[ For a while, Verso had been holding himself back; not the way he had been in the garden, when Gustave had felt his hesitation, the invisible barrier erected between them, but keeping his own desire at a slow simmer rather than the rolling boil he was stoking in Gustave's blood.
No more. He crashes into Gustave, passionate as a thunderstorm, almost splitting Gustave's lip when it's crushed against his teeth. He might be facing down a Nevron with sword and dagger in hand for the intensity in his eyes, the precision strike of his movement. He's hot and hard and everywhere, pressing Gustave down into the grass, the groan that's ripped from him landing in Gustave's gut and twisting like a ball of electricity. Every hair on his arms, the back of his neck, stands up; goosebumps sweep over his skin.
Verso tells him he's beautiful, so fucking beautiful, and a fist grabs his stomach, grips it hard, yanks. But he doesn't stop there, words spilling out of him in a jumped mess of language — I want you so bad searing into him, the words branding themselves over the shivering, overwhelmed skin of his chest — that scrambles and shatters, tripping off his lips in a thoughtless, breathless rush, and Gustave wants to wrap that voice around him like a ribbon.
His name in that voice sounds like a curse, like a coal; it hollows him out and fills him again in a rush with pure heat. Desire is a river in flood; it sweeps him away with no thought of anything but Verso, Verso, Verso's hands and mouth and the way he's dragging so hard on Gustave's tender nipple, putain—
He doesn't even realize when he starts talking, distracted, words falling from him like mismatched puzzle pieces cascading from an upended box. ]
[ He plants a foot on the ground, bracing himself on it to push himself against Verso's leg, a helpless rhythm now as his hips rock, desperate for his touch, for the feel of him there between his legs. The intensity of Verso's desire, his attack on Gustave's body, breaks over him and around him and he'd not close enough, can't touch Verso enough. ]
My god, you make me crazy, I look at you and I lose my mind, you can have me. Any way you want, just so long as you touch me—
no subject
No more. He crashes into Gustave, passionate as a thunderstorm, almost splitting Gustave's lip when it's crushed against his teeth. He might be facing down a Nevron with sword and dagger in hand for the intensity in his eyes, the precision strike of his movement. He's hot and hard and everywhere, pressing Gustave down into the grass, the groan that's ripped from him landing in Gustave's gut and twisting like a ball of electricity. Every hair on his arms, the back of his neck, stands up; goosebumps sweep over his skin.
Verso tells him he's beautiful, so fucking beautiful, and a fist grabs his stomach, grips it hard, yanks. But he doesn't stop there, words spilling out of him in a jumped mess of language — I want you so bad searing into him, the words branding themselves over the shivering, overwhelmed skin of his chest — that scrambles and shatters, tripping off his lips in a thoughtless, breathless rush, and Gustave wants to wrap that voice around him like a ribbon.
His name in that voice sounds like a curse, like a coal; it hollows him out and fills him again in a rush with pure heat. Desire is a river in flood; it sweeps him away with no thought of anything but Verso, Verso, Verso's hands and mouth and the way he's dragging so hard on Gustave's tender nipple, putain—
He doesn't even realize when he starts talking, distracted, words falling from him like mismatched puzzle pieces cascading from an upended box. ]
Verso, you're — please, fuck, please don't stop, don't—
[ He plants a foot on the ground, bracing himself on it to push himself against Verso's leg, a helpless rhythm now as his hips rock, desperate for his touch, for the feel of him there between his legs. The intensity of Verso's desire, his attack on Gustave's body, breaks over him and around him and he'd not close enough, can't touch Verso enough. ]
My god, you make me crazy, I look at you and I lose my mind, you can have me. Any way you want, just so long as you touch me—