[ Gustave pulls him away from his throat, keeping him close, and Verso makes some sound that could've come from a feral animal restrained, held back at the bit from something it wants. His hands move where his mouth can't, his eyes taking a moment to refocus, matching Gustave's gaze with his own and just drowning in everything he can see in his eyes. Its just like he remembers, like he can walk into them straight into his heart and soul, just that what he remembers to be full of gentle adoration and want is is instead regarding him with a whole mix of emotions, simmering anger, a deep-seated want. ]
It's never been -- [ he fumbles again with the latches across his chest before managing to unbuckle them ] -- convenient -- for this.
[ If anything, given Verso's own experience over the years, he swears Expeditioner uniforms are designed to prevent this kind of behaviour. Anti-fraternizing, built right in. Not that it really stops the especially determined, and right now Verso thinks he'll tear everything off him scrap by scrap if it means getting to see and feel and taste more of him again.
He tries to lean back in to kiss him again, a hot mouth over his neck and jaw, his hands again moving to work the jacket off of his shoulders -- persistent, if nothing else. He doesn't specifically answer to Gustave's call of Monsieur l'expรฉditionnaire, but he doesn't deny it, either -- he's wearing the uniform. He's an Expeditioner. He always has been. But he really would prefer to talk about that later, doesn't want to have to think about anything other than finally having Gustave here in front of him. ]
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Date: 2025-06-03 12:34 am (UTC)It's never been -- [ he fumbles again with the latches across his chest before managing to unbuckle them ] -- convenient -- for this.
[ If anything, given Verso's own experience over the years, he swears Expeditioner uniforms are designed to prevent this kind of behaviour. Anti-fraternizing, built right in. Not that it really stops the especially determined, and right now Verso thinks he'll tear everything off him scrap by scrap if it means getting to see and feel and taste more of him again.
He tries to lean back in to kiss him again, a hot mouth over his neck and jaw, his hands again moving to work the jacket off of his shoulders -- persistent, if nothing else. He doesn't specifically answer to Gustave's call of Monsieur l'expรฉditionnaire, but he doesn't deny it, either -- he's wearing the uniform. He's an Expeditioner. He always has been. But he really would prefer to talk about that later, doesn't want to have to think about anything other than finally having Gustave here in front of him. ]