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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..

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Gustavain makes a deeply satisfied noise to those hands on his body, almost a purr, and arches into the touch. There's still the strange balance of a kind of playful sort of attempt to escape (without any kind of real force or effort behind it) and the very real internal struggle every now and then when something about the Echo or something else behind his eyes picks up the feeling of darkness and enemy and he has to beat that down, choose to stay and keep letting this happen.

But layered thick on top of any of that is the reality that he loves having sex, more for the interesting nature of his partners than solely for the pleasure of it, and they don't come more interesting than this, and he loves the sensual pleasure of being touched like this as well. He'd be hard-pressed to give an answer on whether Phillip's hands or the friction of their cocks is more pleasurable, but regardless, the one begets the other anyway, so it hardly matters. There's a deep shudder as well to the threat of teeth and he bares more of his neck instinctively, neck arching to try to press them harder against his skin.

Even if it may not look it, Phillip is very much aware of Gustavain's mood during this, or is at least trying to be. It is, after all, as he said- he has absolutely no desire to hurt the man, and while he's less likely than he might have been before to open himself up to potential vulnerabilities, he doesn't think Gustavain is likely to try and hurt him either. That doesn't mean neither of them could. And in this case, it's likely that Phillip has more to prove.

He grins against his neck when he feels the shudder, giving a teasing, warning nip before biting down properly, working a mark into the soft skin. (If people hadn't already guessed what they were getting up to in here...) He unfortunately does have to take his hands off of the other briefly to find that set aside bottle, rubbing a playful and slicked hand over both of their cocks. It doesn't take much more work to get them both ready, and he winds up with his hands on either side of the elezen's head as carefully presses in.

Edited 2021-05-18 22:02 (UTC)

Almost no time at all, really, Gustavain adjusting very quickly to the preparation, clearly both knowing what to do to make this easier on himself and also in no mood to wait. All fighting aside, real and playful, he goes completely pliant for Phillip when he actually lines up and presses in, eyes locked on his right up until the moment he has to tip his head back on the pillows and let out a low groan. It sounds a bit more overwhelmed than pleasured for a moment, thin with a lack of air, but it's clear from the way he moves, the way he shifts and adjust his hips, that the remedy is more motion, not less.

He'll end up with one long leg hiked up around Phillip's waist before too long, pulling him in against him with each thrust. His hands finally reach up and drag Phillip's head down, first for a kiss and then to press against his neck again,

"Do that again," the taunting Ascian on the end is silent, more for Phillip's sake than his own, really, but it's heavily implied in the tone of the rest of it. "Cover me in them."

This is absolute madness. This isn't just some young lover's tryst, even though that's actually also absolutely what this is. But there's a gnawing hunger opening up in him-- suddenly that first time and now again, slowly, with the feeling of Phillip moving inside of him.

Mark me. Claim me.

This should, by any reasonable account, not be how this should go. Sex, certainly, was almost a foregone conclusion since the moment they stumbled across each other again, and perhaps the hunger of the years spent apart would have still be present- though, it is not as if either of them had been pining for the other or anything, seeing no point in doing so. But for a reunion of childhood friends, there's an edge of darkness there, something desire than just the desire for pleasure, possibly even more than a want for intimacy. Phillip can't shake the feeling that he should probably know what it is, but he doesn't. Though he's long come to terms with the fact that he doesn't know near as much as he feels he should, at his age.

He tries not to think on it much, letting his body react the way it wants to, breath hitching as their bodies finally join together and he feels the tight heat around him, leaning where he's pulled into the hungry kiss.

It's not so much the silent taunt that sends a shiver through him as much as the desire he can sense, equally wordless but sinking somewhere deeper. He wants to be claimed, does he...?

"Want to make sure everyone knows you got a proper welcome?" he says instead, lips brushing against the still tender skin of the mark before finding a place next to it, sinking in again and working the skin as his hips continue to move, pressing himself deeper in as he leaves another sign of just how welcoming he's been.

There's a smart-assed comment there about how half the inn definitely already knows he's gotten a proper welcome, but the roll of Phillip's hips steals the comment except for the smirk for it, and then the bite causes another sharp noise of pleasure and he just opts for,

"Yes," instead and it's a breath or two before he can manage to add, "They're going to stare anyway, might as well give them a reason."

It's both very much a Gus sort of quip to make and also implies a startling amount of boldness compared to how he was when he was younger. It's not as though Phillip hasn't seem ample evidence of that already, but it's probably still a little shocking.

It is very much not the sort of comment that Gustavain the young noble would have made, but then again, almost nothing about this situation indicates that that version of him is relevant anymore.

It's enough to get him to laugh as he pulls away, leaving another red mark blooming over his skin. He doesn't wait long before finding another spot, pressing Gus down against the bed with the force it as he aims to leave another, and another. It seems he's made it something of a game with himself, how many he can leave before they finish this.

He is still moving, the pace beginning to pick up as the heat low in him begins to rise. This should not feel this easy, how they fall and fit together, but by the gods it does.

It shouldn't, but it does, and eventually he will look back at this with the bright light of comprehension illuminating all the dark corners and they will have to talk about this. But that moment will not be tonight and he's not sure he can truly talk right now even if he wanted to. His attention is torn between the bright, sharp pleasure of Phillip's teeth in his skin and the deeper, shuddering type from each thrust in.

He can still feel the lingering darkness around Phillip, but instead of it being something he's consciously accepting, playing around with to see how it makes him feel, at this point he's past caring about it entirely. He's writhing now more than he was when he was playing at something, but there's no thought of it being even a joking struggle anymore-- he just can't stay still, and if he's still got his hands clenched in the sheets near his head it's not pointed anymore so much as he's forgotten how to unclench them, entire conscious mind bent instead on this, the climb towards completion.

At some point Phillip has to stop the marks so he can breathe, the limitations of a physical form, but it’s not before he’s littered them over Gustavain’s neck and upper chest. He lingers over them still, and one of his hands has managed to twine itself into the other’s hair, more playing with it than pulling but still with a bit of the tension as his lips brush over the bruising skin.

His thrusts become more single minded, not as distracted and focused entirely on bringing the both of them to that edge. If Gus doesn’t beat him to it, he will make Damn sure he follows, gasping as the wave hits him and he spills over into the man beneath him.

With the way Phillip is draped across him to get to his chest to leave those marks, there's plenty of friction against his cock, no need to tend to him further. He pursues the same end with the same single-mindedness, right up until the moment before it become inevitable, and Phillip can feel the change in him. He relaxes into it, lets go at the end and just trusts that it's happening more than seeks it out anymore.

It's probably something more inherent to how Gustavain sleeps with people than something specific to this game between them, or their past, it's too instinctive to be otherwise. It's also intensely intimate and heady. The way he melts down into the covers afterwards, though, in a kind of soft relief, seems perhaps a bit more personal.

Phillip doesn't move off of him immediately, head ducked down into the crook of his shoulder as he takes a moment to catch his breathe, still buried inside him and holding on. Even though he's not really looking at the other's expression, he can still very much feel the way he relaxes, the relief after the high. He's just not entirely sure what to do with that.

He lingers overtop of him a moment longer, lifting his head up enough to catch Gustavain in another kiss, this one soft and perhaps surprisingly tender. It's only then that he shifts to move of him to his side, a hand still tangling in his hair and twisting it idly in his fingers.

Gustavain is warm and sweet in the aftermath, is responsive enough even immediately to move with Phillip, follow his lead, but seemingly content wherever his limbs end up. He's not someone who will pursue post-coital cuddles most of the time, but he greatly enjoys them all the same. Being so tall and rarely being able to do so without being laying down, he tends to gravitate towards laying his head against a shoulder or in the crook of an arm on a collarbone, which is precisely where he'll end up now unless Phillip stops him.

The silence is comfortable, at least from his side, warm and content. There's still a lot to sort out over time, but the immediate "threat" has been dealt with. One battle at a time. No need to court worries that aren't even here yet, when there are so many already.

Phillip is absolutely the type to pursue cuddles, to the point that the way he cradles Gustavain's head against his shoulder and the drape of his other arm over him feels like instinct more than a plan. He's quiet too, tracing the skin underneath his fingers, though likely not as content as the other, a little too in his head for that. This may be one thing 'resolved,' but if they are actually going to keep this up there will be many more to come. And Phillip has discovered in his short time in this form that dealing with emotions is not exactly his speciality, and seems to be the place where he is at his most vulnerable.

There's a bit of that temptation again, to get up and flee, return to be unknown and unknowable, but he stays tucked against the elezen, little to none of that instinct showing in his features. Gus was one of the only people he'd ever felt a real fondness for. Surely it was worth at least trying this, to try at being known.

If Phillip does or says nothing else, Gustavain will stay like that for long enough for Phillip to likely presume he's fallen asleep before he shifts slowly up to sitting instead and stretches, popping his spine in a way that manages to sound intensely satisfying. He'll slip out of bed a moment later, moving to the washbasin and coming back with a wet cloth to at least make a lazy sort of attempt at cleaning them up. He's not sure if they're done for the night or not, but he's certainly satisfied enough that the only thing he's reaching for is sleep at the moment, getting the both of them tucked under the covers instead of on top of them and crawling back close and warm as soon as that's settled.

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