superniceone | tfln overflow / open post

"Hope you realise how rich that is coming from you," Gustave counters, a little baffled by the accusation. The clumsiness is sweet, makes him feel better about his own. He scans Verso's face for signs of regret or uncertainty after the unexpected lightness of the kiss; when he doesn't find any, he just chases another one, admittedly gentle but still coaxing all the same.

He tastes like the wine, he thinks, and also they should sit down. When Gustave pulls away, it's just to scan for a suitable place to settle in for them both.

That's— fair, actually. He does think, a lot. Like now: he's thinking that he's probably a bad person for trying to make out with someone he was 99.99% willing to let die very recently. If he wanted to, he could get rid of Gustave right now, run back to camp and claim a Nevron lumbered along and ate him.

He doesn't want to, though. Gustave's nonexistence is collateral damage in Verso's grand scheme, but it's different doing it himself. He's not sure he could tolerate the look of betrayal in those big, sad cow eyes. At least when they all realize Verso is a traitor to their cause, everything will be over in the next moment.

"...Do as I say, not as I do," is a playful chide as Verso wags a finger. Story of his life, actually. Rolling around in the dirt and grass is about as romantic as anything else that's happened tonight—not very—so Verso settles down on the ground near a log, tugging on Gustave's arm with just enough force that he hopes will make him wobble a bit.

Gustave doesn't stumble hard enough to fall - just to sit a bit more heavily than he would have liked to. "That is every mémère's favourite thing to say," he says, bumping his arm against Verso's as he settles.

This is - wildly irresponsible. Verso's potential betrayal isn't even on his mind; something could find them, find the group-

But he has decided to chide himself for these choices tomorrow, and just to let himself enjoy them for the evening. If one night of poor decision making signs his own death warrant, he'll just have to live with that. Figuratively.

"I am... choosing, deliberately, to be here," he says, which might make more sense if Verso could hear his inner monologue, but is also just a general affirmation that he really isn't going to change his mind.

Verso tries very hard not to look like he finds Gustave's declaration of choosing deliberately to be here funny. It's not! Except for how it is. It's just so earnest, which of course means it's shockingly different than anything Verso would ever do. Amusement tugs at his lips, and he says, "Bet you say that to everyone."

But it's approval, at least, for what they're doing, so when he leans in to press his mouth against Gustave's again it's with more purpose, weight pressing against Gustave in a way that's meant to coax him back and down. Not demanding, but not exactly beating around the bush, either.

It's another one of those brand new experiences. Verso is more angular, more solid than what he's used to, and he doesn't mind yielding to him. He catches and cradles his jaw, trying to seem more curious than outright eager.

It's - nice. The idea that he's allowed to turn off most of his racing thoughts, to just focus on the warmth of Verso's mouth, the pressure of a body leaning into his.

"I should have brought a record," he says, tracking his hand down the front of Verso's chest, idly touching just because he's allowed to touch. "Might have helped with the atmosphere."

Rude!! Verso pulls away as if offended, although it's obvious he's not in the entertained twinkle of his eye and the crooked smile across his face. He's sort of having fun, actually, which is not a common occurrence. Feels kind of weird.

All the same: "Is there a problem with my atmosphere, monsieur?"

"Oh, no problems on my end." Verso's crooked smile has Gustave grinning a little helplessly himself, even as his hand flounders a bit - like he's unsure of where he should put it. "And as long as we both avoid the stinging nettles about a half meter my left, I'm sure we'll be fine."

"Danger's sexy," is his very unconcerned reply, although stinging nettles probably don't apply. It's fine, they have a whole half-meter. Also, Gustave's at more risk than Verso is, so— again, it's fine. Lune can tenderly heal him while berating him for being stupid, as she does.

Gustave flounders, so he takes the reins. Sort of. This stupid expedition uniform has so many layers, and he has to fumble to untuck them all before he can properly slide a hand underneath Gustave's shirt. "See?" he asks, still smug regardless. "This is how you feel someone up."

Gustave isn't sure that anything about this is sexy in any sort of traditional sense. Not to say he isn't enjoying himself - he's having a great deal of fun, actually. And so many elements of it are very close to it, only to be turned on their head.

Verso pulling his clothes loose, for example, could have been arousing if it weren't for the way that he had to pick and pluck at layers like someone opening a birthday gift wrapped with entirely too much tape.

"Is that right," Gustave deadpans, tone belied by the amusement in his eyes. His build will be probably be exactly what Verso expects: he's leanly muscled, relying more on agility than brute force. His stomach does tense under his fingers, not unpleasantly. "Do you have a pen? I should probably be taking notes."

Edited 2025-06-30 17:42 (UTC)

Good thing Gustave doesn't voice that he just considers this sexy-adjacent instead of actually sexy. That really would bruise his ego. He's trying, really, but he's out of practice in any sort of physical affection that isn't hugging Esquie. Which is great, but doesn't have quite the same effect.

"Damn," he says, sounding not-at-all disappointed as he smooth a hand up the plane of Gustave's stomach, exploratory. "Should've brought that blue pen." With a boyish grin that belies his years: "Guess you'll have to stick to hands-on learning."

It feels almost like a challenge, and - merde, he's definitely drunk, because he really can't tear his eyes off of Verso's face, especially not now that he's so close.

"Engineers tend to be extremely good with their hands," Gustave says, so earnest and innocent that the phrasing has to be intentional. He does push himself very slightly on one arm to go for another kiss quite abruptly, however - impulsively open mouthed, a little messy, just trying to telegraph that he's very much into this as loudly as he can.

Oh, okay. Gustave's beard tickles his face a little, and he wonders briefly if his facial hair tickles back. Voicing that would definitely ruin the 'atmosphere' that's on thin ice already, so he keeps it to himself. He presses back against Gustave, a little push-and-pull that's close to a game, taking the given opportunity and slipping his tongue inside Gustave's mouth.

Yeah, he's definitely a bad person for this.

It's tentative at first, testing, maybe still a little clumsy, but it doesn't take long before he's licking into Gustave's mouth, and the phrase 'doing impolite things' rings through his mind and makes him laugh. When he pulls away, it's not far, and he asks, "Have you ever... fraternized with a man?" He's not beating the unsexy allegations, unfortunately.

Yes, Verso's tickles him, too, but it's a light enough sensation that he's able to brush it off. It's stupid, probably, but that kiss made this feel a lot more real than the rest of this - like they'd just been teasing each other up until now. Verso's tongue in his mouth feels a lot less like a game.

The laugh concerns him for a split second, before he drops his head back against the grass and seems to accept that he's never going to live that phrasing down. "Not really," he admits with an exhale. "I had a boyfriend when I was young. This kind of thing-" He gestures between them. "Is about as far as we went. Unless you'd count this, in which case- I guess?"

Aw. Gustave had a little boyfriend. That's cute. Verso quickly decides it doesn't count, for entirely selfish reasons. The idea of being the first person to do something makes parts of his brain light up that he didn't know existed. He's never been the first to do anything; everything he's ever done has just been a second-rate retread of things done by someone he'll never measure up to.

"I can teach you," he says with confidence, trying to play himself off as an expert in these sort of relations when, in actuality, he's only a few steps ahead of Gustave. He didn't ask, so he doesn't need to know. He lets his hand rest against Gustave's waistband — not insistent, just there. "If you want."

If it helps, Gustave would hardly count it either. It was shy, fumbling, mutually uncertain. He doesn't regret it, of course, but he would readily agree that it's a different beast entirely from whatever this is between the two of them.

He's tempted to respond with a joke, with something teasing - that he'd welcome some professional instruction. Gustave swallows that down, errs perhaps on the slightly too serious side. "Verso," he says, then clears his throat. "Yes, obviously I want you to." He hesitates, then amends: "I want you. In case you've somehow missed that."

Verso's chronically incapable of earnestness, and sometimes it seems as if Gustave is made of the stuff. It's very sweet, probably sweeter than most encounters Verso's had out here, so he doesn't give him shit for it even though he could. Gustave will already feel embarrassed enough about it in the morning, he imagines.

"Interesting choice," he says, somewhere between teasing and self-deprecating, as he one-handedly fumbles with Gustave's stupid belt. A stupid choice, actually. There are two women back there who'd offer Gustave all of this and feelings, too, but maybe that's the point. No complications. "But maybe I just wanted to hear you say it."

This was already borderline overwhelming as it was; adding feelings into the mix would make things hideously complicated, send him into a panic. Lune and Sciel both knew him well as a friend, as a fellow expeditioner; selfishly, it's nice that Verso doesn't know him. There's expectation of vulnerability, or - hell, even honesty, really.

It feels safe.

"You're really just collecting all this for blackmail later, aren't you," he sighs, gently swatting Verso's hand away so he can deftly pull the belt loose himself.

Gustave pulls his belt loose, and Verso gets to undoing his trouser buttons. (These uniforms.) "You caught me," he says as he works the button out of its hole. "This is all part of my dastardly plan."

He does have a dastardly plan, but this definitely wasn't part of it. Verso isn't sure if that makes it better or worse, but if he has something to feel guilty for, he'll feel it tomorrow. For now, he slips the tips of his fingers under Gustave's waistband.

Gustave drops his hand to touch Verso's wrist, not really to stay him as much to try to get his attention. "I can't help but notice that I'm the only one losing layers here," he says. "Hardly feels fair."

Alright, it has gotten sexier, his pupils slightly wide as he watches Verso.

Verso's hand stills, although there isn't a trace of hesitance on his face. "You're right," he agrees, mild and pleasant. "I'll stop." A cant of his head, a mischievous smile on his face. "For fairness."

Gustave opens his mouth, then clicks his teeth shut. He'd quite literally asked for this, and he's got no room to complain, but he is going to wrinkle his nose at Verso. It's easier to give in to impulse now that he's started; so he shifts in to try to kiss that mischief off of his mouth, moving to slide Verso's jacket from his shoulders.

"Oh," he says, like he's just realised something, "sorry if the metal is- cold." Or just generally unpleasant, really. He doesn't mind his arm, but it does feel especially foreign in a moment like this.

Verso helps, shedding his outer layers with ease and tossing them on the ground beside Gustave. The arm is— different, but not bad. Nearly seven decades of endless repetition; he'll take different.

"Makes you look rugged," he says, ostensibly teasing but a little too soft to be truly making fun. He's not sure if the arm is a sore spot, and he wouldn't want to press it if it is. "Bet it's a hit at parties."

"Wait till you see me juggle with it," Gustave says, but Verso makes it easy to mirror his softness. He rucks up the front of his shirt with open interest and curiosity, skimming his hand over his bared stomach. "You know I wasn't joking when I called you obnoxiously attractive, right?" It's not often that he finds men this appealing. Maybe it's the imminent doom - that certainly couldn't hurt.

It's definitely the imminent doom, but pretty much everyone Verso has ever been with had imminent doom hanging over them, so Gustave's in good company. Dead company, but good company.

"I get the sense you just wanted to say obnoxious." Which would be true, although he's still only teasing. A jacket seems like tribute enough, so he flattens his palm against Gustave's stomach and slides it underneath his waistband, deliberately casual, like he does it every day. "You aren't half-bad yourself."

Gustave gives him an amused look at the statements, but doesn't refute either of them. He's a little too distracted, even if he'd wanted to, his stomach going tense beneath his hand in - not anxiety. Anticipation. God, he has no idea if he should have drunk more or less at this point.

"And this is you teaching me, is it?" He's actually embarrassed by how much just the sight of this is doing for him.

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oh my God it's a million degrees here with no ac i shouldn't be allowed to tag

[maelle voice] please survive

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