tfln overflow / open post

[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[superniceone]

Gustave's own gasp catches him by surprise when Verso's fingers slide out of him, a sharp and audible intake of breath at the slick sensation. He's frozen in place for just a split second there, before he swallows again and passes the jar to his metal hand. The lubricant feels cool on his fingers, and his touch is careful, extremely light as he strokes it fully down the length of Verso's erection.

His voice is a little unsteady when he leans back. "You have the most beautiful cock," Gustave parrots from earlier, tone sincere and pupils blown wide with his own arousal. He can't quite help the way he reaches down to give himself a few long and slow drags of the hand, naked want on his expression.

[recreatable]

Unexpectedly, Verso laughs, the sound surprisingly bright even to himself.

"—You are such a plagiarist." Get your own lines! This, coming from the man who plagiarized Chopsticks. He leans his body into Gustave's, mouth on his as he blindly fumbles below the waist to line himself up and push in—

If he'd had anything at all left rattling around in his mind, it's not there anymore. No room for doubts and loneliness and unhappiness; it feels like being a fresh canvas, wiped clean. He doesn't dare move past the initial bottoming out, allowing Gustave to adjust to what is undoubtedly a strange—but hopefully not unpleasant—feeling.

[superniceone]

It is, indeed, an intensely strange feeling. There's enough of a stinging ache as Verso sinks into him that Gustave has to choke down a breathless pant into the kiss, but there's someone indescribably good about it, too. It could be the tender care Verso had been showering him with since he'd gotten naked; it could be the way that they were joined in the most intimate possible way. He isn't sure and doesn't care to introspect right now.

Gustave relaxes the clinging grip he has on Verso's waist and shoulder when he feels himself start to relax again. "Ah—" His body might be growing calmer, but his voice is strung tight, obviously strained. "You're perfect, Verso. Mon chéri, mon couer— so perfect for me."

[recreatable]

Under quite possibly any other circumstances, such a compliment would make him feel exceedingly bad about himself. He is not in any way perfect despite a century of trying to be, and anyone who thinks otherwise is just someone whose eyes he's pulled the wool over. But everything feels somehow lighter here, now, so he doesn't fight the compliment, doesn't even feel the need to try.

He rests his forehead against Gustave's, already covered in a thin sheen of perspiration from mere anticipation alone, and rocks gently into him. Slow, steady, because there isn't a place in the world he'd rather be right now. Not even 'nowhere at all'.

"You feel—" He breathes in, breathes out. Indescribable, really, but he finishes, "—better than my imagination."

[superniceone]

The praise sends a jolt of arousal through him; it feels almost vain to admit to himself, but the notion that Verso has spent enough time imagining this to compare it to the actual act—it's a little embarrassing, but mostly just impossibly hot.

He kisses him softly, a brief brush of the lips more than anything else. Their stolen evenings in the woods had always happened on relatively equal footing, but he feels like he's entirely at Verso's mercy right now. Tongue-tied again, he wants to meet compliment with compliment, but instead just sort of groans. "Verso," Gustave says when he collects himself, catching and gently squeezing the back of his neck in encouragement. "It's good. You're good." The scale is finally starting to tip more towards good than weird, at least.

these characters have the unsexiest names it could only be worse if one of them was cletus

[recreatable]

"It's good?" he asks for confirmation, trying and failing not to sound as if he's been very concerned about it being good. It's definitely good for him, overwhelming and intense but in an impossibly positive way, and he'd hate for Gustave to only be going through the motions. A little breathless, but definitively pleased: "Good."

His hips roll against Gustave's, a little more persistent but far from rough; he's not trying to fuck someone into the mattress on their first time. Loath to be selfish, he reaches down between them and wraps his fingers around Gustave's erection, stroking as best he can in this position, which is admittedly not as easy as he would hope, but—

"I'm crazy about you," he admits, and he'll be incredibly embarrassed at being so sappy later. "You make me crazy."

An unfair accusation. He was definitely crazy before.

aw cletus & jed touchin dicks

[superniceone]

It's overwhelming and intense for him, too, considering this was something he was curious about more than actively hoping for — but also good. The slow gentleness of the morning has set the pace to rolling and comfortable, and Verso's little confession (he's going to hear that in his head all week, I'm crazy about you in a voice too compromised to be a lie) makes him suck a sharp breath in through his teeth.

"I—" He doesn't know what to say to that, because between the hand on him and Verso inside of him, he's too overstimulated to trust himself to tread the correct line. "Je t'aime bien," he blurts instead, innocuous enough. Tentatively he rolls his own hips up as well, swearing under his breath, and he's horrified to feel himself spasm when Verso grazes an extremely sensitive spot inside him at the perfect angle. "Very good," he manages.

exp33 but it's set in fantasy kentucky

[recreatable]

Gustave is treading that line so carefully that it would definitely get him teased, were Verso inclined to do such a thing right now. What, like as a friend? while literally inside him.

Luckily, Verso is far more inclined to make Gustave feel pleasure than embarrassment at the moment. (That could change, though.) He can feel Gustave's shudder, and it's endlessly encouraging; he chases that sensation, rocking against Gustave in that same way, squeezing his erection on the downstroke. It's not long before he's quivering, too, thighs tensing.

He is immortal, but he might die if Gustave doesn't reach his climax before he does. "Mon chéri." Sweetly, but insistently. "Come for me. I want you to."

🤢

[superniceone]

Gustave is on the verge of telling him to slow down, telling him it's too much — the pressure building in him is more intense than what he's used to. But then Verso says that to him so sweetly and words escape him, his shoulders lifting slightly from the mattress and his hips straining against Verso's hand.

He's immediately ashamed of the sound he makes when he finishes, something like a sob of grateful relief. His hand grips Verso's bicep like he's grounding himself with it, and also because he has no idea how else to encourage him along, his mind briefly blank.

cletus-gusgus: for those who are fixin' to come after

[recreatable]

Verso doesn't need to be encouraged along at all. He's already there, muffling Gustave's sounds—which are nowhere near shameful and are, in fact, fucking hot—with his mouth, spilling over quickly once he knows it won't ruin things for Gustave.

He's reminded of why he'd ever engaged in this sort of thing in the first place when he'd known it was dangerous to let himself grow attached to people who were likely to die in the very near future. The explosion of happy hormones is a reprieve from the heaviness and guilt; he feels lighter, unburdened, if only for this brief moment.

He breathes against Gustave's mouth for a long moment, basking in the come-down. Finally, with a laugh: "Ow."

Gustave is grabbing his arm really hard!!

set in paris, ky.....

[superniceone]

"Oh." Gustave realizes suddenly how sweaty he is, how much warmth there is between their bodies, and he peels his hand off of Verso's arm with an apologetic little grimace. "Sorry," he says, before he leans up to kiss him one more time: deeply, lovingly.

He swallows hard enough for it to be audible when he drops his head back against the pillow again, smiling up at him. "That was— intense. Wow." Yeah. He's definitely gayer than he thought he was.

LAUGHS... my next au

[recreatable]

"You're welcome," Verso says with a tilt of his head, grinning. A joke, of course, because it was certainly as intense—if not more so—for him. Still, he'll take any accolades Gustave is willing to give for introducing him to prostate orgasms.

They are very sweaty, and warm, and everything is now vaguely sticky and wet. Distantly, he thinks about the fact that he's going to have to wash these bedsheets, and how he only has the one set. Carefully, he moves off of Gustave, flopping down on his back beside him to let the cool air soothe him.

"Glad you came over." An understatement, to be sure.

[superniceone]

"I'm glad you bought supplies," Gustave says bluntly, but then he's laughing a little, raking his damp hair away from his forehead. The walk of shame home is going to be brutal.

He closes his eyes, just allowing himself to cool off. A part of him is also just unwilling to move too quickly, to ruin the little spell that's settled comfortably here. "I'm glad," he murmurs eventually, "that I drive you as crazy as you drive me."

[recreatable]

Having bought supplies is so embarrassing, but he's incredibly relieved that he did. Verso turns his head, smile more faint now but still unmistakably there. "Mon point faible," he says, touching his knuckles to Gustave's arm.

It feels somehow less damning to say it this way, like it's just a cheeky little term of endearment, than to admit that he really does have a weak spot, and that it isn't a good thing. It's so difficult to repress these emotions like he knows he should. Weak, certainly.

A moment passes, and then he adds, "We should probably do that several more times, just to be certain it wasn't a fluke." It wasn't a fluke. He'd enjoyed it so much not because of the act itself—although that helped—but because it was with Gustave. His weak spot indeed. "You know. For research."

[superniceone]

Gustave still isn't used to this overt sweetness from Verso, and it makes something hitch unpleasantly in his chest. He files that feeling away; he'll have time to figure that out later, to pick apart why Verso giving him the idle affection he's been desperate for makes him so anxious.

He resolutely moves on, instead covering his own face with the splayed fingers of his metal hand, laughing. "I do love a good science experiment," he says, and the way he's fondly rolling his eyes is audible in his voice. "And we haven't stress tested the bed properly yet. I might have to think up a better bribe for Monoco."

[recreatable]

Verso laughs— "I should just evict him, right?"

Kidding. Mostly. He'd never kick his boy out onto the street for the sake of his mans, but it is an appealing little fantasy to be able to spend time in private with Gustave whenever he wants. A very selfish, very appealing fantasy.

Grinning: "You're going to have to gift him a— halberd to make up for all the times I'm going to lock him out."

[superniceone]

It's— nice, hearing Verso make plans to keep him around, hearing him be so enthusiastic about it. He's under no illusions, knows that this doesn't actually mean anything, but it still makes something warm bloom in his chest.

"Okay. I'll prepare an arsenal of bribery weapons, just in case." He reaches for Verso's hand, bringing it to his mouth to gently kiss his knuckles.

[recreatable]

Gustave's facial hair tickles his fingers. He smiles.

"I am," he says, and it sounds like an non-sequitur until he follows up with, "crazy about you." The window of time in which he can express this type of emotion without shame feels like it's narrowing. He knows, rationally, that he should be sorry for feeling this way, and even more so for saying it aloud. The happiness of being intimate with Gustave has created a protective shield around his heart, though, and it'll keep those pesky rational thoughts away for at least another few minutes.

"...And I could probably use a bath."

[superniceone]

The careful walls Gustave has built were made to deflect Verso's resolution to leave, to guard him against the grief of knowing the relationship was doomed from the get-go. They're defenseless against the genuine affection being lobbed at him, and the sentiments pierce his heart unpleasantly. He decides to blame it on the way the surge of adrenaline is still fading in his blood.

"Verso, mon couer," he whispers at him with a glance and a soft look. He squeezes his hand before releasing it and clearing his throat. "Me, too. I'll— just need another few minutes, I think." His legs still feel gelatinous.

[recreatable]

"Oh, you definitely need a bath."

(Affectionate). Sex is messy work to begin with, and this particular type of sex is even more so. That seems like it should make it unappealing, but he's not even slightly turned off. There are very few new experiences left to him, and that was one of them—usually, the thought of repetition grates after a hundred years of just that, but he doesn't mind the idea of repeating this. Many, many times over, preferably.

"I'll take mine first." Since he wasn't the recipient of the dubious honor of having something inside him for the first time. "Then I'll help you and your jelly legs."

[superniceone]

Gustave wonders if they'll both have time to bathe before they Gommage in twenty comments.

"I don't need help bathing," he grouses good-naturedly, gently smacking Verso with a pillow. "Hurry up, before I decide to take mine at home." He wouldn't — that's way too far to walk whilst being an absolutely disgusting mess — but he does want just a little bit of quiet alone to rally his inexplicably plummeting mood. He's never felt bad after amazing sex before; it's extremely confusing.

[recreatable]

Verso, blissfully unaware of Gustave's unhappiness, smacks him back with his own pillow before he gets up and absconds to the bathroom. The bath itself is relatively quick, but he spends a significant amount of time after brushing his hair and arranging it so it'll dry just so. He finds himself humming while he does it for what must be the first time in decades.

When he returns to the bedroom, he makes a beeline for the dresser. As he tugs on a clean pair of pants: "Still don't need help, gelée?"

[superniceone]

The quiet does help; Gustave is able to close his eyes, to remind himself that he's lived his entire life on borrowed time. He had tried not to let it ruin anything else. It would be a shame if he let the impending heartbeat ruin this, too.

And if Verso fucks off onto the Continent, well. At least Gustave will have an excuse to pop by for a visit, whenever he does manage to convince Maelle to go the fuck home for a while.

"You're an ass," Gustave informs him, tired and flat but obviously fond all the same. He grimaces slightly when he stands, again reminded of how genuinely disgusting he is at the moment, and he'll start for the bathroom. "I—" He starts, then shakes his head. "No, nevermind, you definitely don't have guest towels."

[recreatable]

Rude! "I could." He doesn't, though.

By the time Gustave exits the bathroom, Verso has already fully dressed and stripped the bed of its sheets. That seems to be the extent of what he knew to do with it, though; the dirty sheets are balled up in a corner of the room to be dealt with at a later date.

When he finally ventures out into the common area, he finds a note, written in Monoco's handwriting: I went to visit the apprentices. THEY appreciate me.

Obviously, he's been left feeling a bit insecure about his place as 'Verso's favorite person'. A conversation is in order, but not right now; instead, Verso takes to the kitchen (which, of course, has more knives stuck in the ceiling again), attempting to make something resembling breakfast.

Pretty sure these eggs are burnt, though.

[superniceone]

Gustave couldn't really care less if the eggs are burnt or not. It's been years since he's had a lover to make breakfast for him after a late morning together, and he just watches Verso from the doorway in silence for a moment.

When he's sure he won't actively get in the way, he'll step in to wind his arms around his waist from behind, laying kiss on the side of his neck. He smells like Verso's shampoo; he doesn't hate it.

"Would you like to borrow some sheets?"