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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"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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It takes him a moment to pull off, and even when he does he stays where he is for a moment to catch his breath and feel those fingers in his hair, but eventually he'll pull himself up. He slides onto the bed overtop of Gustavain, lips trailing over his jaw before finding his mouth, pressing him down into the mattress with his hands on either side of his body, hips pressed together.
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His pants are still hooked around one leg and he shifts without fully dislodging Phillip from his chest and pulls a small box out of one of the pockets, dumping the contents out on the bed. It's impossible to tell what the object is from looking at it at first-- a small crystal and a coil of some kind of wire, maybe? Gustavain's fingers unspool the length of some kind of flexible metal and he drapes it around the back of his neck so the ends hang down over his shoulders.
"Here, get out the controller device..." once Phillip does, he dumps the small crystal into his hands, "See that other little dome on it? Tap the crystal on it." Sure enough, there's a smaller dome on the device, unnoticed as it's been dark the whole time, but when it's tapped with the crystal, both it and the smaller dome glow white. "You should be able to tell that there's a slightly flatter side to the crystal, yes? Keep your thumb on it, and bring it closer to the rest of the necklace..."
When he does, the metal ends of the bit Gustavain had draped around his neck glow blue like the bigger dome and rise like they're magnetized to hover to the sides of the small crystal part. When Phillip lets it go, it hovers there and Gustavain has called it a "necklace", but what it truly is, is blatantly obvious. Gustavain, of course, seems utterly unbothered by the implications, because when is he ever and continues,
"I wasn't able to play too much with this on my own, but it seems like it's intended to allow for the aether scrambling part of the device to continue to work even without the toy being inserted." He says it bright and excited to try it out, because of course he does.
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The hand not on the controller slides up over his collar to his neck, brushing the skin under the floating coil. "I guess we should test it," he hums, ignoring the fact that the toy is still inside of him as he leans in for another one of those lush kisses while ramping up the brightness on the controller. He already knows exactly what he wants to do, but he is also entirely unwilling to let it be over so quickly.
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Something about the look in his eyes grows a little wild as Phillip slides his fingers under the collar and he tilts his head back, baring his long neck very deliberately. He's not going to bring it up, not right now, not here, but he's very, very aware of what he has just let put this collar around his neck, not just who, and all the things that means, everywhere else but here.
He kisses back full and lush to meet Phillip's kiss, laughing at him saying he guesses they should test it, like there's any doubt they both want to, and then his side of the kiss goes heated and unfocused as Phillip ramps up the brightness setting, a low moan building in his chest that, true to his previous commentary about it, he does nothing to hold back. A moment later, his hips start to writhe just a bit with the still-slow pulse of the toy still inside.
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He shifts a bit overtop of him, maneuvering his own pants off and kicking them to the floor, pressing down to grind their bared skin together in a slow, almost taunting motion. He'll keep up that teasing for a moment, before reaching down and finding the toy at last, the smooth little thing sliding out and temporarily discarded to the side. He drags a finger between his cheeks with a low hum. "Mmmm, I'm not sure you're ready for me," he says, nipping at the skin of his jaw, right above the collar, "Unless you're too eager to wait?" It's likely not actually that big of a deal, nothing Gustavain couldn't take, but Phillip does very much like to hear him ask for it.
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Truthfully, it's hard to muddle through anything at all. Unless Phillip's just gone completely for broke and turned the brightness all the way up, there's still enough thought process left for him to know things like where they are and who he is, but there's not room for whole lot left besides. The friction leaves him writhing more, chasing more of it, and losing the stimulation of the toy makes him whine in disappointment. He probably could use a little more prep, the toy's only really large enough to make sure it stayed in, but he also rolls his hips thoughtlessly against any kind of pressure and he's also slick and open enough to easily take a finger-- and will, if Phillip's got one in the vicinity and doesn't stop him.
Either way, Gustavain's brow furrows at the question. He's usually so quick-witted that he's sometimes a bit dangerous with it, but right now, the words swim, don't wholly make sense to him. What isn't he ready for? But then it's like Phillip feeds him words and he grabs onto them like a drowning man,
"Too eager to wait..." that seems right, and he doesn't hear how much it sounds like parroting over the sound of his addled brain accepting that as truth. It's possible it wouldn't be so easy without him already being turned on and truthfully entirely too eager even without the toys-- the sentence just gives proper, acceptable context for what he's already feeling and he accepts it without further thought,
"Fuck me," he follows it with, his voice hitting a tremulous little pleading note, tries to spread his thighs a little more to make it more appealing.
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The hand with the controller reaches up to caress his face, thumb dragging over his lips and pulling them down. "My beautiful bard," he hums, and there's something dangerous in there, about the way he says my, but it's not likely either of them will really have the chance to think about it until their heads are somewhere more grounded, "I know. I'll treat you so good." He leans down for another kiss, hot and almost bruising as he ramps up the brightness to its highest level, dropping the controller in favor of finding a bottle of oil.
His slicks up his cock with it, rubbing any excess over and into the elezen's entrance before pushing in. He manages to be careful even with most of his head elsewhere, wrapped up in the pleasure of the moment, sinking in until he can't go any further. He waits a moment, just enough to breathe, but the tension and feeling of want is too thick in the air for him to stay still for long, and that first thrust he makes drags them together, pressing back in deep and hard.
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"Always... yours..." he says, muffled against the fingers on his lips, his mouth tipping open and slack with the slight pressure and then he just kind of... forgets to close it, until Phillip takes his lips again in another kiss. He murmurs something that might be good to his next words, but then even that falls away-- the rightness, any of the more cerebral pleasure, everything.
His eyes go blank and dazed and he's really addled at this point to the point that he doesn't even actually know that he's addled anymore. It's very clear that what they were about to do was fuck and he's blindingly aroused and that's literally all his brain needs to make him smile invitingly and reach for Phillip, wrapping his legs around him as he sinks in with a soft, pleased sigh. The way is... easier than Phillip might have expected, not with preparation but with a complete lack of any kind of tension whatsoever, like Gustavain is short-circuited all the way down to his involuntary responses.
Gustavain doesn't spare a thought for where they are, can't really care at the moment, and does nothing to quiet himself at that first thrust, rolling his hips eagerly under Phillip's, though he's so distracted by pleasure that he can't even turn that into a decisive move, mostly just firms up under him, gives him something to thrust against.
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