tfln overflow / open post

[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[recreatable]

Verso snorts. Gustave's parents would probably be wondering where they went wrong for him to be sleeping with a centegenarian, but he's not trying to talk Gustave out of it. He wonders, briefly, if Gustave misses his parents often, how long it's been that he's been living without them. But that would be a real mood killer, and he's loath to ruin the lighthearted atmosphere, so he doesn't ask.

"Is that what this is all about?" Only jokingly offended. "You wanted a piece of history?"

[superniceone]

Gustave has always struggled to talk about the people he's lost. It's easier to focus on the future, on his stubborn goal for building a better world for the next generation, and the generation after that. Or maybe just doing his best to ensure those generations will get a fair shot at existence in the first place.

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way," Gustave says seriously, and gives Verso a consoling pat on the butt. It's obviously meant to be silly, not titillating, but even to him the mutual interest is obvious enough that it feels like a safe thing to do.

[recreatable]

Verso shoves him away—rude!!!—before pulling him back in by the fabric of his shirt, leaning in so that their faces are close and his nose nudges Gustave's. It had all felt a little bit uncertain the first time, when they'd both been drunk and stupid and hadn't even used the word sex, but he's fairly sure he has permission to kiss Gustave now, so he closes the remaining distance between their mouths. It feels a bit different sober; there's no taste of wine, no hazy drunkenness underscoring everything.

"I guess I should just feel lucky that I'm getting any action at all, in my old age."

[superniceone]

The shove makes Gustave laugh again, as does the way Verso grabs his shirt immediately after. He yields easily to that pull, quietly pleased by the kiss. He's not an idiot; he knows the connection between them is superficial, a product of mutual loneliness more than any sort of deeper feeling, but that's okay. It makes the act of catching Verso's mouth with his own no less appealing, no less of a creature comfort.

"I'm only giving you a pass because of your age, you know," he says, his hand loosely gripping Verso's hip. "I'm a gentleman. I wouldn't normally put out for anything less than dinner and a show." Gustave's eyes are crinkled in amusement, voice low like he's afraid Maelle might overhear from wherever she is right now and think him a bad influence.

[recreatable]

You know how I feel about friendships with Expeditioners, Verso had told Esquie, and now he's kissing one in the middle of nowhere. But it's fine. It's just— idle fun. Just sex.

He would never admit that he's been thinking about the best way to get this uniform off since the last time he had to contend with it, but his hands are quite a bit more confident as they tug Gustave's jacket off. "Ooh. You're into old guys, huh?" Not what he said, but still what Verso's choosing to take from it.

[superniceone]

"Yeah, but not just a little old. It's really old or nothing." This is the least sexy conversation that has ever happened while someone is being undressed, and he grabs Verso for a moment - presses his face into the crook of his neck to stifle another laugh. "Take your shirt off this time?" he asks while he's close, his voice low and warm. "I wanna see you."

[recreatable]

Once again, Gustave says something that is inappropriately sentimental for the situation. It's endearing, though, how earnest he is, and Verso finds that he doesn't have it in him to deny him. A problem rearing its head, perhaps, but one he'll deal with later. He does the hard work of it, divesting himself of his outerwear, but by the time he's down to just his shirt, he takes Gustave's hands and presses them against the fabric.

"I'm tired from picking up all this slack," he quips, no heat behind it. A few fumbles in a fight are hardly slacking. "Guess you'll have to take it off for me."

[superniceone]

Gustave wants to cuddle.

He feels a little insane when he realizes it himself, but it doesn't really matter that the conversation about it before had been all jokes. Pressure and warmth, feeling another person breathe as much as you can hear it - he wants that.

Watching Verso shed layers of clothing is a nice distraction though, and he watches with an almost shy interest until his hands are guided to his shirt.

"I really like these vintage uniforms," he says, and he mostly just uses his prosthesis to brace against Verso's side, running his hand up his chest beneath the fabric. A little more seriously, he cuts his eyes to Verso's face again to ask: "I'd like to kiss you again? I promise I won't- drag things out."

[recreatable]

I promise I won't drag things out. Clearly, his down-to-business approach had made Gustave feel like all of this was only about getting off, which it is, mostly, but it's about Gustave enjoying himself, too. It still isn't a good idea to take longer than strictly necessary alone out here where they could be stumbled on by Nevrons, or worse, Verso's father (ugh, he can just imagine the holier-than-thou chiding about how Verso is choosing base pleasures over his own family), but—

It's Verso's job to make things better, always has been, so he leans in, half-smile on his lips. "You didn't know? I'm into guys who kiss too much."

[superniceone]

Gustave is much less worried about being discovered by Nevrons than Renoir or, god forbid, Maelle. Not that he'd enjoy a fight with his pants around his ankles, but at least he wouldn't scar a Nevron for life.

When he kisses him, it's hard and hungry, the gentleness all in the way his hand is sliding across his chest, back down to his stomach. He wraps it loosely around Verso's waist after a moment, like he's afraid he might knock him down with his own urgency, and seems to have flustered himself when he pulls back. "So you agree it's too much," he says casually, just gently needling him as he goes to actually pull Verso's shirt off of him entirely.

[recreatable]

The kiss is unexpectedly enthusiastic, but he doesn't mind. The rush of being kissed like that makes him feel alive, a strangely rare sensation for someone who can't die. Or, more accurately, it makes him feel like a person, which is an even rarer sensation.

"Excessive," he says, muffled by the shirt being pulled over his head. Once it's on the ground with his jacket, he gets to work on pulling Gustave's off, because he certainly isn't going to be the only one caught shirtless out here if someone does stumble on them and get traumatized. "Can't believe they left a madman like you at large."

[superniceone]

"Why do you think they shipped me off to the continent? Couldn't stand me anymore." Gustave will suppress the insane reflex to fold the shirt he pulls off of Verso, and instead just tosses it toward the pile of the rest of his discarded uniform.

For as awkward as he can be, he doesn't at all seem shy about his own body, though he does seem more interested in inspecting Verso's than anything else. "Even more obnoxious," he declares after a moment.

[recreatable]

"You should see me when I haven't spent the last seven decades in the woods." Give or take. There'd been time in Lumiere, of course, but it doesn't merit mentioning.

Verso does not consider folding up Gustave's shirt, because that would be, in fact, insane. It ends up somewhere on the ground. He's not really sure. It's really not a top priority right now. He tugs Gustave closer by his belt loops, hip to hip.

"Sometimes," he says, somewhere between mock-tantalizing and actually trying to be trantalizing, "I even wore a suit."

[superniceone]

Gustave hums appreciatively at the little pull, shifts very slightly to nudge his thigh between Verso's - but it's a suggestion, not a demand.

"Classy," he says, surrendering to impulse and kissing the side of his neck. "You must have been popular, monsieur." Similarly, he's teasing but also not at all. He likes to think he and Verso could have been friends, but without an Expedition to rally them together, doubts he ever would have gotten close.

ignore my typos... they're just creative spelling choices for artistic purposes.....

[recreatable]

Gustave is, once again, bolder than he'd given him credit for. Verso grins, rolling their hips together; the friction sends a pleasant little zing up his spine.

"I played piano," is apparently a response to that, although it's a little distant, focus pulled between being 'charmingly irreverent' and dry humping someone in the woods. The implication, of course, is that chicks dig musicians. "I did all right."

your first mistake is assuming I'm literate enough to notice

[superniceone]

"Breaking hearts left and right, then," Gustave decides, but he's similarly distracted if the way he exhales sharply against Verso's throat is any indication (it is.) His hand has come to settle in the hollow of Verso's back, like he's afraid he might try to flee without warning.

He leans back up, taking a bracing breath. "Maybe I'll sneak a bedroll out next time," he says, but it's only a mock complaint. Mostly he's just floundering on etiquette here - as if there is established etiquette for hooking up in the woods.

[recreatable]

Verso has done enough hooking up in the woods that, honestly, it would be stranger to have sex—or even sleep in—a bed. But never let it be said that he's an inconsiderate lay; he takes a step away (with some difficulty), crouching down to arrange their discarded clothing in such a way that they won't be entirely rolling around on the ground. With a flourish, he says, "Your atmosphere, monsieur."

[superniceone]

Gustave actually tilts his head at that, eyes creasing again in both amusement and fondness. "What a hero," he says, easing himself down to a casual seat on top of their clothes. They're not gonna beat the grass stains. "C'mere, then."

[recreatable]

Oh, the grass stains are going to be diabolical. Verso's going to be so upset. But that's a problem for the future, which Verso is determinedly not thinking about right now. If he does think of the future, then he'll think about how Gustave had despaired at the prospect of his life's premature end, and how when it still comes he'll have a split-second to hate the person who'd rested a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

So, definitely not thinking about that.

Verso takes c'mere as an invitation to crawl over onto Gustave, gently pushing him onto his back. He'd seemed to like being manhandled a little before, but Verso is still acutely aware that too many missteps could severely impact his standing in the group, so— gentle. On impulse, he cranes down to kiss him again, hoping to recreate the rush of before, that electrified feeling of being someone. "Too much?" he asks when he pulls away, half-joking.

[superniceone]

Gustave isn't sure what to think about the almost-contradictions in Verso's demeanor. He's somehow both so certain and so tentative, and - well. It's endearing. He's fond of that, thinks it's sweet (if not a bit funny) to be treated almost as if he's fragile.

He reaches up to cradle the back of Verso's neck, answering that question with another kiss - less gentle, encouraging. "I will let you know if something is too much," he says. His mechanical arm wraps around Verso's waist, a leg locking around his, and he will attempt to flip them in a roll that feels more like a tussle than any part of their previous encounter had, his real hand still braced at the base of his skull to keep it from hitting the ground.

Whether or not the maneuver works, he'll add: "I'm not made of glass."

[recreatable]

If this were a real fight, Verso is pretty sure that he'd win. He's bigger, presumably stronger if they don't take the mechanical arm into account (he's not sure just how strong that is, yet). But he enjoys that Gustave is feistier than he'd expect, so he doesn't mind engaging in a little tussle at all; he lets it happen without complaint, only flicking Gustave's metal arm and listening to it clang softly.

"Just metal."

There's a story behind that arm. One he'll probably never hear, because a few short days from now, they'll be taking on the Paintress. There'll be no more curiosity left after that.

"Is this what they teach you Expeditioners now?"

[superniceone]

"Only about seven percent of my body weight is metal," Gustave says, mock-offended. Very sexy, admitting that this nerdy shit is the kind of thing that you've previously calculated.

He releases the back of Verso's head to brace on the ground by it, leaning in to kiss him again, like he's claiming a victory. "They teach loads of things at the academy," he murmurs, not pulling away far.

[recreatable]

Verso reaches down to undo Gustave's belt, although he's not in quite as much of a rush this time; as always, his emotions slowly win out over practicality, and his emotions are rather enjoying being right here. "I guess you don't need me to teach you anything, after all."

[superniceone]

There is absolutely zero pause before Gustave confesses: "Obviously I was lying. I have no idea what I'm doing."

He shifts to sit upright, weight carefully distributed where he straddles Verso's thighs, just to make access to his own belt a little easier. And then, with a wry grin, "Real community service takes effort, after all."

[recreatable]

Verso follows him upright, which is fully so he can remove the belt easier and no other reason. He tugs it loose from its loops, tossing it aside with a shake of his head. "You're supposed to lie and pretend you're an expert." You know, like he does.