[ Verso is hardly doing anything — the rhythm of his hand steady and relaxed, dragging melting heat down Gustave's spine — and it might still be more than enough to push him over the edge sooner rather than later, pushed along by the intent way the man watches him, like missing even a single stuttered breath would be a crime of the highest order. Every part of Gustave is focused on the glide of those fingers, the way they leave him shaking, the knot beginning to tighten deep in his gut, the legs that were already unsteady after the fall feeling like they can barely hold him up.
But he can't stop watching Verso, his eyes heavy and half-lidded but steady on the man's face. Offered a little bit of control and Verso has already taken the bit in his mouth, ready to run wild. There's a promise in his eyes, in his voice, in the way he squeezes his hand and punches another low moan from Gustave's chest. And this promise, at least, looks far more reliable than the half-answers and evasion of earlier. Whatever else might happen, he thinks he can take Verso at his word when it comes to the things he's planning to do, wants to do to him.
Gustave, he murmurs, sending a hard, sidelong lurch through Gustave's chest, his already sprinting hard tripping and falling all over itself against his ribs. He wants to hear Verso say it again, wants to pull it off Verso's lips when it falls from them like a reflex. ]
I thought you looked beautiful.
[ Earnest, even now, even as he's being systematically burned into ash, just as completely as the Gommage itself. His eyes are dark, wide black pupils surrounded by a thin ring of color, but they're hazy and affection, as he reaches with his right hand to palm the man's cheek in return, fingers sliding through scruff, thumb brushing the scar that mars the skin beneath his eye. Fuck, but he had been beautiful, impossibly so, sitting there at that piano in front of a crowd of empty chairs, eyes downcast and fingers moving gracefully over the keys.
Here in the sunlight, in reality, he's almost painfully, heart-wrenchingly beautiful, every part of him like one of the tumbling measures of notes in his music. Beautiful and untouchable, warm and generous all at once. An impossible, infuriating dream of a person, somehow real and here and wanting Gustave just as much in return. ]
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Date: 2025-05-27 03:13 am (UTC)But he can't stop watching Verso, his eyes heavy and half-lidded but steady on the man's face. Offered a little bit of control and Verso has already taken the bit in his mouth, ready to run wild. There's a promise in his eyes, in his voice, in the way he squeezes his hand and punches another low moan from Gustave's chest. And this promise, at least, looks far more reliable than the half-answers and evasion of earlier. Whatever else might happen, he thinks he can take Verso at his word when it comes to the things he's planning to do, wants to do to him.
Gustave, he murmurs, sending a hard, sidelong lurch through Gustave's chest, his already sprinting hard tripping and falling all over itself against his ribs. He wants to hear Verso say it again, wants to pull it off Verso's lips when it falls from them like a reflex. ]
I thought you looked beautiful.
[ Earnest, even now, even as he's being systematically burned into ash, just as completely as the Gommage itself. His eyes are dark, wide black pupils surrounded by a thin ring of color, but they're hazy and affection, as he reaches with his right hand to palm the man's cheek in return, fingers sliding through scruff, thumb brushing the scar that mars the skin beneath his eye. Fuck, but he had been beautiful, impossibly so, sitting there at that piano in front of a crowd of empty chairs, eyes downcast and fingers moving gracefully over the keys.
Here in the sunlight, in reality, he's almost painfully, heart-wrenchingly beautiful, every part of him like one of the tumbling measures of notes in his music. Beautiful and untouchable, warm and generous all at once. An impossible, infuriating dream of a person, somehow real and here and wanting Gustave just as much in return. ]
I still do.