[ Verso doesn't resist when Gustave pulls him off of his neck, going easily and laughing slightly, breathlessly, nuzzling into his neck and jaw, the scruff of his beard. He probably should take his protests more seriously, he knows those bruises are conspicuous, that they must at least have Lune and Sciel at the camp wary and on alert ( or maybe just a little entertained ). But he likes the way they look on him, how they let his touch linger on his skin, how when he watched him from afar throughout the day as Gustave moved around with a kind of nervous energy he could catch glimpses of something dark against his neck peeking out under his scarf whenever he turned his head. ]
I just like seeing them.
[ Said with a smile that's almost a grin, half-whispered, a murmur against his ear like its some playful little secret.
Some small way to feel like he's actually with him, a part of Gustave's life that might be intertwined with the rest rather than something neatly sequestered away, that can be excised or left. Just like how, as much as he adores his Monsieur le fleuriste, as much as he understands why Gustave wants to stay that way in his eyes -- he can't help but think of wanting a little of the Monsieur le ingรฉnieur, too. That's the part of him that lived in Lumiere, what he was for most of his life in that city that Verso could have never had the time to know, and maybe even outside of these two lonely, painful years Verso has started to think a bit about what it would've been like to be beside him even outside of that. Not to have been with him, surely Gustave had other suitors, but just -- to have known him, to have seen his face from afar sometimes when they passed on the street, to have heard of the handsome engineer that works on the Dome.
Things he'll never quite give voice to, not easily or willingly, at least. He just smiles, eyes lidding appreciatively at Gustave's touch, the tangle in his hair and then sliding back down over his nape. ]
You can be both, non?
I'm still expecting flowers even while you're at work. You wouldn't forsake me for your projects, would you?
[ There's no real protest to it, of course. Gustave can be his Monsieur le fleuriste a while longer, much longer, as long as he wants, for as long as they have. Something dark and hungry flickers in his eyes at the way Gustave shivers and gasps, a slow smirk again starting to pull at the corners of his mouth, and he shifts over him again to catch his mouth in another kiss. Fond, sweet, just a roil of heat starting to grow under the surface, tonguing deep to taste him and then pulling away. ]
Then ask me more questions.
[ He says, even as he pinches that nipple between his thumb and index finger again, a light tweak and roll between his fingers, feeling it stiffen under his touch as he draws that sensation out for just a little longer than before. Verso ducks his head to press a kiss to his collarbone, instead, sucking just lightly enough on some stretch of skin to not-quite-mark him, to tease at bruising him somewhere that'd be just a bit easier to hide. Not for long, and then already mouthing downward, those eyes flicking up to watch Gustave through his lashes as he seals his lips over his other nipple, teasing it with his tongue, with gentle suction. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2025-06-13 12:29 am (UTC)I just like seeing them.
[ Said with a smile that's almost a grin, half-whispered, a murmur against his ear like its some playful little secret.
Some small way to feel like he's actually with him, a part of Gustave's life that might be intertwined with the rest rather than something neatly sequestered away, that can be excised or left. Just like how, as much as he adores his Monsieur le fleuriste, as much as he understands why Gustave wants to stay that way in his eyes -- he can't help but think of wanting a little of the Monsieur le ingรฉnieur, too. That's the part of him that lived in Lumiere, what he was for most of his life in that city that Verso could have never had the time to know, and maybe even outside of these two lonely, painful years Verso has started to think a bit about what it would've been like to be beside him even outside of that. Not to have been with him, surely Gustave had other suitors, but just -- to have known him, to have seen his face from afar sometimes when they passed on the street, to have heard of the handsome engineer that works on the Dome.
Things he'll never quite give voice to, not easily or willingly, at least. He just smiles, eyes lidding appreciatively at Gustave's touch, the tangle in his hair and then sliding back down over his nape. ]
You can be both, non?
I'm still expecting flowers even while you're at work. You wouldn't forsake me for your projects, would you?
[ There's no real protest to it, of course. Gustave can be his Monsieur le fleuriste a while longer, much longer, as long as he wants, for as long as they have. Something dark and hungry flickers in his eyes at the way Gustave shivers and gasps, a slow smirk again starting to pull at the corners of his mouth, and he shifts over him again to catch his mouth in another kiss. Fond, sweet, just a roil of heat starting to grow under the surface, tonguing deep to taste him and then pulling away. ]
Then ask me more questions.
[ He says, even as he pinches that nipple between his thumb and index finger again, a light tweak and roll between his fingers, feeling it stiffen under his touch as he draws that sensation out for just a little longer than before. Verso ducks his head to press a kiss to his collarbone, instead, sucking just lightly enough on some stretch of skin to not-quite-mark him, to tease at bruising him somewhere that'd be just a bit easier to hide. Not for long, and then already mouthing downward, those eyes flicking up to watch Gustave through his lashes as he seals his lips over his other nipple, teasing it with his tongue, with gentle suction. ]