[ Verso lets himself be pulled down, lazy and languid and sprawled across Gustave's body, a mess of sweat and sex and he wouldn't have it any other way. He realizes a little dimly that they're both just -- smiling, and that's just a little different from all the times before. There'd been smiles and laughing, and fleeting moments of something where a moment seemed like it could last, but this feels like what those moments were trying to be. His heart feels full, Gustave is warm and solid beneath him, and his every muscle is just a little pleasantly sore, the weight of an afterglow weighing them down. The rest of the world feels a thousand miles away. He could imagine they were in a warm bed, Gustave's his own, the morning sun pouring in through the windows from across Lumiere, but he just -- doesn't.
He's here. And he does feel . . . happy.
He hums a little, warm and acknowledging and amused, pressing a few lazy, affectionate kisses over Gustave's neck -- not to mark or bruise him further, but just to do it, just to kiss him and feel him and taste him. The river might be nice, later. Right now, he barely wants to move. He shifts, one arm braced against the ground and the puddle of his sash and jacket, fingers just barely threaded through Gustave's hair ( he really likes playing with his hair, clearly ), his other hand idly wandering up over his side, tracing over old and faded scars and lines with so much care that it feels like he's mapping his out with his touch. ]
Oh, I definitely do. [ A smile, tipping his head to kiss at his mouth. ] Looking the way you do? I don't know how I'm supposed to resist.
[ He just wants to kiss him and tear his hands through his hair until it's tousled and tangled, lay him out beneath him and wreck him completely until he's all shakes and shivers. ]
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Date: 2025-06-11 12:14 am (UTC)He's here. And he does feel . . . happy.
He hums a little, warm and acknowledging and amused, pressing a few lazy, affectionate kisses over Gustave's neck -- not to mark or bruise him further, but just to do it, just to kiss him and feel him and taste him. The river might be nice, later. Right now, he barely wants to move. He shifts, one arm braced against the ground and the puddle of his sash and jacket, fingers just barely threaded through Gustave's hair ( he really likes playing with his hair, clearly ), his other hand idly wandering up over his side, tracing over old and faded scars and lines with so much care that it feels like he's mapping his out with his touch. ]
Oh, I definitely do. [ A smile, tipping his head to kiss at his mouth. ] Looking the way you do? I don't know how I'm supposed to resist.
[ He just wants to kiss him and tear his hands through his hair until it's tousled and tangled, lay him out beneath him and wreck him completely until he's all shakes and shivers. ]