[ Verso swears and turns away, steps tight and quick, and for a moment Gustave feels like he's falling all over again, the fear that Verso will reach out and be gone in a blink of Chroma stabbing through him like ice, vanished again and this time impossible to find or to flush out. Maybe he'd pushed the man too far.
But Verso doesn't disappear, only paces back around, like he can't decide what to do with himself. He's lost in a haze of rage, Gustave can tell, and it's distantly interesting to study: he's never seen Verso angry before. He hadn't known him for long enough for him to get angry about anything, but here it is, a tight frown camped on his forehead, his lips tight and pressed together, those incredible, unforgettable eyes clear and obviously readable, for once, the fury in them subsuming everything else.
...Maybe not everything else. Verso stalks up to him in a cloud of anger, and Gustave braces for a hit, but it never comes. Verso's hands do jerk out, but they grip into his uniform and drag him forward instead of shoving him back, and then he's there, mouth crushed to Gustave's, his whole body one line thrumming line of tension.
Gustave had been ready for a hit, ready to react, and his own hands come up in the next second, hard and possessive at the sides of Verso's head, fingers digging into hair, as his eyes squeeze painfully shut. He kisses the man back with the force of an attack, feeling the lip that had split the other day fighting a nev crack open again in a bright splinter of pain.
He doesn't care. Verso's mouth is hot and it's been so long, and Gustave can't, or maybe simply doesn't want to control himself, kisses him back over and over, hard and open-mouthed and hungry, with tongue and teeth and the edge of his own anger bleeding into the need that's raging through him, a river in full flood. ]
no subject
But Verso doesn't disappear, only paces back around, like he can't decide what to do with himself. He's lost in a haze of rage, Gustave can tell, and it's distantly interesting to study: he's never seen Verso angry before. He hadn't known him for long enough for him to get angry about anything, but here it is, a tight frown camped on his forehead, his lips tight and pressed together, those incredible, unforgettable eyes clear and obviously readable, for once, the fury in them subsuming everything else.
...Maybe not everything else. Verso stalks up to him in a cloud of anger, and Gustave braces for a hit, but it never comes. Verso's hands do jerk out, but they grip into his uniform and drag him forward instead of shoving him back, and then he's there, mouth crushed to Gustave's, his whole body one line thrumming line of tension.
Gustave had been ready for a hit, ready to react, and his own hands come up in the next second, hard and possessive at the sides of Verso's head, fingers digging into hair, as his eyes squeeze painfully shut. He kisses the man back with the force of an attack, feeling the lip that had split the other day fighting a nev crack open again in a bright splinter of pain.
He doesn't care. Verso's mouth is hot and it's been so long, and Gustave can't, or maybe simply doesn't want to control himself, kisses him back over and over, hard and open-mouthed and hungry, with tongue and teeth and the edge of his own anger bleeding into the need that's raging through him, a river in full flood. ]