travelerscurse | for whatsina

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..

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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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