tfln overflow / open post

[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[recreatable]

Strands of Gustave's messy hair tickle his shoulder, and Verso feels the ridiculous impulse to lean back against him. He gives in just a little, allowing his temple to rest against the softness of Gustave's hair. Existing companionably like this feels far more intimate than any sex, although he doesn't dare verbalize that thought.

"It was very attractive. Too bad you didn't get to see it." His fingertip nudges against Gustave's torso, lazy. "Guess you'll have to find another poem. Read it aloud, maybe."

It's as lacking in seriousness as most anything else he says, but he can't deny that he'd been overwhelmingly flattered by the poem. Not its contents, really, but the intention behind it. Someone had thought of him, had thought of the things that he enjoys, and had written the poem down for the sole purpose of pleasing him.

"...Let me kick Monoco out onto the couch," he ventures. "It would be doing me a favor. He's a terrible bedfellow."

[superniceone]

Gustave has several poems queued up, thanks; he didn't do all that research just to settle on one. Besides, it's clear that Verso is going to be uncomfortable on Lumière whether or not they convince Maelle to go. If they've only got three weeks, he wants to at least try to make it worth Verso's time.

"Mm. He knows I'm wooing you, right? Which one of us will end up taking the blame?" Okay, so maybe his word choice is a little dorky on purpose, just because it seems to amuse Verso. The little smile on his face is audible in his words, and he's not straightening up just yet.

[recreatable]

"—Is that what you're doing?" is said through laughter, because yes, the dorkiness amuses him. It always has, ever from the first moment that Gustave said 'fraternization'. "And all this time I've been under the impression that I was wooing you."

A fair assumption to make, he thinks. Verso took him on a romantic hike through the Ancient Sanctuary; he wrote Gustave a love poem; he took him to the Hanging Gardens. Surely that all counts as wooing.

"I'll take the blame. There's nothing Monoco likes more than an excuse to challenge me to a duel."

[superniceone]

"Oh, fine," Gustave concedes, like he's admitting defeat. "You're wooing me. Suppose I'm—" He trails off, humming in sleepy thought. "Courting you, then."

He straightens himself up with clear reluctance. "And alright, then. Go let him know. I'll shelter in place."

He's just comfortable.

[recreatable]

If Gustave falls asleep before he returns, he can't be held responsible if he finally breaks open his paint set and paints on his face. Verso slips out from beside Gustave with some reluctance; it had felt nice to be close to someone who isn't a gestral for once. An undeserved peace, to be sure, but peace nonetheless.

He taps a fingernail against the dresser on his way to the door. "If you want to slip into something more comfortable." Although he wouldn't be surprised if, upon his return, Gustave were in the same place, in the same clothes, fast asleep.

[superniceone]

Gustave is admittedly tempted to just let himself lapse into sleep there, but his clothes really aren't comfortable. It feels a little silly, how fast he's allowed himself to get acclimated to the creature comforts of living in a city again, where a soft bed and comfortable clothes are just givens.

He's changed into a pair of borrowed lounge pants when Verso returns, his other clothes kicked into a little pile near where his tie had landed. "How'd it go?" There's a quiet warmth in Gustave's face as he considers him, born of the private comfort of the last hour. Most of the anxious energy wrapped around him like barbed wire early really does seem to have fallen loose.

[recreatable]

"He said that my preening keeps him up at night anyway," Verso says, unbothered by the accusation. "So I think it's safe to say that he's jealous."

But he'd been quite receptive when Verso had suggested that he might allow Monoco to keep the throwing knives if he were in a good mood tomorrow. Whether Verso intends to actually follow through on that is up in the air, at the moment.

—Unimportant. What is important is that he has a very sweet man looking very cozy in his bed; it feels unreal, like some sort of ridiculous fantasy that he would be too pessimistic to entertain for long. It'll crumble to dust in his hands one way or another, as good things tend to do, and he can't argue that he doesn't deserve that — but he lets the Sword of Damocles swing over his head for one more night, pulling his shirt off, ridding himself of his belt, and crawling back onto the bed where he settles beside Gustave.

"I'd like to say you look handsome in my clothes, but I'm hesitant to let you brush off my flattery yet again."

[superniceone]

"Mmh. I've decided I must be handsome enough if someone who looks like you is willing to be seen on my arm in public," Gustave says with a crooked smile. His voice is low, affectionate, and he hums before he punctuates it with a murmured, "Mon bien-aimé."

A bit intentionally cheesy, but hey — he's been looking forward to this since they were on the Continent.

[recreatable]

Very cheesy. And undeservedly affectionate, although he doesn't say so. Sometimes it's difficult to find the balance between deflecting misguided attachments like he should and soaking them up like he wishes he could. "Does this mean you've moved on from chouchou?"

[superniceone]

"I like chouchou," Gustave says, and then follows with an uncharacteristically crass: "But I do like having sex with you more, so I'm trying not to actively shoot myself in the foot."

[recreatable]

Wow, Gustave is a real dog. Verso breaks out into an amused grin anyway, laughing softly as he commends, "Smart man." It's not exactly a turn-on to be likened to a cabbage. It's not exactly a turn-off, either, though, and he leans in to say, "But I have to admit, I doubt even that could lessen my inclination to fraternize with you."

[superniceone]

"I'm unconvinced." It occurs to him again how stupid this is, and he laughs. "I've been lounging handsomely in your bed for several minutes now, and all you've done is compliment your own pajamas. I must have got something wrong." He's tits out and everything!! And also probably the most genuinely relaxed he's been at any point since their return to Lumière.

[recreatable]

This all sounds like something he would say, and Verso thinks—not for the first time—that he's probably a bad influence.

"They're nice pajamas," he argues, voice lilting. "—And how was I to know that you were lounging with intent, and not just being recreationally handsome?"

If it's an excuse Gustave is allowed to use, surely he can utilize it as well. This hasn't been the most romantic night, what with their stuttering moods and Monoco throwing knives in the kitchen and Gustave's obvious fatigue; some forgiveness is in order, he thinks, if he'd assumed the extent of their affection tonight was going to be a brush of the hands.

Not that he's unwilling or uninterested — he very rarely is. He swings a leg over Gustave's handsomely lounging form so that he can crawl on top of him and kiss his stupid (affectionate) face. "But now that I know, I'm happy to do some"—Gustave has provided him with no shortage of ridiculous euphemisms. He laughs under his breath as he considers the multitude of options—"pouncing."

[superniceone]

Gustave primarily assumed that Monoco in the other room of this cozy little domecile would be a primary roadblock here, considering the fact that Verso seemed to get antsy about Emma merely existing on the other side of Gustave's considerably larger house.

"'Recreationally handsome,'" he echoes, but he's laughing about it again, at the way Verso is pelting him with reminders of what idiots they both are. He doesn't say anything else after that; instead, he just coaxes Verso closer to kiss him sweetly, deeply. He's unhurried about it, not pushing immediately for anything further than that — but still gently insistent about it if Verso goes to pull away.

[recreatable]

Monoco already likes him. Emma does not, and he's loath to let one of her first impressions of him be trying to fuck her brother while she's home, thanks.

Gustave is, as always, sweet, and—again as always—it makes him feel a little out of his depth. This sort of intimacy is a distant memory, something he shed in favor of isolation and the occasional doomed fling to stave off crippling loneliness. He has a romantic's soul, but reaching it still requires excavation from under piles of rubble.

He's trying, though. He leans his weight against Gustave's, enjoying the feeling of another person's body heat, and kisses the corner of his mouth. "Sorry. Obviously, it's a professional undertaking, not just recreational."

[superniceone]

Gustave abruptly wishes he'd made an overture before the tiredness hit, but he genuinely hadn't expected Verso to be so — receptive. He pushes on, hand resting firm on the small of his back. "Wouldn't go that far." He's still amused, shifting to drag a half dozen kisses down the side of his neck. Gustave's tone shifts into something sheepish, lips against Verso's throat, besotted. "I forgot to brush my hair before I left the house this morning."

It's a good thing that Aline didn't code any ugly people into her Sims world, because — special occasions aside — Gustave really puts zero effort into his own appearance.

[recreatable]

Why would Gustave set himself up like this? Verso raises an eyebrow, lips twitching in amusement. "You brush your hair?"

[superniceone]

Gustave bites his throat (lightly). "I hate you, actually."

[recreatable]

"Hey," is obviously the preamble for his defense. "I happen to like it." (Enough to steal his look right off his corpse!)

Horrifyingly for someone who takes as much care with his own hair as he does, this is the truth. Gustave's messy mop is appealing in its own way. Entirely authentic, like the rest of him.

"Very mad scientist. Hot," he teases, before lightly running his fingers through the very ends of it. "Soft, too."

[superniceone]

Gustave makes an unconvinced noise, resting his face in the bend of Verso's neck. "Blow up your arm once and you get branded a mad scientist for life," he grumbles, gently squeezing his waist. "Maybe I'll just let that gestral shave it next time."

He's not actually upset, but he is a little embarrassed.

[recreatable]

It had been meant as a compliment, but perhaps 'Doc Brown but sexy' isn't quite as complimentary as Verso had hoped. "Did I say mad scientist?" he asks, gently guiding Gustave's face out of hiding so that he can kiss it again.

He'll miss this when it's over. The pang of grieving something that hasn't yet died comes quickly, and he looks a bit wistful for a moment — and then, like it always does, it passes. "I meant devastatingly handsome engineer," he finishes.

[superniceone]

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what you meant," Gustave mock-grouses, but he's too close to miss that wistful look on Verso's face. So he chases that kiss with another of his own, careful and tender, like he's afraid he'll damage something if he's not gentle enough.

"We can't all make bedhead as comely as you, monsieur," Gustave says, and does what is probably the least sexy thing possible: he pinches Verso's waist just enough to tickle him in complaint.

[recreatable]

There is nothing comely about Verso's bedhead — he can't pull off 'imperfect'. Gustave is sweet to say so all the same, and he rewards the sweetness with another kiss, this time to the underside of his jaw. Slowly but surely, he's getting better at this, at not rushing through things like the person he's with could very well die tomorrow. Time is the one thing he's always had plenty of for himself, but he's rarely had much of it with anyone else.

"You're very comely." He wouldn't have been receptive to Gustave's awkward, drunken advances if not. 'Personality' was not, in fact, one of his considerations. A fingertip slipped underneath the gloriously beltless waistband of Gustave's borrowed pants, he adds, "More comely in these than I am, I think."

[superniceone]

It's safe to say that Gustave found himself attracted to the glimpses of Verso's imperfections more than the veneer of flawlessness he wore. He was drawn to that proof that Verso was just as human as the rest of them. "I haven't really had the chance to compare." It wasn't like they bothered changing into pjs while out on the Expedition.

He leans back and does his best to stifle a yawn, unwilling to ruin the budding mood with his own sleepiness, and his own hand drops to stroke fondly at Verso's hip. "Careful not to compliment me too much. I might just keep them."

[recreatable]

Gustave's face is inches from his, so yeah, he sees that yawn. A moment of indecision, and then he retracts that fingertip. "You should. You look good in them." Owing more to the fact that he's half-undressed than the pants themselves, but he can't help the selfish desire to leave some evidence of himself behind to be remembered.

Another moment, and he shifts off of Gustave entirely, flopping onto his back. "You know, I take great pride in the fact that no one's ever fallen asleep while fraternizing with me." Not unkindly: "And I'm not entirely convinced I'll still have that record if I keep going."