[ He laughs, low, and turns his head towards Verso as the man presses kisses over his neck, making a small satisfied sound at the feeling of his fingers toying idly with his hair. ]
What, looking what way?
[ Rumpled, grass-stained, barely able to catch his breath? A little rougher from his time spent here on the continent, where such things as hot baths and nice suits and even a decent comb to keep his hair reasonably under control are impossible luxuries, things of the past?
But Verso does seem to find him irresistible, a thought that goes to his head like wine. Those fingers drift lazily over his skin, muscle contracting and twitching beneath the path they take. Verso leans up to press his smiling lips against Gustave's in a sweet, languid kiss, and he makes another sound, humming low and content in his chest, as his right hand comes up to card gently through the mussed waves of Verso's hair.
This, too, is an impossible luxury, something he never thought he'd be able to have. The music of the river is as calm and sweet as the finest music discs he could play back home in LumiĆØre, the grass as soft as any bed, and the starsā€“ merde, they've never been able to see stars like this in LumiĆØre. He'd never have seen the way the blue light from those chroma-stained leaves overhead kisses Verso's skin so gently, how the moonlight and starlight limns every gentle curve of muscle and limb. It makes his heart ache just to look at him, just to draw his metal fingers idly up the graceful curve of his back.
Verso, smiling in the sun, had haunted him with memories of warmth and golden light saturating everything like molten honey. Verso here in the dark, under his hands, somehow real and warm, a heavy blanket over him, is more perfect than anything his daydreams had ever managed to concoct. He shakes his head and ghosts another kiss over Verso's mouth, sweet and full and smiling. ]
Well, I think it's pretty clear I can't exactly resist you, either.
Not that I've been trying all that hard, if I'm being honest.
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What, looking what way?
[ Rumpled, grass-stained, barely able to catch his breath? A little rougher from his time spent here on the continent, where such things as hot baths and nice suits and even a decent comb to keep his hair reasonably under control are impossible luxuries, things of the past?
But Verso does seem to find him irresistible, a thought that goes to his head like wine. Those fingers drift lazily over his skin, muscle contracting and twitching beneath the path they take. Verso leans up to press his smiling lips against Gustave's in a sweet, languid kiss, and he makes another sound, humming low and content in his chest, as his right hand comes up to card gently through the mussed waves of Verso's hair.
This, too, is an impossible luxury, something he never thought he'd be able to have. The music of the river is as calm and sweet as the finest music discs he could play back home in LumiĆØre, the grass as soft as any bed, and the starsā€“ merde, they've never been able to see stars like this in LumiĆØre. He'd never have seen the way the blue light from those chroma-stained leaves overhead kisses Verso's skin so gently, how the moonlight and starlight limns every gentle curve of muscle and limb. It makes his heart ache just to look at him, just to draw his metal fingers idly up the graceful curve of his back.
Verso, smiling in the sun, had haunted him with memories of warmth and golden light saturating everything like molten honey. Verso here in the dark, under his hands, somehow real and warm, a heavy blanket over him, is more perfect than anything his daydreams had ever managed to concoct. He shakes his head and ghosts another kiss over Verso's mouth, sweet and full and smiling. ]
Well, I think it's pretty clear I can't exactly resist you, either.
Not that I've been trying all that hard, if I'm being honest.