tfln overflow / open post

[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[recreatable]

There is definitely something very wrong with him that he's currently letting a man he was all too happy to let die give him a blowjob. But, unfortunately, being wrong doesn't actually make it any less pleasurable. He tangles his fingers in Gustave's hair again, and although, yes, it was a lost cause to begin with, it's certainly made worse by the insistent tugging. Gustave, once again, is about to look like he lost a fight.

Verso makes a low noise in the back of his throat, jerks, and tenses again— "Gustave." Not screaming his name out of pleasure, unfortunately. It's a warning, a gentlemanly(!) attempt not to introduce Gustave to what he'd probably call an impolite taste before he dies.

[superniceone]

Gustave wasn't making it up when he said the sound of Verso's voice when he's compromised like that is - overwhelmingly appealing. He risks another few slow drags, before he pulls back entirely, continuing to stroke him through.

"Verso," he says, his voice quiet and coaxing. "C'mon."

[recreatable]

Oh, the soft sound of Gustave's encouragement accompanied by his steadily working hand sends Verso tipping right over. It's probably the most ridiculous blowjob he's ever gotten, the only one where someone stopped to chide him partway through, but it still gets the job very much done. He lies still for a moment afterward, panting a little, skin a little damp. It is unfortunately going to be unmistakably obvious that they weren't tussling this time.

Oh, well. That's a problem for future Verso, and future Verso won't even be around soon. He glances at Gustave, smiling crookedly. "Want me to do you?"

[superniceone]

It's probably a little silly to be proud of himself, but that doesn't change the fact that he is. Gustave is flush with warmth, pupils blown a bit wide with his own arousal, and he meets Verso's look with a baffled one of his own. "If you want," he says finally, evenly; he's turned on to the point of discomfort, and it takes every ounce of restraint in him not to parrot Verso's Is it not obvious? from before.

[recreatable]

Verso tugs his pants up, because it's probably tempting fate to hang out with his trousers around his knees when Renoir could catch him with his pants down any moment. Right after, though, he pushes himself up to verticality again so that he and Gustave are face-to-face. He's very flushed, and strands of his hair stick to his face from the thin sheen of sweat.

"If I want?" Gustave should be begging on his knees!!! But Verso pushes him down anyway, flat on his back (on their clothes, which are steadily growing greener). He's even less experienced in this than anything he's done before, and maybe he's actually the one who's a little intimidated, but— it can't be that difficult. "Kind of you to do an old man a favor like this."

[superniceone]

Oh. That's a good look for Verso, Gustave thinks, and he swallows hard at that. Thankfully, he's pushed onto his back before he's got the opportunity to reach out or say anything that leaves him wanting to crawl into a cave in embarrassment.

"You don't have to," he says, tokenly annoyed. He's taking careful, shallow breath, trying to even himself out. "I'm not going to be mad if you use your hands, I mean -" Gustave whines then, low in his throat. "You know what I mean."

[recreatable]

Gustave is far too easy to work up; it's almost not even fair. Verso's grin widens as he tugs Gustave's trousers down around his thighs, clearly amused. "I'm messing with you," he says, not without some amount of fondness, before pressing his mouth to the bare skin of Gustave's stomach. Working himself up to performing, although he'd rather Gustave just interpret it as a tease.

[superniceone]

"What a flirt," Gustave deadpans, but there's no hiding the way his stomach tenses in anticipation beneath the press of his mouth. Verso had touched his hair, so he'll take it as tacit permission to do the same in turn - though his touch is more overtly affectionate, fingers combing gently once through his hair.

"God, you're - so handsome," he blurts, because it's hard not to think it from his vantage point here.

[recreatable]

Verso can't help but smile against Gustave's skin, privately pleased. "Obnoxiously so, some say," is his response upon pulling back, before he presses another kiss to the junction between pelvis and thigh. He curls his callused fingers around Gustave's erection, feeling— perhaps not intimidated, exactly, but some small amount of pressure to perform well. After all, he so wants to chase perfection.

It's just a tentative touch of the lips first, like a wetting of his feet, before he takes Gustave properly into his mouth. It's different than what he's strictly used to. Not bad, but he finds himself overwhelmingly aware of his teeth, careful not to do anything Gustave won't like. His tongue is gentle, exploratory. Gentlemanly, he might say, although it's little to do with Gustave's comfort this time around and more to do with his own relative inexperience with being on this end of the act.

[superniceone]

Gustave is fully oblivious to all of this, of course. He'd caught on to the fact that Verso was maybe a little less of an expert on all of this than he'd claimed to be, but he isn't really in a position to be extremely critical about this. They're in such an awkward position to be with, in the middle of the woods, both a little awkward about things-

But that doesn't stop it from feeling incredible. It's impossible to discern cautious gentleness from being teased, and Gustave groans quietly, sweeping his hand gently across Verso's brow. "Maybe- less obnoxious than you used to be," he says, but there's nothing but gentle fondness in his hands.

[recreatable]

Verso pauses, then pulls off entirely. (Yeah, it sucks when people do that, doesn't it?) He's kind enough to pick up where he left off with his hand, which is admittedly both more confident and nimble than his mouth. If he can play Mozart's Sonata No. 16, he can play Gustave.

"Wouldn't want to disappoint," he says pointedly. "I'll stop in the middle of it to talk some more." Like some other people who shall not be named!!!

[superniceone]

The teasing would probably be more effective if Verso's hand didn't very nearly feel as good as his mouth did. Gustave would point that out, except he's distracted enough that he mostly just groans softly instead, his fingers flexing in Verso's hair.

"This more flirting?" he asks after a swallow, his voice rough and dipping. Gustave lifts his head to look at him, but the focused way he's watching Verso probably indicates he's definitely getting something out of the sight, too.

[recreatable]

He likes the way arousal sounds on Gustave; it's a nice voice to begin with, and the throaty quality of excitement only makes it more so. It certainly bolsters his ego, at any rate, which is probably something Gustave (wisely) doesn't want to do. He laughs, which is a ridiculous thing to do when in the middle of blowing someone, but Gustave does bring it out in him. He's fun, as wild as that is to say about someone who was bemoaning the end of his life a day ago.

"Now you're getting it," he says with a smirk before returning his attention to Gustave's erection. There's less pressure now that it seems obvious that Gustave is enjoying himself, so he takes his time now to explore what Gustave might like best — whether he likes to be teased, or if he reacts more when Verso just gets to the point and swirls his tongue over the tip of him. A perfectionist, still, in his own way, eager to perform up to standard.

[superniceone]

It would be easy to be offended by the laugh, but it's easy to tell it's neither mocking nor scornful. If asked to, Gustave wouldn't be able to put it in words, exactly, but it's a subconscious relief to know that Verso isn't actively miserable, isn't doing it out of sheer, reluctant obligation.

And it'll become clear he doesn't mind being teased. He's aware this is meant to be quick, meaningless; it doesn't necessarily mean he wants it to feel like that, and as much as he's left sensitive and twitchy beneath Verso when he gets to the point, it's the moments with a lighter touch that leave him murmuring hoarse little sounds of praise and encouragement.

His hand grips harder into Verso's hair when he approaches his tipping point, the noise halfway to a whimper. "Stop, come here, come up here."

[recreatable]

It's surprisingly easy to get into the rhythm of things once all is said and done. He does something, a flick of the tongue or a hollowing of the cheeks, and then he listens for Gustave's response. It's the vocalizations that encourage him the most, like Gustave is an instrument and if he plucks all of the right strings, he can elicit all the right sounds. But then Gustave says stop, which feels a bit more like a string going flat, and he quickly removes himself, coming here as beckoned on his hands and knees.

"—Too much?" he asks, light, although he searches Gustave's face for any indication that it really was.

[superniceone]

In light of their success against the Visages, Gustave is doing his best to be hopeful for the next days as they come. Despite that, he can't quite shake the feeling that he's on borrowed time -- and if he is, in this private little moment here, he's going to take what he wants.

"I didn't say - stop, I just said- come here," he says, a half-sputter, because he's wrenching up to meet him, to drag him into a kiss that's teetering on absolutely desperate.

[recreatable]

"You did, actually—" is Verso's attempt at argument, because Gustave can't just tell him to stop and then get irritated with him when Verso takes him at his word, but then Gustave's mouth is on his and he has to readjust, readapt. To his credit, he does so quickly, licking into Gustave's mouth and reaching down to wrap a hand around him again, still slick with Verso's saliva.

It's only the heightened situation making Gustave feel this way, and Verso is undoubtedly a terrible person for getting here under the pretense that they're teammates and not diametrically opposed, but it still feels electric to be wanted so badly. He presses his weight into Gustave's as his hand pumps encouragingly, urging Gustave over the edge.

[superniceone]

It doesn't take long for Gustave to fully unravel, his hand scrambling to grab Verso's arm - trying to keep him close, even as he attempts to muffle his own little gasps into Verso's mouth. He'll try to draw the kiss out as he comes down from the peak of his own orgasm, just craving the intimacy of it.

After a long moment, he pulls away and drops his head back onto the ground (only remembering to peel his hand off of Verso's arm another moment after that.) Gustave is flushed, catching his own breath, and seems to be vaguely ruminating on his own words. "We really should have started doing that a long time ago," he says finally, the words gentle and teasing.

[recreatable]

The flush of intimacy suits Gustave, he thinks. His gaze lingers for a moment before he rolls off of Gustave to offer him some breathing room, lying beside him as he buttons up his own trousers.

"I should've led with it, huh?" he asks, amused. It's flattering, even if Gustave is probably only saying so because he thinks his days of getting laid might be numbered. He turns his head to steal a glance, suddenly very aware of the fact that Gustave's days are numbered, win or lose at the Monolith. As good as dead. The thought makes him a bit queasy, but he grins. "I didn't know then that all I had to do was ply you with wine. And even if I had, I might not have been so willing to give up my stash without your sensitive brooding."

[superniceone]

Gustave lifts his hips just enough to tug his own pants back into place, to make himself mostly decent again, but he doesn't bother grabbing for his belt again yet. He rolls into him instead, one arm draped across Verso's waist like Gustave really thinks he can be casual about this pseudo-cuddle.

"Oh, the wine helped, but I don't think it was necessary. It's us repressed nerds, we're a dodgy sort." Their faces are close. Unless Verso recoils, Gustave will just let himself enjoy that.

[recreatable]

Merde. Gustave tries to, what, post-coital cuddle him, and Verso feels even queasier. Not long ago, he'd had Gustave's cock in his mouth, and this still somehow feels like the most intimate thing they've done so far. Their faces are inches away, and Verso can feel Gustave's breath on his face, can still see the faint bits of dried blood Lune didn't manage to clean up during her healing. His chest tightens.

"We should get back to the others."

[superniceone]

"Right, of course. Sorry," he says hastily, trying hard to shutter his own expression as he pulls away and rolls into a crouch to start collecting his own discarded clothing. "I didn't mean to-" Gustave stumbles over his own words, then seems to decide that the only thing that could make that little faux pas more awkward is acknowledging it, so he drops it abruptly and clears his throat. "I should find a place to wash up," he settles on finally, instead.

This is why he'd aborted that half-formed line about being an alternative cuddle buddy than Monoco!!!

[recreatable]

Gustave practically jumps away like he's been burned. Verso wonders if maybe he should say something, explain that it's not that it was unpleasant, but that he can't get close to someone like that, because— what? Because he killed the last person he got close to? Or because he's going to kill Gustave and all of his friends, so he can't bear to like them too much?

Obviously not. He just sits up and grabs his own clothes, pulling on his now fully grass-stained shirt. "Yeah," he says distractedly, fitting his arms into the sleeves of his jacket. "I'll, uh, see you back at camp."

[superniceone]

"Sure, right. Back at camp." Gustave had been entirely certain they'd gotten the awkwardness out of the way, culminating in the way he'd been able to casually ask Verso to "take a walk" with him - but now he's just more sure than before that he's reset that progress.

He finds a trickling stream not far off, uses it to rinse his face (and various stickier parts of his body.) He tries his best to ward off mild humiliation - why had he done that? - and reminds himself that this doesn't matter. They literally do not have enough time left for this to matter.

His hair is still a completely lost cause when he returns to camp, and mostly he's just going to spend the rest of the night looking pensive.

[recreatable]

Whatever Gustave's hair looks like when he returns, Verso doesn't see, because he instantly heads toward the outskirts of camp to brood silently, brushing off any attempts at questioning his now heavily green shirt. He thinks about Gustave a little, the way he'd gasped into Verso's mouth and slung an arm around him, and he thinks about Julie a lot. But it isn't about Gustave, or even really Julie; it's about him, and how caustic he is to everything he touches.

He owes it to Gustave—and the entire team, really, considering the rancid atmosphere this awkwardness will cultivate—not to leave him feeling like he did something wrong. So, the next morning, when everyone is readying themselves for the trip toward the next Axon, Verso does the sane thing and chops off his hand.

It's an icebreaker. A little physical comedy never hurt anyone. While Gustave is bent over his pack, Verso gives him a quick tap on the shoulder. "Hey, uh. You know, I could... really use a hand."