[ He shudders again as Verso's hand roams up the back of his leg, fingers firm against his ass as he coaxes him closer, deeper, but it's the fingers that grip onto his metal hand where he has it latched desperately on the trellis that has him tipping his head forward, down, letting him meet Verso's pale, heated eyes with his own dazed ones.
His lips part as he watches Verso pull slowly back, as he feels it in his gut, like the man has reached a hand into him and is now dragging his stomach, his lungs, his heart right out of his body. The sweet suction and the feeling of the man's tongue sliding along the underside of his length is almost enough to drive him mad, cool air brushing over hard wet skin and making him shiver again.
And then Verso's there again, dragging another groan out of Gustave's chest and filling his world with heat, with the softness of his tongue and the slick hot perfect pressure of his mouth, and this time Gustave can't stop himself, pushes his hips forward to rock more firmly into that mouth, tiny movements to match Verso's rhythm for the moment. If Verso doesn't stop him, though, they'll speed up, little by little, and the rolling motion of his hips will push a little harder, a little deeper, as he pants for breath, as he watches Verso's face, his closed eyes and the smudged line of his lashes against his skin.
He's beautiful. Again, again. As beautiful here on his knees, making that indulgent, pleased sound that rumbles in his throat and straight into Gustave's gut, making his hips jerk and a flash of white heat run right up his spine, as he was there at the piano, idly picking out a melody. Beautiful. ]
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His lips part as he watches Verso pull slowly back, as he feels it in his gut, like the man has reached a hand into him and is now dragging his stomach, his lungs, his heart right out of his body. The sweet suction and the feeling of the man's tongue sliding along the underside of his length is almost enough to drive him mad, cool air brushing over hard wet skin and making him shiver again.
And then Verso's there again, dragging another groan out of Gustave's chest and filling his world with heat, with the softness of his tongue and the slick hot perfect pressure of his mouth, and this time Gustave can't stop himself, pushes his hips forward to rock more firmly into that mouth, tiny movements to match Verso's rhythm for the moment. If Verso doesn't stop him, though, they'll speed up, little by little, and the rolling motion of his hips will push a little harder, a little deeper, as he pants for breath, as he watches Verso's face, his closed eyes and the smudged line of his lashes against his skin.
He's beautiful. Again, again. As beautiful here on his knees, making that indulgent, pleased sound that rumbles in his throat and straight into Gustave's gut, making his hips jerk and a flash of white heat run right up his spine, as he was there at the piano, idly picking out a melody. Beautiful. ]