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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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Phillip laughs, reaching up to run his hand through Gustavain's hair before smoothing over the line of his jaw, thumb brushing against his lips. "Most of what you plan up worries me," he teases, though it's also very true and understandable given the amount of absolutely insanity the Warrior of Light inevitably finds himself drawn into to.

Still, those bigger concerns are not getting much attention at the moment, both of them likely much more inclined to focus on the present 'trouble.' He leaves the settings relatively manageable for now, fondly tracing the edges of the other's face. "I assume if you'd wanted to remain hidden we would have done this elsewhere?" Gustavain may or may not know about Phillip's ridiculous exhibitionist streak, but he's not terribly inclined to keep this so private if they're both alright with it.

He leans into the touch in a way that he'd only normally do three ales in at a tavern, lips parting softly at the slide of Phillip's thumb against them. He doesn't know about Phillip's exhibitionist streak, but he knows about his own, which isn't so much a love of being seen so much as chasing the thrill of being caught.

Listen. Kill some primals and a couple of Ascians and then come talk to him about getting addicted to adrenaline.

"I thought we might have a light lunch and go shopping," he says entirely too lightly, grinning. He does sober just a bit a moment later, though it's only just enough to give the words gravity, not enough to break the mood, "I don't particularly want to make a mess of myself in the middle of Revenant's Toll, nor get a reputation for public lewdness, but I do want you to get me to beg before you let us go home. If there's a storage closet or a very quiet corner along the journey, I wouldn't protest," the grin deepens, but there's something wild behind it, a reminder that, as much as he hasn't said a word since that night about what Phillip really is, he hasn't forgotten, "I trust you know how to walk that line, or I wouldn't have given it to you. I'm well aware that if you truly wanted to fuck me in the middle of the square it would be the guards that stopped you at this point, not me. That one setting makes it impossible to protest anything."

"If you mean that to discourage me from using it, you've picked the wrong tactic," Phillip replies, voice just as light as he savors how easily Gustavain moves with his touch, "But I am capable of being discreet when I feel the need."

They both know that. Gustavain has likely noticed by this point that Phillip near never directly lies, more prone to dodging questions or answering them only in part. And considering only Y'shtola seems aware that he is hiding something, he seems to do a fine job of it. Though given he's so outlandish in near ever other respect, perhaps that does some work in convincing people that he wouldn't bother hiding.

He pockets the device, though because he is actually a complete ass, he makes sure to flip it back to that one setting for a moment, long enough to shake Gustavain loose before returning it to the more neutral setting. "Lunch, then?" he says cheerfully, outwardly entirely unaffected- though again, Gus knows him well enough to know that's not at all the case.

"I trust you," he says, simply, half a moment before he's gasping softly and melting against him, hands clinging to help him keep his feet.

"Careful with that one," he says, trying to regain his balance when Phillip stops again, "That's about as much as I can cover," it's a warning, but it's also a bit of ammunition and he knows it-- not just in terms of being able to use it in public or not, the level of power and trust here, but also the knowledge that if they were alone, the reaction would be even more spectacular.

"Lunch sounds lovely," his voice is still light and natural, but he's still a bit flushed and there's a looser roll to his hips when they start to walk that wouldn't be noticeable to anyone who didn't know him well. Still conversational, though not loud enough to really be overheard, he adds, "I'd be careful with turning the light too bright as well. Near as I can tell from testing it, it messes with your aether somewhat. Temporary, of course, but too much sustained intensity and I have a feeling I'll forget where I am entirely-- not particularly conducive to stealth. Given the third piece of matching tech, I presume that was fully the intention of the designer and not just an oversight."

He leaves that mystery open. Where the second piece of technology is seems fairly obvious at this point, but there's no third piece either in sight or implied.

There's something that sparks in Phillip at that first comment, but after a moment he manages to brush it aside. He'll deal with... whatever that pesky feeling is later.

The mention of a third piece is at least a good distraction, and he arches his brows at the taller man as they walk. He's so torn about how long he should drag this whole affair out... "Good to know," he says, just as casually back before they find a spot at the cafe to settle down.

They're a bit more out of the way, but still very visible, which suits their purposes quite well. Phillip is not quite so cruel as to switch the settings on him when he's needing to speak with someone, but he's absolutely not above testing Gustavain's ability to cover when someone wanders by- though he doesn't take him back to that one particular setting when they are public facing.

Gustavain seems almost alarmingly at ease with the whole thing. There's a sharp, audible gasp when he sits down at first, but he immediately makes a little wince and stretches his leg a bit, with an apologetic still bothering me a little bit at Phillip, but for their server. He loses the thread of conversation a few times, fingers tight on the edge of the table or once, resting over his mouth with his chin on his hand, looking for all the world like he's just watching the people come and go, contemplative. If somehow someone else were toying with him it would be obvious to Phillip that something was wrong, but there's no way anyone else would.

Still, he doesn't really manage to eat much, shows how hard he's having to work at calm in the way he can't quite manage to maneuver both his knife and his fork at the same time, the way he's unconsciously rubbing the tines of the fork against his tongue a bit more than normal, yet another thing that could easily be taken as him just eating slowly, but Phillip knows better.

The closest he comes to slipping up is one of the deeper, slower combos has him roll his hips exactly once before he can stop himself, the look on his face completely pornographic, before he grips the sides of the table and very clearly wrests himself back from the edge. It's clearly something that's more taken him off-guard rather than the one where he seems to half lose control of himself, because he coughs a moment later, loudly, and then takes a frantic sip of his water, like he's choked on something.

A glance around as soon as he regains himself and he manages to turn his voice bright, innocent,

"I don't think I'm quite ready to go home yet after food but... perhaps a detour?" Perhaps the previously aforementioned storage closet, he means. Or somewhere else alone.

To anyone watching, it would appear as little more than two friends meeting over lunch. But like Phillip is the only one who could tell just how bothered Gustavain is, so is he the only one who would be able to notice anything off about Phillip. His entire body language is comprised of its usual, flamboyant motions temper with a casualness that could border on disrespectful to the wrong audience. His eyes are his primary, and often only, tell (which makes sense, given how much of his life he's spent behind a mask). There's a sharpness to them, a wicked sort of pleasure in the way they almost never leave Gustavain, and a deep hunger behind them. It's not just that he's the one that's in control of it, though he will readily admit that he enjoys that greatly. Knowing that they can do this and no one else knows, that only he knows enough to see what's happening and would even if he weren't the one with the controller... well. That does something for him too.

"I think I can make time for that," he replies smoothly, finishing off his own drink before rising, semi-jokingly offering a hand to help Gus up. Though, who knows, with the way he's playing with the dial, it might very well be needed.

There aren't actually a lot of truly private spaces in the Toll, but if they were looking for truly private they would just go back to one of their rooms. But for now, there's a small little shack where building supplies are kept that he pulls them into when he's sure no one's looking. "Will this do?" he hums, draping his arms lazily up towards the elezen's shoulders.

He takes the offered hand with a grin that will seem like he's joking right back to anyone watching, but the grip on Phillip's hand is strong, and he drags his thumb against the skin, a tiny retaliation he's well prepared to "pay" for. Gustavain uses the momentum to slip right next to him, linking their arms in what looks like another kind of light, joking bit of camaraderie, but Phillip can feel how much of Gustavain's weight he's actually taking. He'll even out in a minute, but getting up and out of the restaurant has his knees shaking a bit. He manages to be jovial, talking about nothing at all.

Right up until he's being pulled inside and then he just melts against Phillip and kisses him dirty, a needy, soft whimper pulled out of him.

"Fury," he curses as soon as he pulls back even a little, "this was the best idea ever." Unless Phillip does anything to stop him, the next place he's melting is down to his knees, fingers caught on the waistband of Phillip's pants.

Oh he is absolutely going to ‘pay’, a quick fiddle ramping up the brightness for a moment- it’s not as though him losing his head for a moment is as much of a problem when Phillip is half carrying him, after all. But any pretense is gone once they’re alone, pressing deep and hungry into the kiss even as he pulls back with a laugh.

“At some point I am going to want the full story,” he says, but he does not need the full particulars of how this came to attention among Rowena’s wares when he’s quite busy running his hands through that long hair as the elezen sinks down. He has no objections to this plan, though if Gustavain thinks he’s going to get any kind of reprieve he’s sorely mistaken.

There's a definite moment where Phillip isn't just providing support, he's also providing direction when he bumps that brightness setting up as they walk, Gustavain trailing off for a moment on whatever they're talking about. Really, while the other setting is the more obvious thing, whatever that setting is, is definitely the one that's dangerous. And because Gustavain is who he is and Phillip is who he is, it's dangerous for more than just the two of them, really. The level of trust here cannot be overstated, or perhaps the level of not giving a shit, but he knows Gustavain too well for that. And yet, fraught as all of this probably ought to be, there's something about Gustavain that reads not just pleased or pleasured but delighted.

"Later... later..." he waves away the request as he works to get Phillip out of his pants, "Been wanting to do this since you first touched the damn button." He takes him hot and hungry, deep, straight from the start and after a moment shoves Phillip's hips back against the wall so he can set his own pace, finally able to give voice to the moans he's been holding back, now that he's properly muffled.

All things considered, how controlling Gustavain is about this is probably a surprise-- but then they both know if Phillip wants something different, he can have it.

Phillip does not bother to respond, or perhaps he merely doesn't have time to as he's pressed up against the wall and taken down so quickly. He lets out a low hiss and tightens his fingers in the other's hair, clearly a way to just release the pressure inside of him than any indication of pain. He has no obvious way to muffle himself, after all.

Still, what might get more of Gustavain's attention and certainly what is more surprising is that Phillip doesn't push back against the control, lets him have it and seems to fall into it. As long as they've known each other, Phillip's never been particularly comfortable with vulnerability, possibly even less so since they've reconnected and Gustavain figured out what he was. He hasn't really been different, and it's possible it just hasn't come up, but there's definitely a moment where his hand slips from Gus's hair and laces into one of his. The trust between them, at least, doesn't run just one way.

Most people might not be particularly interested in pursuit of that shift. After all, despite the mystery, there have been some clearly defined lines here about who's in control and depending on the person and the headspace, suddenly deciding that wasn't what was happening could be outright cruel at worst and at best simply mood breaking. But Gustavain isn't at all most people and he doesn't even so much as falter.

It does take him a minute to even really notice, however, desperate for this. There's an edge that needs to be dulled and his motions are almost frantic at first, needy and heedless of anything else. He startles when Phillip's fingers twine with his against Phillip's hip, looks up at him curiously without moving very far, pulls just far enough up to get a better, quizzical sort of look for a moment, but doesn't quite let him slip out of his mouth. And then something about his expression softens, abruptly, and the slide back down is slower, more measured, the moan that comes with it low and purring, like he's more savoring a treat than giving a frantic blow job in a supply closet.

It becomes clear near immediately that Phillip hadn't really meant to do that, which is probably its own confusing and surprising thing. And it means that he doesn't entirely know what to do with the situation now that he's accidentally changed it. He's not quite embarrassed when Gustavain looks up at him, but there is a flush to him that isn't normally there. It's definitely not a look that he would be terribly used to, but he has seen it a few times before, mostly in their childhood in the rare occasions when he was unsure and almost shy but undeniably fond.

He gives the hand in his a little squeeze, half apology and half thanks, because he knows quite well that there are people who wouldn't want to deal with this from him, especially know what Gustavain knows. He'll let go of it after, hand moving back into the other's hair and threading through not as tightly as before, offering the chance to go back to the dynamic if that's more what he wants. Phillip... isn't sure what he wants, if he's honest.

Gustavain huffs out a little laugh at that and then makes another one of those purring moans, sliding his hands up the backs of Phillip's thighs as he does, squeezing a bit and tipping him back more against the wall.

Phillip has the controller and he knows what it does. Gustavain is kind, perhaps to a fault, but he's not the sort of kind that doesn't let other people make their own decisions. Phillip knows what to do if he wants something different and has the power to do it-- until then, Gustavain is doing whatever he pleases, and right now, it's his own little bit of retribution for their game, making Phillip work to be the one who stays quiet while he devours him like a delicious treat, warm and slow, but intense.

Gustavain, in Phillip's opinion, is absolutely too kind for his own good, but that doesn't mean he likes to make things easy. Phillip doesn't fight the mood for the moment, knowing it is in many ways his own fault that they are here (which does not make the current situation unpleasant by any means).

But he doesn't feel entirely comfortable with the focus being so much on him either, so after a few moments of this, a few soft noises pulled from him as he braces himself against the wall, he will reach for the controller and shift the setting, wanting to see what that one does when Gustavain is at least a little out of the way of public view, more shielded and needing to control less.

The result is, all told, pretty spectacular. The setting has just enough of that "aether scrambling" business that he's fully aware of how unfocused he gets, combined with a slow but strong pulse that, with the addled state, feels a lot more like getting fucked than the stimulation of a toy. He makes a low, gasping sort of moan and then abruptly matches pace with the pulse of the light, earlier focus definitely shattered.

He'll writhe a little too, for a moment, completely unashamed about chasing that sensation. He's absolutely not coordinated enough like this to do anything about his pants, but if Phillip doesn't give him something to make friction on, he's reaching down and palming himself through them, pressing Phillip more into the wall but this time in an almost mindless need for more rather than asserting any kind of control.

He's moaning with every breath before a handful of seconds have even passed, every second driving him closer and closer to the edge, all of it suddenly breakneck and desperate

Phillip will shift one of his legs forward, to give Gus something to bear down on for a moment, but very soon after activating that setting he's switched them off it again, back to something slower and less likely to barrel towards the end. "You did say you didn't want to make a mess of your pants," he points out, dragging his fingers against Gustavain's scalp and the breathiness of his voice somehow finding the middle between the controlling start and his accidental show of feelings. There is something rich and heated in there too, perhaps a memory of how he specifically asked to beg before going home...

Of course, whether or not Gus decides to continue what he's doing is entirely up in the air. Phillip is not all that far off himself, if the way he's beginning to clench in hand in the other's hair is an indication, his breathing becoming shallower and quicker with every moment.

Gustavain ruts against his leg completely shamelessly and without a hint of hesitation, deeper moans muffled well by his cock. It's very clear that he'd have done that until he came without intervention, but he gasps and comes back to himself instead. He pulls back just far enough to catch his breath, licks a long, slow stripe up his cock, head resting against Phillip's hip for a moment.

"Fuck," he says, soft, breathless, makes a low, humming sound of pleasure. His fingers work to get his pants open, wastes no time in starting to stroke himself, now that he's no longer going to make a mess of himself, "Got no problem with making a mess of the floor. Easier to clean up," he comments, then takes him back down, humming happily and somewhat pointedly around him.

Phillip runs his nails lightly over Gustavain's scalp as he takes that rest against him, trying to catch his own breath as he does so. It's really quite unfair, he thinks, how lovely the man looks when he's so hungry.

Of course, he doesn't get much of a reprieve either, and while he could draw a line here, refuse them both any kind of release until they were well and truly back in private, but why would he do that? It's not as if this would be the end of it all, and he very much wants to see Gus make a bit of a mess. So he doesn't object, doesn't deny either of them of what they want right now, flipping the dial back to that setting that drives him wild before leaning back and just letting the wave of pleasure take them both.

The muffled noise he makes sounds a bit more like a squeal when Phillip brings the dial back around, sharp and high, and it's partially surprise and also partially a self-satisfied kind of delight that makes it clear this was precisely what he was hoping Phillip might do. It melts into that almost distracted sounding, deeper noise almost immediately. There's no need to resist it anymore, even if he'd been able to, and he doesn't try, bucks his hips into his own hand and pulls Phillip even closer with the other.

There's a marked difference between him with the setting and him without and it's not just that he's distracted-- something about his mouth goes softer, somehow, his tongue more dragging, like that feels good to him too, his moans more heavy and purring. It's not going to take more than another handful of seconds before he comes completely unraveled with a low, drawn out moan.

Phillip goes with the hold, pressing deeper into the man's mouth and the hand that was controlling the toy finally joining its twin in burrowing into that long, brown hair. He manages to keep his hips fairly still and his mouth closed, just with the periodic gasps for air and bitten back cries, until the way that tongue dragging over him and the vibration of hummed purrs becomes too much to bear. There's a choked noise as he keeps back what would have been an obscenely loud moan and he comes, body shuddering in absolute ecstasy.

He won't move immediately, except to dial down the toy if it seems like it's causing Gus any discomfort (otherwise he's definitely keeping it as it for a moment). Other than his deep breaths, he's quiet too, hands sliding down to almost cradle the man's face, thumbing over it in gentle lines.

Phillip might end up wanting to turn the toy down as much as his sake as for Gustavain's. There's no protest to him leaving it on, but neither is there any sign that Gustavain is going to stop, either. He swallows around him as they both find release but without any respite from the toy, he also doesn't pull off of him. It's not entirely clear if he can string the brain cells together to-- he can't seem to really find the coordination to keep any kind of a rhythm either, is just dragging his tongue mindlessly against his cock, and he manages to look upwards at Phillip when he cups his face, is responsive enough to lean heavily into the touch, but his eyes aren't wholly focused.

He looks fucked out, not necessarily alarmingly so, but definitely "worse" than a single round ought to have gotten him and, if Phillip leaves him like that for more than a few additional seconds, a series of increasingly deep shudders seem to roll up his spine while he starts to moan in a way that sounds delirious, over-whelmed. If Phillip can take it, it seems like he might just roll right from one orgasm to the build to another, even if it doesn't sound wholly comfortable, despite the utter lack of protest.

The problem is now that this doesn't seem like it would be terribly comfortable for either of them, but that look on Gustavain's face is well near worth it for Phillip to just throw out good sense and continue onwards. He lets out a low breath to try and steady himself, brushing over his face almost adoringly. Luckily, his brain does kick in enough to actually turn the thing off for a moment, continuing his gentle petting motions afterwards to get the both of them to calm down.

He doesn't take his hands off the other, keeping them pressed up together against the wall and just basking in the warmth of them against each other. "Better?" he asks quietly after a moment, once the cheek has managed to come back to him.

He'll recover quickly enough, now that the toy is off, but in the first moment he just pulls back enough to not choke himself further on Phillip's cock and then collapses against him, seems like he's only really still upright because of the way he's on his knees and that gravity is more pulling him straight down than to the side.

"Mmm..." he manages, muzzily but much more coherent than previously, "This was the best idea." He nuzzles into a hip, bites for a moment, but then manages to pull himself off and slowly go about setting them both to rights. "You're going to have to be really careful," he comments, lazily. "Just feeling the thing inside me, now, has me about ready to melt."

That is clearly not a call to stop, though, and he's also clearly not begging yet.

Phillip laughs, shivering a little at the bite but helping Gustavain to his feet and almost certainly taking on some of his weight as he gets his bearings again. "Already?" he teases, hands very much still running over him and keeping him close, "Seems like we haven't gotten through even half of what we talked about..."

He could mean shopping. He almost certainly means the begging, though.

Once they're a little more put together, he will turn it back on, but at one of those low, periodic settings, nothing consistent enough to be likely to tip him over the edge near as quickly. But he will make sure it doesn't just make him immediately collapse before they sneak back out onto the streets.

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