Part of Verso had been hoping that the compliment would make Gustave swoon directly into his arms, admittedly; he can acknowledge when his hopes are unrealistic, as they so often are. He'd at least thought that Gustave wouldn't immediately brush it off, although perhaps it's for the best. Verso had been trying to infuse a little romance where he really shouldn't be.
"I haven't even begun to lay it on thick," he argues, although he doesn't try to compliment Gustave again. "But I see now that you preferred having your pigtails pulled."
"I wouldn't go that far," Gustave says, and he'd be shocked to hear that Verso thought the situation was lacking romance at all. The soft light and the dense foliage are doing a lot of work as far as he's concerned. "But thank you. That's high praise from someone who is handsome all the time."
He thinks that he'd really like to just lean into Verso and close his eyes for half an hour — that the idea of another human body warm and solid against his own just seems unfathomably comforting.
"A little less handsome when you're kicking me awake," he adds, reaching over to sweep idly at that lock of Verso's hair again. "But I guess no one's perfect."
Gustave has been conditioned to expect Verso to cut and run every time he gets too— sentimental; he's weirdly nervous when he slides his hand to the back of Verso's neck and shrugs. "I didn't hate it, actually. Seeing you first thing when I woke."
It's difficult to reconcile the idea that Gustave is well aware of and at peace with the ill-fated, ephemeral nature of this with him saying things like that. He'd said he wanted to pretend, and for the first time, Verso wonders just how much he's supposed to pretend. He could turn on the charm if he really wanted to, act like this is something lasting and not a perishable item. Maybe Gustave would even like it.
But that would be getting his own hopes up, too. "You would get tired of it," he says instead, matter-of-fact, before leaning in to kiss him.
Gustave has admittedly had a few flitting daydreams about it — bringing Verso back to Lumière with him, getting to know him when time wasn't short and the world wasn't falling apart around them. It's a pleasant thought.
He doesn't argue with him; he's just leaning a little too desperately into the kiss, trying to use the physical sensation of Verso's mouth on his to stabilize his racing thoughts a bit more.
It's a relief, honestly, that Gustave doesn't have a rebuttal. It means Verso can focus on what's really important, which is pulling off Gustave's pesky overclothes. He gives the uniform a good tug, urging Gustave to help him remove it as he pulls back and asks, "Are you going to complain again if I ask what you want?"
"Are you going to make fun of me again if I ask you?" Gustave shifts to sit up, shrugging off his jacket, but there's no desperate urgency in it like there'd been before. He pauses for a moment, before he peels off his undershirt as well, bare from the waist up now as he drops back to face Verso again. "I don't know what I want," he confesses quietly, "I just— it's nice to have time alone with you."
Why can't Gustave be into normal things like choking? Why does he have to want 'time alone together' instead?
Clearly, Gustave can no longer be trusted to talk anymore, if he's just going to keep saying nice things like that. Verso swings a leg across Gustave's hips so that he can crawl on top of him and pin him down, which will hopefully put an end to this sentimentality. "Well, I'd like to do some impolite things to you, if you're amenable to that."
It probably comes as a surprise to exactly zero people that, up until now, Gustave's sex life has been pretty vanilla. Tender, even. It probably makes the fact that there's a flash of something like relief on his face when Verso swings himself atop him a little unusual. He's very much in his own head about so many things, and hooking up messily with Verso in the middle of the woods is somehow the least complicated of all things he might do to clear his head tonight.
"Feel free to be filthy, even," he says, not challenging the way Verso has him pinned this time. He does raise his hand enough to touch Verso's stomach, sliding up to his side, quietly admiring. Gustave's eyes move to lock with Verso's, and he's grinning just very slightly. "Deviant. Depraved. Downright licentious." The joke here being mostly that Verso has never been anything but incredibly careful with him.
"Licentious," Verso repeats, eyebrows raised in amusement at Gustave's vocabulary word of the day. He's yet again hit by Gustave's endearingly awkward charm, and on impulse, he leans down to press his mouth to the side of Gustave's neck. It's not affection, he tells himself, he's just being licentious.
Admittedly, none of those words describe what he'd expect Gustave to be into. When Verso thinks of Gustave's sex life prior to this, he imagines missionary in the dark while saying I love you, followed by an hour of cuddling. Not exactly Verso's experience of quickies in the cold dirt. "I don't know if you can handle licentious," he says before biting gently at Gustave's neck. "...Primarily because you use the word 'licentious'."
Gustave isn't sure if Verso is just teasing him, or if it's a challenge outright. Either way, his breath hitches at the graze of teeth near his throat, and it will jump slightly when he swallows. "I'm automatically boring because I read books?" he protests.
He's really just stalling for a moment, because he's not sure if what he's going to do is going to be appealing or just get him laughed at. He turns his face to tuck closer to Verso's ear, voice low and a little embarrassed when he requests: "Bite harder."
He didn't say boring. He implied it, maybe, but he didn't say it! There's nothing inherently wrong with tender and vanilla, and in fact it's probably a lot more fulfilling than anything Verso has experienced in at least the past few decades. Isolation and emotional distance isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Gustave's embarrassment is audible, and while Verso teases him to be fun and charming, he doesn't actually have any desire to make him feel truly self-conscious about something that should be easy. He obeys without complaint, biting down just hard enough to sting a little without really hurting; it's an ease in to roughness for someone who he imagines has rarely been treated roughly. There's a little red spot there when he pulls away, and he swipes his thumb over it soothingly.
Gustave has kept himself as carefully composed as possible on their previous little field trips. Even drunk with his trousers shucked around his thighs, he was extremely cognizant of the fact that too much noise could draw attention from either the rest of their team or any Nevrons nearby. He'd swallowed his own groans like a teenage boy trying not to get caught watching porn through his bedroom door.
That sting gets another hitch of breath, though. When Verso pulls away, Gustave makes a sound of protest that is meant to convey that he'd liked that; it bubbles out of his throat as a little whine instead.
"Trouduc," he swears softly, metal hand coming up to gently brace the back of Verso's neck so Gustave can answer him with an abrupt kiss, licking unashamedly into his mouth.
He likes that sound quite a lot, and since he's incapable of enjoying anything without already grieving its loss, he thinks about how unfortunate it is that he'll probably only get to hear it a few more times. This is the most intimate encounters he's had with the same person in a long time; the realities of Expeditions usually cut off any dalliances before he could really start to learn what someone liked, how they wanted to be touched. It's interesting learning these things about Gustave, and while he's here, Verso bites his lip, an experiment to see if he likes the feeling of teeth there, too.
Verso likes it, at any rate, and he's slightly breathless with excitement when he pulls back to look at Gustave. Once again, the thought crosses his mind that Gustave really does look handsome, although he doesn't say so. "Did you learn that word in a book, too?"
Gustave would do something about Verso's thoughts working themselves into overtime if he had even the slightest clue that it was happening. There's just enough sensory input that his own mind is too occupied to bother with the eventualities; for one of the few times in his life, he's more concerned with the present than the future.
He grunts slightly at the catch of teeth on his lip — that's a yes — and he's a little flustered when Verso moves to look at him. "No," Gustave says, grinning a little lopsidedly, "that one was definitely my mentor. Why are you so good at this."
"I've had ample time to practice." And he has an insatiable desire to both please and be perfect at everything he does, which helps. Gustave seems significantly less uneasy than he had when he'd approached, and Verso considers that a win. A good grade in using sex to cheer someone up.
Gustave had seemed to be enjoying himself, so Verso presses his mouth against the underside of his jaw, facial hair tickling the tip of Verso's nose. "Just wait until you're a hundred."
And, because Gustave is incapable of not being a dork even when getting handy with a hot man in the woods, he'll murmur like he's actually impressed: "Remarkable libido for a man your age, now that I think about it."
But he's tilting his chin up slightly, responsive, to make it easier for Verso to mouth at him; at the same time, his hand presses and strokes down the center of Verso's back in a slow, firm rhythm, like he just enjoys the feeling of him beneath his palm.
Perks of being eternally stunted. Terrible life, active libido.
He thinks about Sciel's description of Gustave as sweet. It's accurate. Everything he does feels impossibly sincere, even a soothing hand on Verso's back. He nips playfully at Gustave's jaw, saying, "Maybe you just bring it out in this senile old man," before sitting up to fumble with his belt, considering that they really should have worn swimsuits. The Expedition uniforms were, shockingly, not designed to fool around in.
He told you! Swimsuits! Not only because he finds your ass particularly shapely in yours, Verso, geez. "Maybe we should just start losing the belts at camp," Gustave muses, as if that wouldn't destroy every remaining shred of their already razor thin credibility when they slip off together.
He waits until the belt has been unbuckled successfully before he sits up, shifting to try to pull Verso more firmly into his lap.
The belts are definitely a barrier, so once Gustave's is undone, he reaches down to unbuckle his own, too, fingers much more deft when they're working on a belt they've been buckling and unbuckling for decades. Vintage, he thinks to himself, and suppresses the urge to roll his eyes.
Instead: "Sure. I'll leave it to you to explain it to Maelle when she asks." God willing, she currently thinks they go off to hold each other's hands in private.
Gustave wouldn't be stoked about Maelle receiving full confirmation that he's boning her (other????) brother, but he'd laugh if he realized how stressed Verso was about it. She was sixteen and on an Expedition; death had been a near-forgone conclusion. It seemed ridiculous to try to shield her from the concept of sex.
"Okay," he says agreeably, moving to start shedding Verso's jacket and top as well.
Verso squints. Then: "Trouduc," he says, not unaffectionately, as he helps remove his clothing, tossing it aside before leaning in to kiss him again. He recalls Gustave's uncertainty about kissing him excessively, and— this is excessive. An unreasonable amount of kissing, actually. He should stop.
Gustave laughs into the kiss, a soft but bright sound, and— well, honestly, the excessive kissing is putting him at ease. It's nice to feel like he has even just a few minutes to familiarize himself with Verso, with his body beneath his hands.
He's smiling a little sheepishly when he pulls back, his eyes bright. "I like it," he murmurs, clearing his throat before he ducks in to softly mouth at the bare curve of Verso's shoulder. "When you kiss me first."
He should definitely stop now, because Gustave saying that makes him want to kiss him more, and if he kisses him more, it'll be hard once he has no choice but to stop. For the record, he doesn't stop; he tilts his head to kiss the only part of Gustave that he's able to easily put his mouth on, which is his hair.
"I live to please," he says against Gustave's mop of curls, somewhere between humor and sincerity. "Will you tell me what else you like?"
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"I haven't even begun to lay it on thick," he argues, although he doesn't try to compliment Gustave again. "But I see now that you preferred having your pigtails pulled."
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He thinks that he'd really like to just lean into Verso and close his eyes for half an hour — that the idea of another human body warm and solid against his own just seems unfathomably comforting.
"A little less handsome when you're kicking me awake," he adds, reaching over to sweep idly at that lock of Verso's hair again. "But I guess no one's perfect."
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But that would be getting his own hopes up, too. "You would get tired of it," he says instead, matter-of-fact, before leaning in to kiss him.
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He doesn't argue with him; he's just leaning a little too desperately into the kiss, trying to use the physical sensation of Verso's mouth on his to stabilize his racing thoughts a bit more.
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Clearly, Gustave can no longer be trusted to talk anymore, if he's just going to keep saying nice things like that. Verso swings a leg across Gustave's hips so that he can crawl on top of him and pin him down, which will hopefully put an end to this sentimentality. "Well, I'd like to do some impolite things to you, if you're amenable to that."
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"Feel free to be filthy, even," he says, not challenging the way Verso has him pinned this time. He does raise his hand enough to touch Verso's stomach, sliding up to his side, quietly admiring. Gustave's eyes move to lock with Verso's, and he's grinning just very slightly. "Deviant. Depraved. Downright licentious." The joke here being mostly that Verso has never been anything but incredibly careful with him.
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Admittedly, none of those words describe what he'd expect Gustave to be into. When Verso thinks of Gustave's sex life prior to this, he imagines missionary in the dark while saying I love you, followed by an hour of cuddling. Not exactly Verso's experience of quickies in the cold dirt. "I don't know if you can handle licentious," he says before biting gently at Gustave's neck. "...Primarily because you use the word 'licentious'."
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He's really just stalling for a moment, because he's not sure if what he's going to do is going to be appealing or just get him laughed at. He turns his face to tuck closer to Verso's ear, voice low and a little embarrassed when he requests: "Bite harder."
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Gustave's embarrassment is audible, and while Verso teases him to be fun and charming, he doesn't actually have any desire to make him feel truly self-conscious about something that should be easy. He obeys without complaint, biting down just hard enough to sting a little without really hurting; it's an ease in to roughness for someone who he imagines has rarely been treated roughly. There's a little red spot there when he pulls away, and he swipes his thumb over it soothingly.
"You aren't boring," he says. "For the record."
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That sting gets another hitch of breath, though. When Verso pulls away, Gustave makes a sound of protest that is meant to convey that he'd liked that; it bubbles out of his throat as a little whine instead.
"Trouduc," he swears softly, metal hand coming up to gently brace the back of Verso's neck so Gustave can answer him with an abrupt kiss, licking unashamedly into his mouth.
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Verso likes it, at any rate, and he's slightly breathless with excitement when he pulls back to look at Gustave. Once again, the thought crosses his mind that Gustave really does look handsome, although he doesn't say so. "Did you learn that word in a book, too?"
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He grunts slightly at the catch of teeth on his lip — that's a yes — and he's a little flustered when Verso moves to look at him. "No," Gustave says, grinning a little lopsidedly, "that one was definitely my mentor. Why are you so good at this."
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Gustave had seemed to be enjoying himself, so Verso presses his mouth against the underside of his jaw, facial hair tickling the tip of Verso's nose. "Just wait until you're a hundred."
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But he's tilting his chin up slightly, responsive, to make it easier for Verso to mouth at him; at the same time, his hand presses and strokes down the center of Verso's back in a slow, firm rhythm, like he just enjoys the feeling of him beneath his palm.
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He thinks about Sciel's description of Gustave as sweet. It's accurate. Everything he does feels impossibly sincere, even a soothing hand on Verso's back. He nips playfully at Gustave's jaw, saying, "Maybe you just bring it out in this senile old man," before sitting up to fumble with his belt, considering that they really should have worn swimsuits. The Expedition uniforms were, shockingly, not designed to fool around in.
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He waits until the belt has been unbuckled successfully before he sits up, shifting to try to pull Verso more firmly into his lap.
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Instead: "Sure. I'll leave it to you to explain it to Maelle when she asks." God willing, she currently thinks they go off to hold each other's hands in private.
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"Okay," he says agreeably, moving to start shedding Verso's jacket and top as well.
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He's smiling a little sheepishly when he pulls back, his eyes bright. "I like it," he murmurs, clearing his throat before he ducks in to softly mouth at the bare curve of Verso's shoulder. "When you kiss me first."
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"I live to please," he says against Gustave's mop of curls, somewhere between humor and sincerity. "Will you tell me what else you like?"
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btw i initially read this as gustave offering verso a piece of chewed up fruit jerky
you can't prove he didn't
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fuck don't look at me
now all of china knows that was gonna be your first sentence
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