[ Verso can already feel himself tumbling steadily towards an edge. The sweet heat and friction of his own hand and feeling Gustave against him, hot and throbbing, letting his gaze occasionally fall down between him just to see them pressed together -- it's good, absolutely maddening, has heat rushing up and down his spine and spiderwebbing into every nerve in his body, has his toes curling in his boots as they keep rocking their bodies against each other.
And yet, even better is just -- looking at him, seeing him flushed and breathless and driven out of his mind, kissing him and tasting him under his tongue and feeling Gustave's mouth against his own skin. He's missed him so much, thought of him far more often than he should for two long years, and just finally having him here, being able to see and feel every effect he has on the other man -- that alone is almost too much. If it weren't for how hot and perfect his body feels against his own he'd still think it was a dream.
And then he starts answering him, telling him what he's imagined, too. Verso closes his eyes and moans against his throat, mouthing down over his chest and collarbone, letting the images Gustave is painting fill his own mind. Both of them tangled together in Gustave's own bed, pale gold pouring in through the half-open curtains, himself spread out on the bed and Gustave above him, beneath him, sliding down.
It mingles with all the images he's drawn in his own mind over the years. Kisses stolen over a shared dinner. Gustave inviting him into his home, both of them stepping inside only for him to immediately be pushed back against the doorway, Verso too impatient for them to make it any further inside. Anther piano performance, this time to a crowd, but Verso playing just for one person, just for him, finding his face as he does his bows and smiling -- and pulling him backstage, as the rest of the crowds all file away, into somewhere quiet, where he can lock the door.
His hand squeezes around them. Still working up and down along their lengths, but slower, mostly just letting them move -- and he does start to pick up a little, in his rhythm. Getting closer, chasing something, hips stuttering the closer adn closer he gets, leaning in to kiss the words from Gustave's mouth when he tells him he needs him. ]
Je veux รชtre avec toi.
[ He echoes back, heated. His voice is starting to fall apart, and he's getting close, so close -- he knows Gustave must be close, too, wants to urge him on, wants to urge them both on, together. A faint curse, his voice getting more desperate, pushing him harder against the wall with his weight as he grinds against him, hard, insistent -- ]
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Date: 2025-06-06 02:45 am (UTC)And yet, even better is just -- looking at him, seeing him flushed and breathless and driven out of his mind, kissing him and tasting him under his tongue and feeling Gustave's mouth against his own skin. He's missed him so much, thought of him far more often than he should for two long years, and just finally having him here, being able to see and feel every effect he has on the other man -- that alone is almost too much. If it weren't for how hot and perfect his body feels against his own he'd still think it was a dream.
And then he starts answering him, telling him what he's imagined, too. Verso closes his eyes and moans against his throat, mouthing down over his chest and collarbone, letting the images Gustave is painting fill his own mind. Both of them tangled together in Gustave's own bed, pale gold pouring in through the half-open curtains, himself spread out on the bed and Gustave above him, beneath him, sliding down.
It mingles with all the images he's drawn in his own mind over the years. Kisses stolen over a shared dinner. Gustave inviting him into his home, both of them stepping inside only for him to immediately be pushed back against the doorway, Verso too impatient for them to make it any further inside. Anther piano performance, this time to a crowd, but Verso playing just for one person, just for him, finding his face as he does his bows and smiling -- and pulling him backstage, as the rest of the crowds all file away, into somewhere quiet, where he can lock the door.
His hand squeezes around them. Still working up and down along their lengths, but slower, mostly just letting them move -- and he does start to pick up a little, in his rhythm. Getting closer, chasing something, hips stuttering the closer adn closer he gets, leaning in to kiss the words from Gustave's mouth when he tells him he needs him. ]
Je veux รชtre avec toi.
[ He echoes back, heated. His voice is starting to fall apart, and he's getting close, so close -- he knows Gustave must be close, too, wants to urge him on, wants to urge them both on, together. A faint curse, his voice getting more desperate, pushing him harder against the wall with his weight as he grinds against him, hard, insistent -- ]
-- I need you too. Gustave. Please.
I need you -- With me --