The result is, all told, pretty spectacular. The setting has just enough of that "aether scrambling" business that he's fully aware of how unfocused he gets, combined with a slow but strong pulse that, with the addled state, feels a lot more like getting fucked than the stimulation of a toy. He makes a low, gasping sort of moan and then abruptly matches pace with the pulse of the light, earlier focus definitely shattered.

He'll writhe a little too, for a moment, completely unashamed about chasing that sensation. He's absolutely not coordinated enough like this to do anything about his pants, but if Phillip doesn't give him something to make friction on, he's reaching down and palming himself through them, pressing Phillip more into the wall but this time in an almost mindless need for more rather than asserting any kind of control.

He's moaning with every breath before a handful of seconds have even passed, every second driving him closer and closer to the edge, all of it suddenly breakneck and desperate