[ It isn't Verso's first, but its been a long, long time. His trysts with Expeditioners are usually kept brief, and most of the time it's an easy enough mutual understanding -- people standing at the edge of their world, knowing there isn't much time left, seeking comfort in someone else's touch. He gets carried away, anyway, likes to give people nights they'll remember, but Gustave has reached into something so deep in his chest he didn't even realize it was still there. Something to remember is one thing, and someone who's stayed at the forefront of his thoughts for this entire time is another.
He's though of a thousand different ways he could have Gustave coming apart beneath him or above him or anywhere else. He wishes they have the time to go through every single one, and to learn a thousand more with each other, with the man finally here in his arms.
Verso helps Gustave slightly with his jacket, shrugging it off from his shoulders, but his own attention is focused elsewhere, now. Plucking at another button of his undershirt, again lathing his tongue over the newly exposed stretch of skin, tugging his shirt aside enough that he can let his teeth catch over a nipple. In his imagination he sees Gustave breathless at the table, biting his lower lip to try and keep himself from crying out too loudly as Verso squeezes his hand around him and sips his wine. ]
I might've just left you. [ A bit of a laugh, against his ear. ] If only because I'd love to think of how much you'd dream of me, that night.
[ It does make him ache to think of how desperately Gustave has missed him all this time -- but the mental image of the man alone on his own bed, spread out and half-tousled from sleep, waking from a dream to fist a hand around himself and bring himself up and up until he spills with his name on his lips . . . That's an image he savors. ]
But I wouldn't be able to help myself, I think. A taste of you over wine at dinner, and it wouldn't be enough of mon Monsieur le fleuriste.
So you could have me. [ A smile, lifting his head from his chest to press another kiss to his mouth. ] Up against my door.
How will you take your revenge on me, for being so wicked?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2025-06-08 03:28 am (UTC)He's though of a thousand different ways he could have Gustave coming apart beneath him or above him or anywhere else. He wishes they have the time to go through every single one, and to learn a thousand more with each other, with the man finally here in his arms.
Verso helps Gustave slightly with his jacket, shrugging it off from his shoulders, but his own attention is focused elsewhere, now. Plucking at another button of his undershirt, again lathing his tongue over the newly exposed stretch of skin, tugging his shirt aside enough that he can let his teeth catch over a nipple. In his imagination he sees Gustave breathless at the table, biting his lower lip to try and keep himself from crying out too loudly as Verso squeezes his hand around him and sips his wine. ]
I might've just left you. [ A bit of a laugh, against his ear. ] If only because I'd love to think of how much you'd dream of me, that night.
[ It does make him ache to think of how desperately Gustave has missed him all this time -- but the mental image of the man alone on his own bed, spread out and half-tousled from sleep, waking from a dream to fist a hand around himself and bring himself up and up until he spills with his name on his lips . . . That's an image he savors. ]
But I wouldn't be able to help myself, I think. A taste of you over wine at dinner, and it wouldn't be enough of mon Monsieur le fleuriste.
So you could have me. [ A smile, lifting his head from his chest to press another kiss to his mouth. ] Up against my door.
How will you take your revenge on me, for being so wicked?