[ Fingers, gentle despite the strength he now knows they wield and the calluses that roughen them, slip through his hair, coaxing him to look up, to meet those eyes that hold so much deep, deep down in their clear depths. He can't read all of it, can't understand all of it, but maybe he doesn't have to right in this moment because so much of it is simply a mirror to everything he himself is feeling: longing, regret, desire... and something softer and warmer and larger than all of that, like the thing that's swelling in his chest, threatening to crack his ribs, shatter his heart.
And then Verso murmurs those words, aching and sweet, and his heart does crack, hearing them, the first time in so long. Recognition flares, sore and longing in his eyes, but there's no time to respond even if he could think of something to say, because Verso's there, mouth against his, and Gustave draws a shuddering breath and slides his left metal arm around the man's waist, beneath the loose fabric of his shirt, drawing him in at last.
His right hand slides up to palm the side of Verso's neck, then back down, trailing over the warm skin of his chest and stomach to where that solitary button is keeping Verso's shirt from falling open completely, and Gustave smiles against his lips as he carefully, slowly works that button free. ]
Yeah.
[ Murmured into a kiss before he leans close and kisses Verso again, back, sweet and lingering and with two whole years of pent-up longing behind it, an ache he doesn't know will ever go away.
And, because Verso deserves it, as the button slides free and the shirt falls open, letting him run a warm palm over the soft skin and firm muscle it reveals, he pulls back just enough to brush his lips over Verso's and say, a chuckle rumbling low in his voice: ]
Did you really pick all those flowers just to stare at them?
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Date: 2025-06-05 01:30 am (UTC)And then Verso murmurs those words, aching and sweet, and his heart does crack, hearing them, the first time in so long. Recognition flares, sore and longing in his eyes, but there's no time to respond even if he could think of something to say, because Verso's there, mouth against his, and Gustave draws a shuddering breath and slides his left metal arm around the man's waist, beneath the loose fabric of his shirt, drawing him in at last.
His right hand slides up to palm the side of Verso's neck, then back down, trailing over the warm skin of his chest and stomach to where that solitary button is keeping Verso's shirt from falling open completely, and Gustave smiles against his lips as he carefully, slowly works that button free. ]
Yeah.
[ Murmured into a kiss before he leans close and kisses Verso again, back, sweet and lingering and with two whole years of pent-up longing behind it, an ache he doesn't know will ever go away.
And, because Verso deserves it, as the button slides free and the shirt falls open, letting him run a warm palm over the soft skin and firm muscle it reveals, he pulls back just enough to brush his lips over Verso's and say, a chuckle rumbling low in his voice: ]
Did you really pick all those flowers just to stare at them?