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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"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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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
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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.
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"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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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"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.
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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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He seems all business about getting them set to rights, seems a little bit looser-limbed than before, but he's remarkably good at tucking himself back up and away, smoothing over his own hair until the only real sign that they've been up to anything is a slight flush to his cheeks that could easily be a single glass of wine or a small lewd comment rather than coming apart in a storage closet.
Well. Right up until Phillip turns the thing back on. He grips suddenly on Phillip's arms and doesn't make a sound but very clearly sucks his breath in, his face undeniably caught out during sex for a moment. He hangs his head forward on Phillip's shoulder for a moment, shoulder's shaking in breathless laughter,
"Oh fuck, that feels so good," he's barely turned it on, but he's sensitive now, primed, and what was easy to dismiss twenty minutes ago is turning him half to jelly now. He'll stop Phillip if he tries to turn it off though, "No... no, just... mmmm... just give me a moment..." he's taking in little sips of air, but he does calm, breathe through it, straighten,
"It's not going to take long," he says, simply, and likely unnecessarily, "But I don't intend to renege on the terms now." And then, after a moment, "If I'm incoherent by the time we do get back to either of our rooms, get me off or calm me down, but don't take it out of me yet. There's one more part to this and I don't want to miss it." He grins.
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He has less to sort out before being presentable than Gus does, but he'll do his best to make sure they're both sorted even as he immediately undermines it by turning the toy back on. He wraps his arms around the man, steadying him as he adjusts to the now very gentle pulse, holding him until he straightens again, enough for them to continue onwards. However brief that might be.
"I'll admit I was wondering about that third part," he says, reaching a hand up to pull Gustavain's face down to his, long enough for a lush kiss before letting him go. He'll lead them out of the storage cabinet after checking to make sure they won't be observed and head towards the market, likely with an arm still hooked together to help with balance.
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He plays around with various things in some of the open air shops, they end up with some fruits and some sweets along with anything Phillip might want, but Gustavain tugs them to head more back along the backside of the buildings rather than down the main thoroughfare to the bar and there's not enough time to do much, even back here, but it's enough to tug Phillip's arms around him from behind and writhe backwards into the line of him, breathy,
"Please," it's not the most eloquent, but his body is also doing a lot of the talking for him, the way he's rubbing his ass backwards against him, "Everything feels like it's slipping sideways, I can't... can't... Fury I wish you could just fuck me in the street," he makes a needy little noise, pushes back a little harder.
He'll be able to calm himself again once they separate, but he seems wholly incapable of choosing that separation for himself.
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He doesn't pick up much from the market himself (except perhaps a very cute little outfit that is almost certainly only going to be worn in private, purchased half just because Gus is there to see it), and it's not like shopping was really the goal anyway so he has no complaints at all about being lead away from the market proper. He wraps his arms around the man easily, having to stand on his tiptoes to kiss at his neck and nip at the skin.
"You know I would if I could," he says, voice low and heated as he lets a hand slide down to the other's front, just the slightest bit of pressure on his cock, "You'd look so lovely during it." He withdraws his hands and his arms, taking hold of the elezen's with a firmer grip than before.
"Come on." His voice is commanding, not to be argued with, but rich and inviting all the same as he leads them back to his room.
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Still, he manages to gather himself, at least enough to not show much of what's really happening. There's another, softer shudder to that commanding tone in Phillip's voice. He doesn't trust his own, though, follows mutely along with him, full concentration now on just getting behind a door.
Even after they do, though, he seems more inclined at the moment to let Phillip keep control, could easily have pinned him to the wall like in the storage closet and they both know it, but keeps his hands to himself instead, though it's clearly on a hair trigger.
"Please," he says again, and then he can't help but reach out and smooth his hands over Phillip's shirt, though he manages to keep from doing anything else.
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His hands find his way down to the other's shirt, pulling it off and layering more kisses over his skin before his mouth finds the soft skin of his neck, biting down and working in a deep mark. "Tell me what you want, love," he says, the softness of the words offset by the rougher, sensual tone, "I want to hear it."
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"If you don't hurry up, I'm not going to have to tell you anything," because he's going to come with his pants still on, he means, and there's zero prohibition or care for not doing that now that they're in private. "I want you to make me come. I don't care how and haven't for an hour now," someone else might mistake his tone for upset or commanding, but Phillip can easily hear the broken edges of it, how he's more just being direct because there's no subterfuge or teasing left, "And then I want to show you the last part of this and I want you to fuck me until I can't walk."
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Gustavain has almost surely come across how much Phillip loves doing this by now, the pleasured hum in his throat as he takes his cock deep, tongue sliding over the length of it. He enjoys giving this as much as, if not more, than being on the receiving end, and there's something insatiably hungry about the way he moves over him. It won't take long, not with how far gone he already is, but Phillip seems ready to savor every second of it.
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"Oh careful... careful... I'm too close... I can't..." control himself is obviously what he means, because he's arching his hips, can't hold still. There's no real strength in either his legs or his hand on Phillip's head, but that's less out of deliberate politeness and more just that he's shaking too hard to put any real force behind it.
He doesn't even make it to double digits on the thrusts, though, before he's coming, falling back boneless on the bed afterwards, petting through Phillip's hair and trying to catch his breath.
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