[ Verso leans subtly into his touch, eyes lidded, enjoying the weight of his hand over his hip. Every single touch from him, every time Gustave looks at him, Verso swears it sends a little something running through his spine down to every nerve in his body, sparking electric and shivering even if it makes him feel so warm. There may come a day where each touch becomes so familiar that that might change -- but Verso thinks that feeling won't ever dull. That it'll just turn into something else, a different kind of heat and spark, something comfortable and warm but still sets every part of him on fire just as fiercely. And he's looking forward to that.
Gustave is laughing, protesting in his words -- but hardly pushing him away. Verso is happy to mouth down over the side of his neck as he tips his head for him, tongue lathing over already-bruised skin, shamelessly latching onto the join of his neck and shoulder and sucking hard. More marks to add to the rest. ]
You'd keep me from the pleasures of observing mon Monsieur le ingรฉnieur at work?
Cruel and unusual. I think I've a right to see these hands at work, to see your mind set to the task.
[ And then to distract that mind, liberally, with all sorts of things. Of course.
He only leans further into him as Gustave wraps an arm around him, making some low, pleased sound, kissing his way back up his neck to nip at the shell of his ear. The hand resting over his chest palms down, following the shape of the lean muscle of his chest, pinching a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling gently. ]
We have plenty of time to -- talk -- about what you might find at the Cliffs, mon chou.
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Date: 2025-06-12 04:12 pm (UTC)Gustave is laughing, protesting in his words -- but hardly pushing him away. Verso is happy to mouth down over the side of his neck as he tips his head for him, tongue lathing over already-bruised skin, shamelessly latching onto the join of his neck and shoulder and sucking hard. More marks to add to the rest. ]
You'd keep me from the pleasures of observing mon Monsieur le ingรฉnieur at work?
Cruel and unusual. I think I've a right to see these hands at work, to see your mind set to the task.
[ And then to distract that mind, liberally, with all sorts of things. Of course.
He only leans further into him as Gustave wraps an arm around him, making some low, pleased sound, kissing his way back up his neck to nip at the shell of his ear. The hand resting over his chest palms down, following the shape of the lean muscle of his chest, pinching a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling gently. ]
We have plenty of time to -- talk -- about what you might find at the Cliffs, mon chou.
[ Look at all the talking you're doing! ]