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?"
Gustave hums approvingly at that, a bit surprised by— well, the tenderness of it, really. It's sweet, makes his stomach flip with affection. "Esquie caught me staring at your ass," he says with another laugh, pressing his hand into Verso's lower back. He swallows, starts to say something else, and instead impulsively latches onto his skin, right at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He doesn't bother masking the fact that he's trying to suck a bruise there.
Okay, well, Verso was aiming for something more actionable than 'I like your ass', but he's flattered all the same. There's a question on his tongue when Gustave seems to stop himself from speaking, but he's quickly distracted by the feeling of Gustave's mouth on his skin, inhaling sharply in excitement. He's far too old to be giving or receiving hickeys, but the eternally young libido wants what it wants, and he does like boldness.
His fingers wander to the button of Gustave's trousers, working them open. "Licentious of you," he teases, although he's obviously delighted.
Hey: at least he didn't mention his mediocre crepes this time. He is also much too old to be giving hickeys, but considering Verso won't exactly have to work very hard to hide one, he figures he gets a pass.
"Really didn't think I was the kind of guy to enjoy getting bitten," he exhales, pressing a careful kiss to the darkening patch he'd left. Gustave swallows again, watching Verso's hand work those buttons loose, clearly eager. Interested. He likes when Verso pins him, he almost says, but doesn't know how to communicate why; it's less about being pinned and more about feeling that Verso wants as strongly as Gustave does.
"What can I do for you?" he says softly, and can't resist pulling Verso's hips just slightly in against his own.
The shift of hips sends a thrill up Verso's spine, and he has to remind himself that not only is he too old to be getting hickeys, but he's definitely too old to dry hump in the woods. He presses closer regardless, giving Gustave very physical evidence that, yes, he wants.
"Oh, I'm still trying to figure out the options," is an echoing tease, voice soft to match Gustave's. Although he'd prefer not to, he doesn't have much of a choice not to lift up so that he can tug at the waistband of Gustave's trousers, insistent.
"One of us has been with other men before," Gustave protests, and it's not very dignified, but he leans back to squirm them off as much as he can.
He moves to pull him back in as soon as he's sitting up again, and— okay, yes, he feels a lot more comfortable now that his erection isn't trapped by the fabric of his uniform, but it seems like his priority is coaxing Verso into just one last sweet, slightly needy kiss.
Barely, Verso thinks—whatever he did with other men before was fumbling around in the woods at best—but doesn't say; one of them has to pretend to know what he's doing, and that role has fallen to Verso. A multitasking overachiever, he kisses Gustave somewhat distractedly as he works his own pants open and rucks them down enough to free his own erection.
He withdraws from the kiss, then pauses in thought, like he's weighing the pros and cons of something. It's not exactly romantic, but the options out here are limited. He spits into his palm before taking them both in hand, glancing up at Gustave questioningly. "Is this all right?"
Gustave doesn't know!! He assumes that Verso is a little rusty, but he's slept with Gustave and tried it with Sciel right in front of his face—it doesn't occur to him that inexperience might be a hurdle in any capacity.
The sound he makes when Verso takes them both in hand is openly compromised. He swears again, something uncharacteristically filthy under his breath. "In what—world would that not be okay?"
Verso might be a megaslut, okay, but it's not like anybody lived long enough for him to get the ample sucking and fucking experience Gustave so clearly thinks he has. He's rarely had the opportunity to get comfortable with someone, to try more than a quick tryst; this is the most time he's taken with sex in a long while, and it feels— strange. Not bad, but different.
Regardless, he takes the swear as encouragement, mouth quirking up into a crooked grin as he strokes them both, grip light and pace slow. "Will you ever let me be a gentleman," he asks, softly, "or should I just stop trying at this point?"
Gustave may figure that out someday, in a world where they actually communicate with each other. Right now, he's mostly just yearning for his room in Lumière, a lock on the door and a bed to lay Verso down in.
"Oh, is that what you're doing," he asks, voice just as quiet, before he tips in to rest his forehead against Verso's shoulder. "Be whatever you want to be." He's not leaving any more marks, just sort of half-nuzzling Verso's throat.
Gustave rests his head on his shoulder, and Verso looks down to watch his hand's gentle ministrations, growing less gentle with each passing second. He squeezes slightly, and the feeling of their erections sliding together makes his pulse quicken and his neck flush. He leans his head against Gustave's, soft brown hair against his cheek, his breath against Gustave's ear.
"You're so sexy," he says, sincere in his appreciation, although he half-expects another brush-off. "Maddeningly."
Gustave's breath has already gone shallow, carefully measured; he just sort of whimpers again at the Verso's hand and those words said to him in a warm breath against his ear.
"So are you," he whispers. "Merde, Verso, you feel— very good." He can feel his dick twitch and leak, and he reaches down between them to lightly touch Verso's hand, a silent offer to take over.
He can't help laughing at 'very good', although there's no malice behind it. It's not the sexiest descriptor ever, but Gustave is sexy because he doesn't try to be sexy. Unlike Verso, he doesn't try to be anything that he isn't. Being called 'very good' in that earnest tone is more thrilling than any practiced compliment Verso could think up.
Gustave's fingers touch his, and he feels a reluctance to stop, hesitating for a moment. He's enjoying it, yes, and he's also providing a service that makes him feel good about himself; as he'd said, he lives to please. But Gustave is requesting it, so he withdraws his hand, placing it over Gustave's so that he can guide it to replace his, gently encouraging his fingers to curl around them both.
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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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His fingers wander to the button of Gustave's trousers, working them open. "Licentious of you," he teases, although he's obviously delighted.
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"Really didn't think I was the kind of guy to enjoy getting bitten," he exhales, pressing a careful kiss to the darkening patch he'd left. Gustave swallows again, watching Verso's hand work those buttons loose, clearly eager. Interested. He likes when Verso pins him, he almost says, but doesn't know how to communicate why; it's less about being pinned and more about feeling that Verso wants as strongly as Gustave does.
"What can I do for you?" he says softly, and can't resist pulling Verso's hips just slightly in against his own.
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"Oh, I'm still trying to figure out the options," is an echoing tease, voice soft to match Gustave's. Although he'd prefer not to, he doesn't have much of a choice not to lift up so that he can tug at the waistband of Gustave's trousers, insistent.
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He moves to pull him back in as soon as he's sitting up again, and— okay, yes, he feels a lot more comfortable now that his erection isn't trapped by the fabric of his uniform, but it seems like his priority is coaxing Verso into just one last sweet, slightly needy kiss.
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He withdraws from the kiss, then pauses in thought, like he's weighing the pros and cons of something. It's not exactly romantic, but the options out here are limited. He spits into his palm before taking them both in hand, glancing up at Gustave questioningly. "Is this all right?"
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The sound he makes when Verso takes them both in hand is openly compromised. He swears again, something uncharacteristically filthy under his breath. "In what—world would that not be okay?"
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Regardless, he takes the swear as encouragement, mouth quirking up into a crooked grin as he strokes them both, grip light and pace slow. "Will you ever let me be a gentleman," he asks, softly, "or should I just stop trying at this point?"
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"Oh, is that what you're doing," he asks, voice just as quiet, before he tips in to rest his forehead against Verso's shoulder. "Be whatever you want to be." He's not leaving any more marks, just sort of half-nuzzling Verso's throat.
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"You're so sexy," he says, sincere in his appreciation, although he half-expects another brush-off. "Maddeningly."
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"So are you," he whispers. "Merde, Verso, you feel— very good." He can feel his dick twitch and leak, and he reaches down between them to lightly touch Verso's hand, a silent offer to take over.
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Gustave's fingers touch his, and he feels a reluctance to stop, hesitating for a moment. He's enjoying it, yes, and he's also providing a service that makes him feel good about himself; as he'd said, he lives to please. But Gustave is requesting it, so he withdraws his hand, placing it over Gustave's so that he can guide it to replace his, gently encouraging his fingers to curl around them both.
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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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