[ This is what Verso always chases, hunting down with a relentless single-minded drive: the moments when someone just can't think, can't help themselves, can't stop. Not just in Gustave, but in himself, too. The tide is rising, building, cresting, he can't stop it and he doesn't intend to. He just lets himself get swept up in it, and when Gustave starts to fall apart, too, when he meets his fervent, disjointed words with his own, its like they're crashing into each other and spiraling into a hurricane, caught up in each other's pull with nowhere to go but down.
He loves it. Gustave pressing up against him, planting a foot against the ground to give himself some much-needed leverage so he can better grind up against his leg. Gustave's hands, both of them, clawing along his back and holding him close, desperate for anything to hold onto. Gustave's body, one long thrumming line of heat and want, arching up in some desperate bid to get more of his touch, more of his mouth and tongue, just more. Gustave's voice, broken thoughts that barely flow into each other except for want and need.
Heat pulses though him, tearing through his body like a wildfire, and so much of it rushes straight down between his legs that he can feel his head spin -- but he doesn't care. Touching himself or thinking about that all would mean turning some of his attention away from Gustave, which is as unthinkable as stopping. Instead somewhere in the mess of their tangled limbs he manages to switch his attention between his mouth and fingers, lifting his head to release one nipple and immediately moving to pinch and tweak at it between his fingers, his voice low and heated as he turns his mouth and tongue towards the other side of Gustave's chest. ]
-- Mine. You're mine, now. I'll give you anything, I need you so fucking bad --
[ Just like before the words just seem to bubble up from his throat, barely voluntary at all, in between kisses and bites. His other hand snakes down between them, a little clumsy for how impatient the touch is, heated fingers sliding over bare skin and pulling at the front of Gustave's trousers, already open from before. He has to shift and press his knee further down against the ground, peeling his thigh away from where Gustave was grinding hurriedly against it, a sudden lack of pressure and friction driven by necessity just so he can finally pull his pants down.
A low growl in his throat, and he peels away from licking and sucking at his nipple to draw his way back up to Gustave's mouth and throat, the theme and focus of his heated murmurings suddenly taking a sharp, hard twist. ]
-- I wanna make you come, Gustave. [ Those fingers finally close around the length of him, his other hand still pinching and playing with his other nipple as he immediately tugs at the length of him. The weight and feel of Gustave against his callused palms is familiar, by now ( not familiar enough, he wants to touch him until he knows him as well as anything else, until the feel of him is burned into his palm and fingers ), and he immediately falls into a rough, hard rhythm, breath catching in his chest between nips and kisses at his lips. ] Want to make you come so hard you can't think of anything but me, gonna make you come all over yourself, all over me, make you lick it off my fingers.
Gonna come for me, Gustave? Are you gonna come for me?
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He loves it. Gustave pressing up against him, planting a foot against the ground to give himself some much-needed leverage so he can better grind up against his leg. Gustave's hands, both of them, clawing along his back and holding him close, desperate for anything to hold onto. Gustave's body, one long thrumming line of heat and want, arching up in some desperate bid to get more of his touch, more of his mouth and tongue, just more. Gustave's voice, broken thoughts that barely flow into each other except for want and need.
Heat pulses though him, tearing through his body like a wildfire, and so much of it rushes straight down between his legs that he can feel his head spin -- but he doesn't care. Touching himself or thinking about that all would mean turning some of his attention away from Gustave, which is as unthinkable as stopping. Instead somewhere in the mess of their tangled limbs he manages to switch his attention between his mouth and fingers, lifting his head to release one nipple and immediately moving to pinch and tweak at it between his fingers, his voice low and heated as he turns his mouth and tongue towards the other side of Gustave's chest. ]
-- Mine. You're mine, now. I'll give you anything, I need you so fucking bad --
[ Just like before the words just seem to bubble up from his throat, barely voluntary at all, in between kisses and bites. His other hand snakes down between them, a little clumsy for how impatient the touch is, heated fingers sliding over bare skin and pulling at the front of Gustave's trousers, already open from before. He has to shift and press his knee further down against the ground, peeling his thigh away from where Gustave was grinding hurriedly against it, a sudden lack of pressure and friction driven by necessity just so he can finally pull his pants down.
A low growl in his throat, and he peels away from licking and sucking at his nipple to draw his way back up to Gustave's mouth and throat, the theme and focus of his heated murmurings suddenly taking a sharp, hard twist. ]
-- I wanna make you come, Gustave. [ Those fingers finally close around the length of him, his other hand still pinching and playing with his other nipple as he immediately tugs at the length of him. The weight and feel of Gustave against his callused palms is familiar, by now ( not familiar enough, he wants to touch him until he knows him as well as anything else, until the feel of him is burned into his palm and fingers ), and he immediately falls into a rough, hard rhythm, breath catching in his chest between nips and kisses at his lips. ] Want to make you come so hard you can't think of anything but me, gonna make you come all over yourself, all over me, make you lick it off my fingers.
Gonna come for me, Gustave? Are you gonna come for me?