[ This isn't nearly as picturesque that the garden had been, two years ago and still so pressed perfectly into his memory in his mind's eye -- but Verso thinks this is perfect, anyway, and Gustave just as beautiful. The stars overhead, silvery moonlight spilled down over them, catching the edges of Gustave's body and his lipps and his jaw and the soft curls of his dishevelled hair, just enough light to see the bruises peppered all over his neck and shoulders, to see the leaned muscle in his chest. Its been a so long since he last did anything like this with anyone, two years, in fact, and just the simple friction is enough to make his head spin.
Then there's Gustave's face, his voice, breathless and perfect, his hands all over him like he's desperate to hold onto him. The cool metal of that metal arm skims over his skin, enough to draw a little shiver from him, but he wants more of that touch, an appreciative growl rumbling in his throat when he feels those fingers gripping hard over his ass. verso's other hand settles against the back of Gustave's thigh, hauling him close, anchoring them together, and.
Putain. There's just something about this. How Verso can just feel him, every hot throb and pulse of arousal that moves through him at the response to any touch or kiss or anything else, and how he knows Gustave can feel him in turn. Callused fingers grip firmly, holding them together, rolling his palm up until its just a little slick with pre. A shift against the rock, adjusting himself, pulling his hand away for a moment and making up for that loss of pressure with sharp press of his hips against Gustave's, just enough time for him to wet his palm and fingers with mouth and tongue. ]
-- I want to hear you.
[ A simple murmur, and then his hand is back, slick with spit, one long slow pump over both of them and Verso just moans from it, the sound drowned against the side of Gustave's neck as he shivers appreciatively from the other man's kisses and bites. Leaving marks, he realizes, leaving bruises, and Gustave might never learn this but they'd all fade within minutes -- unless Verso doesn't want to. Unless Verso wants to keep them there. And he does, wants them to stay, wants Gustave to mark him everywhere until he can keep him for his own. ]
I imagined this. [ another groan, another roll of his hips. Slowly he settles into a rhythm, a nice steady rocking against Gustave and into his own hand. His other hand squeezes over his thigh, over his ass, has to move up to brace himself better against the wall, buckling down to his elbow near Gustave's head, keeping their bodies as close as he can. ] I imagined you.
All the time. [ He can take the lead and use his words for a bit, short breathless phrases between kisses and bites, every word filled with heat and desire and a desperate years-long longing. ] Feeling you like this -- or inside --
[ His voice slides into another moan, his jumping sharply against Gustave's, hand squeezing tight around them. ]
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Date: 2025-06-06 12:44 am (UTC)Then there's Gustave's face, his voice, breathless and perfect, his hands all over him like he's desperate to hold onto him. The cool metal of that metal arm skims over his skin, enough to draw a little shiver from him, but he wants more of that touch, an appreciative growl rumbling in his throat when he feels those fingers gripping hard over his ass. verso's other hand settles against the back of Gustave's thigh, hauling him close, anchoring them together, and.
Putain. There's just something about this. How Verso can just feel him, every hot throb and pulse of arousal that moves through him at the response to any touch or kiss or anything else, and how he knows Gustave can feel him in turn. Callused fingers grip firmly, holding them together, rolling his palm up until its just a little slick with pre. A shift against the rock, adjusting himself, pulling his hand away for a moment and making up for that loss of pressure with sharp press of his hips against Gustave's, just enough time for him to wet his palm and fingers with mouth and tongue. ]
-- I want to hear you.
[ A simple murmur, and then his hand is back, slick with spit, one long slow pump over both of them and Verso just moans from it, the sound drowned against the side of Gustave's neck as he shivers appreciatively from the other man's kisses and bites. Leaving marks, he realizes, leaving bruises, and Gustave might never learn this but they'd all fade within minutes -- unless Verso doesn't want to. Unless Verso wants to keep them there. And he does, wants them to stay, wants Gustave to mark him everywhere until he can keep him for his own. ]
I imagined this. [ another groan, another roll of his hips. Slowly he settles into a rhythm, a nice steady rocking against Gustave and into his own hand. His other hand squeezes over his thigh, over his ass, has to move up to brace himself better against the wall, buckling down to his elbow near Gustave's head, keeping their bodies as close as he can. ] I imagined you.
All the time. [ He can take the lead and use his words for a bit, short breathless phrases between kisses and bites, every word filled with heat and desire and a desperate years-long longing. ] Feeling you like this -- or inside --
[ His voice slides into another moan, his jumping sharply against Gustave's, hand squeezing tight around them. ]
-- I want you. I always wanted you.
[ And he hasn't stopped, for all this time. ]