travelerscurse (
travelerscurse) wrote2021-04-09 03:10 pm
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for whatsina_name
It's so strange, being back.
Ishgard hasn't changed in hundreds of years, strange to think it would have changed since he'd been here last, but then, everywhere else he'd been has changed just in the time he's been there. So it's strange to be walking streets he knows from his childhood but with eyes that are so different.
Beside him, Emmanelain chatters on about the different facets of city life. He had made sure Haurchefant knew to petition his former family with as much discretion as possible. They, of course, had simply said their son had died and they were certain some fugitive from Uldah couldn't be him anyway. He hadn't expected any differently. He feels like that person is dead and he breathes on as someone wholly different anyway, but it's strange, to be being shown around the place he grew up in by a member of one of the High Houses, someone his parents would have killed for him to be friends with just a few short years earlier, as though he were a stranger to this place.
He has always been a stranger to this place.
Dressed in Gridanian fashion and tanned lightly by the sun, he doesn't expect there's anyone here who would recognize him. He'd been barely more than a ghost when he left, hardly a warrior of anything. But as they pass through the Jeweled Croizer and Emmanelain gets caught up talking to some girl he's been trying to woo, there's a sudden, strange sensation at the back of his head, something like and unlike the Echo, and he turns, eyes scanning the busy street for... something. Someone.
(For some reason, unbidden, he remembers the night of the Calamity, giant pieces of some other part of Eorzea raining from the sky..
Ishgard hasn't changed in hundreds of years, strange to think it would have changed since he'd been here last, but then, everywhere else he'd been has changed just in the time he's been there. So it's strange to be walking streets he knows from his childhood but with eyes that are so different.
Beside him, Emmanelain chatters on about the different facets of city life. He had made sure Haurchefant knew to petition his former family with as much discretion as possible. They, of course, had simply said their son had died and they were certain some fugitive from Uldah couldn't be him anyway. He hadn't expected any differently. He feels like that person is dead and he breathes on as someone wholly different anyway, but it's strange, to be being shown around the place he grew up in by a member of one of the High Houses, someone his parents would have killed for him to be friends with just a few short years earlier, as though he were a stranger to this place.
He has always been a stranger to this place.
Dressed in Gridanian fashion and tanned lightly by the sun, he doesn't expect there's anyone here who would recognize him. He'd been barely more than a ghost when he left, hardly a warrior of anything. But as they pass through the Jeweled Croizer and Emmanelain gets caught up talking to some girl he's been trying to woo, there's a sudden, strange sensation at the back of his head, something like and unlike the Echo, and he turns, eyes scanning the busy street for... something. Someone.
(For some reason, unbidden, he remembers the night of the Calamity, giant pieces of some other part of Eorzea raining from the sky..
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Hells, if they weren't in a public space where Gustavain wasn't already on thin ice, his hand would not be what found its way to his lover's leg.
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"They can take their time," she purrs out, and then, just as daintily as before, delicately uncrosses legs. It's a blatant invitation. And, if he can think clearly at all in the moment, the reason for the rest of her coverings becomes much more clear. Although anyone watching her come down the stairs might know her thighs are bare, the angle she's sat at hides that from the rest of the world now. Everything about her looks like she's covered, the longer sides of the robe making her look not much different from everyone else in the colder climes here.
"And I believe I'm the one distracting you, not the other way around," she points out, grin deepening slightly.
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"And you are extremely good at it," he murmurs, unable to help the urge to close the distance between them and catch her in a slow, tender kiss. Since she's so kindly extended the invitation, his hand slides further up her leg, finding its way beneath that skirt up to brush against her undergarments, a gentle exploration to start.
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"Well. I learned from the best," she teases back, spreading her legs just that tiny bit more, leaning back a little in her chair, her eyes going heavy-lidded. She gasps very softly, just an inhale of breath, really, at the light touch. It's different already and there's a little bit of trepidation over whether this was a good idea, to tease about this out here in public. But she's also not about to back down now...
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Leaning back just a little in the chair lets her move her hips just the tiniest bit without making it obvious, just enough to press back against his fingers the tiniest amount, which she does almost immediately. It's loud in here as well, enough that he can hear her if he's very close, but enough to swallow any stray noises at the very least, and surely that also has to be a reason for this location or else Gustavain would likely have picked somewhere like the Last Stand or suggested a picnic or something.
The most notable thing in this interaction now, though, aside from the obvious, is that there's nothing teasing about the way he's doing this. While Gustavain has certainly been the one who's pushed for several of their more wild encounters, there's usually a bit of a tease to it, almost like he's goading Phillip (for all they know that there's no goading actually necessary). This is... remarkably straightforward, beyond the surprise factor.
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He presses a soft kiss to the corner of her slackened lips, anyone watching would think that it just them sharing an intimate moment, with no insight to just how intimate it was getting. It isn't difficult to push aside the undergarments to expose her, Phillip letting out a heated sigh of his own as his fingers slide between the warm folds, tips rubbing gently over her clit.
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She shifts in her chair again, spreads her thighs a bit wider in invitation, as though she needed more of one, and then jolts with a little gasp as his fingers make contact with her clit. It's not unpleasant, not exactly too much, but she's not used to it and she hisses through her teeth in warning as her hand jolts on the table where she's leaned it.
Whether he backs off and tries again or not, though, she does seem to slowly get used to it, though it's likely only experience that tells him the way her teeth are gritted isn't pain in the slightest.
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"Is it like you expected?" he asks, plenty cheeky because he's quite sure Gustavain had little idea of what to expect, but he is clearly taking great pleasure in the introduction.
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"S'too different for me to have been able to anticipate," she admits, though there's nothing that suggests she wants to call this off in any way, "To be honest, I thought it was going to be too strange to be good, at first."
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Then is, of course, when he slips a finger deeper inside of her, pressing against the warm inner walls. It's just the one fingers, so there's hardly any stretch at all, but the pressure is something else entirely.
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He can feel her clench down on even that one finger and she can't move enough to really bear down like this, but he can feel her muscles working like she's trying to anyway.
"Fuck," she says, when she's grown used to the sensation enough to trust her voice, "Oh, this was a terrible idea. Should have lured you somewhere where you could have fucked me properly instead..."
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"There's always time for that," he murmurs against her, dragging that finger out a bit before pressing back in, at a truly tortuous pace, "Unless you'd rather we move now?" He pulls out again, this time letting it linger just inside her, a clear taunt.
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"If you stop now, I can't promise I won't make a scene," she says, low and wicked, hips still trying to tilt more into his touch, "But when we get somewhere private, you had better be ready to have me on every available surface and twice on whatever my favorite turns out to be."
She sounds perfectly serious.
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She's clearly close already, even though truthfully they've barely started, a heady combination of this being so new and the entire situation being appealing blending the mental and the physical together into something she's not even trying to resist-- but unlike in her normal form, she's not sure how to chase this one. It's not going to stop her from trying, mind you, hips starting to rock without caring if someone can tell what's happening over here anymore as long as they don't try to stop them.
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He will try to make it easier, allow her to chase a little bit easier even though he's very much still trying to push her there himself. He slides a leg next to hers, giving her something a bit more to brace on, while his free hand settles on her hip to keep her steady as his fingers continue their merciless movement.
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She will get oversensitive quickly like this, though, will eventually push his hand away, but he can get a few more squirms and bit of a squeal out of her if he wants to push it before that happens. Either way, she's dazed and pliant in his arms in the aftermath, doesn't seem inclined to talk but giggles, an unexpectedly girlish sound.
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They've never talked much about it beyond that Phillip knows Gustavain rarely slept in a cold bed when he was a younger adventurer, but the ease with which hair and clothes are straightened, the way it's automatic, without thought, definitely shows that this is not the first time this has happened. They've talked about deeper things, bared their souls to one another in a way more literal than most people. But there's still room in things like this for surprise perhaps. They rarely talk about their pasts before re-meeting.
There's something boyish about her neck giggle, when she tries to stand up and fails the first time,
"Give a lady a hand, would you?" she quips, eyes clearly sparkling with the knowledge that she's in this situation to begin with because he "gave her a hand".
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He grins at the giggle, reaching a hand out with a flourish to help her up as he stands. Once she's on her feet and steady, he'll begin to lead them out, towards the privacy of tha annex- or wherever ese they may find themselves.
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She does, however, behave herself, which speaks much more to her desperation than her patience. She wants out of the public eye right now so that they can get back to exploring all of the newness this form brings.
It was definitely a good idea, coming to Phillip immediately afterwards. Any bit of uncomfortableness about this is deafened in the desire to explore it.
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His hands slide up the curves of her body, more defined than they've normally been, and after some brief exploration there one finds a breast. He brushes it over the fabric to start, letting her have some time to get used to the sensation of friction and the very different kind of pleasure it can cause before he squeezes a little, testing the waters there.
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She wraps one leg around one of his, pulling him in close and her side of the kiss is as hungry as his. For now, though, she lets him lead, more out of curiosity than anything else. Gustavain is no stranger to female lovers, so the ways of pleasuring this form aren't unknown to him, but he'd rather sit back and enjoy the experience more than lead it, at least for this first real round.
The initial exploration gets a sort of curious noise voiced into the space between their mouths when he first brushes his hand over her, followed by a low, pleased groan when he squeezes her breast, her leg tightening around the outside of his.
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He lavishes attention on her breast, pulling down her clothing enough to bring skin to skin. His other hand begins to work on discarding her coat, but that is much lower on than priority list than keeping them pressed up together and letting her feel the difference in how their bodies fit with her new curves.