The noise he makes to the first slide is delicious, a low, drawn out groan similar perhaps to sinking into a bathtub or a warm bed, the overwhelming first sensation of something lovely. There's no sense here of this being something finally happening, so much as it being the obvious next logical step of a dance they've been performing since they were much younger.

"You feel as good as I thought you might," he murmurs ardently, fingers settling on Phillip's hips, and then, "Don't go too slow, I won't last like this," it's said with zero sense of shame-- he knows already that he can almost always go another round, certainly at least one if he likes his partner, and he definitely, definitely likes his partner.

When Phillip actually starts to move, Gustavain arches his back, mostly lets him take the pace but moans without restraint whenever he does something particularly good, the moans coming increasingly more often and taking on a slightly slurred quality the more he picks up the pace.