Another chuckle, low and dark and his fingers tighten warningly on Phillip's hip,

"Don't lie. All we ever do is run from one another. You're running even now," he shifts, clips the sword somehow to his back until his other hand can come down and tangle in Phillip's hair.

He doesn't really expect Phillip to struggle, it's not the kind of running he's talking about, but there's no choice unless he wants to genuinely hurt Gustavain in the process, other than to take the kiss that follows. He's likely expecting violence, but the kiss is warm and slow, instead, consuming. Affectionate. There's the taste of blood in their mouths, but he kisses Phillip like he's something precious.