Gustavain doesn't follow him in a fashion that's entirely simultaneous, but rather like he's been pulled along with the tide. There's enough time for him to fuck Phillip straight through the orgasm, for him to be in that space just before oversensitivity when Gustavain's teeth sink into the meat of his shoulder again and he shudders and stills. The drag of his tongue across the wound a moment later is slow, hazy with his own aftermath, nose pressing a moment later into the hair at the base of Phillip's scalp.

His hands unclench their deathgrip on his hips a moment later and soothe once, slowly, up his sides and then back down again before he pulls out, slow and smooth. He sets about putting them to rights in silence and it's a place where from anyone else, things would feel perfunctory, but Phillip knows from experience that it's just something Gustavain always likes doing. He doesn't mind being a mess, but the act of cleaning up seems to be a form of care, not fastidiousness.

"I am going to need a bath," his voice is soft, as he nears the end of getting them settled, "and a drink."

Whenever in the process Phillip next actually turns around and looks at him, Gustavain is still in the dark armor, giant sword still clipped to his back, but his eyes are their normal glass-green color.