tfln overflow / open post

[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[recreatable]

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.

[superniceone]

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.

[recreatable]

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.

[superniceone]

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.

[recreatable]

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.

[superniceone]

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."

[recreatable]

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?"

[superniceone]

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.

[recreatable]

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.

[superniceone]

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.

[recreatable]

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.

[superniceone]

"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.

[recreatable]

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?"

[superniceone]

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?"

[recreatable]

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?"

[superniceone]

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.

[recreatable]

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."

[superniceone]

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.

[recreatable]

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.

[superniceone]

Gustave had meant for it to be an offer more than a demand, but he's clearly just as enthusiastic when he takes over. His hips rut ineffectually up against Verso, into his own hand, and he buries his face in Verso's neck to muffle his own groan.

Their first two encounters had been good—there's no question in that statement. This evening is different, though; nearer to what he'd been craving, the sensation of real closeness. Leaning on Verso, and feeling him lean back. But one good compliment deserves another, so he tries again. "God— you're beautiful, just— so beautiful—" The way his breathing is staggered probably indicates he's fast approaching climax, his shoulders drawing slowly tense.

[recreatable]

'So are you' would be the appropriate response, but his brain-to-mouth function stops working the instant Gustave's hand touches his cock, and he makes a low sound that's meant to have a similar sentiment instead. There's a coiling in the pit of his stomach, but he wants Gustave to finish first; he tenses what must be every muscle in his fucking body to stave it off.

"Come on," he says encouragingly, before leaning in to bite down on the flesh of his shoulder.

[superniceone]

It is easily the most shattering orgasm of his life. There's no one specific reason for it — he'd been wound tightly by the circumstances of the past several days; he was still surprised that he was even alive, really; the heightened adrenaline that came with being outside and more vulnerable for it. Between the coaxing and the sting of the bite on his shoulder, he doesn't stand a chance.

He's past the point of words, managing mostly only a sob of relief. Gustave strokes himself reflexively through it, foggy in the immediate moment after, trying to make sure Verso isn't left behind.

[recreatable]

Verso comes very quickly after, still latched onto Gustave's shoulder. He shudders and bites down harder, then untenses slowly, removing his teeth from Gustave's skin and taking a breath. He's a little short of it, panting slightly, and sweating a little, too, even though this didn't require much physical exertion. As he draws back, he absentmindedly brushes his hair out of his face so that it doesn't stick.

Post-nut clarity hits like a ton of bricks. He really got carried away, desperate for some sort of feeling of emotional closeness after spending the better part of a century lonely. "Fuck," he says softly to himself, before shaking his head and forcibly deluding himself into believing that it's still casual and temporary for him.

Light: "I can't believe you let an old man trouble his knees like this."

[superniceone]

Gustave is deeply flushed, face slightly shiny with sweat of his own, and he stares — visibly uncomprehending — at Verso for a long second, before his mind catches up with his body. "Oh, sorry," is all he manages at first, reflexive. He wipes his hand on the blanket before he reaches up to tenderly touch the spot Verso had bitten on his shoulder. "Think you got me back, though."

That was — a lot. It had been intense. His eyes are searching Verso's face, like he's trying to make sure he's emotionally alright.

[recreatable]

Verso busies himself with crawling off of Gustave and pulling his pants back up, watching himself buckle his own belt like it's impossibly interesting. It wasn't intense for him at all, actually. He feels fine.

"You'll be glad for the experience," he says breezily, "when you have fans in Lumière eager to take a bite out of you."