"Better that they're not watching, wouldn't you say," he growls in Phillip's ear and the only reason Phillip doesn't have his pants torn off of him is that they're easy enough to just loosen and yank down, along with his smallclothes. Gustavain wipes his fingers along Phillip's hip, enough to get the worst of the gore off of them, but he doesn't bother taking off the gloves, even though his hands would be clean beneath.

There's no way to have anticipated any of this, but it's clear Gustavain had anticipated something, because there's oil a moment later, scented with flowers, something intended for the bedroom rather than something being repurposed and, given the speed with which he'd found himself on the ground, Phillip might be surprised to find that he's not immediately speared through.

Instead, a hand finds the back of his neck, fingers pressed down into that bruise without serious strength, but clearly deliberately, putting a pressure on the back of his neck until he bows his head down to the ground, ass still in the air. It's only then that Gustavain touches him with the other, oiled hand, and then it's only to rub firm, slow circles around his rim. It's not kindness, this slowness, it's vulnerability-- less like he specifically wants to humiliate Phillip in any way and more like he's showing Phillip how much Phillip will give him.