tfln overflow / open post

[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[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."

[superniceone]

Gustave cringes slightly when Verso rolls off of him like that, rolling to drape an arm lightly across his waist. "Sorry," he says, genuinely apologetic, "I didn't sleep well last night, and today was— a lot. Not you, but before I got here."

He dips his head, lightly kissing his shoulder. "Let me make it up to you in the morning?"

[recreatable]

"Nothing to make up." This wasn't some sort of glorified booty call, and he hadn't gone into it with the expectation of physicality. Hell, after waiting so long, he's just relieved that Gustave actually showed. The standards are sky high.

"...Just watch where you point that handsome lounging next time."

[superniceone]

"Shut up," Gustave says, and it's fully good-natured. Part of him feels like he shouldn't let any potentially intimate moments slip through his hands; that he'll regret any missed opportunities when Verso inevitably disappears on him for good.

For now, though, he's just letting himself settle in for actual sleep. "Mmm. Gonna be hard to get me to leave after this. Just a warning."

[recreatable]

Switching gears from 'sex is imminently happening' to 'sleep is imminently happening' is a little more challenging than he'd like, but Verso does his level best not to let it show, closing his eyes and pretending to be tired. He'll be awake for some time more, but lying here with someone who likes him there beside him isn't a bad way to pass the time. It allows plenty of options for self-pitying rumination.

"Oh, I'm not worried about that," he says, lightly. Getting Gustave to leave has never been the challenging part. Get to know the real Verso enough, and he'll do it himself.

[superniceone]

Gustave will shift enough to seek out Verso's hand with his own, confident in that motion in a way he still isn't with so many others. He wishes he were less tired, but the truth is he can feel himself fading again the moment that they both settle into stillness again.

After a long stretch of silence, he'll hum and murmur a few quiet words of adoration alongside his goodnight. He's banking a lot on their morning together remaining uninterrupted.

[recreatable]

Verso rarely sleeps well—even if you discount the rumination, it's not like it was easy to fall asleep on the 'floor' of his hut!!—but rest does come more easily with Gustave beside him, at least as long as he doesn't allow his mind to wander to anything greater than Gustave's hand in his. Naturally, the night involves a lot of beating off bad thoughts with a stick.

Still, he's awake before Gustave the next morning, having carefully extricated their hands so that he can sit up and perch his journal against his knees. By the time Gustave starts to stir, he has a pencil out, making long strokes against the page that suggest he's drawing for what is perhaps the first time in decades.

"Stay still," he says, frowning in concentration. And then, a moment after realizing how fucking rude that was, "...S'il vous plait."

soz.. always boomeranging....

[superniceone]

Verso catches Gustave early enough that he's still sleepily comfortable, able to go still without much fuss. There's no panic in Verso's voice, which means there's no alarm in Gustave's movements; mostly he just hums in confusion while he blinks himself awake.

"You're drawing me," he concludes a moment later, his voice husky and warm with sleep, and he laughs a little as he shuts his eyes again. "Couldn't let me put a shirt on first?"

He'll realise, shortly, he's never actually seen Verso drawing; his mind just hasn't caught up to its surroundings yet.

illegal

[recreatable]

"That would run counter to my vision," Verso says pleasantly, adding a few strands of hair to Gustave's comely bedhead with a few delicate flicks of his pencil. With all of the confidence of someone who has, in fact, discussed the artistic merit of nudity at length before: "All of the best art has an... appreciation for the human form."

Just ask Michelangelo.

A few more long moments of silence (save for the sound of lead on paper), and then he nudges Gustave. "All right, you can stop your life modeling."

goes to jail ig...

[superniceone]

Gustave squints at him, before he finally hauls himself up into a sitting position, trying to beckon for Verso to pass the journal over.

"Let me see." And then, muzzily, he'll rewind a little bit to add: "Good morning, chéri."

[recreatable]

"—Ah."

Verso presses the journal against his chest, contents hidden from view. If he were fully transparent, he would admit that he'd never planned to show it to Gustave, and that it's only because he happened to wake that he even knows about it. It had been meant as a selfish gesture, not a romantic one. A way to hold onto the feeling of having had something, even after it's inevitably gone.

"I'm a bit... rusty." It might not be any good, is his point, and he'd hate to show Gustave something that isn't good.

[superniceone]

Gustave fixes him with an amused and slightly incredulous look. "You've been my boyfriend—" Still an absolutely ridiculous word, but he's sleepy and warm and comfortable; he feels safe being a little ridiculous. "—for less than two days, so I'm obligated to like it. Please?"

He masks a yawn with his hand, shifting in a little closer. "You saw my Sakapatate. It's only fair."

[recreatable]

Two days does put into perspective that this is a little creepy of Verso to do, and he supposes he should just be grateful that Gustave doesn't point that out.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours?" he asks, eyebrow raised. Sakapatate blueprints are not nearly as revealing as one's private art, but— he's finding it increasingly difficult to say 'no' to Gustave. A problem, certainly, but not one he would know how to solve even if he did have the motivation for it. He hands over the journal, watching for Gustave's reaction.

It's not a 1:1 recreation of reality. That had always been Aline's interest, not his; he had never seen the point, when art can never be an exact replica of real life. There will always be flaws, somewhere. Gustave probably looks a bit more serene in the picture than he really did lying there, his pose a bit more artful. It's obviously drawn through the lens of someone who feels affection for their subject's eccentricities and has pronounced them for it: his hair a little wilder, metal arm a little shinier.

[superniceone]

Gustave doesn't point it out mostly because he doesn't really find it creepy. It's been two days that they've mutually agreed to use that label for as long as it remains relevant, sure, but their relationship has been tangled to hell in its own complications for a lot longer than that.

He ignores Verso's glib little quip, expression neutral as he studies the sketch, before he hands the journal back. It takes a moment of calculation for him to figure out what it is he wants to say, before he settles on, sincere: "I like the way you see me. You sleep alright?"

[recreatable]

Verso hadn't really expected praise of his use of crosshatching, so Gustave's reaction is probably as good as it can get. He closes the journal, pleased at Gustave's approval, and places it on the nightstand beside him before sliding down onto his side, propped up on an elbow.

"Yeah." A moment passes in which he internally debates whether he's too insecure about morning breath to kiss Gustave. He does it anyway, leaning in to press their lips together, smiling faintly. "Difficult not to," he says, admittedly cranking up the charm for the sake of flirtation, "when I have such good company."

[superniceone]

The kiss is small and sweet and makes something ache just a little in Gustave's chest. This was all easier to reconcile when he was still able to tell himself that Verso was primarily just indulging him. He can handle his own heartbreak; the discomfort thinking that this might be bad for Verso, too, actually, is going to crawl under his skin and live there like a parasite.

"You're a ridiculous man," Gustave says, tone flat, in response to the flirtation, but he's grinning just slightly. "And I won't tell Monoco you said that."