[ No, he thinks. No, no, no. He shakes his head, and feels tears sting at the corner of his eyes as he remembers the aftermath of that night, the fits of rage that he went though, how he screamed and screamed and screamed at the Undying not to touch Joshua, that he'd change his brother's bandages himself, for them to choose between leaving the two of them alone or killing him.
They did neither. Clive was kept locked in a room for his own safety until Joshua woke, and Clive knows that Uncle Byron must have told Joshua about it at some point: "oh, there was so much darkness in your brother while you were asleep. He was in pieces, you know. For a good while. Though he did his level best not to let it show when he was finally permitted near you."
Clive feels fifteen again. On the verge of failing Joshua again, when he hears I would be lost without you. He wants to take his brother's face in both palms and kiss him breathless. He wants to hold him close and feel his pulse against his skin. He wants to save Joshua, and hold Joshua, and keep him from everything that would ever look at him with ill intent.
Despicable. But he can't stop himself from acting on a fraction of his unspeakable desires, and so his hands settle on either side of Joshua's blisteringly beautiful face. Gently, with enough give that he could slip away easily if he wishes to. ]
And I'm telling you to let me bear all of this for you. So that you never feel lost again.
[How could he refuse anything Clive says, said like that? With that emotion in his voice, with something that might almost be tears in his eyes. With his gentle touch, palms on Joshua’s cheeks, so tender despite the strength that Joshua knows those hands contain. As if he could never, would never hurt Joshua - something that Joshua wholeheartedly believes to be true.
One of Joshua’s hands comes up, covering Clive’s, holding it there gently.]
If you wish to bear my burdens, you must let me care for you in return.
[The truth is, he can’t stop Clive from continuing to do what he’s done for years: cutting himself to the bone to protect Rosaria, to keep them safe and free so that Joshua might take the throne. It’s Ifrit, it’s Clive, who’s really done it all.
And everyone around them has been content to let it happen. To use Clive’s strength, with little care for Clive himself. Joshua should have done more to stop it, he knows. He shouldn’t be allowing it now. Clive deserves better.
But Joshua can’t ask his brother to stop if it’s truly what he wants. Rosaria needs him, and Joshua needs him even more desperately. Clive is one of the few he truly feels safe with, one of the few he trusts implicitly. What he can do is insist on this. This, if nothing else.]
Let me heal you when you’re hurt. Come to me when you need rest, or - or comfort.
[It can be excused as brotherly affection, perhaps, when Joshua turns his head just a bit, just enough to press his lips to Clive’s palm. He tells himself that, wanting to believe it, though he knows by the rhythm of his heart in his chest that it isn’t true.]
[ Clive wants desperately to believe that he would never, ever harm Joshua, not under threat of death; he wants to believe that he says "never" and means it. But he feels his brother's hand rest over his, feels his soft lips brush his hard palm, and hears the word comfort, and it's all Clive can do to stop himself from leaning in and kissing the word out of Joshua's mouth. Comfort. Clive has never wanted anything more.
His pulse quickens. He's sure Joshua can feel it from where they touch. Like bellows to a fire, Clive can feel his heart heat in his chest.
"If you knew how I look at you, you wouldn't say those things to me." Clive thinks to say it, but the words catch in the back of his throat. ]
Joshua.
[ A chide or a plea, he doesn't even know. His thumb grazes under Joshua's eye, along the peak of his cheekbone. He's so warm; the Phoenix, incarnate. Life and rebirth. Clive's entire world.
He stills for a moment, then breathes through his teeth. He really can't deny Joshua anything. ]
...If that will put your mind at ease. You're the only one I can trust myself with.
[It's hard to think when Clive touches him like that. Hard to think of anything but wanting more of it, though he knows he shouldn't, knows he can't. Clive is his brother, and Clive trusts him. He has to get control of himself, or he'll do something that might shatter that trust. And that's the one thing Joshua knows he couldn't take.
Anything else would be survivable. He's already lost his parents and his last chance to have anything like a peaceful childhood. He could lose his throne, lose his kingdom, and he thinks that he would find a way to carry on, to keep fighting.
But he can't lose Clive. Not to battle - something he fears constantly, for all that he childishly also believes Clive could never lose - but to his own actions. Joshua could so easily misstep, do something stupid and selfish that would drive Clive away. He knows it. Clive would forgive him nearly anything, but how could Clive forgive him something like that?
Still, he can't make himself pull away. Unconsciously, against what should be his better judgement, Joshua leans into Clive's touch.]
It's all I ask for. I hate the thought of you getting hurt for me. I know it's happened - probably more than I think - but if I had my way, no one would ever touch you again.
[Joshua tries not to put that in any context but battle. Anything else is too much - too upsetting to think about. He wants Clive to be happy, he does, but there's a reason he's steadfastly refused to ever listen to rumors, ever to ask about whether his brother has taken lovers.
He doesn't want to know. He doesn't ever want to know.]
[ He can't. This can't go on. The more Joshua lists closer, allows Clive to toe the line, the more Clive will become inclined, at Sanbreque, to start a diplomatic incident if anyone so much as looks at Joshua with heat in their eyes.
Ifrit trills under Clive's skin, mirroring his want, his elation at being granted even a sliver of Joshua's possessiveness. ]
No one's touch has ever mattered to me but yours, [ is uncalculated, stated before Clive can stop himself. The palms bracketing Joshua's face hold with more purpose; he wishes he could make Joshua understand the depth of his feeling, how inextricable it is from Clive's fundamental being. ] I belong to you.
[ Too intense to be a declaration by a subject to his liege. Clive knows it, but he can't take it back-- he finally, finally slides his hands off of his brother, and gives him more space to breathe. ]
...I won't go anywhere, Joshua. I'm fine, so... [ A paltry attempt at finding equilibrium. Clive tries for a smile, and squeezes the crest of Joshua's knee. ] ...We should rest. It's been an age since we shared a bed.
[What he should do, he knows, is refuse Clive's assertion. Tell him that he belongs to himself, that he always will. And it's true, too. Joshua doesn't want to be Clive's keeper, not really. What he wants is something that he can't have, something that he can never be. Not even when Clive says things like that, says things that strike straight to his heart and make him think, just for a moment - maybe.
But Clive pulls back before Joshua can teeter and fall over that ledge, and that's for the best. He knows it is, even if he feels the loss keenly. He was so close to doing something terrible - to saying something he shouldn't, to asking Clive (begging him) to allow Joshua to touch him.
Just once. And they could pretend it never happened.
His heart is still beating too hard, but he manages to smile back at Clive.]
We do have another long ride tomorrow.
[He had not thought for a moment about sharing the bed. They did it when they were young, when Joshua would sneak into his room, and Clive never turned him away. But now Joshua knows it will be more difficult. Clive's words won't leave his mind. No one's touch has ever mattered to me but yours. He didn't mean it that way. He didn't.
It will haunt Joshua.
Still, there's nothing in the world that could make him exile Clive to the divan. He sets himself to normal tasks, pushing his thoughts away fruitlessly, bending down to remove his boots.]
Let me, [ Clive suggests softly, as he drops from the edge of the bed to help Joshua out of his traveling gear. Knelt in front of him, hands to laces, still hovered close.
Agony. He imagines sliding his palms up the side of Joshua's legs, up over his thighs, along his thin waist. He wonders what Joshua would feel like under his palm, if he'd be able to feel the pulse of his aether when they're skin to skin, if he'd taste like fire when kissed. Clive has taken lovers before, as a consequence of bawdy soldiers demanding their First Shield to make himself a real man; he has also been in the company of comrades in need of a desperate rut after the trauma of near-death experiences. All of these have come with the unfortunate, grim reminder that his pleasure depends on visions of blond hair and his brother's eyes, of the sound of Clive in Joshua's voice.
Clive will want to kill whoever touches Joshua. He knows he won't.
Boots peel off; Clive sits up and loops his arms around Joshua's middle, helping him to unclip his traveling packs from his belt.
Founder, Joshua even smells perfect. Like parchment and ink and soft incense. Clive bows his head, and unwittingly nuzzles against his brother's shoulder. ]
...Do you remember the time I took you to the river on your nameday?
[ To break the silence. He might swallow Joshua whole if he doesn't find something else to focus on. ]
[Joshua would let him do just about anything right then. He doesn't need help, not really, but if Clive is the one offering he could never refuse. He stays still, tries not to notice how close Clive is, tries to keep his mind where it should be, and not wandering off down one of those dark, indecent paths that seem to come so easily to him. But Clive's arms are around him, just for a moment, and Clive's face presses to his shoulder, and he takes a quick breath, not quite a gasp.
He wants Clive so badly. He wants Clive to touch him, to look at him like a lover, to hold him. He knows it's impossible. He also knows that he won't ever want anyone else like this. His fate has always been written - for all that Joshua has a romantic heart, there'll be no romance in his life. He was always meant to marry for Rosaria.
And spend all of his life wishing for someone he can't have.]
Yes.
[It takes Clive talking about something simple, a vivid memory, to bring Joshua back to where he should be. Not thinking of impossible things, not inches from disaster.]
I had such a good time - well, until I fell in.
[But Clive was there to save him, and though he'd been terrified for those brief moments, in the end he was safe. In the end he could still treasure those first few minutes, where he was free to do as he wished.]
[ A pleasant memory of the past, to offset the present. Thinking too deeply about the reality of undressing Joshua will be ruinous; under the light leathers serving as ornamental armor, Joshua is only protected by thin, soft layers befitting his station.
Maybe Clive should take the divan. Suddenly, the thought of Joshua pressed against him feels like heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. ]
I hardly minded. It rankled more to see everyone treating your nameday as if it was theirs-- planning to parade you like some...
[ A light scoff, as he straightens and loosens the buckles of Joshua's protective layers. ] ...rare golden chocobo. It didn't sit right.
[ Fingers brush along his brother's nape; the feel of it makes him almost mirror the soft breath Joshua'd taken before, low and surprised. Just the barest touch, and his aether sparks with pleasure.
What in the hells is happening to him? ]
...I only wished you could have had more time to yourself. [ A clearing of his throat, and Clive pulls back. He feels on fire, every thought in his mind gravitating towards increasingly more taboo what ifs. ]
[Clive’s fingers on his skin - has he ever wanted anything more? Just that barest brush is enough to set his heart pounding. Joshua is a fool, he knows, to even imagine that anything could be between them besides brotherly devotion and loyalty. But it’s so easy to think for a moment that it might mean something.]
I’ve always known that I belonged to Rosaria before I belonged to myself. Those few moments you stole for me - they meant so much.
[He doesn’t hate being the Archduke. Sometimes it feels so worthwhile, sometimes he can see the things he’s able to do for his people. But Joshua never had a chance to be anything else, and he never will.
He’s had plenty of idle dreams about what he would do, if his life had been his own. A scholar, perhaps. An adventurer, if he could do it at Clive’s side. Pretty dreams, but he knows his duty.]
Really, I would rather have spent more time with you.
[He’s been so carefully trying to keep his hands to himself. It’s dangerous enough that something sparks through his veins every time Clive’s hands brush his skin. Joshua can’t give in to temptation. But he can’t stop himself, either, and so he reaches out and brushes his fingers against Clive’s cheek.]
I wish - [He stops himself, starts again,] I wish you were more free to do as you pleased, too.
[It’s true. But it’s not what he almost said. I wish I could be yours.]
Thinking back, he'll wonder what it was that pushed him over his edge-- Joshua's soft voice speaking of freedom? The fingers along his cheek? Joshua's clavicle peering out of his thin underclothes?
Later, Clive will understand that it was both none of it, and all of it. Too many years of wanting and denying; the walls he'd built around his emotions were always bound to fall.
Hands fly to Joshua's wrists. They grip (gently, gently), push forward, and pin his thin frame onto clean sheets. Clive climbs on him, intent and hunger making blue eyes sharper, though they gentle when they take in Joshua's form. Beloved, beautiful-- Clive dips down and presses his mouth to Joshua's neck, teeth and lips and tongue raking against soft skin.
He can taste the Phoenix's aether, deep and warm and pulsing. It makes something strange and arcane in Clive shudder in anticipation, wanting more, more, more--
--until the world reorients itself again, and Clive realizes what exactly it is that he's doing. Has done. Would have done. He pales, blood draining from his face, and retreats as though burned. ]
Joshua-- [ short of breath, shuddering. ] --Forgive me, I forgot myself. Forgive me--
[For an instant - just a brief flash of emotion - Joshua is afraid. Not of Clive, who he truly believes would never hurt him, but rather that he's been found out. That he's done something wrong, that Clive has seen through him, that he's disgusted by the thought of Joshua touching him now. But it's not that. It's something else entirely, something he never expected, something very similar to the things he tries so hard not to think about.
Clive's hands are strong, his body is warm. This close, Joshua can feel Ifrit's heat beneath his skin. It doesn't frighten him. Ifrit hurt him once, but Clive is in control of his eikon now, and Joshua cannot fear him. The Ifrit of his nightmares and the Ifrit that Clive becomes may as well be two different creatures.
Joshua breathes in, heart pounding, and then - that warmth on his neck, the slide of teeth, Clive. When he trembles, it isn't out of fear. He's struck dumb, but his body feels more alive than it ever has, and he wants more -
And then Clive is gone, and for a moment all Joshua can do is stare at him in shock. Then Clive's pale face sinks in, his words, his horror.]
No, I - No, Clive -
[He doesn't know what to say, can't find the words. He reaches out, reaching for Clive.]
[ Every nerve in his body is screaming for more: it yearns in a way that he doesn't know what to do with now that he's touched Joshua with that dark, forbidden intent. It makes him shake, and the slide back away from Joshua despite those beloved hands seeking him out makes him realize that－
－fuck, he's hard. Like some sort of animal in heat. Despair laps up against his consciousness, doubled and tripled by the shock he sees on Joshua's beautiful face, the quick reassurance that Clive didn't hurt him. Again, as if Clive is some animal sure to scamper away if scolded, and thus needs to be reassured.
It shames him more than his injury ever could, that Joshua needs to swallow what must be disgust and horror to assuage him that he isn't the monster that he knows himself to be. Kind, gentle Joshua, whose heart Clive is breaking. ]
I can't. [ His voice is barely over a whisper, almost inaudible over the creaking of the bed as he swings himself off of it. ] Founder will it that I never touch you again.
[ Clive would have defiled Joshua. Joshua, the one thing he holds holier than anything. His precious brother, his one and only. ]
I would have done worse than hurt you, [ is choked, sob-adjacent. He turns away from Joshua, hands gripped into tight fists, mortified. ]
[Joshua’s shock is fading, replaced by - something else. Worry, fear, something like need. No one has ever touched him like that, put their mouth against his skin, and he never thought Clive would. Never. But now it’s hard not to want, hard to drag his mind off how he feels, desire sparking along his nerves.
Clive looks horrified, though, shattered by what he’s done. And Joshua knows he should feel the same. He should be disgusted, frightened, not - wishing that Clive hadn’t stopped. But he can’t, won’t pretend at anger. Not just because he wants Clive, has wanted him for so long, but because he can’t stand that look of pain on Clive’s face. Can’t stand the thought of him hating himself for something that Joshua wanted.
Still wants.]
Don’t say that.
[He follows Clive, getting off the bed, going to him - though he stops before touching him. It’s true, he’s afraid Clive will run if Joshua touches him. Will hate himself so much that he won’t allow it. That he won’t listen. So Joshua is careful, though inside his heart is still pounding.
He doesn’t know what the right thing to say is. He doesn’t know what drove Clive to do that, and he fears saying the wrong thing. In the end, though, all he can do is be honest.]
Would it - truly be so awful?
[He knows it would be. He knows it’s wrong. Clive is his brother, his protector. But -]
[ To the tune of you don't understand, though he knows that Joshua does. His brother is no longer a child, and Clive is aware of the education that happens when princes come of age and are told what their expectations are in terms of continuing the bloodline. Joshua isn't so naive as to think that Clive's mouth on his neck was anything but carnal in nature, and Clive isn't so despicable that he'll fall back on that excuse to forgive himself for the transgression.
So. Though it burns him alive to admit it, he lays it out as clearly as he can manage. ]
―I would have taken you, had I not stopped myself. [ Still too vague. He adds: ] I want for you. You must know what this means.
[ Which makes him a failure not only as a protector, but as Joshua's brother. The one thing he ought not to be able to fail in, being blood-tied; perhaps Anabella had been correct to hate him, if this is the thing he was destined to become. ]
This is what I would do to you, had I the freedom to do as I please. [ Something in his gaze turns desperate; he sees the worry in Joshua's face and wants nothing more than to soothe him and tell him that everything will be alright, but he's the problem. How does he protect Joshua from himself without pushing Joshua away? ] It's wretched, and I won't make you suffer it.
[Joshua says it as gently as he can manage. He knows what he wants. He knows it's awful, it's wrong, that Clive will probably be just as horrified at it as he was by his own actions. Even knowing Clive wants him doesn't change that, they both know it's the kind of thing they should never give into.
But Clive wants him. It's impossible that such a thing could be true, and yet - Clive's mouth was on his neck, Clive's hands on his wrists. Joshua still feels hot, still finds it hard to keep his thoughts from what might have happened. But Clive is looking at him now like a drowning man. Joshua doesn't know if he can find the right words, is afraid that all he'll do is upset Clive more. Even so, he's going to tell the truth.]
It isn't wretched. You aren't.
[He takes a breath, closes his eyes for a moment. Steadying himself. He's frightened to speak any of this aloud. But he doesn't look away from Clive when he speaks.]
I would welcome you in my bed. I would give you anything you might want, so long as it meant you would touch me.
[Joshua has never wanted anyone else. He knows he should. He knows he's intended for a political marriage, and a love like the one he has for Clive is the worst possible thing he could fall to. But he can't help it, and he doesn't want to. Even the faintest possibility that Clive might feel similarly for him is enough to make him stop caring about anything else.]
If you hate yourself for it, you must hate me as well.
[ He feels air draining out of his lungs. Joshua speaks, and he says― he says something about knowing what Clive means, but wanting it regardless. The internal struggle to make sense of it all makes his chest tight, and his mind works a mile a minute to come to terms with what he's hearing.
It can't be, though. Joshua can't be giving him permission. It's impossible. Expecting reciprocity is worse than wishful thinking, because reciprocity shouldn't exist at all.
And yet. Clive watches as his brother opens his eyes and maintains eye contact, speaking impossible words with impossible conviction. It threatens to shatter him again, and the only reason it doesn't is because of what Joshua says about hating him. ]
Never, [ is the kneejerk response. ] Never, Joshua.
[ Founder, he feels lightheaded. Worse still, he feels some part of himself shake with elation that Joshua might want this in the way that he does.
A breath, and Clive reorients himself. Wills the room to stop spinning, and wills himself to keep his focus steady, his voice soft. ]
―If I do this, [ is accompanied by a shake of his head. ] I would ruin you. I―
[ He swallows, his throat thick with his words. ]
―I would ever look at you, and want you. [ To prove it, he presses his hand to Joshua's face again; he knows his brother will be able to hear his pulse pounding through his palm, feel how his skin burns. ] Anyone you show favor to, I would loathe.
[Joshua wants to clutch at Clive’s hand, afraid this could be the last time Clive is willing to touch him. The heat of Clive’s touch only makes him want to lean into it, his heart beating a matching rhythm.
Clive is right, if they do this, give into this, there’ll be no going back. But -]
It would change nothing for me. I already think of you with - with others and I burn with jealousy. That they might have you when I can’t.
[Joshua has always feared that one day he would have to give his blessing to Clive’s marriage. After all, who wouldn’t want Clive? He’s the most handsome man Joshua knows, kind and true, strong but gentle. Joshua is sure he will be loved, because who could know him properly and do anything else, really?
He doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle it. Even if Clive never touches him again, he knows that having to give his brother to someone else will still break his heart.
And Joshua’s own fate has been written since he was born. If Clive feels even a bit of that same emotion, that unhealthy possessiveness that Joshua can’t shake, then it seems terribly unfair that they shouldn’t have a chance. A chance at - something. A moment together, if nothing else.
Joshua’s heart is already lost anyway.]
I know my duty. I know I am expected to wed. But you’re the only one I want - the only one I will ever favor.
[He steps closer to Clive, not looking away, reaching out to rest one hand gently over his heart. So he can feel that heat, that pulse, that mirrors his own.]
Even if you never touch me again, that will be true.
[He knows it’s awful. He knows they shouldn’t. He knows they can never go back from this.
[ 'Someone else'. As if there ever has been, as if there ever will be. Clive Rosfield, the second Dominant of Fire, is a poor marriage prospect: too strategically important to Rosaria's military to be married off to another nation as a peace offering, and too frequently dispatched to the frontlines to be an attractive husband for a noblewoman. There has been talk of him siring a child in the hopes that Ifrit may be passed down (an Eikon that has heretofore never existed), but he doesn't care to try.
Ifrit was born for the Phoenix, and Ifrit will die with the Phoenix.
It's the only rational thought he can muster before he leans forward into that forbidden sliver of space between them, spurred by the suddenly unbearable thought of them ever being apart. Clive has experienced it once, when he held his brother's broken body and felt his entire world come crashing down around him.
He angles his head, and presses his mouth against Joshua's. It isn't chaste－ it's open-mouthed and wanting, with one palm cradling the side of that perfect face, the other finding the small of Joshua's back to pull him inwards, closer. Clive tilts, and kisses, and breathes; he relents once, letting their lips part, then surges back in again, making a hungry sound in the back of his throat.
When his lungs ache, and his vision starts to double, he finally pulls back. ]
Fuck, Joshua－ [ A low pant, voice hoarse. All pretense of being the Archduke's Lord Commander has disappeared; he's just Clive, bare and honest. ] －You're the only one that will ever have me.
[ Until I die, he whispers, and nips along Joshua's lower lip. ]
[It's almost too much, overwhelming, everything he hoped for and never dreamed could happen. Joshua has never really been kissed, certainly not properly - all the years he might have spent indulging in crushes and puppy love, if he were another boy, were spent either recovering or learning how to rule.
It wouldn't have mattered anyway. Since he's known what it was to want, he's only wanted one person. Even after everything, all their words, Clive pressing him to the bed earlier - even after all that, it almost doesn't seem real.
But Joshua, even inexperienced as he is, is not the sort of boy who hesitates when this might be his only chance. When Clive kisses him, he kisses back, and if it's a little clumsy, and little too eager, he isn't embarrassed. Not then, anyway, not in that rush of emotion and delight and want. He raises a hand to settle on the back of Clive's neck, not really holding him there, just touching him. An unconscious movement as he leans into Clive, caught so completely in his gravitational pull.
When they pause to breathe, Joshua is flushed, dizzy with impossible happiness. He's smiling, he can't help it, though it's a bit of a small thing - like it's hard to believe this might really be happening.]
I would be the luckiest soul in the world, should that be true.
[It isn't that he's doubting Clive - only that he's wanted this for so long, and he never thought it could happen. It's real, he knows, but even so it feels like a dream.]
And I would be yours, Clive. [Quiet, but honest.] As long as you want me, I will be.
[It is - hard to focus on anything he's saying, with Clive's hands on him, Clive's lips against his. So easy to fall into it, let his lips slide open, lean into Clive again.]
[ Reciprocal touching, reciprocal kissing. Hard to imagine any of this is real at all; Clive almost doubts it until he sees the shape of Joshua's smile and hears the impossible things he's saying, again, about belonging and wanting.
It almost makes him consider canceling the diplomatic mission entirely. Almost. Even on the heels of this paradigm-shifting realization (Joshua wants him), their respective roles to play in polite society haven't changed. Joshua is still the Archduke of a country that teeters on the brink of destruction, and Clive is still the Archduke's First Shield. Their lives have never been their own.
Clive will remember that in a moment (or two, or three)― presently, he busies himself with walking Joshua backwards, lips still locked, until the back of his brother's legs hit the edge of the mattress again. ]
―Forevermore, then.
[ A bastardization of the oath he'd taken: to shield the firebird's flame, forevermore. This is hardly protection, the opposite of shielding. But Clive sinks Joshua back down regardless, letting soft blond hair pool on clean white sheets, feeling lightheaded at the sight of it.
Another kiss, followed by another. One hand steals under the thin fabric of Joshua's traveling shirt, and Clive swears he sees stars the moment he feels his palm brush against bare, smooth skin. His aether crackles with need. ]
Gods, [ he rasps, ] you feel more perfect than I'd imagined.
[ Which is a confession (that he's likely already made) that he's imagined it. Touching Joshua like this, pinning him and taking him. Just another red-blooded human, at the end of the day; he wonders if Joshua will be disappointed by the realization. ]
[The idea that Clive might have been thinking of him, wanting him, is impossibly exciting. All this time, he’s wanted Clive - thought of him, tried desperately not to think of him - but he never even once wondered if Clive might be thinking of him in return.
Joshua knows that he isn’t perfect. He’s too thin, without the finely muscled figure that Clive has, the sort of thing that makes Joshua’s mouth go dry. But so long as Clive wants to look at him, wants to touch him, he can’t be too self-conscious. And Clive’s touch on his bare skin - it’s everything he’s ever wanted.
Forevermore. It’s his dearest wish. Clive has already made that vow, on his knees in the throne room, but this is something else. This isn’t Joshua the Archduke and his Lord Commander and First Shield. This is the man he loves, the man he wants to be with. The demands of his position need one thing from him, but he desperately wants this instead. Just this.]
What did you imagine?
[Inexperienced Joshua might be, but innocent - perhaps less so. He’s been well-educated, as would be necessary for someone expected to wed and produce heirs. What he’s also had for years is the run of the Rosalith castle library - including all the bawdy tales that they really weren’t supposed to have.
And this is Clive, who he’s wanted for so long. How can he be anything but eager? He feels greedy, almost, as if he must clutch at this with all he has. As if it might disappear any moment.
Finally, he lets himself properly appreciate the sight of Clive above him, bare chested and beautiful. He can reach out, too - touching Clive like he’s something impossibly precious. He wants to taste Clive’s skin, wants to learn all the things he’s never been allowed to.]
[ Oh, Joshua is dangerous. Playing with fire (ha). He asks Clive what in his sweet voice, and it brings to mind all the unspeakable things he's already done to Joshua in the not-so-safety of his mind. Things that made his stomach churn in shame before this night, and things that make him feel hot to the point of burning now. ]
Like this, [ he affirms, with his palm brushing up along Joshua's stomach, following the dip of his navel. ] Bare, and waiting.
[ Clive, who the soldiers have always lovingly needled about being so celibate that he might be a monk if not a Shield. He's sure Joshua must have heard the complaints about their Lord Commander always refusing nightly outings with his men; some concern or other about morale dipping.
This is the truth of things, though. Less a lack of drive, and more a problem of who it's directed towards. Clive bites gently over Joshua's neck again, stifling a primal urge to let his teeth sink in and leave a mark; everything they're doing right now is forbidden, but that gesture is triply so.
A heated exhale to compose himself, and he lifts his head to rub noses. ]
I thought of how you'd cling. How you'd sing so sweetly for me. [ Horrible, sinful fantasies. Like dripping ink over clean parchment, or tracking blood over white cloth.
It's what he feels like he's doing now, trailing his touch over Joshua's chest. Distantly, he can hear footsteps moving behind the closed door, beyond the walls of their room and out in the hall. Maybe the owner of the estate, here to being them supper. But it's so hard to focus on anything beyond Joshua, the shape of him and the sound of his breathing, so close in a way that Clive never thought they could be. ]
[The world outside their room may as well not exist to Joshua. All his attention is on Clive - the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand, his teeth on Joshua's neck. He shivers as Clive's hand travels across his skin, aware he's growing uncomfortably hard just from this. It's embarrassing, a little, how easily his body responds. But it's Clive. He could unravel Joshua with hardly any effort at all, if he wished.
Joshua is already flushed, and he gasps when Clive nips at his neck, a soft artless exhalation. He likes it, and some part of him, selfish and sordid, wishes that Clive would leave a mark. So that he'll know, tomorrow, this really happened. So that there will be proof of this, of Clive. But though he's finding it harder and harder to keep his thoughts steady, he knows that would be a bad idea. Someone would surely see it, and how could they possibly explain such a thing? So he can only wish, wistfully and fruitlessly, and try to control his desires even a little.
It's game he's bound to lose. He already knows that.]
I would. [A little breathless, a little awed. To think that Clive imagined those things, thought of him like that.] I would give you everything. I want to.
[He wants to cling to Clive, he wants to pull him closer and feel every inch of him. He wants to find out what Clive likes and give it to him, so that he'll never have reason to think of anyone else, want anyone else.
It's impossibly greedy, how much he wants, how far he's willing to go. But Joshua has never loved Clive in a casual way, not even as a boy. He's always loved him with an intensity that made him risk Anabella's anger, made him stand up to everyone who wanted Clive punished, made him fight as hard as he could to become well, become the Archduke, so that he could make Clive his Lord Commander. Make him a little safer, make him a little more Joshua's.
His hand slides down Clive's chest, exploring. Daring great, still only the smallest sliver of what he wants, his hand drifts downward.]
[ It's been written since Joshua's birth that he would belong to Rosaria. The next firebird, the long-awaited Dominant that would make the duchy prosper. A symbol of pride and hope and power.
So it must be wicked, for Clive to kiss his jaw and whisper: ] My Phoenix.
[ His. Not the Eikon of Fire, ruler of life and death, but his beautiful brother, arbiter of Clive's life or death. Clive will endure for Joshua, and will perish if Joshua ever does.
So he shivers when Joshua slides his hand down below his stomach and to his already filled-out hardness, uncomfortable in the soft leather of his trousers. Pleasure follows the still-lingering disbelief that Joshua is touching him like this, and he mirrors Joshua in his own graceless gasp, too hot under that palm. ]
Feel what you do to me, [ is almost a hum-growl, kissed along the seam of Joshua's mouth. ] Only you, Joshua.
[ A low grind down, obscene, against the hand on him. It makes Clive shudder again, sparks flying in his head, every inch of him attuned to the beloved presence pressed under him. Joshua, Joshua, Joshua.
So it's infuriating and terrifying, then, when he hears a knock at their bedroom door. The proprietor from earlier, his voice muffled by that thin door separating the both of them from utter ruin. "Pardon me, Your Grace," the man says. "But I've brought you something to eat."
That presence should be enough for Clive to snap back into himself. To realize how utterly wrong it is, what he's doing, and to stop.
But he leans in instead, and whispers in Joshua's ear: ] Do you want me to dismiss him?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
They did neither. Clive was kept locked in a room for his own safety until Joshua woke, and Clive knows that Uncle Byron must have told Joshua about it at some point: "oh, there was so much darkness in your brother while you were asleep. He was in pieces, you know. For a good while. Though he did his level best not to let it show when he was finally permitted near you."
Clive feels fifteen again. On the verge of failing Joshua again, when he hears I would be lost without you. He wants to take his brother's face in both palms and kiss him breathless. He wants to hold him close and feel his pulse against his skin. He wants to save Joshua, and hold Joshua, and keep him from everything that would ever look at him with ill intent.
Despicable. But he can't stop himself from acting on a fraction of his unspeakable desires, and so his hands settle on either side of Joshua's blisteringly beautiful face. Gently, with enough give that he could slip away easily if he wishes to. ]
And I'm telling you to let me bear all of this for you. So that you never feel lost again.
no subject
One of Joshua’s hands comes up, covering Clive’s, holding it there gently.]
If you wish to bear my burdens, you must let me care for you in return.
[The truth is, he can’t stop Clive from continuing to do what he’s done for years: cutting himself to the bone to protect Rosaria, to keep them safe and free so that Joshua might take the throne. It’s Ifrit, it’s Clive, who’s really done it all.
And everyone around them has been content to let it happen. To use Clive’s strength, with little care for Clive himself. Joshua should have done more to stop it, he knows. He shouldn’t be allowing it now. Clive deserves better.
But Joshua can’t ask his brother to stop if it’s truly what he wants. Rosaria needs him, and Joshua needs him even more desperately. Clive is one of the few he truly feels safe with, one of the few he trusts implicitly. What he can do is insist on this. This, if nothing else.]
Let me heal you when you’re hurt. Come to me when you need rest, or - or comfort.
[It can be excused as brotherly affection, perhaps, when Joshua turns his head just a bit, just enough to press his lips to Clive’s palm. He tells himself that, wanting to believe it, though he knows by the rhythm of his heart in his chest that it isn’t true.]
no subject
His pulse quickens. He's sure Joshua can feel it from where they touch. Like bellows to a fire, Clive can feel his heart heat in his chest.
"If you knew how I look at you, you wouldn't say those things to me." Clive thinks to say it, but the words catch in the back of his throat. ]
Joshua.
[ A chide or a plea, he doesn't even know. His thumb grazes under Joshua's eye, along the peak of his cheekbone. He's so warm; the Phoenix, incarnate. Life and rebirth. Clive's entire world.
He stills for a moment, then breathes through his teeth. He really can't deny Joshua anything. ]
...If that will put your mind at ease. You're the only one I can trust myself with.
no subject
Anything else would be survivable. He's already lost his parents and his last chance to have anything like a peaceful childhood. He could lose his throne, lose his kingdom, and he thinks that he would find a way to carry on, to keep fighting.
But he can't lose Clive. Not to battle - something he fears constantly, for all that he childishly also believes Clive could never lose - but to his own actions. Joshua could so easily misstep, do something stupid and selfish that would drive Clive away. He knows it. Clive would forgive him nearly anything, but how could Clive forgive him something like that?
Still, he can't make himself pull away. Unconsciously, against what should be his better judgement, Joshua leans into Clive's touch.]
It's all I ask for. I hate the thought of you getting hurt for me. I know it's happened - probably more than I think - but if I had my way, no one would ever touch you again.
[Joshua tries not to put that in any context but battle. Anything else is too much - too upsetting to think about. He wants Clive to be happy, he does, but there's a reason he's steadfastly refused to ever listen to rumors, ever to ask about whether his brother has taken lovers.
He doesn't want to know. He doesn't ever want to know.]
no subject
Ifrit trills under Clive's skin, mirroring his want, his elation at being granted even a sliver of Joshua's possessiveness. ]
No one's touch has ever mattered to me but yours, [ is uncalculated, stated before Clive can stop himself. The palms bracketing Joshua's face hold with more purpose; he wishes he could make Joshua understand the depth of his feeling, how inextricable it is from Clive's fundamental being. ] I belong to you.
[ Too intense to be a declaration by a subject to his liege. Clive knows it, but he can't take it back-- he finally, finally slides his hands off of his brother, and gives him more space to breathe. ]
...I won't go anywhere, Joshua. I'm fine, so... [ A paltry attempt at finding equilibrium. Clive tries for a smile, and squeezes the crest of Joshua's knee. ] ...We should rest. It's been an age since we shared a bed.
no subject
But Clive pulls back before Joshua can teeter and fall over that ledge, and that's for the best. He knows it is, even if he feels the loss keenly. He was so close to doing something terrible - to saying something he shouldn't, to asking Clive (begging him) to allow Joshua to touch him.
Just once. And they could pretend it never happened.
His heart is still beating too hard, but he manages to smile back at Clive.]
We do have another long ride tomorrow.
[He had not thought for a moment about sharing the bed. They did it when they were young, when Joshua would sneak into his room, and Clive never turned him away. But now Joshua knows it will be more difficult. Clive's words won't leave his mind. No one's touch has ever mattered to me but yours. He didn't mean it that way. He didn't.
It will haunt Joshua.
Still, there's nothing in the world that could make him exile Clive to the divan. He sets himself to normal tasks, pushing his thoughts away fruitlessly, bending down to remove his boots.]
no subject
Agony. He imagines sliding his palms up the side of Joshua's legs, up over his thighs, along his thin waist. He wonders what Joshua would feel like under his palm, if he'd be able to feel the pulse of his aether when they're skin to skin, if he'd taste like fire when kissed. Clive has taken lovers before, as a consequence of bawdy soldiers demanding their First Shield to make himself a real man; he has also been in the company of comrades in need of a desperate rut after the trauma of near-death experiences. All of these have come with the unfortunate, grim reminder that his pleasure depends on visions of blond hair and his brother's eyes, of the sound of Clive in Joshua's voice.
Clive will want to kill whoever touches Joshua. He knows he won't.
Boots peel off; Clive sits up and loops his arms around Joshua's middle, helping him to unclip his traveling packs from his belt.
Founder, Joshua even smells perfect. Like parchment and ink and soft incense. Clive bows his head, and unwittingly nuzzles against his brother's shoulder. ]
...Do you remember the time I took you to the river on your nameday?
[ To break the silence. He might swallow Joshua whole if he doesn't find something else to focus on. ]
no subject
He wants Clive so badly. He wants Clive to touch him, to look at him like a lover, to hold him. He knows it's impossible. He also knows that he won't ever want anyone else like this. His fate has always been written - for all that Joshua has a romantic heart, there'll be no romance in his life. He was always meant to marry for Rosaria.
And spend all of his life wishing for someone he can't have.]
Yes.
[It takes Clive talking about something simple, a vivid memory, to bring Joshua back to where he should be. Not thinking of impossible things, not inches from disaster.]
I had such a good time - well, until I fell in.
[But Clive was there to save him, and though he'd been terrified for those brief moments, in the end he was safe. In the end he could still treasure those first few minutes, where he was free to do as he wished.]
I do wish you had not been blamed.
no subject
Maybe Clive should take the divan. Suddenly, the thought of Joshua pressed against him feels like heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. ]
I hardly minded. It rankled more to see everyone treating your nameday as if it was theirs-- planning to parade you like some...
[ A light scoff, as he straightens and loosens the buckles of Joshua's protective layers. ] ...rare golden chocobo. It didn't sit right.
[ Fingers brush along his brother's nape; the feel of it makes him almost mirror the soft breath Joshua'd taken before, low and surprised. Just the barest touch, and his aether sparks with pleasure.
What in the hells is happening to him? ]
...I only wished you could have had more time to yourself. [ A clearing of his throat, and Clive pulls back. He feels on fire, every thought in his mind gravitating towards increasingly more taboo what ifs. ]
no subject
I’ve always known that I belonged to Rosaria before I belonged to myself. Those few moments you stole for me - they meant so much.
[He doesn’t hate being the Archduke. Sometimes it feels so worthwhile, sometimes he can see the things he’s able to do for his people. But Joshua never had a chance to be anything else, and he never will.
He’s had plenty of idle dreams about what he would do, if his life had been his own. A scholar, perhaps. An adventurer, if he could do it at Clive’s side. Pretty dreams, but he knows his duty.]
Really, I would rather have spent more time with you.
[He’s been so carefully trying to keep his hands to himself. It’s dangerous enough that something sparks through his veins every time Clive’s hands brush his skin. Joshua can’t give in to temptation. But he can’t stop himself, either, and so he reaches out and brushes his fingers against Clive’s cheek.]
I wish - [He stops himself, starts again,] I wish you were more free to do as you pleased, too.
[It’s true. But it’s not what he almost said. I wish I could be yours.]
no subject
Thinking back, he'll wonder what it was that pushed him over his edge-- Joshua's soft voice speaking of freedom? The fingers along his cheek? Joshua's clavicle peering out of his thin underclothes?
Later, Clive will understand that it was both none of it, and all of it. Too many years of wanting and denying; the walls he'd built around his emotions were always bound to fall.
Hands fly to Joshua's wrists. They grip (gently, gently), push forward, and pin his thin frame onto clean sheets. Clive climbs on him, intent and hunger making blue eyes sharper, though they gentle when they take in Joshua's form. Beloved, beautiful-- Clive dips down and presses his mouth to Joshua's neck, teeth and lips and tongue raking against soft skin.
He can taste the Phoenix's aether, deep and warm and pulsing. It makes something strange and arcane in Clive shudder in anticipation, wanting more, more, more--
--until the world reorients itself again, and Clive realizes what exactly it is that he's doing. Has done. Would have done. He pales, blood draining from his face, and retreats as though burned. ]
Joshua-- [ short of breath, shuddering. ] --Forgive me, I forgot myself. Forgive me--
no subject
Clive's hands are strong, his body is warm. This close, Joshua can feel Ifrit's heat beneath his skin. It doesn't frighten him. Ifrit hurt him once, but Clive is in control of his eikon now, and Joshua cannot fear him. The Ifrit of his nightmares and the Ifrit that Clive becomes may as well be two different creatures.
Joshua breathes in, heart pounding, and then - that warmth on his neck, the slide of teeth, Clive. When he trembles, it isn't out of fear. He's struck dumb, but his body feels more alive than it ever has, and he wants more -
And then Clive is gone, and for a moment all Joshua can do is stare at him in shock. Then Clive's pale face sinks in, his words, his horror.]
No, I - No, Clive -
[He doesn't know what to say, can't find the words. He reaches out, reaching for Clive.]
Don't go, please. You - you didn't hurt me.
no subject
－fuck, he's hard. Like some sort of animal in heat. Despair laps up against his consciousness, doubled and tripled by the shock he sees on Joshua's beautiful face, the quick reassurance that Clive didn't hurt him. Again, as if Clive is some animal sure to scamper away if scolded, and thus needs to be reassured.
It shames him more than his injury ever could, that Joshua needs to swallow what must be disgust and horror to assuage him that he isn't the monster that he knows himself to be. Kind, gentle Joshua, whose heart Clive is breaking. ]
I can't. [ His voice is barely over a whisper, almost inaudible over the creaking of the bed as he swings himself off of it. ] Founder will it that I never touch you again.
[ Clive would have defiled Joshua. Joshua, the one thing he holds holier than anything. His precious brother, his one and only. ]
I would have done worse than hurt you, [ is choked, sob-adjacent. He turns away from Joshua, hands gripped into tight fists, mortified. ]
no subject
Clive looks horrified, though, shattered by what he’s done. And Joshua knows he should feel the same. He should be disgusted, frightened, not - wishing that Clive hadn’t stopped. But he can’t, won’t pretend at anger. Not just because he wants Clive, has wanted him for so long, but because he can’t stand that look of pain on Clive’s face. Can’t stand the thought of him hating himself for something that Joshua wanted.
Still wants.]
Don’t say that.
[He follows Clive, getting off the bed, going to him - though he stops before touching him. It’s true, he’s afraid Clive will run if Joshua touches him. Will hate himself so much that he won’t allow it. That he won’t listen. So Joshua is careful, though inside his heart is still pounding.
He doesn’t know what the right thing to say is. He doesn’t know what drove Clive to do that, and he fears saying the wrong thing. In the end, though, all he can do is be honest.]
Would it - truly be so awful?
[He knows it would be. He knows it’s wrong. Clive is his brother, his protector. But -]
I will never fear your touch.
no subject
[ To the tune of you don't understand, though he knows that Joshua does. His brother is no longer a child, and Clive is aware of the education that happens when princes come of age and are told what their expectations are in terms of continuing the bloodline. Joshua isn't so naive as to think that Clive's mouth on his neck was anything but carnal in nature, and Clive isn't so despicable that he'll fall back on that excuse to forgive himself for the transgression.
So. Though it burns him alive to admit it, he lays it out as clearly as he can manage. ]
―I would have taken you, had I not stopped myself. [ Still too vague. He adds: ] I want for you. You must know what this means.
[ Which makes him a failure not only as a protector, but as Joshua's brother. The one thing he ought not to be able to fail in, being blood-tied; perhaps Anabella had been correct to hate him, if this is the thing he was destined to become. ]
This is what I would do to you, had I the freedom to do as I please. [ Something in his gaze turns desperate; he sees the worry in Joshua's face and wants nothing more than to soothe him and tell him that everything will be alright, but he's the problem. How does he protect Joshua from himself without pushing Joshua away? ] It's wretched, and I won't make you suffer it.
no subject
[Joshua says it as gently as he can manage. He knows what he wants. He knows it's awful, it's wrong, that Clive will probably be just as horrified at it as he was by his own actions. Even knowing Clive wants him doesn't change that, they both know it's the kind of thing they should never give into.
But Clive wants him. It's impossible that such a thing could be true, and yet - Clive's mouth was on his neck, Clive's hands on his wrists. Joshua still feels hot, still finds it hard to keep his thoughts from what might have happened. But Clive is looking at him now like a drowning man. Joshua doesn't know if he can find the right words, is afraid that all he'll do is upset Clive more. Even so, he's going to tell the truth.]
It isn't wretched. You aren't.
[He takes a breath, closes his eyes for a moment. Steadying himself. He's frightened to speak any of this aloud. But he doesn't look away from Clive when he speaks.]
I would welcome you in my bed. I would give you anything you might want, so long as it meant you would touch me.
[Joshua has never wanted anyone else. He knows he should. He knows he's intended for a political marriage, and a love like the one he has for Clive is the worst possible thing he could fall to. But he can't help it, and he doesn't want to. Even the faintest possibility that Clive might feel similarly for him is enough to make him stop caring about anything else.]
If you hate yourself for it, you must hate me as well.
no subject
It can't be, though. Joshua can't be giving him permission. It's impossible. Expecting reciprocity is worse than wishful thinking, because reciprocity shouldn't exist at all.
And yet. Clive watches as his brother opens his eyes and maintains eye contact, speaking impossible words with impossible conviction. It threatens to shatter him again, and the only reason it doesn't is because of what Joshua says about hating him. ]
Never, [ is the kneejerk response. ] Never, Joshua.
[ Founder, he feels lightheaded. Worse still, he feels some part of himself shake with elation that Joshua might want this in the way that he does.
A breath, and Clive reorients himself. Wills the room to stop spinning, and wills himself to keep his focus steady, his voice soft. ]
―If I do this, [ is accompanied by a shake of his head. ] I would ruin you. I―
[ He swallows, his throat thick with his words. ]
―I would ever look at you, and want you. [ To prove it, he presses his hand to Joshua's face again; he knows his brother will be able to hear his pulse pounding through his palm, feel how his skin burns. ] Anyone you show favor to, I would loathe.
no subject
Clive is right, if they do this, give into this, there’ll be no going back. But -]
It would change nothing for me. I already think of you with - with others and I burn with jealousy. That they might have you when I can’t.
[Joshua has always feared that one day he would have to give his blessing to Clive’s marriage. After all, who wouldn’t want Clive? He’s the most handsome man Joshua knows, kind and true, strong but gentle. Joshua is sure he will be loved, because who could know him properly and do anything else, really?
He doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle it. Even if Clive never touches him again, he knows that having to give his brother to someone else will still break his heart.
And Joshua’s own fate has been written since he was born. If Clive feels even a bit of that same emotion, that unhealthy possessiveness that Joshua can’t shake, then it seems terribly unfair that they shouldn’t have a chance. A chance at - something. A moment together, if nothing else.
Joshua’s heart is already lost anyway.]
I know my duty. I know I am expected to wed. But you’re the only one I want - the only one I will ever favor.
[He steps closer to Clive, not looking away, reaching out to rest one hand gently over his heart. So he can feel that heat, that pulse, that mirrors his own.]
Even if you never touch me again, that will be true.
[He knows it’s awful. He knows they shouldn’t. He knows they can never go back from this.
Joshua knows he’s already ruined.]
no subject
Ifrit was born for the Phoenix, and Ifrit will die with the Phoenix.
It's the only rational thought he can muster before he leans forward into that forbidden sliver of space between them, spurred by the suddenly unbearable thought of them ever being apart. Clive has experienced it once, when he held his brother's broken body and felt his entire world come crashing down around him.
He angles his head, and presses his mouth against Joshua's. It isn't chaste－ it's open-mouthed and wanting, with one palm cradling the side of that perfect face, the other finding the small of Joshua's back to pull him inwards, closer. Clive tilts, and kisses, and breathes; he relents once, letting their lips part, then surges back in again, making a hungry sound in the back of his throat.
When his lungs ache, and his vision starts to double, he finally pulls back. ]
Fuck, Joshua－ [ A low pant, voice hoarse. All pretense of being the Archduke's Lord Commander has disappeared; he's just Clive, bare and honest. ] －You're the only one that will ever have me.
[ Until I die, he whispers, and nips along Joshua's lower lip. ]
no subject
It wouldn't have mattered anyway. Since he's known what it was to want, he's only wanted one person. Even after everything, all their words, Clive pressing him to the bed earlier - even after all that, it almost doesn't seem real.
But Joshua, even inexperienced as he is, is not the sort of boy who hesitates when this might be his only chance. When Clive kisses him, he kisses back, and if it's a little clumsy, and little too eager, he isn't embarrassed. Not then, anyway, not in that rush of emotion and delight and want. He raises a hand to settle on the back of Clive's neck, not really holding him there, just touching him. An unconscious movement as he leans into Clive, caught so completely in his gravitational pull.
When they pause to breathe, Joshua is flushed, dizzy with impossible happiness. He's smiling, he can't help it, though it's a bit of a small thing - like it's hard to believe this might really be happening.]
I would be the luckiest soul in the world, should that be true.
[It isn't that he's doubting Clive - only that he's wanted this for so long, and he never thought it could happen. It's real, he knows, but even so it feels like a dream.]
And I would be yours, Clive. [Quiet, but honest.] As long as you want me, I will be.
[It is - hard to focus on anything he's saying, with Clive's hands on him, Clive's lips against his. So easy to fall into it, let his lips slide open, lean into Clive again.]
no subject
It almost makes him consider canceling the diplomatic mission entirely. Almost. Even on the heels of this paradigm-shifting realization (Joshua wants him), their respective roles to play in polite society haven't changed. Joshua is still the Archduke of a country that teeters on the brink of destruction, and Clive is still the Archduke's First Shield. Their lives have never been their own.
Clive will remember that in a moment (or two, or three)― presently, he busies himself with walking Joshua backwards, lips still locked, until the back of his brother's legs hit the edge of the mattress again. ]
―Forevermore, then.
[ A bastardization of the oath he'd taken: to shield the firebird's flame, forevermore. This is hardly protection, the opposite of shielding. But Clive sinks Joshua back down regardless, letting soft blond hair pool on clean white sheets, feeling lightheaded at the sight of it.
Another kiss, followed by another. One hand steals under the thin fabric of Joshua's traveling shirt, and Clive swears he sees stars the moment he feels his palm brush against bare, smooth skin. His aether crackles with need. ]
Gods, [ he rasps, ] you feel more perfect than I'd imagined.
[ Which is a confession (that he's likely already made) that he's imagined it. Touching Joshua like this, pinning him and taking him. Just another red-blooded human, at the end of the day; he wonders if Joshua will be disappointed by the realization. ]
no subject
Joshua knows that he isn’t perfect. He’s too thin, without the finely muscled figure that Clive has, the sort of thing that makes Joshua’s mouth go dry. But so long as Clive wants to look at him, wants to touch him, he can’t be too self-conscious. And Clive’s touch on his bare skin - it’s everything he’s ever wanted.
Forevermore. It’s his dearest wish. Clive has already made that vow, on his knees in the throne room, but this is something else. This isn’t Joshua the Archduke and his Lord Commander and First Shield. This is the man he loves, the man he wants to be with. The demands of his position need one thing from him, but he desperately wants this instead. Just this.]
What did you imagine?
[Inexperienced Joshua might be, but innocent - perhaps less so. He’s been well-educated, as would be necessary for someone expected to wed and produce heirs. What he’s also had for years is the run of the Rosalith castle library - including all the bawdy tales that they really weren’t supposed to have.
And this is Clive, who he’s wanted for so long. How can he be anything but eager? He feels greedy, almost, as if he must clutch at this with all he has. As if it might disappear any moment.
Finally, he lets himself properly appreciate the sight of Clive above him, bare chested and beautiful. He can reach out, too - touching Clive like he’s something impossibly precious. He wants to taste Clive’s skin, wants to learn all the things he’s never been allowed to.]
Did you - think about me like this?
no subject
Like this, [ he affirms, with his palm brushing up along Joshua's stomach, following the dip of his navel. ] Bare, and waiting.
[ Clive, who the soldiers have always lovingly needled about being so celibate that he might be a monk if not a Shield. He's sure Joshua must have heard the complaints about their Lord Commander always refusing nightly outings with his men; some concern or other about morale dipping.
This is the truth of things, though. Less a lack of drive, and more a problem of who it's directed towards. Clive bites gently over Joshua's neck again, stifling a primal urge to let his teeth sink in and leave a mark; everything they're doing right now is forbidden, but that gesture is triply so.
A heated exhale to compose himself, and he lifts his head to rub noses. ]
I thought of how you'd cling. How you'd sing so sweetly for me. [ Horrible, sinful fantasies. Like dripping ink over clean parchment, or tracking blood over white cloth.
It's what he feels like he's doing now, trailing his touch over Joshua's chest. Distantly, he can hear footsteps moving behind the closed door, beyond the walls of their room and out in the hall. Maybe the owner of the estate, here to being them supper. But it's so hard to focus on anything beyond Joshua, the shape of him and the sound of his breathing, so close in a way that Clive never thought they could be. ]
no subject
Joshua is already flushed, and he gasps when Clive nips at his neck, a soft artless exhalation. He likes it, and some part of him, selfish and sordid, wishes that Clive would leave a mark. So that he'll know, tomorrow, this really happened. So that there will be proof of this, of Clive. But though he's finding it harder and harder to keep his thoughts steady, he knows that would be a bad idea. Someone would surely see it, and how could they possibly explain such a thing? So he can only wish, wistfully and fruitlessly, and try to control his desires even a little.
It's game he's bound to lose. He already knows that.]
I would. [A little breathless, a little awed. To think that Clive imagined those things, thought of him like that.] I would give you everything. I want to.
[He wants to cling to Clive, he wants to pull him closer and feel every inch of him. He wants to find out what Clive likes and give it to him, so that he'll never have reason to think of anyone else, want anyone else.
It's impossibly greedy, how much he wants, how far he's willing to go. But Joshua has never loved Clive in a casual way, not even as a boy. He's always loved him with an intensity that made him risk Anabella's anger, made him stand up to everyone who wanted Clive punished, made him fight as hard as he could to become well, become the Archduke, so that he could make Clive his Lord Commander. Make him a little safer, make him a little more Joshua's.
His hand slides down Clive's chest, exploring. Daring great, still only the smallest sliver of what he wants, his hand drifts downward.]
no subject
So it must be wicked, for Clive to kiss his jaw and whisper: ] My Phoenix.
[ His. Not the Eikon of Fire, ruler of life and death, but his beautiful brother, arbiter of Clive's life or death. Clive will endure for Joshua, and will perish if Joshua ever does.
So he shivers when Joshua slides his hand down below his stomach and to his already filled-out hardness, uncomfortable in the soft leather of his trousers. Pleasure follows the still-lingering disbelief that Joshua is touching him like this, and he mirrors Joshua in his own graceless gasp, too hot under that palm. ]
Feel what you do to me, [ is almost a hum-growl, kissed along the seam of Joshua's mouth. ] Only you, Joshua.
[ A low grind down, obscene, against the hand on him. It makes Clive shudder again, sparks flying in his head, every inch of him attuned to the beloved presence pressed under him. Joshua, Joshua, Joshua.
So it's infuriating and terrifying, then, when he hears a knock at their bedroom door. The proprietor from earlier, his voice muffled by that thin door separating the both of them from utter ruin. "Pardon me, Your Grace," the man says. "But I've brought you something to eat."
That presence should be enough for Clive to snap back into himself. To realize how utterly wrong it is, what he's doing, and to stop.
But he leans in instead, and whispers in Joshua's ear: ] Do you want me to dismiss him?
[ Translation: do you want this to continue? ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)