tfln overflow / open post

[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[superniceone]

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.

[recreatable]

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.

[superniceone]

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.

[recreatable]

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."

[superniceone]

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.

[recreatable]

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."

[superniceone]

"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.

[recreatable]

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."

[superniceone]

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.

[recreatable]

Better that Gustave didn't seek out Lune or Sciel; he was right, the atmosphere of having someone stick their hand down his pants on the ground is lacking. Gustave seems to be enjoying it all the same if the way his muscles jump is any indication, and Verso's emboldened to skim his touch lower to see just how much he's enjoying it. His fingers are littered with piano calluses, but they're gentle.

He senses— maybe not nervousness, but nerves in some form. (Then again, Gustave is eternally a bundle of nerves, so this is nothing new.) In an attempt to make Gustave laugh, he says, "You can call me Professor if you like."

[superniceone]

It succeeds: Gustave snorts a laugh, but only after a particularly sharp inhale of breath when Verso's callused hands brush much more sensitive flesh. As lacking as any atmosphere might be, Gustave's enjoyment is both obvious and undeniable, and he flusters slightly. He feels like he's being teased. He isn't sure he minds.

"Professor," he echoes, recovering and wrinkling his nose. "Didn't know this was going to be a roleplay kind of thing."

[recreatable]

"It could be." He could be anyone Gustave wants him to be; he's already spent his whole life filling roles he doesn't quite fit into. But the idea of playing a role on top of playing a role takes the wind out of his sails a little bit, and he's quick to move on from the suggestion, letting his hand wander so that Gustave's attention turns toward more pressing matters.

His range of motion is somewhat limited with all of Gustave's clothes still fully on, but he makes the best of it, uncertain if taking too much off might cross a line. His hands move in careful, smooth strokes, like playing a glissando. "Just relax." I am relaxed, he can practically hear Gustave say, in the least relaxed tone anyone has ever had. "I'll do all the hard work." He leans in, then, cheeky. "Just like in battle."

[superniceone]

"How in the world do you expect me to relax," Gustave says in the least relaxed tone anyone has ever had, bucking only the most minor of expectations. The cheekiness gets a roll of the eyes, and the way Gustave kisses him then is a faux reprimand.

It's sweet that Verso is so careful about respecting boundaries - or at least, Gustave would think that much, if he had even the slightest idea of the fact that was happening - but mostly he just thinks that he's being teased in multiple ways.

"Idiot," he whispers toothlessly, his thighs tensing pleasantly before he chases Verso's hand from his trousers - just so he can start unbuckling Verso's in turn. "We share the work in this team. Maybe you missed that memo."

[recreatable]

He'll totally respect all your boundaries except the boundary of wanting to stay alive. That's too far.

"Hm," he says thoughtfully, reaching to help Gustave with his belt. He wouldn't have been particularly offended if Gustave hadn't wanted to reciprocate the touch—a dying man is probably allowed to be selfish—but it's a pleasant surprise that he does. "That's not what you all said when I saved you from that Gargant."

Very unfair. Verso has decades more experience with the Nevrons, and he doesn't fear death. But he doesn't mind playing the hero; he was created with an insistent desire to die for someone, and a complete incapability of doing so.

"I have heard engineers are good with their hands." From Gustave. Like, five minutes ago.

[superniceone]

Verso really doesn't know Gustave at all if he thinks there's a world where Gustave wouldn't basically need to reciprocate to really enjoy himself at all in the first place.

"That's what you want to talk about right now?" Gustave's head is tilted slightly down, his eyes cut up to Verso for just a moment. "You want to have a discussion about that fight with the Gargant, right at this exact moment?"

Because he is clumsily trying to shuck the loosened pants of Verso's uniform (outfit? costume??) down enough that he doesn't need to go fishing inside to reach him.

[recreatable]

Gustave is a little more bold than Verso gave him credit for; he did, he supposes, sign up for a glorified suicide mission. Pulling down some random guy's pants in the woods probably doesn't compare in terms of bravery.

In case it wasn't obvious that he's been enjoying himself, too, it is now. It always feels good to be around someone who doesn't have a mountain of preconceived expectations for him, and Gustave is— fun, surprisingly, for someone who's worried almost every minute of every day. And not half-bad to look at, definitely.

It's fair now, he thinks, to tug Gustave's trousers down as well. So he does, an insistent little pull at the waistband to encourage Gustave to lift up and help. "What Gargant?"

[superniceone]

Gustave doesn't mean to laugh at that; it just bubbles out in a way that surprises him, and he lifts his hips enough to make the job a little easier.

"Good answer," he grins, and - god, this is weird. He wants to look at him, study this body that is so very unlike any one he's been intimate with before, but that feels like too intense an ask even for him. No, this was meant to be quick and messy by design - strictly mutual stress release.

But that won't stop him from taking hold of Verso with his flesh and blood hand, watching his face with the focus of a scientist as he strokes him experimentally.

[recreatable]

This isn't his first tryst with an expeditioner by any means, but it has been— a while since anyone has touched him like this, and his body reacts accordingly, over a hundred and yet still very much twenty six. He can admit that he finds Gustave, yes, objectively good-looking but not particularly sexy in manner, but there's something about the analytical look on his face while he does impolite things to Verso that does, in fact, do it for him.

It isn't that he thought he wouldn't enjoy this—it's a quick release of happy hormones, and from a purely pragmatic standpoint he could use the endorphin rush—but he hadn't expected to be particularly surprised or wowed by Gustave. It's nice to be wrong.

He inhales. "You're a quick study," he says, as sincere as someone like him can be. Should've figured, honestly. Gustave's brain is probably the only thing that works faster than his mouth. He wraps his fingers around Gustave's erection the same way he did Verso's, exploratory more like a musician idly seeing what sounds the plucking of a string will make rather than any science. Not at all complaining, he murmurs, "You look like you're going to put me under a microscope."

[superniceone]

Gustave hums in open appreciation at the touch, his own hand stalling just briefly, distracted by the sensation. It's been a while for him as well, though it's both possible and also likely that his metric for measuring time that way is just on a different scale than Verso's entirely.

"Scientists are all about the pursuit of-" He inhales a little shallowly. "... novel experiences." It is increasingly difficult to care about banter, and he clears his throat, releasing him so he can make a gentle attempt to roll them both onto their sides. He follows with a murmur of his own, spoken like it's so obvious it barely merits saying: "I want to figure out what you like."

[recreatable]

Gustave definitely doesn't have much experience in casual encounters, Verso determines; that's too sweet a sentiment for what is typically meant to be a rather selfish affair. He decides not to correct him, because, well. He's selfish, and there is not an overabundance of sweetness in his life.

"Not stinging nettles," he chides as he narrowly avoids the offending plant on his way down. This is all very clumsy and ill-conceived — he's going to be finding bits of grass in his hair all day tomorrow. For all of his efforts, he is not nearly as smooth as he would like to pretend he is, so instead of anything particularly suave, he says, "I was enjoying that. Before."

[superniceone]

Gustave is still at that perfect level of inebriation where he was able to clock the existence of the nettles immediately and then completely forget about them just as abruptly.

"Sorry," he says, a little flustered at himself, "guess I just got carried away." Verso keeps using Gustave's words against him; he's all too happy to do the same.

He moves his hand between them again, stroking Verso's erection to the root in a few slow, firm strokes, before his drags his palm upward - across his hip, over his waist, sliding up beneath his shirt to drag his fingers lightly across his chest. He's extremely invested in this exploration, even with color high in his cheeks from wine and arousal.

[recreatable]

Verso's a little more single-minded, a little more aware that they don't exactly have all night to feel each other up before A) someone comes looking for them or B) they really do get attacked by a Nevron, even though he can appreciate the wonderment at being what Gustave called a 'novel experience'. (He should probably be more offended that Gustave essentially likened this to a science experiment, but he's not.) His hand quickly finds its way down Gustave's abdomen again before he takes hold of him once more, a little firmer this time, less experimental in his touch as he starts a steady rhythm.

He'd sold himself as an expert in these matters, but the truth is that even in a hundred years he's only been in this position with a man a few times, and certainly not recently. "Do you like that?" he asks, a sort of uncharacteristic-to-him uncertainty to it.

[superniceone]

It's those exact moments that are going to horrify him later: not that sex, but the odd sentimentality that he keeps trying to introduce into this little no-strings arrangement. He is just, fundamentally, not used to operating without strings; it's difficult to consider sex without affection, whether or not he's even aware of it.

But then Verso's hand is on him and his breath catches in his throat. He'll probably get his answer in the way his dick actually twitches in Verso's grip, his hand moving to press flat against his sternum. "Yes. So much."

[recreatable]

The sincerity with which Gustave blurts out his enjoyment makes Verso smile, amused. It's not like riding a bike in any way, but it's not difficult to remember how to do this when he only has to do what might feel good to him. It comes back to him quickly, and he squeezes gently on his next downstroke, more confident with Gustave's words as encouragement.

"Good," accompanies an increase in tempo, adagio to moderato. "I like it, too."

[superniceone]

Gustave wants to kiss him again.

It's not that he has any sudden or complex romantic interest in Verso; there's no time, no breathing space for that kind of thing. It's just - pleasant. Warm. A cheatcode to feeling like intimacy is there.

He doesn't stop himself because he thinks Verso would mind; it just, somehow, feels like it's asking for more than Verso is already giving.

"I'm going to embarrass myself," Gustave murmurs instead, voice slightly husky as he pulls his hand from Verso's shirt to rub at his own face. He's leaking into Verso's fingers already; it's not like he's had any private time for a while.