tfln overflow / open post

[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[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."

[superniceone]

"Verso—" Gustave's voice isn't hurt, exactly, because the fact that Verso enjoyed himself is pretty much irrefutable. He's confused, maybe, as he starts to dress himself again as well. "If I've done something wrong, you need to tell me what it is."

[recreatable]

"You haven't done anything wrong," Verso says, frowning. Maybe Gustave has taken his attempt to lightheartedly reference a future where this isn't happening anymore poorly. "I do think they'll want to take a bite out of the future hero of Lumière."

But he senses that he's somehow ruined the mood, so he leans over to touch Gustave on the arm, reassuring. "It was good."

[superniceone]

"That title is going to Maelle a long time before it ever will me," Gustave says, and mostly he just doesn't understand why it was brought up at all. He finishes getting dressed, and instead of packing up the blanket, just takes a heavy seat on it. "I imagine it'll be like it always was, if I go back to Lumière. I'll stay busy in the workshop and look forward to my birthdays instead of dreading them."

[recreatable]

Verso pulls his shirt back on, although he's still too hot to wear his jacket. He tugs on his collar, airing out, as he replies offhandedly, "You don't know dread until you've had a gestral birthday party."

A joke, obviously, because he knows Gustave has experienced horrible dread. He can't quite imagine what it's like to dread that you'll have no more birthdays rather than an endless amount more, but he's sure it isn't pleasant.

[superniceone]

"Sure," Gustave says, "maybe I'll pencil one in. See what the fuss is all about." He's reaching to grab his pack, retrieving a water skin from inside. Not that he'd ever voice this out loud, but— okay, maybe he's going to remain as neutral as he can, just to see what Verso does with himself.

He's resigned himself to being heartbroken later, if the world really is brought safely together, if Verso makes good on his plan to avoid the city. But Gustave has already spent the better part of the past four years heartbroken; he refuses to allow it ruin what contentment he can find for himself now.

[recreatable]

He pauses, stretching his legs out in front of him, worrying his lip, Then, glancing back at Gustave: "Are you going to make me ask if it was good for you, too? You should know that if I don't receive compliments regularly, my ego shrivels up like a raisin."

[superniceone]

The question makes him laugh just for the surprise of it, and he tilts his head slightly at Verso. Well. At least he's self-aware. "It was incredible. You are incredible." Gustave's eyebrows go up slightly, silently asking if that's enough.

[recreatable]

"You're incredible." Fuck!!! He grabs his jacket, folding it neatly for the sake of something to do while he fantasizes about being put down like a sick dog. "—Thanks. I wager I have at least fifteen minutes until I need my next one."

[superniceone]

There's no way this is right, no way this is healthy. Something had splintered in his heart that evening he'd stood on the dock with Sophie and watched her drift away in the wind. Nothing is fixed, but — the warmth he feels at that little compliment shouldn't be so achingly familiar.

Gustave doesn't look at him, but he's fighting and failing to bite down a smile. "Sexy and incredible? I can't wait to let my friends know back home."

[recreatable]

Maddeningly sexy, actually. He'd felt very complimentary in that moment.

"A mysterious stranger who came out of nowhere to lay it on that thick?" He shakes his head. "I'm afraid they'll think I'm your imaginary friend."

[superniceone]

"Better keep it to myself, then." Gustave hums thoughtfully, offering Verso a sip of his water. He's genuinely a little surprised he's not made an excuse to get back to camp yet.

[recreatable]

Verso takes the waterskin, staring down at it. "You are, though. Both of those things." He takes a sip before handing it back to Gustave, and right on cue: "We should get back before they think Golgra came back for a second round."

[superniceone]

"Yeah, well. So are you." Gustave's voice is gentle, fond, and he thinks he's potentially in a lot of trouble here. He gets up reluctantly, shaking the grass off the blanket. "You sure you don't want to fit in a quick duel? Really sell our absence?" He's teasing, only if because he's not sure what else to say.

[recreatable]

Verso stands, draping his jacket over one shoulder rather than put it on. The prospect of a duel makes him laugh under his breath again; he still doesn't believe Gustave has a chance against him in a one-on-one fight. Scrawny bastard.

"If you don't want to go back yet," he says slowly, hands on his hips and eyes tilted downward, considering. "It wouldn't hurt to take five more minutes."

[superniceone]

"You think you can last five minutes against me? Bold," Gustave says a little breathlessly — but it's mostly said to make Verso laugh, his eyes back to searching his face. He stretches his arm out to his side, summoning his sword like he's egging Verso on.

[recreatable]

"I'd go as far as six," he teases, and he is laughing; mission accomplished. He holds his hand out and conjures his sword, but— "You know, most people would be lighting a cigarette right now." A post-coital challenge to a duel is insane. Gustave should know that.

[superniceone]

Gustave points at Verso, shaking his head — chastising. "No, no, those things are awful for your health," he says, clucking his tongue. "A death sentence, really. What do I get when I win?"