[ He will still have to leave, at some point -- and he knows that'll still tear something away from Gustave, that he'd find it difficult to believe that this is anything different. But Verso knows he'll stay near, that he'll see him again, and that makes all the difference. Now he can just sink into him, into lazy kisses and touches as they both slowly catch their breath, and Verso thinks they're both trying to stay here, in this. To stave off the world drifting back around them.
But it does. Little by little, not in full yet. It's Gustave who breaks the quiet first, and Verso lifts his head, eyes still lidded, a lazy smile pulling at his lips as he brushes a kiss to his mouth. ]
It was beautiful.
[ A small rooftop garden that they'd rolled into by chance, pretty but unremarkable all across Lumiere -- but they've both thought about it constantly for two years, haven't they? Gustave's been circling that place as much as he has, even if Verso could only ever do it in dreams, in memories, in imagining the ivy crawling through metal frames and trellises, fresh planted flowerbeds, sun-warmed soil. Over the years he's sure his memory isn't actually what it looked like, embellished and re-remembered a dozen times over, but especially for him, an ocean away from Lumiere and the garden -- that's what that memory is, now. Almost more of a slice of heaven than it was of anything real. A far of dream, a sliver of paradise that he'd somehow managed to inhabit however briefly, with a beautiful man in whose eyes he felt like he could see everything.
But now he's here. Real, warm, and solid beneath him, as real as the cold rock face and the slightly too-chill breeze for being so high up starting to whip around his bare skin. Verso lifts his hand between them, fingers trailing over his stomach and chest, and absolutely making a bit of a show of cleaning off some of the mess from his fingertips, his eyes lidded, tongue lathing slow and deliberate over his own skin. ]
We can make do.
[ He steps back, slowly untangling himself but not quite pulling away, gently tugging Gustave away from the wall with him. They're on what basically amounts to a jagged rock thrust from the earth to the sky, almost all rocky outcropping and barely anything else, cold and alone and far from the warmth of any garden. But there's his discarded cloak, and Verso moves to sit there, gently pulling Gustave down with him, tucked against some rock were they can shield each other from the worst of the wind.
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But it does. Little by little, not in full yet. It's Gustave who breaks the quiet first, and Verso lifts his head, eyes still lidded, a lazy smile pulling at his lips as he brushes a kiss to his mouth. ]
It was beautiful.
[ A small rooftop garden that they'd rolled into by chance, pretty but unremarkable all across Lumiere -- but they've both thought about it constantly for two years, haven't they? Gustave's been circling that place as much as he has, even if Verso could only ever do it in dreams, in memories, in imagining the ivy crawling through metal frames and trellises, fresh planted flowerbeds, sun-warmed soil. Over the years he's sure his memory isn't actually what it looked like, embellished and re-remembered a dozen times over, but especially for him, an ocean away from Lumiere and the garden -- that's what that memory is, now. Almost more of a slice of heaven than it was of anything real. A far of dream, a sliver of paradise that he'd somehow managed to inhabit however briefly, with a beautiful man in whose eyes he felt like he could see everything.
But now he's here. Real, warm, and solid beneath him, as real as the cold rock face and the slightly too-chill breeze for being so high up starting to whip around his bare skin. Verso lifts his hand between them, fingers trailing over his stomach and chest, and absolutely making a bit of a show of cleaning off some of the mess from his fingertips, his eyes lidded, tongue lathing slow and deliberate over his own skin. ]
We can make do.
[ He steps back, slowly untangling himself but not quite pulling away, gently tugging Gustave away from the wall with him. They're on what basically amounts to a jagged rock thrust from the earth to the sky, almost all rocky outcropping and barely anything else, cold and alone and far from the warmth of any garden. But there's his discarded cloak, and Verso moves to sit there, gently pulling Gustave down with him, tucked against some rock were they can shield each other from the worst of the wind.
And notably, not at all moving to leave. ]