superniceone | tfln overflow / open post

"I, uh—" Gustave's own concentration shatters the second Verso's hand is on him, his own patience evaporating with each stroke. It's an answer too difficult to articulate while this abruptly compromised; he's never really craved specific acts or methods of sex. He'd enjoy it, probably quite a lot, he thinks—but it's a curiosity more than a raging desire.

He gives Verso's hips the slightest tug, aiming to pull him close enough to take both of them in hand at once. "I just want you," he says, voice low and a little rough with his own spiking arousal. Gustave will be mortified as his own mid-coitus babbling later, but it all comes spilling out abruptly: "I don't really care what shape it takes. I want you to feel good— I want to know it's because of me."

He wants to take him apart, piece by piece, to learn what makes him tick. But that would make him sound like a serial killer, so he bites his tongue there.

He'd like to continue contributing here, so Verso places his palm over Gustave's hand, fingers covering his. It's the sort of act that feels a little embarrassingly intimate, jerking each other off hand-over-hand like this, and the feeling is only amplified by the sweet, dorky, very romantic things Gustave is saying. His mouth twitches with fondness, and he has to resist the urge to laugh—as if it weren't obvious enough that his feeling good has everything to do with Gustave, given his near-instant and aching erection.

His thumb brushes against the back of Gustave's hand. "I don't think," he says slowly, not because he's trying to sexy-murmur back but because it's very difficult to form coherent sentences with Gustave's cock sliding against his, "there's anything you could do that I wouldn't be amenable to."

"Had some complaints about delayed gratification earlier," Gustave says, his own breath slightly halting. He's trying to keep things slow and measured, but Verso's hand wrapping around his own is, unfortunately, fucking hot. "Ah— shit, I was meant to be wearing you out."

He'd genuinely had grand designs on dragging this on for a while; teasing, primarily, but he'd severely overestimated his own willpower, it seems. His speed increases and his grip tightens just very slightly with each passing second. "Tying your hands back next time," he blurts after a moment, not because it's a specific kink of his — it's, practically, obviously, Verso is too much of a temptation when he's able to touch him as he pleases.

He raises his metal hand to lightly rest near Verso's shoulder, his own artificial thumb flitting across the darkening marks there in distracted admiration.

Verso smiles, of course delighted that Gustave has said something even slightly approaching kinky; how far his vanilla beau has come. It's not that he particularly cares what they're doing, or that he doesn't enjoy being with Gustave in even the most milquetoast of ways—but a long life is a boring one, day after day the same experiences, and it's exciting to think that there might be someone to explore new and different experiences with. Even more exciting to think that person is Gustave.

I'll hold you to that, he'd like to say, but somehow he just manages, full of teasing affection, "Hot." He kisses over the red spot he made on Gustave's neck, then down his throat, encouraging little kisses-with-teeth that become more teeth than kiss with each inch.

His thighs are starting to feel a little sore in this position, but he's too close to care, biting down hard at the junction between neck and shoulder as he ruts into Gustave's hand, against his own erection. There's a lot of friction, teetering on too much, but he doesn't care about that either; as he'd said, when Gustave is involved, there's nothing he isn't amenable to.

"Fuck—" Gustave thinks dumbly that he should have grabbed the lube, that it's stupid not to use it when it's literally right there, but he's too far gone to care anymore. The burn of Verso's blunt teeth in into his skin paired with the way he fucks up against him is too much; he jolts forward against him when his climax crashes over him, breath coming in a stuttering hiccup.

"Je t'aime," he mumbles, once and then again, pressing his face against the hair at the side of Verso's head.

He had expected Gustave to take a lot longer, since he'd spent all that time winding Verso up while staying untouched; it's thrilling to think that maybe just touching him did something for Gustave, that it's as exciting for him to touch Verso as it is for Verso to touch him. They don't come right at the same time, but it's close enough together that he thinks it still counts as romantic—there's a mess on their stomachs and hands, and he's really starting to feel the burn in his thighs now, but he leans his weight against Gustave, kissing the little bite mark apologetically.

"—We can't be neighbors." Gustave is just going to have to deal with that stupid hut that he hates so much.

Gustave would have laughed if he'd known it was even in question; of course touching Verso winds him up. He wouldn't have deferred the hand in his pants if he weren't already hanging on to his own willpower by a single thread.

"No?" He asks, his voice low and warm. He hugs Verso gently against him, just taking the sort of little moment he'd wanted so many times out on the Continent, before he finally leans back to give Verso the space to slide off him. "Not afraid you'll get bored of this if it's too easy to get?"

The closeness is nice, but he does slide off so that he can stretch his legs out, although he doesn't go far. He's a little hot after all of that, but he still slots himself against Gustave's side anyway, lightly stroking his arm with the hand of his that's actually clean. Post-coital affection is still something he's getting used to doing, but he feels bad enough for all the times he left Gustave alone in the woods immediately after orgasm that he does his best.

"Bored? Of you?" He's not sure if it's merely thoughtless teasing or a genuine concern, but he errs on the side of caution. "That's less likely than you falling in love with a gestral."

A moment, and then he reaches up to tug playfully at Gustave's earlobe. "I'm sure we'll find ways to keep it interesting. Who would have thought you'd go straight for bondage?"

The only clean hand Gustave has is made of metal, and he's still not certain how Verso feels about being caressed by that in a show of affection. So, instead, he just lets himself lean into the pressure at his side, clearly more than just content to lean into it. It's a bigger relief than he realized it would be when he doesn't immediately have to fight a wave of guilt for loving this man who he was certain didn't want it.

God, they're both so bad at communicating. Either way, the whole neighbor thing is just a bit, a stupid extended joke, but it's sweet when Verso responds with reassurance.

"That's a shock, really? Seems pretty— uh." He's not sure not to phrase it; all his mental systems haven't fully come back online. ".. entry level?"

The mechanical arm is and always has been hot, but he doesn't mind having Gustave's warmth and weight against him, either. Besides, he's the one who owes a huge backlog of post-sex affection; he cringes when he thinks of how many times he'd absconded like Gustave had done something wrong. He'd been incredibly cruel, the way he'd jerked Gustave around. He presses a kiss to the crest of Gustave's shoulder in apology—only about a thousand more of these, and he'll approach actually making up for the way he treated him.

"Will you hiss at me again if I say you're adorable?" You know, like an adorable little kitten would do.

Gustave thinks the same of himself sometimes; he'd been cruel to Verso, who had been clear upfront that emotions were never meant to be a part of this thing between them. Even now, things would probably be easier if they weren't, if they were able to work toward Maelle's safety together without this strange escapist fantasy of a romance. He wouldn't change it if he had the option— but he can admit that it'd probably be simpler if so.

"No," Gustave says, closing his eyes out of comfort, not tiredness. "I get it now. You were— extremely cute when I was teasing you." They should clean up, but he's holding onto this for just another few seconds.

"I was more going for devastatingly sexy," he gripes, although it's hard to be too upset about it while he's marinating in all of these happy after-intimacy feelings. Another reason they can't be neighbors: now that he can finally bask in the afterglow—now that he doesn't feel guilty and uncomfortable every time they're intimate—being with Gustave is like his own personal antidepressant. Which is good, considering antidepressants are yet to be invented in this world.

"Mignon," he teases goodnaturedly, leaning his temple against the space he just kissed. His pants are still partway up his legs, and he makes a halfway successful effort to kick them off. "Want to see if the bathtub will fit two people?" Cajoling: "I know how you love experiments."

"I would very much like a bath, yes," Gustave says evenly, because he does feel absolutely disgusting. "I'm sure we can make something work." He's not bothered by it, exactly, but it is quite inconvenient, being unable to reach out and reciprocate the fond and idle touching whilst they bask in the afterglow.

(He thinks abruptly about the sex they'd had in Verso's hut, how he'd tried to be the no nonsense one about it — how he'd been the one to bruise Verso's feelings that time. They were both too stupid to live, he thinks.)

Gustave pushes another kiss into Verso's hair, before he reluctantly rolls off the mattress. If he's a little distracted, it's because he's thinking over plans again. What the fuck do you tie someone up with, mostly, but that doesn't really seem worth voicing out loud in the moment.

This is all going to be really inconvenient on the Continent, when they don't have a bathtub to make washing up simple; having to dip a rag into a bucket of cold water is probably going to be a bit of a mood-killer. Maybe he should start thinking about how to make the hut a little more livable, if only so Gustave isn't horrifically turned off every moment that he's there.

So, he's thinking over plans, too, although more practical ones. How the fuck do you patch a roof and all that.

The bathtub is shockingly similar to the one they'd had in the manor, and he wonders if Maelle made everything here familiar on purpose. He washes off his palm and fingers under the running water first before letting it fill. As he watches the water rise, he says, "I think I'm in the proper headspace to discuss lunch plans now."

"Oh," Gustave says, as if it takes him a moment to figure out why, exactly, Verso is bringing up lunch — it's not as if it's something he was actually trying to have a conversation about. Obviously the goal had been to annoy the shit out of Verso (but in like, a loving way). "I thought we'd just do sandwiches." Easy to eat while he's distractedly scribbling away, after all.

Though, it does seem like Verso isn't the only one with his mind on the Continent. "Should probably get our fill of good food while we can, huh."

"There'll still be good food on the Continent," he lies. "Like my signature dish, mushrooms three ways."

It's going to suck. Maybe they can bring a suitcase of canned food along with them so that Gustave doesn't end up with, like, five different kinds of vitamin and mineral deficiencies. Another plan to vaguely consider and not carry out until time is short.

"But I was going to suggest that we go out." Because he kind of ruined Gustave's night out before, but he's feeling very emotionally stable today. Or at least more emotionally stable than last night. "If you're not... out of commission."

He grins, self-satisfied, and then gestures to the now-full tub with a jerk of his chin. "You first." He'll squeeze in if there's room.

Gustave makes a face at that — he knows what some of those mushrooms can do to normal people — but he lowers himself into the tub without complaint. It'll be easier than it was on the Expedition if they're settled in one place for a while, if he's able to get something growing to supplement whatever rations he brings.

There's a lot to do in the next few weeks.

But for now he's just shifting back in the water, attempting to make as much space as he can for Verso to slip in with him. "You know there are people out there, right?" Gustave is teasing, yeah, but it's also a mask for his concern.

"Are there?" he asks lightly, although yes, of course, that's a concern. Verso used to love being around people, but now it's challenging to look at them knowing this is what Maelle is throwing her life away for. Still, there's... maybe not a lot of hope, but a little now. Maybe they might be able to keep her from deteriorating long enough for her to come to the conclusion that she needs to spend time in the outside world by herself.

He steps in beside Gustave, sinking down into the water with a bit of a splash. It's clumsy, given that the tub really isn't meant for two, but he makes himself as small as he can, just his knees knocking against Gustave's.

"Well, I've been told I'm excellent with people." He'll force himself to be, anyway. He can't hide away in this cave forever. First, lunch outside where people can see him. Next... Maelle. "I was voted Most Congenial in school."

"You know, I actually believe that one," Gustave says, and he bumps his apparently-knobby knees lightly against Verso's like he's expressing some sort of quiet gratitude. When was the last time he'd actually gone quote-unquote 'out' for a meal? Long before they'd even left for the Expedition, it had always felt like he'd always had something better to do, someplace better to be.

He'd missed that sort of thing greatly when he was actually out on the Continent before, but the concept has lost its luster a bit. Even so, he's not going to turn down an idea like that from Verso. Maybe it'll be good for them both.

"My tub is bigger, you know," Gustave points out, just in case they end up able to comfortably spend any time in his actual home before it's once again time to pack up and go. "Can't believe it took me this long to get you to skinny dip."

Verso splashes him.

"You braggart." It's funny because Gustave is terminally modest. Didn't even accept his 'handsomest man in Lumière' award when Verso tried to give it to him. "Are you really crowing about your tub being bigger?"

Heh. "Well, I've heard it's less about the size of the tub and more about the, uh, quality of the plumbing."

Gustave dips his fingertips in the water, flinging them at Verso. "Bragging? That's what's got from that obvious invitation? That says more about me than you, you realize." Oh no he likes this idiot so much.

"Maybe," he says, trying very hard to look stern and failing, "I was hoping that you'd tell me my tub is adequately sized for your needs."

The tubs are penises!!! What about this is so hard to understand.

But Gustave is being very cute again (what else is new), so Verso reaches over to wet his wild inventor hair with a palm, slicking it back the best he can. He's already fantasizing about how fetching it'll look when it dries all fluffy. "Are you inviting me over to sit in your tub?"

Okay, so he's not entirely sure what this innuendo is supposed to mean now, but at least he's finally figured out that it is, in fact, innuendo. "Yes?" Gustave says uncertainly, amused and only unsure because he's worried it's the incorrect answer somehow.

He's slouching down a little more now, reaching a hand forward to just sort of idly rest against Verso's calf. Fond, and overtly so. "But I can assure you that your, uh, facilities are more than adequate." Gustave is doing his damndest to pretend he's not being a little shit on purpose.

God, that last question wasn't an innuendo, he really does want to know if Gustave's inviting him over for a weird bath date or what!! Keep up. Maybe if Maelle has something else to do. Even if they make up, he's not sure he can tolerate her knowing that they're both naked together in the same house as her. Or maybe they can have a normal date that doesn't involve taking their clothes off, but that sounds challenging.

"I like your facilities, too." Big fan. He leans back, teasing, "Humongous tub, really."

He reaches out to graze the fingers of Gustave's free hand, the mechanical one. It's unclear to him if Gustave has any feeling there, but it's more about the principle of wanting to touch rather than the actual sensation itself. "If you're inviting me over, I wouldn't mind meeting your sister properly." Rather than, you know, in vague glimpses.

It's a question Gustave has been asked before, and he's never really been sure how to answer it. It's nothing like the feeling he has in his flesh and blood arm. He can tell when it's being touched, though he loses most detail about the touch in question; things like hot and cold don't really register at all. The motor control he has is delicate, amazing, and it's clear that he's internalized the idea that the mechanical arm really is just an extension of him, not merely a prosthetic aid.

All this to say, he's smiling a little when he turns his mechanical hand up, gently wiggling his fingers at the touch.

"I do think Emma might be dying to meet you," Gustave admits like he's a little embarrassed about it. They hadn't talked too much during his little dance lessons yesterday, but it had been enough for him to get the gist.

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