[ The shirt slides off into a puddle of white fabric, leaving Verso bare to the waist and so beautiful Gustave can feel his heart seize just looking at him. There are a few bruises dusted here and there, muddled against his pale skin, and for a moment Gustave is confused — Verso hadn't taken any hits from that Nevron, they hadn't landed badly yesterday — before he realizes the only possible provenance and flushes so deeply his throat and the top of his chest turn a faint pink along with his cheeks.
He's beginning to understand why Verso laid so many marks into his own skin, he thinks.
But he's swept along in the dream Verso's spinning for them both, helping Verso remove his own shirt and shivering a little as he lays back again in the grass, cool against his bare back. Verso reaches for him, running hands up over his arms, metal and flesh and bone both, and his hands lift as Verso's travel upwards, fingers curling around the backs of his arms, enraptured. Verso, playing only to him in a theatre full of people, just the way he had before. ]
I went back, you know. To see the performances there, after.
[ After. He doesn't want to interrupt the beautiful vision Verso's describing, but he can't help himself. And maybe Verso deserves to know that he wasn't the only one picking flowers and longing for something no longer within reach. ]
Week after week, I'd go and sit in the audience and pretend I was watching you. Everything else just... fading away while you played, just you and that piano again.
[ His hands roam over Verso's arms, lean and strong, down to twine momentarily with those skillful fingers before he lets go to allow Verso to reach back out for him.
This is a little embarrassing, but he doesn't care, every word sincere as he leans to press kisses to Verso's bare shoulder, working toward his collarbone. ]
Sometimes I'd convince myself so thoroughly that it was a shock to hear everyone else applauding when the show was over.
[ It hadn't been much, but it had been one of only a few ways he could feel like his monsieur le pianist was there, that he'd come back, that they were together. Silly, perhaps, for him to hold on so tightly for so long, but now...
But now it's real, all of it, and Verso blankets him with his body, kissing him sweet and deep and with rising heat, pulling a groan from his chest as Gustave's hands go to his back, his hips, coaxing him as close as he can get. ]
I think I would be coming back there hoping for kisses. And maybe a little more.
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He's beginning to understand why Verso laid so many marks into his own skin, he thinks.
But he's swept along in the dream Verso's spinning for them both, helping Verso remove his own shirt and shivering a little as he lays back again in the grass, cool against his bare back. Verso reaches for him, running hands up over his arms, metal and flesh and bone both, and his hands lift as Verso's travel upwards, fingers curling around the backs of his arms, enraptured. Verso, playing only to him in a theatre full of people, just the way he had before. ]
I went back, you know. To see the performances there, after.
[ After. He doesn't want to interrupt the beautiful vision Verso's describing, but he can't help himself. And maybe Verso deserves to know that he wasn't the only one picking flowers and longing for something no longer within reach. ]
Week after week, I'd go and sit in the audience and pretend I was watching you. Everything else just... fading away while you played, just you and that piano again.
[ His hands roam over Verso's arms, lean and strong, down to twine momentarily with those skillful fingers before he lets go to allow Verso to reach back out for him.
This is a little embarrassing, but he doesn't care, every word sincere as he leans to press kisses to Verso's bare shoulder, working toward his collarbone. ]
Sometimes I'd convince myself so thoroughly that it was a shock to hear everyone else applauding when the show was over.
[ It hadn't been much, but it had been one of only a few ways he could feel like his monsieur le pianist was there, that he'd come back, that they were together. Silly, perhaps, for him to hold on so tightly for so long, but now...
But now it's real, all of it, and Verso blankets him with his body, kissing him sweet and deep and with rising heat, pulling a groan from his chest as Gustave's hands go to his back, his hips, coaxing him as close as he can get. ]
I think I would be coming back there hoping for kisses. And maybe a little more.