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how i imagine them acting
Gustave's hand moved up into his hair to hold Verso's head back as he kissed down his neck, smiling at the breathless gasps of the other man. Fuck he could listen to this for hours. He wanted to take Verso apart. Gustave nipped at his throat now and Verso arched against him.
"Fucking hell, Gustave..." he sounded wrecked.
"You like this?" He said against his heated skin, his hand moving up from Verso's waist stopping to undo another couple of buttons on Verso's shirt allowing him to pull aside the collar of his shirt. Gustave felt the younger man tremble as his lips brushed over his exposed shoulder.
Verso whined as he felt Gustave's tongue flick across his skin.
"You know how much I enjoy having my mouth on you" Gustave gently bit down just where Verso's neck met his shoulder "you taste so good like this, ma douce"
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
verso when he has a crush on gustave
hozier would write songs about them
'tis but a flesh wound after all, and Verso has different priorities ™
To live once more - Chapter 16 - by Coldforj
Gustave wasn't sure how long they had been dancing, nor did he care. The only thing he saw was the man in his arms as they moved slowly, gently in time to the music. Gustave had led at first, Verso following his lead in perfect harmony and then over time it had switched and Gustave was following where Verso led. They shared soft kisses as they moved, smiling against each others lips and talking quietly with each other under the soft glow of the multi coloured lamps that hung all around.
Verso lay his head on Gustave's shoulder his lips brushing gently across his neck and he sighed. The hand that Gustave held between his shoulder blades moved to the small of his back, pulling him ever so slightly closer. They stayed that way for a while, Verso's hands gently holding Gustave's hips, hardly moving beyond a gentle sway.
Verso lifted his head up and slowly, oh so slowly kissed Gustave. No rushing, just the barest touch from his tongue. Gustave moaned quietly, his own mouth moving with equal care. When they parted their lips stayed close. Close enough that when Verso spoke in a voice so soft it almost wasn't there, Gustave could feel the words against his lips.
"I... I love you, Gustave"
https://archiveofourown.org/works/86113931/chapters/231822406
"Gustave... I, I need..." Verso could hardly speak, hardly think.
Gustave moved against him faster now, his breathy moans mixing with Verso's "What do you need?" He slid his hand over Verso's chest, fingertips tracing gently over his nipples as the hand on his hip slipped under the waistband of his pyjamas.
Verso sobbed as Gustave's hand stopped just above his cock, fingers brushing through the hair at its base but going no further. Not touching, just waiting. Oh, fucking hell. Verso was falling apart, he wanted...
"G...Gustave! Please..."
"Tell me" Gustave's voice was hot against his skin "tell me what you want from me"
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
A young man sat at an artists easel, a beautifully rendered drawing of the street was half finished in front of him. His long fingers moved the pastels across the paper in smooth strokes, his slender wrists curving as he detailed the arches of the carriage that waited in the rain for its passengers. The rise and fall of his shoulder left the wide road gleaming wetly on the paper and a quick twist and smudge with a knuckle showed the chroma light reflecting from the umbrella of a lone man, walking down the road. Gustave was mesmerised. The young man was drawing in real time, rendering the street as it lived and moved around him. He had never seen such a thing before. His own drawings were technical and detailed to a fault. Each millimetre precise and perfectly rendered. They took time and patience. The young man before him gave only hints of details in each shape yet Gustave knew what each stroke of pastel was showing him, colours mixed on the paper as he watched and the soft edges held the life of the city in a way the Gustave didn't know was possible. Who was he? How did this young man see so much in such a short time? Gustave walked closer, he had to know more.
The young man didn't turn, he focus entirely on the scene before him. The only movement in his body were his eyes as they flicked from street to paper to pastels and his hands. Those oh so elegant hands, picking up each stick and delicately moving as if conducting an orchestra made only of colour. Gustave watched his face, the way his strange silver eyes danced under the thick black eyelashes and the way the light behind him caught in the oddly white strands of hair, turning them amber in the darkness around them. Gustave saw the texture of scar tissue over the young mans right cheek, the way it curved over his jaw and down his neck, disappearing under his collar. He saw way his throat moved under the dark hair of his beard as he swallowed.
"It's for sale, if you're interested Monsieur" his voice reached Gustave's ears, smooth and deep like vintage wine.
"Sorry, I... er. Sale?" Gustave stumbled over his words "oh! Your art. Would you really sell it to me?"
A small laugh from the young man took him by surprise "happily, Monsieur. How much would you be willing to pay?"
"How much do you normally sell your work for? I... have to admit, I know almost nothing about art" Gustave admitted bashfully.
"Whatever people want to pay, one cannot be too picky if one is to eat, non?"
"You won't eat if..." Gustave was shocked, how could this young man not earn enough to feed himself each day?
"Don't concern yourself with that, Monsieur. An idle comment, but... the drawing will be for sale when it is finished. If that would please you" said the young man quietly.
"I... have business. In the bar, but it will only take a short while. If you are willing to wait then I would be happy to discuss a price with you" Gustave told the artist.
"I am sure I can manage that, Monsieur. I do dislike being out in the rain on cold nights" he turned to to look at Gustave now, a small one sided smile on his face "I will be here, Monsieur..."
"Gustave. Please... just, Gustave" he held out his hand and after a moment of hesitation the young man took it in his, the icy chill in his fingers seeping into Gustave's warm skin.
"Verso. Just, Verso" he smiled.
"I shall be back, please do wait for me if you can" he said "I promise I shall be back, Verso"
The young man nodded to him, and turned back to his drawing "I... would like that very much, Gustave"
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
