[ Verso just looks at him for a while through lazy half-lidded eyes, his gaze tracing his face. His jawline, his scuff, his lips and his nose. A face that's been in his dreams, his fantasies, and even a nightmare or two -- for two years, now, suddenly real and warm in front of him in a way part of him still doesn't entirely believe.
The hand he has against the back of Gustave's neck drifts up, fingertips lightly tracing over his cheek as he offers a languid smile. ]
Maybe it's especially easy for you to please me, Gustave.
[ Verso thinks, to himself, that Gustave could do anything at all and it would make some part of him sing. Just to see that much more of him, to learn something about him, to be here next to him and in front of him when he thought he'd never see him again. That yellow flower is still tucked against his ear, in slight disarray from everything they've been doing, he tugs it back into place.
He remembers the garden, how in the idealized memories he's been running through his mind over and over again Gustave had seemed to him almost an angel, wreathed in golden sunlight. This is good, too, the moonlight and the cast blue from the nearby trees. Quietly Verso considers the many different ways he could see him, how they have at least some amount of time with each other, now, even if it has to be under odd constraints, and he feels a little giddy just from the thought. ]
I think you'll find I'm trying to get you not to say "I have to go".
[ He wants you to stay! To make the moment last even longer, to let it spill into the moments after, to fall asleep with Gustave in his arms the way many of his dreams would end. ]
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The hand he has against the back of Gustave's neck drifts up, fingertips lightly tracing over his cheek as he offers a languid smile. ]
Maybe it's especially easy for you to please me, Gustave.
[ Verso thinks, to himself, that Gustave could do anything at all and it would make some part of him sing. Just to see that much more of him, to learn something about him, to be here next to him and in front of him when he thought he'd never see him again. That yellow flower is still tucked against his ear, in slight disarray from everything they've been doing, he tugs it back into place.
He remembers the garden, how in the idealized memories he's been running through his mind over and over again Gustave had seemed to him almost an angel, wreathed in golden sunlight. This is good, too, the moonlight and the cast blue from the nearby trees. Quietly Verso considers the many different ways he could see him, how they have at least some amount of time with each other, now, even if it has to be under odd constraints, and he feels a little giddy just from the thought. ]
I think you'll find I'm trying to get you not to say "I have to go".
[ He wants you to stay! To make the moment last even longer, to let it spill into the moments after, to fall asleep with Gustave in his arms the way many of his dreams would end. ]