Phillip does try to move, less because he's trying to take control and more to see how still Gustavain wants him to be, what the boundaries are. Those identified, he allows himself to sink into the mattress, hands holding on to Gustavain where he can, fingers tangled in that long hair.

It is vulnerable, held down and spread as he is, but this time there's not even a hint that it bothers him. That day where they finally talked about it all, spurred on by that yellow-eyed version, there was uncertainty of an entirely different idea. This is not easier, not by any means, but leaving his heart open does not contain the fear it once did.

He hums softly as lips move over him, something rumbling deeper in his throat at the tease of a mark, head tipped back against the bed. "Not... that I know of," he says to the question, and maybe that question should bother him more considering their current positions, but, well. It needed to be asked. (He doesn't think so, but there was a time before he really knew Azem...)