[ Verso really didn't want to hurt him. Those visits to Lumiere had been mistakes. Would visiting again have really made any of this better, another year gone and another chance encounter? No, he doesn't think so. It'd only have made everything first. The garden had been beautiful, a sliver of time that felt like a dream, a sliver of paradise that couldn't possibly exist anywhere in Verso's world, and he couldn't possibly make himself regret it but he knew it was making everything worse, the sight of him with sunlight pouring over kiss-bruised skin.
But he's hurt him anyway. He knew he did. All Verso could do was hope that Gustave could simply forget him and move on. What Gustave had said to him, pouring his heart out to what his own desperate dying dream, had already told him otherwise -- and even worse here, seeing first-hand just how far Gustave has been driven, how willing he was to just dash himself against the rocks for even a chance to see him again.
His hands are shaking slightly. He feels awful, guilt flooding his lungs, making him feel like he's drowning. He feels incredible, every part of him singing, his heart bursting with some joyful feeling he doesn't understand just to be able to hold him and see Gustave's face looking back at him. His eyes are as beautiful as always, and as they squeeze shut and fall open again, he can see something in those eyes shift. Anger, desperation, a need.
And then Gustave is kissing him again, crashing against him like a wave against the shoreline, breaking over him and pulling him under. Verso starts to say something, but it's immediately lost between their mouths, and that's all that matters, anymore. Every feeling that he has is tearing through his body like a hurricane, and it's all starting to coalesce into something more simple and something he knows how to understand: Heat, hunger, want.
Gustave kisses him like a man starved, and Verso kisses him back like he wants to be everything that he could ever want or need, to flood him out so completely he'll never want for anything else again. He wraps his arms around him, hauls him close, his hands carding and twisting through his hair and over his back and up the backs of his thighs, desperate to touch him everywhere before he finally starts to dig into his uniform.
Merde, there's so many parts to this thing, and Verso has never hated it more than now. He starts to tear at it, fingers fumbling over over claps and buckles, trying to shove that outer coat out of the way and off over his shoulders, breaking from their kiss on an outright feral growl, low and possessive as he mouths hungrily down his throat. ]
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Date: 2025-06-02 11:13 pm (UTC)But he's hurt him anyway. He knew he did. All Verso could do was hope that Gustave could simply forget him and move on. What Gustave had said to him, pouring his heart out to what his own desperate dying dream, had already told him otherwise -- and even worse here, seeing first-hand just how far Gustave has been driven, how willing he was to just dash himself against the rocks for even a chance to see him again.
His hands are shaking slightly. He feels awful, guilt flooding his lungs, making him feel like he's drowning. He feels incredible, every part of him singing, his heart bursting with some joyful feeling he doesn't understand just to be able to hold him and see Gustave's face looking back at him. His eyes are as beautiful as always, and as they squeeze shut and fall open again, he can see something in those eyes shift. Anger, desperation, a need.
And then Gustave is kissing him again, crashing against him like a wave against the shoreline, breaking over him and pulling him under. Verso starts to say something, but it's immediately lost between their mouths, and that's all that matters, anymore. Every feeling that he has is tearing through his body like a hurricane, and it's all starting to coalesce into something more simple and something he knows how to understand: Heat, hunger, want.
Gustave kisses him like a man starved, and Verso kisses him back like he wants to be everything that he could ever want or need, to flood him out so completely he'll never want for anything else again. He wraps his arms around him, hauls him close, his hands carding and twisting through his hair and over his back and up the backs of his thighs, desperate to touch him everywhere before he finally starts to dig into his uniform.
Merde, there's so many parts to this thing, and Verso has never hated it more than now. He starts to tear at it, fingers fumbling over over claps and buckles, trying to shove that outer coat out of the way and off over his shoulders, breaking from their kiss on an outright feral growl, low and possessive as he mouths hungrily down his throat. ]