tfln overflow / open post

[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[recreatable]

It's all right with him if Gustave doesn't know how to respond to flattery. Endearing, even, to watch him flounder. What bothers him is when Gustave lets the compliments slide right off of his shoulders like he doesn't want them, or maybe doesn't even believe that Verso actually thinks those things. (Like Verso is known for lying, or something!) But he's trying, and that's what matters; gold star.

"Only when I'm trying to charm the pants off of a beautiful man," he says with a grin, reaching to pull Gustave's shirt over his head next. Aware, distantly, that they are under a bit of a time crunch here. Maelle knocking on the door and calling Gustaaaave, are you home? would kill the mood, and he'd really like to not have to avoid Maelle directly after getting down and dirty with her father-brother.

Appreciatively: "And you are a beautiful man, mon beau."

[superniceone]

It's just not the sort of flattery he's used to hearing, though it's not as if he dislikes it. His insecurities are odd. Speculative, almost, in a way, where idly he wonders if they'd ever started something like this at all if Lune had been warmer to Verso, if Sciel hadn't been promised Pierre's return.

Gustave likes himself fine, but he'd had similar thoughts even with Sophie. She was funny, brilliant, interesting, outgoing — and a quiet part of him had taken it for granted that her interest in him would, eventually, wane. She and Verso are nothing at all alike, but it's a hard thought process to shake.

"So are you," Gustave says, quietly and earnest as he shifts to urge Verso's back down against the mattress. He follows him down and kisses him soundly, before he sits up to start Verso's pants down far enough down his thighs. He looks quite pleased with himself for now. He will look much less pleased with himself when he hears Emma, who is currently en route to change a wine-stained dress, arrive home.

[recreatable]

Blissfully unaware of the fact that he's apparently about to be caught with his pants down, Verso laughs, "Copycat." Come up with your own compliments! Not that he really minds; Gustave is brilliant, but gifted in (intentional) charm and flattery he is not. If a little plagiarism helps him feel less awkward, then a little plagiarism he can have.

But— "You could have complimented how clever I am," he points out. "Or how intriguingly tormented." Not feeling very tormented at all in the moment, he tugs down on the waistband of Gustave's pants. "Or how good I am with my hands."

[superniceone]

"You are very good with your hands," Gustave agrees, and— sure, there's an implicit urgency to this that didn't exist this morning, but he's still pleased at the way he's able to hike Verso's shirt up and skim his fingers against his bare stomach. Knowing the affection isn't unwanted is warming. "You're very good at making me feel good with them, too."

His hand slips down, cradling Verso's dick more than actually stroking it. The words that follow are just as sweetly sincere as most things that he does. Hardely sexy at all, but genuine as it is stream-of-thought. "When you came back from the bath this morning— your hair was still damp? If you'd wanted the moon right then, I would have started building a rocket."

[recreatable]

Very cute, very sweet. Verso is inclined to complain that Gustave still hasn't done any work on the trains that he requested, but that gripe can wait for another day. Maybe when he has damp hair and can use that to his advantage.

In the meantime, he reaches for Gustave, too, a little more eager to get to the point; it's not that he minds the gentleness or the slowness, but this isn't really the ideal 'take their time and explore each other's bodies' sort of situation. If Gustave didn't want a quickie, he shouldn't have initiated a quickie. The movement of his hand is light, still, but it's movement all the same.

If pressed, he will blame the lack of blood flow to his brain for his next confession: "I must have spent ten minutes in the bathroom right before that trying to make it look casually tousled."

[superniceone]

Gustave's encouraging groan at the touch turns into a breathless laugh. His hand tightens on Verso. "Is that why you took so long—"

The front door slams shut and Gustave's mouth snaps closed, straining hard to listen for footsteps.

[recreatable]

Suddenly the hypothetical he hadn't wanted to worry about in favor of non-hypothetical boners materializes, and his hand stills instantly. He recalls how he'd been willing to do this in the entry hall and thinks about how one or both of Gustave's housemates would be staring at him with his nice trouser pants halfway down his thighs right now (provided that they didn't just scream and cover their eyes in horror).

Small blessings, maybe, that Emma and Maelle are still yet to see his privates. Hard to count those blessings, though, when his body hasn't gotten the memo that this is no longer an arousing situation.

He'd like to make a cheeky comment about how the boyfriend Gustave mentioned earlier is home, but they should probably drop the roleplay. "Putain," he whispers instead.

[superniceone]

There's some rustling near his door, and Emma will call— "Gustave, are you home? The door was unlocked." But she didn't see his shoes; she's not sure if he's here or if they'd just forgotten to lock the door on the way out. There was hardly a crime epidemic in Lumière. She hesitates for a moment, then follows up with, careful: "Well, if you are, I hope you're having a good night. I'll be back later."

Gustave cringes, carefully peeling himself off of Verso and rolling onto his back. He can't seem to decide if he finds this hilarious or if it makes him want to die. "I'm the worst brother on the planet," he whispers. Did it sound like she was leaving again?? Jesus Christ he hopes she's leaving again.

[recreatable]

Verso shifts to allow Gustave room to lie back, then turns his head to the side to look at him, laughing (silently!) despite himself. Ridiculous—Gustave isn't even the worst brother in this room.

Case in point: "...Did that kill the mood?" he whispers.

[superniceone]

"Verso." If the answer were yes, Gustave wouldn't sound so guilty. He's trembling with silent laughter, his hands on his face.

[recreatable]

Verso, he scolds, as if Verso isn't the one at the greatest risk here. He doesn't even know what Gustave has told Emma about him, if anything at all—perhaps this would have only been her second impression of him. She's important to Maelle and Gustave, and therefore she's important to him, and he wants her to think highly of him. She wouldn't have, if she'd caught him with his pants around his knees.

All the same, he turns onto his side, sliding a hand across the plane of Gustave's stomach. "You're cute when you're embarrassed." Which is to say that the mood hasn't been killed for him.

[superniceone]

Emma knows Gustave considers Verso a boyfriend, which is absolutely the last goddamn thing she expected him to return from the Continent with. It wasn't that she was displeased, exactly — she had spent years gently urging him to seek companionship again after Sophie — but it had admittedly been a little... startling.

Gustave turns his head to look at Verso, slowly lowering his hands and doing his very best at looking exasperated. "You don't think we should, uh— move the festivities to your place?" It would probably be a more convincing argument if his dick didn't literally twitch, but he maintains that it's not his fault. Verso, sweettalking him whilst in his bed, the warmth of his hand on his bare stomach? He's only human.

[recreatable]

"I thought that before you told me not to stop, yeah." This is all Gustave's fault!!

"—But I was sort of hoping not to walk the streets of Lumière in this state." He's not unexcited is the point he's trying to make—only minutes ago he'd had Gustave's hand fondling him, and his body had reacted appropriately. If he's worried about impressions, he'd definitely be worried about that impression.

With a raised eyebrow, he adds, "But I can just take care of that real quick if you're eager to listen to the piano."

[superniceone]

"Mon dieu, I didn't realize you were that sort of performer," Gustave teases, trying to get his own nerves to settle. He reaches up to gently push at Verso's shoulder with a whispered lie back down, if only because he hasn't heard the door close again yet, doesn't know if Emma has done whatever she needed to do here and left already or not.

He made his own brief supply run that afternoon, if only because it seemed to have multiple practical applications, actually; Gustave fishes around in his bedside table for a moment, his fingers slick when they close around Verso to sweep slow but firm.

[recreatable]

"Oh, he's prepared," Verso whispers, less an attempt to be sexy than out of a desire not to be heard anyone who may still be in the house—although it is very sexy to be whispered to by Gustave. Also very sexy that he's prepared, actually, although Verso finds himself amused on top of that. It's just— yes, very practical. He laughs quietly.

Not complaining, though. It feels nice to have a slick glide of fingers instead of rough friction. Holding a palm up— "Are you going to share, or do you like it rough?"

Teasing. Mostly.

[superniceone]

"I'll share," Gustave tells him in that same whisper, nudging his face up against Verso's ear. "In a few minutes." It's not like they can go anywhere until Emma is unquestionably gone, and so Gustave is going to do what he tried to do back once in the hut: savor him.

He shifts to make himself a little more comfortable, on his side and leaning over Verso. Gustave kisses him soundly, immediately coaxing his mouth open so he can slip him tongue. It seems like his overt plan is to just make out with him while he jacks him off.

[recreatable]

Well, Verso feels like he should be offended by the implication that he's only going to last a few minutes, but Gustave has a way about him that makes it sound sweet instead of insulting (mostly). He laughs about it anyway, grinning into the kiss as he cants his hips up to press into Gustave's hand. It's a little bit anxiety-inducing worrying about being overheard, but it also reminds him a bit of being young and dumb and sneaking girls up into his room while his parents were home. He laughs again at that.

"You have nice hands," he murmurs quietly, sincerely complimentary, and he does mean both of them. He prefers the flesh one, of course, because it's soft and warm and human, but the metal one is part of Gustave, too. "I've always thought so."

[superniceone]

Gustave has no such history— though luckily his younger sister does have a decent sense about things, and mostly didn't knock too hard just in case her brother and his fruity little boyfriend were indeed actually taking advantage of an empty house.

"So do you," he answers in hushed tones, shifting his mouth to Verso's neck. He kisses the skin softly and wetly there, before continuing: "I like your fingers in my hair." Gustave latches gently onto his neck, sucking softly onto it as his hand increases pace. "Suppose I just liked them in me, too."

His attempts are dirty talk are sheepish but genuine, and he shifts his head back up to tuck his mouth near Verso's ear. "I love the way you make me feel, mon chéri."

[recreatable]

Even Gustave's dirty talk is sweet. It makes Verso want to pin him down and do filthy things to him that would scandalize him, but he's reluctant to leave this very comfortable position, so instead—

A gentle "Hey, stop." Then, because he's not trying to get himself edged, he laughs and adds, "Just— for a moment." It's entirely warm, not at all demanding. A request, not a command, but one he hopes Gustave will fulfill. Another request: "I'd like to touch you, too."

To get off together, if that's something Gustave is amenable to. Verso certainly is; there's very little that's more arousing than having made his fruity little boyfriend feel good. "Don't deny an old man his small pleasures, mon doux."

[superniceone]

Gustave makes a noise of mock offense into his ear. He's turned on, but not so much that he's incapable of being playful, and he gives a few quick, shallow pumps against the head of Verso's dick — like he's somehow reprimanding him by making him feel good. "Small feels like an awfully critical assessment," he says, pretending to sulk for a few seconds, before he laughs and pulls away to tug Verso's trousers off fully.

He'll do the same to his own, freezing like a baby gestral in the headlights of an Expedition 63 car when he hears movement in the entryway again. The front door slams, and when there's nothing but silence to follow Gustave exhales a breathy sort of laugh in sheer relief.

[recreatable]

Oh, god—this is all so stupid. Verso laughs, too, pulling off his shirt so he isn't the only one Donald Ducking it here and tossing it haphazardly on the floor.

"Perfectly respectably sized pleasures," he corrects, grinning like the idiot that Gustave has made him into. The sort of idiot that thinks what a dork while simultaneously consumed with lust for the aforementioned dork. "Substantial, even."

Again: this is so stupid. He holds out a hand, palm up, expectant. Lubricate him, baby. "A pleasure of quite large proportions."

[superniceone]

Gustave snorts at that, trying to downplay how funny he finds every bit of this. He's not doing a very good job of biting down his own grin as he scoops a glob of the gel into Verso's waiting hand.

"Putain de merde," he whispers, and feels like Verso's erection might not wither immediately if he phrases it like he's raising a complaint: "And I'm in love with this."

[recreatable]

It's not erection-withering. It's just that it makes him feel a little guilty, the way all of Gustave's affection used to. Like he's fooled Gustave into loving him somehow. He'd meant it when he'd said that Gustave was the only person to ever love him; his life before the Fracture had just been a fabricated facsimile of someone else's, and even Monoco and Esquie knew and loved another him first. As hard as he works to be liked, it somehow feels wrong to be loved on his own merits.

He still very much has an erection, though. With a little polite manhandling, he tugs Gustave back beside him, shifting onto his side so that he can wrap a slippery hand around his erection. "I did try to warn you," he points out.

"you're irreparable invalid markup"

[superniceone]

Gustave takes advantage of the fact that they are once again home alone and groans aloud, squirming a little closer — just enough to make it easier to maneuver the mutual aspect of this. "In my defense," he says, reaching for Verso again, "you're extremely sexy." Like that's ever been a massive consideration for Gustave, considering the torch he'd carried for a woman with the most fuck-ass of all bobs.

He makes a throaty sort of noise, trying to lean into the silliness here. "Have you considered nudism? Just in the home. Perhaps only when I'm there to appreciate."

no babe YOU'RE irreparable invalid markup

[recreatable]

Uh, no, he's never considered nudism, mostly because getting caught with his dick out by a Nevron isn't his idea of a good time. But he laughs again, charmed by Gustave's silliness, and says, "Only if you participate, too, bel homme."

The heat of Gustave's body close to him and the sound of his voice and, obviously, the sensation of his hand could get Verso there nearly instantly if he let it, although he tries not to—he needs to disprove that a few minutes claim, and he doesn't want to rush Gustave to the finish line. He does try to encourage him along, though, strokes a little on the rough side because Gustave seems to enjoy a little bit of unrestrained passion.

"You really are handsome," is somewhere between dirty talk and genuine compliment. "There isn't time in the world for all the things I want to do to you. I think about it all the time."