at his bedside but he’s so tired and tense simultaneously- his body feeling heavy.
Amidst his lingering panic, he fails to notice Tobias stirring again, nor his eyes cracking open as he awakens to the sight of Graves curled up and shaking. The sight is accompanied by the sound of choppy breathing, and even in his half asleep state- the black haired man feels worry grip him. He moves carefully- slowly- in an attempt not to startle Graves, but as soon as he places a hand on his shoulder- the man jolts.
Entirely on reflex, he slaps the hand away, shuffling back from the touch and staring at Tobias with wide, glassy eyes. He doesn’t have the mind to be hurt by the action, only confused and concerned, shuffling back to give Graves space as he whispers “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Tobias never knows exactly how to help him when he’s in a state like this- it’s like trying to calm a scared animal- slowly, and quietly, knowing the reactions are utterly unpredictable. His quiet tone seems to register after a moment, Graves’ shoulders dropping slightly as some of the tension leaves, his eyes seeming to glint with awareness. “Sorry,” He begins, hands absentmindedly fidgeting with the sheets as he looks down, almost appearing ashamed. “Just having a rough night.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?” He asks, softly, watching as Graves shrugs. Usually when he has nightmares, or flashbacks, or anything of the like- if he can talk about it, he will. It’s easier that way- to reassure him in ways that pertain to the situation, and target specific fears.
This time however, he mumbles “I can’t remember it…” He struggles to find the right words, his mind still scrambled, and his tongue feeling like cotton. Whatever nightmare he’d had is less relevant than the issue of how his body reacts to it- leading him to say. “I just feel-“ ill, overwhelmed, panicked, on edge, and unreal. “ “ Like I’m back there, just waiting for them to unlock my cell just to drag me around and….”
He stops himself, but Tobias knows what he means.
He frowns, unsure of how to proceed- and so he asks instead. “Is there any way I can help?”
Graves chews the inside of his cheek, trying to think. He doesn’t know if he’d rather Fate try to ground him or if he’d be better off dealing with it on his own. Given his current state, being alone would only make way for more paranoia- at least with his partner he feels safer- like Tobias is his safety net in a way. His body still shakes, and trembles with fear, too cold and clammy to stop- leading him to ask. “Could you...could you hold me?”
“‘Course I can.” Tobias says softly, shuffling onto his side in order to wrap his arms around the other. Graves tries to get closer, wishes Fate would hold him tighter. He hates this- he’s not fragile- he needs more but he can’t handle an argument right now. It’s warm, and for a while it’s pleasant, takes his mind off the cell- cold, damp and dark. His partner runs his slim fingers through his hair and the touch is pleasant, pleasant but not enough.
His mind drifts- thinking of a better way to keep his mind off the locker, to help him rest easier- but he can’t say that can he? It’s not the right time or place- he’s not even really in the mood for it- he just needs more. “Tobias…”
“Yeah?” Fate asks, attentive and quiet. Graves bites his tongue, his throat right and nails digging into his palms. He knows it’s not that weird, he tells himself it makes sense- he wants to feel better- he wants to feel good. Tobias won’t judge him for wanting to get out of his own head for a while right?
“Could you..” he starts, unsure and uncharacteristically nervous. It’s alarming to Fate before Graves continues on asking. “Kiss me? Please.” His words are shaky, voice quiet, and Tobias isn’t sure he heard him correctly.
He says nothing as he moves down, shuffling until his hands gently cup Graves’ face, lips pressing his own softly just for a second. Just a second isn’t enough. He knows it’s greedy, he knows the mood isn’t ideal- but the brown haired man leans forward again, hands pulling Fate closer, tongue parting his lips as the other reciprocates. It’s sweet, it’s warm, it’s perfect- his mind can focus on this instead.
Relying on Fate to chase away the buzzing under his skin, or the whispers in his skull- it isn’t wise, he knows that- but it’s so good, and it’s absolutely the better way to lose himself in that moment. The black haired man doesn’t question it, beginning to kiss down Graves’ jaw and neck, before it occurs to him. “Are you sure you wanna do this right now?” He asks, and Graves is almost embarrassed by the whine that leaves his lips thanks to the loss of contact. He knows why Fate is asking- appreciates it, but he can’t afford to doubt himself right now- he needs more. “I’m not complaining but, you’re… you’re okay right?”
“Yeah.” Graves breathes. “Just wanna feel better, wanna keep my mind off it.” He doesn’t want to beg Tobias, doesn’t want to plead for more- already picturing Tobias’ hands trailing up and down his body, holding him, grasping him, keeping him here. Here.
“Alright then. Don’t worry about your clothes, let me take care of you.” Tobias whispers softly, his dexterous fingers starting off by sliding under Graves’ shirt, tracing his body, cupping his pecs, and then pulling the item of clothing off as Graves shuffles to allow him to do so. The cold air is surprising but Tobias quickly warms him up, leaning down and kissing his neck and chest.
It shoves the numbness aside, the dull tingling beneath his skin, and the cold heaviness in his limbs fading as Fate undressed him, and kisses him, and loves him. He can barely hear himself but he can feel the gasps that leave his lips, the stirring between his thighs as he grows further aroused. All he can think about is more, he wants so much more- he needs it.
“ Fuck , Tobias-“ he moans as the other man palms at his crotch, eyes closed but still feeling everything. “ Please. ” He whines, and he doesn’t even know what he’s asking for- yet Fate delivers. He hurriedly shucks off his own clothes, breathing hot against Graves’ skin as he kisses him again, starting at his lips and trailing down his neck- chest, thighs - it’s good, it’s so good- it’s.. it’s a lot.
“You’re so pretty,” Tobias gasps, hands grasping at Graves’ love handles, lips so close to his cock that the anticipation is close to agony. “So fucking pretty.” And then Graves feels the warm, wet heat of his mouth, bucking his hips and gasping as Fate treats him so well, gives him everything, gives him almost too much- but it’s okay, he tells himself, it’s good.
He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling shivers down his spine. It’s pleasure, it’s all pleasure- but there’s something else, something worse. The buzzing, the ringing, the pounding of his heart all picks up again, his mind getting lost somewhere in the midst of all the feelings and he’s not sure when it happens or why but something shifts, and suddenly he’s getting dragged back into his thoughts.
Every sensation, every touch slowly becomes horribly overwhelming, distorted by the lingering fear beneath his skin. The discomfort isn’t sudden, more of a slow build up as the indifference and numbness fades away into an almost unbearable heat, the feeling of skin caressing his own. He feels cold, he’s somewhere else, somewhere solitary- but his body burns, tingling all over from an onslaught of pleasure and love .
Tobias moves from between his legs to kiss at his neck, part his legs, run his hands along his thighs so softly, and sweetly. His touch is careful- treating him like something precious, something beautiful, his touches aren’t light, they’re firm, confident and usually so good- so good . Now it feels like judgment- like scrutiny- and he fights the urge to shy away. Graves struggles to comprehend it- struggles to understand . He’s stuck somewhere, trapped, between the present and the dark, churning waves of his memories, his partner’s touch being a stark contrast to the pain his body anticipates and expects him to feel.
He can’t breathe, he can only writhe, he can only watch . The black haired man on top of him indulges in him, slowly planting kisses down his body, each one filled with so much love, Graves almost can’t stand it. He can’t be loved- he can’t- not when he’s not there, not when his body isn’t his own, and every fiber of his being is buzzing in a cacophony of panic, and excitement, and yearning, and fear . It’s too much- it’s all too much.
Mentally he reminds himself that the hands on him are soft, they’re dexterous, they’re familiar- they feel good- they feel so good. He ignores the urge to pull away, desperate for this to be pleasant like it should be, fighting his own impulses tooth and nail. The hands are Tobias’, they don’t hold any tools, they don’t hurt, they don’t mark his skin, they don’t tear into him, they don’t hurt, they don’t hurt, they love him-
In the dim light of the bedroom, it’s harder to see Tobias’ face, harder to see his familiar slender fingers- and that makes it all the more easy for his mind to twist and warp them, use them as another way to drag him back. When he starts to see flashes of sadistic grins, and rough, callous fingers, glinting metal dripping with his blood, he decides maybe he needs to focus on something other than the hands.
But the harder he tries to keep composure, the further he seems to get pulled under, growing more desperate by the second. He can’t ruin this- it’s supposed to help- it’s supposed to distract him. Pleasure courses through the body that he can’t be sure is really his- the bombardment of sensation only drives him deeper into his own head. His skin buzzes, heart pounding, the dissonant reactions between his mind and body clashing, and clawing at each other until - before he even realises, his breath is hitching, eyes tearing up as he simply can’t take it anymore.
“Stop.” He rasps, and Fate does- pulling away before the word has even entirely left him. His ears are ringing and he can hear Fate speaking to him, his voice muffled and then suddenly he’s gone entirely, and Graves is alone. The sudden loss of sensation is jarring but it’s better- it’s easier to feel his heart beating and know he’s alive, and to grasp the bedsheets, slow his breathing, and tell himself he’s fine- he’s okay.
He closes his eyes, sighing shakily as he fidgets, twisting his hands amongst the fabric and looking around the room. He’s still tense, but better, the heavy fog in his mind lifting and reminding him he’s safe- he’s safe.. and yet he still managed to ruin the night for the both of them. As quickly as he began to relax, guilt begins to stir in his stomach, mind vulnerable in a million different ways and quickly turning on itself once again.
He knows his discomfort matters- Fate has told him a million times he’s allowed to stop whenever he needs to - he knows that, and yet he can’t help but feel upset at himself. He wanted it! He really did, he asked for it, pleaded. His anger at himself quickly becomes anger at everything else that fucked him up- anger at the fact that he can’t even get a good night’s sleep, can’t even enjoy the night with his partner thanks to circumstances from years ago-
And then he’s swiftly pulled from his thoughts when Tobias re-enters the room, startling him. He seems to notice Graves’ flinch and explains. “Sorry, I went to get you some water.” He say, passing the cup over as he sits on the edge of the bed, notably on the other side, far as he could be. “I tried to tell you but I think you were a little out of it…feeling any better now?”
Graves takes the glass and mutters a small thanks, before taking a sip, clearing his throat of the hoarseness from his hyperventilation. “Yeah, just…needed a minute.” Truthfully that is all he needed, a second to catch his breath, to remind himself where he is. Maybe they rushed things a little, that’s on him really. “I’ll be okay in a little bit, if you’re still up for it.”
Fate blinks at him, surprised at that. “Are you sure?” He asks, almost shakily. “Malcolm, I’m not saying you are but you don’t have to do this for my sake, I don’t want to hurt you again or do anything you don’t want or-“ he begins to ramble, his own guilt seeping through that he should’ve known better- should’ve stopped before it got so bad-
“Hold on now, partner.” Graves interrupts. “I asked for it. I wanted it. And I know better than to do that- don’t doubt me just because I got a little overwhelmed.” He tries to keep his tone playful, but Fate still feels like he’s being chastised, responding apologetically.
“I know, I’m not doubting you, just worried.” Graves feels his heart clench beneath his ribs at those words- he didn’t mean to worry him, god knows he’s already asking too much, he’d rather not burden him emotionally as well.
“No need to be.” He responds, truthfully. “Really, I’m okay. I think we just need to take it slower.” That’d be better, he thinks, to keep him grounded, steady and focused.
Tobias chews the inside of his cheek. He’s not opposed, in fact, indulging in Graves in every way he can is one of his favourite things to do. He’ll take him apart slowly, and carefully, cherish him like he deserves and make him feel so good he forgets all about what had been troubling him in the first place. “Alright. Ready when you are, then.” He says, and it doesn’t take them long to get worked up again.
They don’t pick up where they left off, needing the build up all over again, and so Fate starts by kissing Graves. He moves more gently than before, cupping his face softly, before they part for breath. It only lasts a moment before their lips are together again, and Fate almost cautiously parts Graves’ with his tongue.
As the black haired man moves down to his jaw, he pushes Graves down to the bed until he’s lying on his back, giving him easy access to his neck and chest. He takes more time to bite and suck marks around his collarbones, revelling in the way Graves gasps and whines each time.
The brown haired man is trying to stay quiet, biting his tongue and stifling his sounds. He has to try double hard to cut himself off once he feels Fate’s thumbs circle his nipples, fiddling with the piercings in each. The tug hurts slightly but in a way that quickly fades into pleasure, leaving him arching his back and placing a hand over his mouth to keep back any embarrassing noises.
“None of that, Malcolm,” Tobias says softly, kissing his chest almost apologetically. “You’re so loud all the time- no point getting shy on me now.” He jokes, and Malcolm doesn’t get a chance to retort, whatever he would’ve said cut off by a whine as Fate moves down to lick from the base to the tip of his cock. He hadn’t even realised how desperate he was already. “There we go, that’s more like it.”
Typical of Fate, goading him into responding only to switch it around on him with his sly fingers, or tongue- maybe both, Graves wouldn’t complain about both, he just wants to feel him. “You’re an asshole, Tobias.” He says, not really meaning a word of it and feeling himself shiver at the sound of the other’s chuckle. God, even his laugh is hot, he’s so perfect. “You gotta stop teasing-“ he complains, and once again finds himself biting his tongue when a slick finger circles his entrance.
“Not teasing, just indulging. ” Fate responds coolly, carefully repositioning Graves’ leg to rest on his shoulder for better access. Graves gasps harshly, giving Fate pause as he asks. “You alright?”
He’d assumed it could’ve been Graves’ back, or joint pain flaring, either of the two but in reality Graves just felt so exposed, so ready. “Yeah- Fine-“ Graves pants, tilting his head back as Fate resumes preparing him. True to Graves’ request, he takes it slow, very slow. “ God, if you don’t add another in the next few seconds I swear-“
“Alright alright,” Fate responds, lingering on one for just a moment longer before retracting his hand to slick his fingers up more. Graves whimpers at the loss but quickly finds himself trying to push himself down when the other man adds another finger, stretching him so well, so carefully. “Is that what you meant, Princess?” He says the pet name entirely jokingly but Graves feels himself shudder, face reddening impossibly more than it had already, and cock twitching almost imperceptibly.
But Fate notices- of course he notices. “You liked that?” He asks, rhetorically, and Graves is about to deny it to spare whatever remains of his dignity- and then Fate adds a third finger, and anything he might’ve said is lost to the wave of pleasure that washes over him. “You like when I tell you you’re pretty? That you’re good?”
Graves feels his face get horribly hot with a combination of flusteredness and embarrassment as he tries to protest, coherence becoming difficult as his partner just barely teases his prostate. “You better not be makin’ fun of me-“
“I’m not! Promise I’m not.” Fate says, somehow incredibly put together despite his focus and precision when it comes to taking Malcolm apart. The other man bites back the urge to tell him his promises don’t really mean much, being a renowned swindler and all- but Fate continues before he can “It’s true, anyway, you’re so pretty .” Each compliment, each onslaught of praise, sends rushes of pleasure through the brown haired man’s body, and he knows Fate knows- and that’s exactly why he keeps going. “Such a good boy. So perfect.”
Graves bites his lip, resisting the urge to call the other a liar- he’s no stranger to Fate’s white lies and silver tongue, but that discussion can wait until his brain doesn’t feel utterly scrambled by the pleasure he’s experiencing. He feels his eyes grow wet and blinks rapidly, not wanting to ruin things again- no use getting emotional, it’s just pillow talk, he tells himself. He wants it to be true though, he wants to be pretty, wants to be good.
“You and your flattery…” he tries to joke, not sounding as confident as he’d have hoped- but if his voice is shaking, Tobias doesn’t seem to realise, now lining himself up with Graves’ entrance.
“Ain’t flattery, Princess.” Fate retorts, slowly beginning to thrust in with a quiet groan- it’s not the first time Graves has seen his composure slip all night. The black haired man is good at keeping up his poker face but it’s not like he can prevent the way his face flushes, or breath hitches at the sight of his partner like this. “Typical that you’d be stubborn about it though.” He breathes.
Graves whines, fighting the impatient urge to shuffle down and drive Fate’s cock deeper, the stretch is already so good and he knows it’s only going to get better. He knows Fate is going to treat him so well. Before Fate it’d been a long time since he’d ever handed himself over to someone like this, trusted them to treat him well.
And Tobias treats him so well. Better than he deserves. He feels his eyes sting again and squeezes them shut as he focuses on the pleasure, and thankfully there’s so much of it once his partner finally fully sheaths himself. He waits for a moment, leaning over Graves, loose strands of hair hanging down past his face as he catches his breath. Graves takes in the sight for a second, grateful that he gets to see Fate disheveled. It’s a rarity- and it’s all for him.
He doesn’t notice Graves’ staring, however, more focused on the right heat around his cock, sending waves of pleasure through him as he slowly pulls back only to thrust back in. It reaches Graves’ prostate easily thanks to the angle- so deep, and filling him so well. Graves can’t help but moan in earnest, worried he’ll bite his tongue off if he tries to stop himself.
“Tobias- fuck -“ he gasps, arching his back and practically squirming as pleasure and desperation rush through his body. “You don’t gotta go so slow, I ain’t gonna break.” He half-laughs, voice shaky and whinier than he’d have liked. He knows it’s not the most trustworthy statement given his previous reactions but god he needs more. Thankfully, he’s not met with argument as Fate chuckles in response. The sound is strained before trailing off into a groan as he continues to thrust.
“Ask nicely.” He gasps, trying to sound assertive but it’s difficult to stay stern when Graves looks so utterly wrecked beneath him. His cock looks achingly hard, precum dripping from the tip and the rest of him is almost just as red and flushed. His eyes are wet and glossy as he strains to focus in the midst of the pleasure fogging his mind and Fate can’t help but feel unbearably turned on.
Graves groans, half exasperated and half due to the pressure of Fate’s cock once again hitting exactly where he needs it. Usually he’d be apprehensive about begging, and he does still hesitate, but much more briefly before he decides he doesn’t care- he needs more- he needs it. “Please , C’mon Tobias, please -“
“Please what?” The other man taunts, still not ceasing his thrusts, slowing down further almost teasingly.
“God- just fuck me, please-“ he nearly sobs, and that’s all Fate seemed to want to hear, finally finally picking up the pace. Before Graved can continue his pleading he’s cut off by his own sharp whine as Tobias readjusts his position, pulling his leg higher onto his shoulder to reach an angle that feels so impossibly deep, and so incredibly good.
“That’s it. Good boy- hah- “ Fate moans as his thrusts grow more erratic, losing himself as he chases the pleasure. “You’re so perfect- feel so good-“ he babbles, trying to keep the stream of praise going for Malcolm’s sake, relishing in the way the other whimpers and looks away almost in response. “It’s like you were made for me- wouldn’t want anyone else, there’s no one like you, Mal.”
“Tobias you gotta stop talking I swear to god-“ Graves says shakily, not out of anger or distress but because he knows he’s not going to last long if Fate keeps going. There’s also the underlying fear of the emotions bubbling up in his chest, feeling so full of love and a concoction of gratitude it has nowhere else to go than to spill from his eyes. “ Fuck, I’m close-“ he groans, squeezing his eyes shut again in hopes that Fate can’t see how they’ve welled up.
“Me too, you’re just so perfect-“ Tobias gasps, his fingers digging into Graves’ skin firmly but not enough to hurt as he desperately tries to keep himself upright and steady, legs feeling weak. “Just needed you to know- need you to know you’re such a good boy, so pretty under me, always so pretty.” He knows he’s rambling but it’s honest, such displays often being reserved for Graves.
And it does the job well, leaving the brown haired man writhing in pleasure, chasing the sensations as he bucks his hips. He’s desperate, so desperate- reaching to grasp at his own clock despite the awkward angle. As soon as he gets his hand on it he can’t help but buck into his own touch, jerking himself off with notable desperation. He’s beyond the point of words, on the brink of his climax and unable to think of anything other than finally getting over the edge.
It doesn’t take him long, the combination of Fate’s thrusts, and the friction around his cock pushing him to climax hard enough that his vision whites out. His mind goes completely blank, pleasure rushing through every fibre of his being, he whines and writhes and it feels like it goes on forever with how Fate is still filling him up as he follows over the edge.
As quickly as Graves reached his peak, he comes down from the high, realising he forgot to breathe as he came, chest heaving and face feeling unbearably hot. It takes him a second to realise how blurred his vision is, how his skin feels wet- and his body shakes with what he belatedly realises to be sobs.
God- he’s crying . His first instinct is to cover his face but his hands are sticky and he’s too mortified to even movie. How humiliating- crying and he’s not even upset necessarily. Overwhelmed is more accurate- but not like before, this time it’s good- too much good, more than he deserves. The rush of pleasure leaves him sensitive- physically and emotionally, and he can’t help but suck in a shaky breath as he tries to regain his bearings, biting his tongue and feeling tears stream down his face.
He’s just- he’s happy . He feels loved- thoroughly loved, cared for and cherished in a way he never thought he could after everything. He doesn’t know how to express it to Fate- in fact he hoped for a moment that he could calm down before the other noticed, only to be startled when he felt a hand brush his cheek.
He hadn’t even noticed when Fate pulled out, nor, when the other lowered his leg and shuffled to almost straddle him instead. It gives him a better view of Graves’ face, of his flushed cheeks, glistening with tear tracks and contorted with emotion. Graves has always been so expressive, it makes him easy to read, though he still finds himself asking. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you right?”
His thumbs softly brush away the tears falling down the brown haired man’s cheeks and Graves shakes his head, lips quivering and unable to speak through his unsteady breaths. Tobias seems to understand, returning to his side of the bed as Malcolm rolls onto his side. Neither of them say a word as the brown haired man tucks himself against Fate’s chest, allowing the other to wrap his arms around him as he muffled his sobs against his shoulder.
They stay like that for a few moments, with Fate running his fingers through Graves’ hair and whispering softly until he catches his breath, finally mumbling, quietly enough that it takes Fate a second to realise what he’d said. “‘M sorry. Been asking for a lot tonight.”
“What do you mean asking for a lot?” Tobias says in response, tone soft and genuinely confused. “I had a good time, I like knowing I can help you feel better.” And god isn’t that just the sweetest response- Graves thinks he might start crying again. He’d honestly rather Fate be upset with him, that way he wouldn’t have to internalise his guilt. “I wouldn’t do anything if I didn't want to.”
“I know, I just…” Graves sighs shakily, closing his eyes and shuffling closer. “You’re good to me. And I don’t think I can be as good as you deserve back. I’m a mess, Tobias.”
“You’re not a mess, you’re my partner.” Tobias reassures him, kissing his forehead softly and beginning to trace circles on his back, comfortingly. “I’m as good as you deserve, if even that, and you’re all I want.” He explains. “I love you.”
He knows, Graves knows and that’s part of the problem. “Was there really no one better? Ten years… you’re sure there wasn’t anyone else?” He asks, uncharacteristically timid. He doesn’t want to come off as accusatory- he knows Fate isn’t unfaithful. It’s just hard to believe given how many people he knows Fate has been with- of all of them, Graves couldn’t possibly be the one he settles for. Given Graves’ past relationships, Tobias is the obvious choice- but he can’t say the same for the other.
“Would it matter?” Fate asks, rhetorically. “I love you, Malcolm. For all I might nag you for being stubborn and reckless, I don’t love you in spite of anything or because I’m settling for you. I know what I want and it’s always been you.”
Graves sniffles again, blinking back more tears as he admits, earnestly. “I love you too. Don’t know what I’d do without you.” It’s a half-lie, he knows without Tobias he’d never have broken out, or at the very least he’d be somewhere much worse. It doesn’t make him any less grateful.
“You don’t need to know. I’m not going anywhere.” The black haired man reassures, pulling the shorter man closer. “We can worry about cleaning up in the morning, try to get some sleep, yeah?”
“Alright.” Graves agrees. In all honesty he’d completely forgotten about that, though he doesn’t think he could if he tried anyway. He feels heavy all over, partially as if he’d been utterly drained but now it’s closer to being too comfortable to get up. He’s warm, and relaxed, and it’s so tempting to just close his eyes and drift back off. “I love you. Goodnight.”
“Love you too, Malcolm. I’ve got you.” The other says, and Graves goes to sleep feeling warm, safe.