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demainvient) wrote2025-05-30 11:00 am
demainvient) wrote2025-05-30 11:00 am
๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ โ๐ฃ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ก๐
๐๐ง ๐ฃ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ ๐ฃ๐ ๐ฌ๐๐ซ๐๐ข ๐๐ ๐ซ๐๐ญ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ ๐ฉ๐ซ๐ฬ๐ฌ ๐๐ ๐ญ๐จ๐ข
๐๐ ๐๐๐ข๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ก๐๐ข๐ก, ๐๐๐ข๐ ๐ฬ๐ก๐๐ ๐๐ฃ๐๐ ๐ก๐๐
no subject
He reaches for that yellow flower he'd tucked earlier into his hair, just a bit displaced, lightly tucking in back into place. ]
Looking like you.
[ That seems to be all that matters.
He presses back down into him, making some soft, pleased sound intot hat kiss, his hand slowly reaching for Gustave's to thread their fingers together one by one. Gentle, intimate, thumb stroking over the side of a knuckle. ]
You're doing an awful job of not being seduced, yes.
[ Teehee. ]
Your master plan must be, of course, seducing me.
[ With another smile, a warm kiss. That plan's working out better. ]
no subject
He's seen those hands travel lightly over the keys of a piano, coaxing music so beautiful it felt like his heart would break just hearing into existence; he's seen them grip a sword and dagger and strike down a Nevron in only a handful of blows. All that, and now they touch him with so much focused gentleness, drawing him into life with every stroke and caress. Their fingers tangle together, and Gustave lifts their hands to press a kiss to Verso's knuckles, lowers them again to set them comfortably on his own chest, just over his heart. Even now it beats a little faster, trying to push past ribs and muscle and skin to the hand lying above it. ]
Perhaps I should be calling you fleuriste.
[ That little yellow flower, he knows, will go between the pages of his journal to join Verso's note and Sophie's picture and the red petals he'd caught in his hand just before the ship set sail from Lumiรจre's small harbor, bow pointed to the continent lying low and menacing on the horizon.
His own smile is caught in Verso's kiss, his thumb running idly, affectionate over the angle of Verso's where their hands are laced together on his chest. ]
You threw all my plans on their ear. And it wasn't even hard, was it? All it took was a song I happened to hear on my way home one night, a few stolen hours in a garden. And now, this...
[ This unlooked for bounty of time. His left hand drifts over firm muscle and soft warm skin to the small of Verso's back, to his hip, thumb sliding under the loosened waistband of his trousers. That laugh hasn't left his voice, warm and low and rumbling in his chest, almost a contented purr, and his eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks over at Verso, lingering on the line of his nose, the full sweet bow of his mouth. ]
If my attempts at are at all successful, it's not due to my plans or ability to seduce, trust me. But something seems to be working, and I don't know whether I should be glad about it or worried you've hit your head and may yet come to your senses.
no subject
It seems so quick when Gustave describes it like that -- and he knows it is. Not much time at all and a man still doesn't quite yet know, and for beauty this moment brings, will likely never know as well as he wants to. But he knows how he makes him feel: like all he wants to do is piece him apart and ruin him, like his heart is soaring so high he fears how its wings might melt in the sun, like something sweet is swelling in his chest and filling his everything with such a sweet ache that it feels like it might burst. It feels like, for all the lies he's told and will continue to tell, Gustave sees some part of him that's real, that's true. And he wants so badly for him to see everything of it.
It feels less like falling and more like Gustave had just pulled him with him, with a touch impeccably gentle and soft that Verso nonetheless never had the strength to tear himself away from.
And now, this. Reality still far away, but the dream starting to flicker at the edges, maybe, now that he's remembering all the things he wishes he could tell him and all the things he can never say. But Gustave is still here and smiling beneath him, rumbling in his chest almost like a purr, and he can feel it where Gustave's clutched his hand to his chest. ]
Don't downplay yourself like that. You've been able to seduce me perfectly well. Look where we are.
[ Here, together, and that's more Gustave's doing than Verso's own. The flowers, the smiles, the stumbling but earnest words. Hurling himself off a cliff had unfortunately been a factor here, but Verso -- is going to just make sure that doesn't happen again. He leans slightly into the cool metal touch of Gustave's hand, a metal thumb just sliding under the band of his trousers -- he's not sure how much he can feel through that, if any, but it's Gustave all the same, and his eyelids lower slightly in turn, his mouth quirking upwards as he leans for another sweet kiss. ]
Now, if you were talking about your ability to conduct interrogations, then. Yeah.
[ Absolute failure. F minus. ]
no subject
[ A patently absurd observation, and his laugh makes it clear he thinks so: if anyone's been doing any seducing, it certainly hasn't been him, awkward and too earnest with his flowers and the way he'd stumbled over even asking to see the man again. He wasn't the one whispering searing word or stealing kisses, drawing fire sweetly over skin and filling heads with steam. The only thing he'd done that could conceivably count as grabbing Verso's attention was to step off a cliff.
Which, well, had worked, in fairness. Twice now the man has appeared from nowhere to save him from a fall, giving it a one hundred percent success rate. Something to keep in mind in case Verso does indeed slip away again, despite all his promises.
But it's hardly what Gustave would call a successful seduction technique, and he's amused as he lies there, head pillowed by Verso's clothing, body lax and breath easy and slow beneath their tangled fingers, his eyes warm and smiling and full of everything he knows he'd never be able to express in words at this moment, not without tripping over them and making a mess of it all. It's too big, expanding throughout his chest, glowing like the sun.
Just for these few moments, he finally feels the weight of everything... lift, brief but relieving: the grief, the sorrow, the strain, the worry and fear. He's been existing on a razor-thin edge since Lune found him in that cave. Finding Maelle helped ground him, finding Sciel offered even more stability, but he still feels it, more often than not. The teetering sense of trying to keep his balance. The yawning pit beneath him, cool and coaxing and dark. But here, with Verso, wrung out and sweat-slicked and drunk on his kisses and his touch, for these few moments, it's all quietly slipped away. He doesn't know how to say how grateful he is for that, for this reprieve, the way he comes to life and quiets and remembers how it feels to simply be in his body under Verso's touch.
The other comment has him chuckling again, rolling his head back and forth on soft fabric as he shakes it. ]
I don't want to interrogate you. There's — well, there's so much I don't, we don't know, and you do, so of course I have questions, but it's not—
[ He licks his lip, eyebrows flickering into a frown, self-conscious and faintly concerned. Verso's teasing, he thinks, but just in case: ]
It's not why I came to meet you, I'm not going to, going to grill you for information. Yes, there's a lot I'd like to know, maybe need to know, but we can just...
[ He can feel himself starting to flounder again, and closes his eyes in a grimace at himself, taking in a breath and letting it out in a sigh before he looks back over at Verso. ]
We can just, well. Talk.
no subject
[ Verso won't press it too much, but it's clear in that simple response: He does, in fact, believe that its' Gustave's doing. Verso's tried to leave multiple times, and has expressed more than once that he wanted for Gustave to forget him; he was never lying. But Gustave has managed to draw him back, keep him close, stay at the front of his thoughts, tangle himself up so close that Verso can't even think to leave, anymore. Maybe everything they've done has been more his fault, the kisses, the touches, how eager he is to push him somewhere and start peeling his clothes from him to touch him, but everything else.
He's stolen moments with Expeditioners before. Nights, days, weeks. He's never done it in Lumiere, but it's still happened, and sometimes he let himself get more carried away with it than he knew he should, his heart falling away from him no matter how much he tries to guard it. But he's never gotten tied up in someone so quickly, so completely. The difference, from his perspective, is Gustave.
Like in this. He'd meant interrogation mostly as a joke, but it's also mostly been true. Exactly how and when he's chosen to make himself known to the new Expedition is never quite the same, but the outcomes are similar. Sometimes he's given more benefit of a doubt, sometimes he's even treated as a friend immediately, but most of the time, especially in the scenarios where he hasn't specifically engineered an occurrence to earn him a bit of trust -- he gets questioned. Sometimes inquisitive, sometimes aggressive, but always questioned. Sometimes pushed further when they brush up against what he obviously doesn't want to talk about. Sometimes given temporary space. It's rarely just a chat or a conversation, it's always at least a questioning, and very often, an interrogation. Verso thinks it only makes sense, acquiesces to it.
Gustave clearly doesn't see it that way. Verso can see the genuine moment of concern play across his face, how his brows knit together in the slightest frown -- how he tries to put that genuine feeling into words and it pours out until he starts to stumble on his own thoughts and words, again. Verso still likes that. It's really adorable.
He laughs, taking another moment to kiss him and tongue into his mouth before peeling away from him slightly -- not to move away, but just to sit beside him, one knee drawn up to his chest as he lets his gaze cast over Gustave's body, close enough they're still touching. Gustave's beautiful as always, sprawled next to him in the moonlight and the glow of the chroma-stained trees, and he idly walks his fingers up over his stomach, to his chest -- wetting his lower lip briefly, as if picturing following that same path with his tongue. Verso glances back up at him, quirking an eyebrow. ]
I thought we were talking.
[ A great multitasker, of course. ]
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Yeah. I guess we are.
[ Another luxury he'd thought was relegated to the world of daydreams and fantasies forever.
His glance shifts minutely, studying Verso's face, caught there even though there's something achingly appealing in the way Verso is lounging, like a predator that just had a big meal and is contentedly lazing around. How could he do anything else, when tiny expressions flit over Verso's features: a quirk of a smile, a lifting eyebrow, the flicker of his tongue over his lip.
His own voice is a murmur, low and just audible over the murmuring breeze, the flowing river lapping gently at rocks smoothed by years of running water. ]
I've always wanted to know... what was it like? Before the Fracture?
[ It's impossible to keep the eager curiosity from his voice. Yes, there are so many things he needs to know that are of more pressing importance — what are the dangers of this continent, has Verso been to the Stone Wave Cliffs, does he know what they should expect there, what remains of the expeditions that made it further inland —
But he's always hungered for information about the world before the Fracture. What it looked like, if people were as happy as he's always imagined, how it felt to be here and simply exist without the shadow of the Paintress hanging over them.
And maybe he wants to exist in this pleasant bubble a little longer, without the worries and fears of the days and their mission creeping back in just yet. ]
no subject
This is nice. Just lingering in this. And the question that comes, Verso can't quite say he was expecting -- not one he hasn't answered before, but not usually very far up the priority list for most Expeditions. But that's probably why Gustave is asking that, isn't it? Pressing questions might come with pressing answers where something needs to be done, and maybe they'd both like to stave that off, just for a little while longer.
There's a clear eagerness in his voice, too, in his eyes -- like he'd maybe tried to restrain it slightly to sound more neutral but it couldn't help but bubble forward. It is, like everything else about Gustave, absolutely adorable. Wanting to know, a chance to learn something that Verso doesn't think modern-day Lumiere has any real knowledge or memories of, anymore. Just stories, warped and faded with time. His hand stills slightly in Gustave's hair. Older memories are difficult, sometimes, just as painful as they are sweet, but the expression on his face is still a small, contented smile. They're fond memories, at the end of the day.
Where does he start? He can picture so much of the old city so clearly. Sometimes when he's in Old Lumiere, he can pull all of it together in his mind. Verso hums softly for a moment again, thoughtful, reaching out to Gustave's hand resting over his belly, sliding his own fingers over his. Just to touch him, just to feel him. ]
It was -- different.
Lumiere was bigger. Brighter. Seemed like the entire world. [ Its a little difficult to think back through the memories, sometimes, some of them fuzzy around the edges: things that in hindsight just must've been outside maman's focus, and at the time none of them would've ever noticed or thought about it. The world was Lumiere, and Lumiere was the world. Verso doesn't know what it's like outside the canvas, but he doesn't think that's the truth of things, out there. But the truth of it here, his truth, was that he loved it. It was home. ] Every building fully lived in, with so many people moving around all the time. A lot harder to find a bit of space to yourself, though it wasn't impossible.
[ That's what strikes him about Lumiere now, whenever he goes back. Emptier and emptier, every single year. ]
Otherwise I don't think it was that different from the Lumiere you know. There was just a lot -- more. [ And something he doesn't quite want to say: there was a pervasive sense of -- permanence. That everyone's lives were happy in some way, and that it'd always stay that way. A world apart from the quiet resignation he feels whenever he's there now. ] Even more districts that would go for miles, pretty different characters to each one. Gestrals had a part of the city practically to themselves, and it was kind of a mess.
[ He says that fondly, and a bit absently, in that he forgets that the gestrals are probably still fantastical to Gustave and the crew, even if they've now met plenty of them. They were just there in the city along with everything else, with Esquie, with the grandis. ]
I passed through often on the train towards the Conservatory from home, and it always looked a bit different out the window each time.
no subject
It's all incredible enough, he muses, shifting his fingers apart so Verso's can slide between them, and that's before— ]
Gestrals?
[ It comes out on a disbelieving laugh, his eyebrows pushing up and his eyes lighting with bewildered amusement. ]
Gestrals in Lumiere? How on earth did the city stay standing? One good jump from Golgra would have the Crooked Tower collapsing completely.
[ And yet he can almost see it, too: the feisty wooden creatures with their Sakapatates and bloodthirsty readiness for a fight. Although they wouldn't have needed Sakapatates, would they? The Nevrons only came later. Of the little he knows about life before the Fracture, that impossible sense of peace and safety sometimes seems the most fantastical.
He rolls his head to look a little more directly at Verso, careful not to disturb the fingers in his hair, enchanted not just with the story he's weaving, but with the look on his face as he speaks, the tiny fond smile as he sifts back through his memories.
He must have been happy then, surrounded by beauty and life. He mentions the Conservatory and Gustave smiles, a little wistful. ]
Mon monsieur le pianiste, the Conservatory student.
[ How he wishes he could have known him then, young and vibrant and full of the things he was learning, perfecting. It's a tempting mental image, as is his casual mention of train rides through and to the city. There's a near boyish delight in Gustave at the very thought; it shines from him, filterless, as he shakes his head, rueful, wishful. ]
I've always wanted to see a working train. Or even a real one. There are only pieces left of tracks and cars in Lumiere, barely anything at all. I've had to imagine it simply based on toys.
no subject
That's why they had part of the city to themselves. Not all of it.
[ There's a bit of a laugh to his voice -- keeping them to their own little district was the only way to contain the damage. They'd go everywhere anyway, of course, and the people were happy to have them as companions, but in their own part of the city things were being knocked down and rebuilt and moved around constantly and there was never a shortage of tournament after tournament after tournament. Golgra had been as terrifying back then as she is now, generally keeping all of them in check, as much as they could ever be.
He keeps playing with Gustave's hair as he talks, moving onto twisting another curl between his fingers, watching Gustave's expression. He takes in everything he's saying, seems so genuinely delighted, fascinated, wistful. Verso finds it -- difficult, to imagine what things must really be like for the Lumierians today, but this must all sound so fantastical to them. There isn't much history or memory of what they used to be, anymore, and their little slice of Lumiere had been plucked straight from the city's heart with the crooked Tower in tow, but with so much less of the city around it as it was flung into the ocean a thousand miles away.
And that smile, calling him mon monsieur le pianiste, again, a wave of quiet warmth running over him at the name -- and the look in his eyes. He must be imagining it, what he was like, at the time. It was so many years ago that Verso thinks he was almost a different person, when he thinks back. Younger, more vibrant, much less tired, where his biggest worries where his loving but slightly overbearing parents and their expectations, where he had time to fuss over his next recital, making time to play with Alicia in-between all his practice and study, help encourage her and keep her spirits up even after the fire. Verso squeezes Gustave's hand under his own, gently lifts his hand and draws it to his lips, pressing a few kisses across his knuckles.
It might've been nice to meet Gustave then. He'd meet people he took an interest in and invite them to the manor to hear him play, and Clea would roll her eyes a little whenever she overheard him promising to write them a song. He never actually wrote most of them, and his interest didn't always stay for very long, but -- Gustave might've managed, he thinks. Especially given the multiple songs and melodies scribbled in his journal he's written over the past two years, most of them scrawled messily when he was feeling especially awful after another night of lying in flower fields and dreaming of a garden. Most of them accompanied by angrier scribbles of frustration of nothing sounding quite right -- only one had survived. But it's a song. Un Jour Je Serai Retour Prรฉs de Toi. Someday, Gustave might get to hear it.
And when Gustave talks about trains? Well. He smiles against the back of Gustave's hand, quiet and fond. Seeing that wistfulness in him over wanting to see a real, working train . . . He's sweet, and almost insufferably adorable.
( Verso liked the trains, too. He knew most of the network by heart, could talk about the design of some of those stations for hours. ) ]
-- You know, there's places out here where there's entire trains basically intact. None of them work anymore, and they're pretty far up North, but when we get there . . .
[ He'll have to take Gustave there. ]
no subject
Yeah. Makes sense.
[ For a moment he thinks about telling Verso about their own trip to the gestral village, about the duels and the arena and the Sakapatates; about Karatom, which... reminds him, he needs to return to the village to bring the mushroom he'd promised to the little gestral for the Ultimate Sakapatate and its cannons. His gaze turns slightly inward for a moment, considering, before he shakes it off and focuses back on Verso with a small, wry smile. ]
I'd like that. A lot.
[ And he would. The wry tinge to his expression doesn't have anything to do with the thought of trekking high up into those far, snow-capped mountains to see the ruins of trains flung there when the Fracture pulled the city and the land around it to pieces. ]
... but we have to get across the sea, first. And to do that, we need to find a rock, because apparently Esquie can't carry us all without Florrie. What makes Florrie different from any other rock? I have no idea.
[ He shifts, looking up into the night sky and drawing his left arm out from under his head so he can wave it through the air, fingers flicking and wrist making circles, pushing out with fingers spread, unconscious gestures. ]
All I know is it's somewhere in the Stone Wave Cliffs.
[ Gustave looks back over at Verso, letting his left hand fall back down into the grass at his side. ]
Have you been there? Any idea what we should expect, aside from massive bloodthirsty Nevrons?
Or, you know, those too. I'd appreciate a heads up before something gigantic tries to kill us.
no subject
Lie after lie. So it goes. At least Gustave isn't asking him anything too damning. He's smiling a little when Gustave draws those circles in the air, reaching to catch his hand as he lets it fall back down, fingers curved over his wrist. He pulls his hand to his mouth, one light kiss to the back of his hand as he slowly shifts and sinks down beside him, shifting to lie down next to him and stare up at the sky overhead.
Maybe he won't have to look him in the eye for any lies he has to tell here. That might be nice. It's at least nice to jsut be here, beside him, feel his warmth and his presence radiating out -- not quite the same as sharing a bed, but. Its as close they're likely ever going to get. The grass dimples where he's laid down, and Verso can feel it a little the same way you can feel someone else's weight on a bed. The sash and jacket's mostly been neatly tucked under Gustave's head, leaving him to lie in the grass -- it smells bright and fresh, like the river nearby, but it also smells of them, right now, sweat and sex still lingering in the air.
Verso sighs. ]
Esquie's like that with his rocks. [ Like Florrie, or well. Soarrie. ] But he'll be able to help you cross the ocean.
[ A quiet, thoughtful hum. The Stone Wave Cliffs . . . Dangerous, another step up for this Expedition, but they've been handling everything the Continent has thrown their way so far with nothing short of finesse and grace. ]
The Stone Wave Cliffs are a spectacle in their own way. Somewhat rough terrain to move around in, but you can thank the 69th for all the handholds around. Plenty of well-positioned grapples, too.
The nevrons are as nasty there as they are anywhere else -- tougher, though. [ A pause. ] Some of the giant ones might wander over that way, but you'll probably be fine.
[ It's also somewhere he knows Renoir likes to keep watch. Verso's been keeping an eye out as much as he can, but he hasn't noticed any signs of the man nearby, just yet. He must be watching or keeping tabs somehow, but at least he should be able to tell and steer the Expedition out of his way whenever he might decide to show up, or so he hopes. He hasn't been quite as -- vigilant, in his watch, for the past day or two. He'll need to get back to it.
A beat passes, and he turns his head to look at Gustave beside him, smirking languidly. ]
I'll save you, otherwise.
[ Of course he will. ]
no subject
He smiles, crooked, and rolls his head to look back over at Verso, both his hands settled on his bare stomach. ]
As much as I'd appreciate that, it would be a fairly dramatic way for you to meet the rest of the team, non?
[ (Just a casual reminder that it would be a lot easier for you to let him introduce the idea of you to the team first, Verso.)
Gustave breathes in deep through his nose, chest rising and falling in a smooth motion, and turns his face back up to the star-swept sky, thoughtful. ]
Well, whatever might be in there, it's where we need to go next.
[ A beat, and a slight tip of his head, acknowledging some thought of his own. ]
But we have to go back to the gestral village first. I promised Karatom I'd help him with the gunpowder for his Ultimate Sakapatate's cannons. You knowโ
[ Gustave looks back over again, squinting, lips pursed, exaggeratedly thoughtful. ]
Really help give it that extra... boost. A really big boom. That ought to help scare off any Nevrons that come calling.
no subject
He offers a smirk and a one-shouldered shrug. Verso is aware that he'll have to meet the team eventually, still isn't quite sure how to go about it yet, but an opportunity is likely to arise. Doing it saving Gustave from something -- wouldn't be too dissimilar to things he's done before, whether taking advantage of a natural occurrence or nudging the odds or engineering something to make sure an Expedition has reason to trust him right off the gate. And a long time ago, when Gustave was merely an utter stranger that had taken in Alicia, something like that might've been a distant plan. Now, he'd really prefer not to use him that way.
There aren't any threats on the Cliffs the team couldn't handle, he's quite sure. Maybe he can find some way to help them with Florrie and introduce himself then -- save Esquie from coming back for him after they make it through. ( And he is, unreservedly, believing they'll make it through: few other Expeditions have impressed him as much and they're doing it with so little. Four of them, this incredible thing Gustave has made . . . And Gustave himself. )
He laughs fondly, shifting slightly on his side so he's facing Gustave, one arm pillowing under his head so his hand can comfortably reach to keep playing with Gustave's hair. ]
-- You made a promise to a gestral?
[ Karatom, no less. Gustave sounds like he thinks he can just help a little while and leave. Verso's pretty sure he's going to be stuck there reiterating ( and "testing" ) for far, far longer than he'd like. ]
You might be stuck there for a while, mon chou. And I worry about what they'd do with access to a -- really big boom. Those things aren't great at telling nevrons from not-nevrons.
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Sophie, maybe. A thought which still hurts, even lying here next to Verso. He carefully lifts it, sets it aside into a mental box he can lock and push into the depths of his mind, and re-focuses, smiling right back at Verso. ]
Well, he needed help.
[ This is clearly reason enough for Gustave. ]
And a lot of what I did back in Lumiere was find better ways to build things.
[ He shrugs, lifting his right hand and setting his elbow on the grass so he can lazily swing that hand over to run the back of it over Verso's bare stomach in an affectionate, idle caress. ]
Besides, it's not like it's all that likely anything other than Nevrons are going to be coming toward the village. As far as I know, the current human population of the continent can be counted on just over one hand.
[ And it might help protect them from the white-haired man. He doesn't add it; Verso must already know what Golgra had told them, that he'd showed up and slaughtered so many. ]
It won't take me long. And then we'll head straight to the cliffs.
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You know. [ A thoughtful hum, and he pushes himself up slightly just so he can roll over and brace himself over him again, one elbow against his bunched-up sash and jacket, fingers curled lightly into his hair, the other tracing up over his belly as he leans his body over him. His eyes are lidded, fond, those fingers walking their way up over his chest. ] You had your performances from your Monsieur le pianiste, and you know I adore mon fleurist's work --
[ His hand lifts to curve against his chin, thumb tracing lightly just under his lower lip as he leans in to catch his mouth in a kiss. He lingers for just a while, the stir of heat starting to build again just under his tongue, pulling back to murmur against he corner of his mouth with a soft purr. ]
-- But I never got the chance to see mon ingรฉnieur at work.
[ Verso is pretty sure that they'll be stuck there for much longer than Gustave appears to think: he's used to talking with the gestrals by now, but they are stubborn and persistent, not to mention Gustave seems much less likely to be willing to just physically pick them up and toss them away when warranted.
But maybe that's fine. A bit of time with the gestrals to watch Gustave at work, to give the gestrals a hand in some of their projects -- and probably more opportunities to watch him fight. Because the gestrals aren't going to let them go without multiple test rounds of their new toys. ]
no subject
Verso murmurs words into the air between them and muffles any possible question with a kiss that makes every inside part of him melt at once. It's sweet and lingering and he's dazed when Verso pulls away, already reaching for him again. The way they're lying, he has to turn a little onto his side and reach with his left hand, which he carefully keeps away from Verso's hair, curves deliberate and gentle at Verso's shoulder, runs down along his arm and back up again, cool metal against warm skin.
He's not dazed enough to not find what Verso continues with funny, though, and he laughs, low and warm and a little breathless. ]
It's just as well. It would immediately kill any ideas of further seduction you might have at their inception.
I doubt anyone other than another engineer would find anything interesting in my tinkering and iterations and design process.
[ His glance moves over Verso's face, warm and fond and a little darker than before. Amusingly, it looks like he means it, like he really would enjoy watching Gustave lose hours to calculating the correct mass balance and sketching out designs and working with machines that need to be almost entirely taken apart and put back together with no visible changes made. ]
Even making this gunpowder for them and helping them adjust the cannon design and prototype isn't likely to be anything you'd enjoy watching. It'll take hours.
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Maybe I'm more familiar with the craft than you think.
[ Music is his first real love, and after decades living on the Continent, just the art of fighting and channeling his body to a specific, lethal purpose is probably near the top. But all those years ago, when he was young and didn't have a scar across his eye, he had time for all sorts of interests. He would never have called himself a true engineer, more of just -- a tinkerer, who liked taking things he was already interested in and taking apart and seeing how they worked. After the Fracture, while he can't speak to Renoir's motivations, for him it was necessity and desperation. Music seemed almost frivolous in the face of everything he'd just seen and learned, and throwing himself into something, anything to try and give their precious city a chance against this horror beyond their comprehension. The Dome had taken shape through one of the few things he and Renoir still knew they both had in common, at the time: the need to cling onto the idea that they deserved to live.
How things have changed. But some things are the same: He still likes to see how things work, still has an appreciation for the details and mechanisms and a mind that understands how things fit together. And for as sweet and earnest as Gustave is, working on maintaining the Dome that Verso himself helped build . . . He'd really, really like to see him work. He can imagine it: moments of enthusiasm and energy, other moments of quiet focus, working into the night, huddled over a desk covered in papers. A single flickering lantern that shines over all of it, catching his hair, his brow, the strong line of his nose, oil-stained fingers leaving marks on the papers, a pencil tucked behind his ear with his eyes narrowed in concentration.
Maybe Verso can't know for sure, without having seen him work, but. He does think Gustave is wrong about what watching him would do to his ideas of further seduction. ]
Maybe I'd just like seeing where you work best, Gustave. You're doubtless a man of many talents, and I've yet to see most of them. [ A smile, his fingers again carding through his hair, mussing it up even more and pulling the stem of that yellow flower back in place. ] And if the work really is that boring, maybe you'd appreciate --
[ He leans in a little more, tucking his face against his cheek and the scruff on his jaw, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his skin. The hand at Gustave's chin drifts down, tracing a line over the curve of his throat, down across a collarbone. ]
-- My company.
[ hehehe. ]
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At that last comment, though, he laughs, even as he's tipping his head to allow Verso greater access to the expanse of skin he's after. ]
Oh, no. No. As much as I'd enjoy your company, mon cher, I don't think it would be all that conducive to actually getting my work done. You can be very distracting.
[ Like right now, for example, when they've already gotten off topic and Gustave can't even find it in himself to complain. He grins, shifting enough to slide his right arm under Verso and wrap it around him, warm hand running up Verso's spine to curve at the nape of his neck. ]
The way you're distracting me right now, I might add. When I was finally getting some useful information.
Now I'll head merrily off to the Stone Wave Cliffs without a single idea of what I might be facing once I get there. Aside from Nevrons. Which are already everywhere.
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Gustave is laughing, protesting in his words -- but hardly pushing him away. Verso is happy to mouth down over the side of his neck as he tips his head for him, tongue lathing over already-bruised skin, shamelessly latching onto the join of his neck and shoulder and sucking hard. More marks to add to the rest. ]
You'd keep me from the pleasures of observing mon Monsieur le ingรฉnieur at work?
Cruel and unusual. I think I've a right to see these hands at work, to see your mind set to the task.
[ And then to distract that mind, liberally, with all sorts of things. Of course.
He only leans further into him as Gustave wraps an arm around him, making some low, pleased sound, kissing his way back up his neck to nip at the shell of his ear. The hand resting over his chest palms down, following the shape of the lean muscle of his chest, pinching a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling gently. ]
We have plenty of time to -- talk -- about what you might find at the Cliffs, mon chou.
[ Look at all the talking you're doing! ]
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Hey!
[ Laughing still as he threads his fingers into Verso's hair and gently drags him off his neck. ]
Can't I have one patch of skin that you haven't marked up? What am I supposed to tell the others?
[ It isn't as though Lune and Sciel don't know what these bruises are, after all. His scarf covers most of them, but not all, and he's caught them sliding sidelong glances his way more than once: Lune's exasperated and Sciel's amused. All he can hope is that they each might think it was the other one who gave them to him, but there's not much likelihood there.
He slides his hand back down to Verso's neck, humming a softly amused sound as the man kisses his way back up along his neck to his ear. ]
Maybe I'd prefer to be your Monsieur le fleuriste instead, for a while longer.
[ Not that there's anything wrong with being an engineer, but it's certainly a lot less romantic and appealing, a lot closer to the reality of everything he is and has to do. Particularly when the only engineering and design he's likely to do for a while is this one task for a gestral.
Verso's fingers travel down his chest and he shivers pleasantly, then gasps softly at the bright spark of sensation as they toy with his nipple. It tightens under Verso's touch, his body eager for the feel of his hands, his fingers, his mouth.
A little breathless: ]
Not as much as I might hope for, I think.
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I just like seeing them.
[ Said with a smile that's almost a grin, half-whispered, a murmur against his ear like its some playful little secret.
Some small way to feel like he's actually with him, a part of Gustave's life that might be intertwined with the rest rather than something neatly sequestered away, that can be excised or left. Just like how, as much as he adores his Monsieur le fleuriste, as much as he understands why Gustave wants to stay that way in his eyes -- he can't help but think of wanting a little of the Monsieur le ingรฉnieur, too. That's the part of him that lived in Lumiere, what he was for most of his life in that city that Verso could have never had the time to know, and maybe even outside of these two lonely, painful years Verso has started to think a bit about what it would've been like to be beside him even outside of that. Not to have been with him, surely Gustave had other suitors, but just -- to have known him, to have seen his face from afar sometimes when they passed on the street, to have heard of the handsome engineer that works on the Dome.
Things he'll never quite give voice to, not easily or willingly, at least. He just smiles, eyes lidding appreciatively at Gustave's touch, the tangle in his hair and then sliding back down over his nape. ]
You can be both, non?
I'm still expecting flowers even while you're at work. You wouldn't forsake me for your projects, would you?
[ There's no real protest to it, of course. Gustave can be his Monsieur le fleuriste a while longer, much longer, as long as he wants, for as long as they have. Something dark and hungry flickers in his eyes at the way Gustave shivers and gasps, a slow smirk again starting to pull at the corners of his mouth, and he shifts over him again to catch his mouth in another kiss. Fond, sweet, just a roil of heat starting to grow under the surface, tonguing deep to taste him and then pulling away. ]
Then ask me more questions.
[ He says, even as he pinches that nipple between his thumb and index finger again, a light tweak and roll between his fingers, feeling it stiffen under his touch as he draws that sensation out for just a little longer than before. Verso ducks his head to press a kiss to his collarbone, instead, sucking just lightly enough on some stretch of skin to not-quite-mark him, to tease at bruising him somewhere that'd be just a bit easier to hide. Not for long, and then already mouthing downward, those eyes flicking up to watch Gustave through his lashes as he seals his lips over his other nipple, teasing it with his tongue, with gentle suction. ]
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No.
[ Smiling as Verso leans in, as he presses his mouth to Gustave's in another deep, sweet kiss that leaves Gustave's head spinning. His own hands tighten on Verso's body, until he realizes, belatedly, and lifts his fabricated left hand off Verso's hip, sets it back in the grass beside his own where if he accidentally clenches his fingers too hard all he'll damage is some grass and earth. As it is, he's sure he's already left bruises of his own on Verso's hip, and leans up to ghost his lips over Verso's again, apologetic. ]
I wouldn't forsake you for my projects.
[ Right now, with Verso paying him such sweet attention, letting Gustave melt into him all over again, it's difficult to imagine forsaking him for anything less than Maelle, and she...
Well, he hopes, when she finally finds out, that she won't ask him to do anything of the kind. ]
But I do need to work.
[ Sternly added as Verso begins drifting downward, dusting lazy kisses over his skin as Gustave's hand slips into his hair, as his breath catches. ]
If I don't finish this cannon for them, they'll try to take my arm โ Verso โ
[ The name coming on the heels of a groan as his eyes squeeze shut and his whole body pushes upward, arching into Verso's mouth, seeking out more of that sweet, perfect, wet heat. His laugh sounds singed around the edges. ]
If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to distract me.
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They'll have to go through me to take it, Gustave.
[ But that's a conversation for clearer minds. Right now Verso is feeling the quiet, heady haze of just being around him slowly start to fill his thoughts again -- it'd never left, for as long as they were tangled hear together, only briefly cleared and now roaring back again. Everything about him is just intoxicating, his smile and his laugh and the way each word falls from his lips, that little edge of some attempted sternness in his voice before it falls away quickly to something breathless and keening under his attentions. He loves it, craves it, wants more of it, the sweet arch of Gustave's entire body curving into his mouth and tongue, the way his laugh frays around the edges, already starting to fall apart.
He lifts his head to brush a kiss to his collarbone, and this time he does suckle a bruise there, small, light, but just red enough that it's clear it'll stay and darken in the hours to come. Verso doesn't lift his head, just flicks his gaze up, lazy and languid with that ever-widening smirk. ]
Me? Trying to distract you?
[ Verso pinches at his nipple again, just a little sharper and harder, now -- and when he does let go its only when he's leaning his head over to tongue at it instead, never quite giving him relief from sensation, licking and teasing. His hand slides down over his chest, settling over his stomach, feeling the way the way lean muscle tenses and trembles under his callused palm in response to all of his touches, thumbing idly at his navel, just barely dipping down to let a fingertip ease past his trousers and brush at heated skin beneath. ]
How could use accuse me of something so wicked, mon chou?
[ A laugh, breathless, and this time he's drawing that other nipple into his mouth, latched onto his skin with an open-mouthed kiss, sucking and feeling him respond under his mouth and tongue. His other arm has to shift a little to make sure he's still bracing his weight well enough, slowly moving over and back on top of him again, a pleasant weight pressing him down into the grass as he slowly slots his leg between Gustave's thighs, fingers starting to pull and tighten slightly through the soft waves of Gustave's hair.
He would never try to distract you. Never. ]
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Really? You're willing to fight a whole village of gestrals and their Sakapatates just for my arm? Mon beau chevalier, how brave. Keep an eye out for the cannons.
[ They're annoying even without an improved design.
It's all absurdity, when Verso is teasing him and he's laughing, ignoring the little sting as Verso pulls hard enough on skin to make blood vessels break and bruise. Another mark, like Verso's determined to leave reminders all over his body, like Verso is drawing a signature over him, claiming him for his own. It's been a long time since someone thought of him as theirs.
It swells in his chest, threatening to crack ribs, to burst his heart. All this time, he'd only hoped his monsieur le pianiste might occasionally remember him fondly, might sometimes think back to the brief time they shared. He'd never imagined, never dared to, that he could have made as deep a mark on Verso as Verso had made on him, something deeper than muscle and bone, seared directly into the deepest parts of himself. He still doesn't understand how it happened, why, how it could possibly be that while he was wandering morosely through the rooftop gardens of Lumiรจre Verso was picking flowers and watching them die, playing piano but fading back out of the habit once again. He thought his was the only heart that had broken.
And now it feels about to break again, every look Verso gives him that's so full of affection or warmth or desire, every touch that makes him shiver or gasp or moan, the feeling of Verso warm and solid and here next to him, all of it a continual stream of befuddled happiness and desire and longing that makes him feel like a glass of wine, overflowing and heady, that Verso won't stop pouring.
Verso settles over him, a hard thigh tucked warm between his legs, and Gustave wants to wrap himself around him completely, sliding his left arm carefully over the small of his back, running his right hand down over his back, enjoying the way firm muscle shifts and tightens and relaxes under his touch, down over the material of his trousers to curve over his ass, as possessive as Verso's mouth on his body. He's shivering, pushing up helplessly into that mouth, that tongue, nipple hard and aching, every inch of skin crying out for Verso's touch. ]
It certainly feels like wickedness to me...
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For you, mon petit chou? [ A little bit of a push in his own 'revenge' against that nickname. ] I'd fight them all, even if Golgra herself was the one who came to wrench that arm away from you. It might just take a very long time to win.
[ But he'll manage it. Gustave is sweet and perfect beneath him, as always. Verso's pressed so close to him now, skin on skin, and he can feel almost every trembling muscle and tendon in his body as he arches up into his mouth, as his head falls back and he shivers and shakes just from Verso's attentions. He gives himself over to him so completely, so easily, and sometimes Verso still feels guilty, still feels selfish for wanting to have him and take him and call him his own when he knows he doesn't deserve it -- but right now, that feels far away. Right now, he'd like Gustave to be his. ]
Mm. [ Just a slow, thoughtful hum, deep in his throat and echoing in his chest as he presses that leg down between Gustave's thighs, a nice even pressure for him to push back against. Verso takes his time with sucking at that nipple and all but reveling in how sensitive Gustave clearly is, here, closing his eyes with an appreciative half-groan at Gustave's own touch, his hand everywhere over his back, curving over his ass, likes how that grip feels, firm with a distinct edge of something possessive. That hand against his stomach stays where he is, only just barely drifting lower, fingertips dipping further beneath his already dangerously low-slung trousers, opening his eyes again to look at him lazily through his lashes as he kisses at his clavicle. ] I suppose it might be.
[ He trails lazy kisses up from his chest to his neck and throat. He moves so easily with a kind of languid grace, eyes lidded and his pupils completely blown beneath them, a cat that's caught its prey and and is taking its sweet time to savor it. The sound in his chest is almost a purr as he finally reaches Gustave's mouth, not quite kissing him fully but just brushing his lips up against the corner of Gustave's own, curved into lazy, teasing smile.
There's something about how languid and relaxes he is here in all of his movements, a genuine heat and all-consuming want in his gaze and his touch even if there's no urgency to it. It makes it feel almost familiar, like he knows he can take his time ( when in reality he really, really can't ) to pour himself over Gustave like a liquid and cover him completely, like instead of some stolen late evening in the middle of the forest he's waking up in one morning out of hundreds they've already shared and leaning over him in bed to piece him apart.
But it is still Verso, who's shown before that all that can change all at once like a switch has been flipped. And he seems to be waiting for something. His voice is soft, almost whispered, teasing; ]
Would you like me to stop, then?
[ :') ]
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