[ Verso laughs a little, soft under his breath, his eyes lidded as he watches Gustave kiss at his knuckles. His fingers twitch a little under the attention, he feels his heart skip a beat. The flowers Gustave had gifted him before are nestled neatly by his side on the grass. This may not be Lumiere, but there's something about it, in flashes and moments, Gustave's sweetness. This is about as close as they can get to what he remembers Gustave describing that day, when he'd asked him what he would do, if he could have stayed, if they had time. It's nice. ]
Tomorrow. [ There wasn't as much doubt in him this time, Verso notices, and at the very least he isn't just second-guessing himself, uncertain for even trying to ask to see him again. Maybe Gustave is starting to believe him, after all. ] And further away. I'd really prefer to not be kicked in the head by one of your friends misreading the situation and rushing in to help you.
[ He's seen what they can do. He could heal it off, sure, but he sure still wouldn't like it.
Verso does see that flicker of something in Gustave's eyes -- remembering something, imagining something, he isn't sure. But just enough of his pupils dilating, something in them darkening. He watches it cross his expression with some fascination, and then, pulling his hand from Gustave's cards his fingers back through his hair ( around the flower, he likes it there ), tipping his head back slightly as he leans over him to catch his mouth in his own.
This kiss lingers, a heat coiling in his stomach and reaching out, wanting to see more of that something in Gustave's eyes, wanting to feel him, wanting to taste him. He urges Gustave's mouth open until he can tongue past his lips to taste him, sinking into it with a low growl. The things he wants to do -- He knows Gustave did say they wouldn't get anywhere else if he started, but. How is he supposed to help himself?
His other hand roams up over Gustave's chest, jacket, waistcoat, buttons -- the straps. He plucks at one a bit idly before breaking from the kiss, mouthing down the side of his neck with a huff of something amused and maybe just a little genuinely irritated both. ]
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Tomorrow. [ There wasn't as much doubt in him this time, Verso notices, and at the very least he isn't just second-guessing himself, uncertain for even trying to ask to see him again. Maybe Gustave is starting to believe him, after all. ] And further away. I'd really prefer to not be kicked in the head by one of your friends misreading the situation and rushing in to help you.
[ He's seen what they can do. He could heal it off, sure, but he sure still wouldn't like it.
Verso does see that flicker of something in Gustave's eyes -- remembering something, imagining something, he isn't sure. But just enough of his pupils dilating, something in them darkening. He watches it cross his expression with some fascination, and then, pulling his hand from Gustave's cards his fingers back through his hair ( around the flower, he likes it there ), tipping his head back slightly as he leans over him to catch his mouth in his own.
This kiss lingers, a heat coiling in his stomach and reaching out, wanting to see more of that something in Gustave's eyes, wanting to feel him, wanting to taste him. He urges Gustave's mouth open until he can tongue past his lips to taste him, sinking into it with a low growl. The things he wants to do -- He knows Gustave did say they wouldn't get anywhere else if he started, but. How is he supposed to help himself?
His other hand roams up over Gustave's chest, jacket, waistcoat, buttons -- the straps. He plucks at one a bit idly before breaking from the kiss, mouthing down the side of his neck with a huff of something amused and maybe just a little genuinely irritated both. ]
-- These damn uniforms.
[ There's so much in the way! ]