tfln overflow / open post

[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[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.

[recreatable]

I'd like to see you embarrass yourself is probably not the right response here, although it is the first one that comes to mind. For embarrassing himself, it's shockingly enticing. There's a feeling of slickness on his fingers that he likes, and he swipes a thumb over the head of Gustave's erection to collect more of it. It's not an entirely new experience, but still an interesting one. One the real Verso never had, one that's just for himself.

Although Gustave is eminently bullyable, the goal here is to make him feel good, not embarrassed (unless he's into that sort of thing). "If this is embarrassing yourself, it's obnoxiously attractive," is playful but genuine all the same.

[superniceone]

Perhaps stamina isn't all it's cracked up to be when you're laid out in a clearing with your friends on one side of you and a neverending stream of Nevrons on the other. Maybe he's just greedy - doesn't want to give up on this little moment that they've carved out for themselves.

Gustave hasn't reacted much audibly, too rigidly in control to allow that, but the swipe against the most sensitive part of him wins a stifled noise halfway to a whimper.

And if he keeps that pace steady, it won't be too long until Gustave ruts once against his hand with a climax so abrupt that it seems to take even himself off guard. He breathes heavily for a moment, closing his eyes and just accepting the rush that comes with it. For one of the first times all night, he's got no immediate further comment.

[recreatable]

Well, Gustave can be wary of him all he wants, but he can't un-orgasm.

Verso slows his touch, stroking gently until Gustave's breathing seems to even out again and he stops entirely. He wipes his palm against the soft grass while Gustave's eyes are still closed, watching his face. Gustave doesn't say anything, so doesn't speak himself, hesitant to ruin any afterglow by being— well, himself.

[superniceone]

Gustave is expecting - something, when Verso finishes stroking him through. Gentle ribbing, awkward teasing, but it never arrives. He opens his eyes and locks them with Verso's quite accidentally, smiling crookedly at him.

"Okay, professor," he says, that warm huskiness still there in his voice. His hand moves to Verso's hip, but despite the boldness, he still seems to be waiting to confirm permission.

[recreatable]

Smiling is good. It means Gustave didn't just experience a diabolical level of post-nut clarity and instantly regret coming out here with a strange, not entirely trustworthy man. Verso smiles back, a mirror of Gustave's own.

"I wanted to really give the lesson time to sink in," he says as explanation for his silence, because there's no good way to explain that he thought his existence might ruin Gustave's post-orgasm bliss. To be fair, it does ruin a lot of things. "You know. Quiet reflection."

There is, inexplicably, hesitation in Gustave's touch, so he adds, "But the best way to learn is to do it yourself."

[superniceone]

In Gustave's defense, he has very little evidence to lead him to the conclusion that Verso's ultimate goal will lead to the nonexistence of the entire world as he knows it. If anything, the way that Verso has been remarkably gentle and patient with him has just made him a lot fonder of the guy.

"Right. That all seems sound," he says after a beat, chuckling again. There's nothing particularly funny, but he's stolen some joy from this moment, quiet and subtle and unexpectedly buoyant. He shifts in slightly to give himself better leverage, and when he begins to stroke Verso it's with that same intense study as before.

He knows it's unlikely that they'll ever be in a situation like this one again - but if they are, Gustave will is apparently aiming to have a few footnotes on how to give Verso the optimal handjob.

[recreatable]

It's not particularly difficult to give Verso a good handjob, because the last time anyone did was— merde. A long time ago. Not that long in the context of a century-long life, but certainly long in any other context. Maybe it's obvious in the sharp intake of air, and if not it's probably obvious in how painfully eager the offending part of his body is. He doesn't really want Gustave to realize this after he just went on about how instructional his handjob was, so he quickly says, "That's— good."

Gustave strikes him as the type of person to respond positively to a few verbal gold stars, after all. He certainly has the expression of someone trying to do well, and Verso feels a little like a bug under a pane of glass under his intense scrutiny.

"Please don't write about this in your notebook," he adds, not because he imagines Gustave actually will, but because he looks as if he's mentally taking notes.

[superniceone]

It's almost a relief when Verso's body does react as eagerly as his own had. He wasn't concerned, exactly, but maybe just still in possession of some very fleeting anxiety - that maybe Verso had brought him here out of pity at his drunken flirtation more than out of his own interest.

Gustave shifts in closer, near to bumping their foreheads together at the remark about his journal. "Maybe just my own private one," he murmurs, voice low; the motion of his hand is steady, confidence easily won by the way Verso has responded to him.

[recreatable]

Conversely, it's a relief that Gustave doesn't call him out for his obvious bravado. You lied, he could easily say. You haven't had sex in ages. Which would be both true and warranted, but would definitely ruin the mood.

This is, again, not really appropriate behavior for a meaningless hook-up, but he's coming to believe that Gustave simply can't help himself. Their faces are very close, and Verso isn't sure where to look; his eyes dip down to Gustave's mouth, and he wonders if this is an invitation to kiss him or if he just doesn't know what he's doing. After all, it's one thing to kiss someone, but it's probably another to kiss them with their hand on your cock.

He should have a snappy comeback for that, but it's very hard to think with a hand stroking him like this, so he says eloquently, "Yeah."

[superniceone]

Gustave can't help being a little pleased with himself at having rendered Verso so uncharacteristically speechless. Not that it's a surprise, really; very few people would be able to summon words in the middle of a drunken, impulse hookup, but he'll take his victories where he can get them.

He can see Verso's eyes cut down to his mouth and hesitates - considers this might, actually, be his last opportunity for even just a fascimile of affection, and he closes the gap to kiss him one final time. It's open mouthed, actually a little lewd, like he hopes it might help coax him along.

[recreatable]

Verso will not admit it, but it does help him along. It's been a long time since he's been kissed, too, or really experienced any sort of affection besides the aggressively platonic, nearly familial kind that Esquie and Monoco were seemingly created to give. He tenses, shudders, and groans into Gustave's open mouth.

Distantly, he considers that he might have just made this a little weird. After a long moment, he pulls away, shifting onto his back and reaching to blindly tug his trousers back up.

"...Good 'guy talk'."

[superniceone]

"Yeah," Gustave agrees a little muzzily, watching Verso just long enough to make sure there aren't any immediate expressions of revulsion or regret. He should actively try not to commit any of this to memory, he thinks; there's not enough time in the day for things like desire on the Expedition.

He turns his face away to give him a bit of privacy (and also to fumblingly re-buckle his own belt). There's the littlest bit of vertigo when he pushes himself up onto his arms, and he gives himself a moment to adjust. "Excellent wine. And company," he adds belatedly.

[recreatable]

Verso sits up and buckles his belt, then reaches over for the jacket he'd discarded at— some point. He still feels warm all over, the pink flush of intimacy still on his skin, so he doesn't put it on, just folds it over his arm.

He wonders if perhaps he should assure Gustave that it isn't like he's going to tell anyone about this, but who would Gustave fear him telling, anyway? Monoco? He has no interest in hearing about anything two humans do together if it isn't about fighting. So, instead, he keeps it light, teasing, "I've had better wine."

[superniceone]

"I wouldn't tell Esquie. Might hurt his feelings." Gustave reaches up to brush his hand through his own hair, just trying to gather his own bearings a bit, and startles when he finds part of a dead leaf clinging on. He's not worried about Verso spilling the beans, really, but he does make a bit of a face at the foliage he's just extracted.

"Everyone is gonna know, huh."

[recreatable]

Verso reaches up to pick some greenery from his own hair and frown at it before pushing himself back up to a standing position. He blinks a couple times, a bit drunkenly disoriented.

They might suspect. He would, if he saw Lune and Sciel walk off together before returning covered in foliage and in comparatively higher spirits. But he takes this as a sign that he should, in fact, reassure Gustave: "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone." He reaches out a hand, then, for Gustave to pull himself up. Business as usual.

"You can go back first," he offers, if Gustave is embarrassed about it.

[superniceone]

Gustave clasps Verso's wrist with his hand and pulls himself to his feet. The way he clings to it for just a moment has nothing to do with the strange affection from earlier and everything to do with the fact that he's also quite drunk and the dump of adrenaline in his blood is fading.

He releases him after a moment, giving him a slightly baffled look. "I don't care if you tell them," he says, and it's only because of the wine and the sex that his exasperation is so obviously sulky. "They're just going to make fun of me. Oh, well."

[recreatable]

"Oh," is his only answer to that for a moment. "Yeah, probably."

They make fun of most things Gustave does. This would just be another. He considers warning that this won't help Gustave when he finally gets his head out of his ass and realizes they make fun of him because they adore him, but— he'll find that out for himself. And, besides, Verso still doesn't plan on saying anything about it.

He stands there for a protracted moment, before gesturing behind him the way they came. "We should get back."

[superniceone]

"You go. I'm gonna take - just a quick lap around the perimeter." Never go alone, sure, but they're still within shouting distance of help if something goes sideways. "Just need a minute to myself, I think."

Which might make it sound like he needs to process, or decompress, but that's not true. His mind is pleasant static for once, and he'd like a just a little time to savor that. "You can tell them - whatever you want."

[recreatable]

"It's a lot to take in, I know," he jokes as he finally slips his jacket back on, because it does sort of sound like Gustave plans to process. It doesn't feel particularly right turning his back on Gustave on the outskirts of camp like this, but it wouldn't feel right forcing his company on him, either, so he gives Gustave a very congenial, very platonic clap on the shoulder before saying, "Don't get eaten by a Nevron. Takes forever to wash the gunk out of your hair."

When he gets back to camp, Monoco asks him where he was. (Offended, because "I showed off my prowess with Sciel's scythe, and you were nowhere to be seen.") Hunting Nevrons is his answer, to which Monoco replies, terribly predictably, "Without me?"