[It's such a relief just to be away from all of that, Joshua nearly laughs at the question. He stops himself, still careful - the halls are empty save for them and an occasional passing servant, but Joshua knows better to let down his guard until they're behind closed doors. But he can answer Clive, at least, when he's fairly sure no one's close enough to hear.]
I feel a bit like I've been pecked at by vultures, in fact. Or nibbled upon by a pack of very hungry rabbits.
[He wishes he could reach out, take Clive's hand. Just for a moment, just to feel something real.]
I knew that it would be... difficult here, but I suppose I didn't expect to it to be like that. Like each and every one of them think that if they can get me in - in bed, they'll win some sort of prize.
[But then, that's true, isn't it? Even a brief dalliance would give a noble Sanbrequian family leverage. All the better if someone could manufacture an infatuation - or worse, a pregnancy. And naturally, a marriage proposal would be the ultimate prize. Most of the nobles clustered around him were not of high enough rank to be considered if Rosaria simply wanted a political marriage (really, only Dion or one of the Emperor's siblings or their children come near the appropriate rank to wed an Archduke), but if they could manage to trick him into falling in love -
Well, Joshua knows of plenty of rulers throughout history who have made unwise marriages because they were in love. And he can't judge them, as he hopes to avoid marriage for exactly the same reason.
He can't even really blame the men and women flocking around him tonight. They want to rise in the world, and he's an obvious path. He might resent them a bit for thinking he's an easy target, that he would fall for such obvious social climbing, but he can't blame them. This is what their lives have revolved around since they were born, just as his has revolved around the Phoenix, Rosaria, the Archduke's throne.]
Were they awful to you?
[That's what he's more worried about, really. At least the nobles hounding him were reasonably pleasant about it. He knows Clive may not have received such consideration.]
They're not so harmless as rabbits, [ is a bit of a huff, though there's no ire to it: just dry exasperation, which he vents through his teeth. They wind themselves down another hall towards the innermost recesses of the castle, the safest and most fortified segment of it, occupied by a handful of large suites that are reserved for the most venerable guests of the Empire. Clive has no idea which room Joshua's been assigned to, as he was swiftly barred from joining the tour earlier, but defers to his brother to show him the way.
He's eager to be out of earshot, out of eyeshot. Though, after tonight's dinner, he's starkly aware of the possibility that someone might be bold enough to trespass－
－which means that sharing a bed with Joshua is out of the question. There will be no way to explain away naked bodies in sheets, which goes well and far beyond what is expected for a vassal and his liege, let alone brothers bound by blood. ]
I minded their prying eyes on you more than their wandering hands on me. [ Bluntly, because he has no need to hide that trespass from Joshua. Clive is his, and Joshua has the right to know if anyone has set their hands on what rightfully belongs to him. ] Beautiful as you are, I didn't relish the rabble lusting after you.
[ He could endure a pass at his cock by a drunk noblewoman; he would have found a blade to draw if the same had been done to Joshua. Let the Sanbrequian nobles dream of climbing the social ladder, or being given a fleeting glance; they were raised to chase. But not at the cost of Joshua's dignity, or his autonomy. Clive would never allow anyone to corner Joshua as if he was some animal to cage. Never again. Their mother did enough harm without yet another high-minded fool trying to reassert themselves in that now-empty space. ]
[Joshua certainly minds the thought of their hands on Clive. It angers him to think about - that they would force their attentions on him in that way, that they touched him without his permission. It's a bit of jealousy, too, possessiveness that someone dared touch what ought to be Joshua's. It's not wise to feel that way, but he can't help it.
He might hate Sanbreque. It doesn't matter. He can't let it affect these negotiations.]
I don't think lust came into it, much. They saw me as an opportunity, and an easy mark. But none of them touched me - not like that. [A breath, muttered:] How dare they.
[Joshua saves anything else for the moment when they've got a door between them and the rest of the world. Luckily, that time has nearly arrived.
His room is right in the middle, a suite fit for a visiting monarch. Finer than his rooms at home, really - Rosalith is a smaller castle, like Rosaria is a smaller country. The furnishings are lavish, bordering on garish in Joshua's opinion, but it's all meant to impress visitors with Sanbreque's wealth. All that he cares about right now is that he can shut the door, and lock it - though who knows who might have a key. Still, it's the best they can manage right now.]
I hate the thought of them with their hands on you. [He turns to Clive, lets himself be angry, just for a moment.] I wish we could burn this place.
[ White furnishings, white bedding, white flowers in crystalline vases. Joshua's suite has a beautiful view of the Mothercrystal towering over the breadth of Oriflamme, but Clive obstructs their view of it with a definitive drawing of curtains (also white), shielding the both of them from any amount of scrutiny from the outside world.
With that done, and the door shut and locked behind them, Clive can finally approach Joshua with the sort of urgency he wouldn't dare show in public. Four quick strides take him back in Joshua's orbit, with one ungloved hand outstretched to press itself against the jut of his brother's jaw.
And god, he'd been aching for the contact. Years and years of self-denial broken by one night of hedonistic indulgence, and now Clive crumbles under the weight of a single day without touch. It would be comical if not for the circumstances they're in. ]
―Joshua. I won't let myself be the reason for the failure of your mission. [ Thumbing just along the corner of Joshua's eye, Clive moves another half-step into his space. The assertion is sincerely meant; no matter what happens, this is his brother's first foray into public relations as Archduke of Rosaria, and no amount of offense will make Clive jeopardize it.
That said, he relaxes into Joshua's anger. An honest thing, so rare for Joshua to show. ]
Though you are still beautiful when you scowl. [ This time, his thumb swipes along the corner of Joshua's mouth. ] Come here.
[He goes to Clive, easily, immediately, crossing the slight distance between them with only a step. Joshua has wanted to touch him all day, has wished for it desperately since dinner. The sensation of Clive’s hands on his skin dampens his anger in a moment.
Joshua slides his arms around Clive, one hand settling at the back of his neck, brushing bare skin there. He knows they aren’t safe here, not really, but he can’t be without this. He’s grown so greedy, so quickly.]
I hate them for doing it, but - I wanted to touch you too.
[A soft, quick confession. He wanted Clive from the moment he saw him, the most eye-catching thing in that room. There will never be a world in which Joshua can kiss his brother in front of onlookers, but he wanted to so badly.
He can do it now, finally, and so he does.
It’s not an innocent peck. There’s need wrapped up with frustration, but more than that, relief. Here with Clive, Joshua is safe. For a moment, at least, he can have what he wants. So he presses his lips to Clive’s and kisses him properly - or at least as well as he’s able, given his still-limited experience.
Afterward, Joshua doesn’t move away. He is where he wants to be, for as long as Clive will allow it.]
The only good thing about this trip is that I get to see you all dressed up.
[Not that he doesn’t like Clive no matter what he wears - and it isn’t as if he goes about in rags, either. He is the Lord Commander, after all. But they so rarely have need of such fine clothing, and Joshua does appreciate the view.]
[ They've had decades to acclimate themselves to others' scrutiny, but the weight of it looms even heavier in foreign territory. It is a relief to be able to breathe easy in trusted and beloved company again, and Clive reciprocates the kiss by leaning inwards for one of his own, just as sweet as the one Joshua offered him. Open-mouthed, trading breath for breath.
There's still the understanding that they have no business pawing and clawing at each other like hungry animals with no sense. What they can't do in public, they shouldn't be doing at all. But the reality exists that it feels perfect to be pressed heartbeat against heartbeat with Joshua, tangled and close, and Clive smiles at the assertion that he was both wanted and admired by his most precious person. ]
As ever, it's for your benefit.
[ Both to keep up appearances, and to match colors with Joshua. They are, and will always be, a unified front. ]
And you―the Archduke's regalia suits you. [ Sliding one hand up the breadth of Joshua's back, tracing and appreciating his shape. The tailors have worked wonders with their father's clothes, modifying and updating them for Joshua to wear proudly. ] ...I declined accompanying you to your fittings for a reason, you know.
[ It would have been far too much to pine after Joshua when he was being fitted to wear the crown. A sullying of something sacred, Clive'd thought.
Look at him now, kissing Joshua in foreign territory with his palm splayed against the small of his brother's back. Unholy and unwise. Elwin would be so disappointed in him, he thinks. ]
[He wouldn't blame Clive. It would be boring to sit around, watching someone get measured and try on clothing. It had bored him more than a little, and he'd been the one doing it.
But it's reassuring to know that the end result is appealing. More than reassuring - especially since Joshua isn't interested in being appealing to anyone but Clive. He understands that he has to seem available in these courtly games, or else rumor will spread quickly, but that doesn't mean he needs to flirt in return.
Part of him thinks it wouldn't be so awful, really, to let people think that he has a lover at home that he won't betray. It wouldn't stop everyone, but it might make things a little more bearable. But Joshua knows that would lead to closer scrutiny, and while they can evade some attention with the obvious - Clive is his brother, no one's first assumption will be that they've crossed the line into something so sinful - there are surely some who might be willing to look too closely. He can't draw that sort of attention, not when they have a secret that could easily ruin them.]
I knew they were afraid of you, but I hate the way they're treating you. [Joshua raises a hand, touches Clive's cheek. Gentle, because Clive is precious to him.] I can't even do anything about it - they haven't overstepped the rules of diplomacy.
[Not even the unwanted touching, not really, as much as Joshua's anger sparks at the thought of it. There are plenty of men who would welcome such a thing, after all, and it's likely that those responsible even see it as a kindness. As if Clive might be lacking for attention.
Joshua doesn't think that's possible. In that, he can understand it, a little. Who could look at him and not want him?]
You could stay here, though. With me.
[There are plenty of reasons that's a terrible idea, and Joshua knows it. But he can't help but offer anyway.]
[ With Joshua still cradled in his arms, Clive walks them a few steps to the side, ever closer to the (generously-sized) canopied bed that sits primly against the far end of the room. Clive will have to help Joshua out of his finery before he even thinks to do anything untoward― even he's not audacious enough to ruin the Archduke's wardrobe－ but the slow journey is an indication that Clive wants Joshua to be far more comfortable than he currently is. ]
...You tempt me. You know I'd like nothing more.
[ A forward lean, to press his mouth against Joshua's jaw. Kissing pale, thin skin, but not with enough intent to bruise. ]
But, like you, I would hate how the Sanbrequians would treat you if they noted my absence from the barracks. [ Because, inevitably, the rabble will assume that the Brothers Rosfield are too paranoid to sleep apart from each other for even a night. ] They would underestimate you, and I won't have it.
[ As if any of them have even a fraction of Joshua's strength. His brother, the Phoenix. This castle could be cinders and ash if Joshua willed it; it's only by his grace and kindness that any of them are extended a chance at peace.
A sigh, and Clive pulls back enough to cradle Joshua's face again. Despite that soft exhale, he lets the corner of his lips hike into a smile. ]
Still. I'll stay for as long as I can. [ Terminally incapable of denying his brother anything. Joshua deserves a bit of spoiling, after having endured the events of the day. ] If it would please you.
[Joshua thinks they both deserve something for making it through their first day here - something to make the day a little less awful. He spent all of dinner wishing he could touch Clive. He isn’t going to give it up so easily now.]
It would please me.
[He knows, of course, that Clive can’t stay. He knew that when he offered it. But Joshua couldn’t help himself - he’s never had a night like the one they just shared. He’s never fallen asleep next to someone, woke to next to them. He’s wanted that, of course, idle imaginings that were never specific because he knew he could never have what he really wanted.
It still doesn’t feel quite real. Like it might disappear, like he might somehow lose this, lose Clive. It isn’t about doubting Clive - that’s something Joshua could never do. It’s more the impossibility of it all, all the reasons they both know they shouldn’t be doing this. But now that they have, Joshua knows he’ll never want anything else. No matter the danger.]
And you? [He tugs Clive back with him, just a little further, so that he can sit on the edge of the bed, Clive just between his knees] What would please you?
[Joshua’s anger has melted away easily in the face of Clive’s attention. It’s hard for him to feel anything negative when Clive is looking at him like that. But if anything, Clive is the one who ought to be spoiled - after all the insult he’s suffered today, and will surely suffer tomorrow.
At least there’s a cadre of Sanbrequian knights nursing their bruises tonight because of him.
Joshua looks up at his brother, reaching out as well, slim fingers resting on the ties of his all-too-tempting leathers.]
After all you’ve done for me today, my shield, I would gladly reward you.
[ Clive'd been bold the night prior, claiming that he'd take Joshua on Sanbrequian sheets. Simply, the logistics of doing something like that is a nightmare: never mind the fact that someone might find out, the maids in the morning would notice the state of the sheets if they managed to be reckless enough. Between the two of them, Clive truly believes that he's the one that has to temper their desires lest he bring ruin, and he feels that duty keenly now, with Joshua sitting and looking up at him through long, pale lashes.
He can't be greedy. The fact that Joshua has accepted how deep his desires really go should be enough.
Should be. It's hard to think of should when Joshua is speaking to him the way he is, with hands roaming over his body. Clive remains standing between his brother's knees, and reaches to slide his fingers along and under his chin. All those men and women clamoring for scraps at Joshua's table, and here Joshua is now, asking Clive what would please him. ]
...It would please Your Grace's shield, [ he finally says, ] to strip His Grace of his finery, and to have him be Joshua once more.
[ A knowing half-grin, more a quick quirk of his lips than anything else. With that, he finally settles into a kneel, still tucked between Joshua's thighs. ]
My Joshua. [ Low and warm, before he leans in for a kiss. Sometimes he thinks it a miracle that no one has seen his infatuation for Joshua for what it is, but he's had years of denying it to himself, he supposes. ]
[In truth, Clive is the one who must temper both of their desires - because Joshua won't. For all his clever mind and careful thinking, when Joshua chooses a course he commits himself to it fully. In his heart, there's no room for regret or hesitation. Now that he knows he can have Clive, he has no interest in holding back, even when he should know better.
He is greedy. He knows it. But Clive is all he wants, and Joshua would throw himself into fire for his brother. The possibility of Sanbrequian condemnation is not quite enough to give him pause - but he will, always and forever, be swayed by Clive's own desires. Including his self-restraint, if he is able to hold onto it where Joshua isn't.
He is swayed, though, immediately and utterly, by Clive's careful words.]
How shocked those knights you thrashed would be if they heard that silver tongue of yours.
[He says it so fondly. There was no chance Joshua would refuse, of course, but when Clive asks like that - Joshua would give him anything he asked for. Anything at all.
He kisses Clive, and when they part, rests his forehead against Clive's - just for a moment.]
That's what I want to be. [Quiet, only for him.] All I want to be.
[Joshua will never lay down his duty, of course, can never truly cease being the Archduke. But here, in these stolen moments, he can be something else. Something that eases just a bit of the burden from his shoulders.]
Those knights need only know 'Lord Commander Rosfield'. [ Forehead to forehead, breath against breath. ] 'Clive' is yours.
[ Just as 'Joshua' is Clive's. Neither of them are referred to so casually anymore: only Sir Wade calls the elder Rosfield by his first name on occasion, and only because everyone knows that Sir Wade has been with the brothers since the Night of Flames. Both of them have had to shed their childhood and their personhood quickly in order to serve, and so―
―this is their reprieve, as twisted and wicked as it might be. No one in the world will ever know what Joshua and Clive have had to endure to be where they are, and no one in the world will understand that it's this bond that they share that has allowed them to live through the unspeakable and unimaginable.
Clive smiles, and presses his lips briefly against the corner of Joshua's mouth one more time before he sets to work on the complicated clasps and ties keeping his brother's formalwear in place. It's a bit of a shame to tug the silks off of him when he looks so striking in them, but he can appreciate that the pomp and circumstance must get stifling after a while; it's nice to peel the layers off and liberate his brother from the weight of it all.
It's when he has his arms circled around Joshua's middle, undoing the last of the laces keeping the corset-like vest hugged tight to his brother's form, that he hears a knock at the door. One of the castle's handmaids, he presumes, by the meek way that her muffled voice sounds through the door.
"Your Grace? I apologize for the intrusion... I was told you would need help getting settled for the night."
Right. Everything Clive is doing now, servants usually take care of. It's not the work of a Lord Commander to get his Archduke ready for bed.
Under his breath, against Joshua's ear: ] ―Should I dismiss her, or should I hide?
[Joshua goes still. In the euphoria of Clive’s nearness, he’d forgotten that as well. In his daily life, Joshua prefers to dress himself - he dresses more simply, lets the servants take care of more important tasks, steals a bit of privacy for himself at the beginning and end of the day. Even so, any occasion that requires more formal attire has always required the help of servants as well.
With Clive here, it had been easy to forget. And had they been at home, the servants wouldn’t think twice about being turned away by their Lord Commander - Clive and Joshua had plenty of things to discuss, were often found in one another’s company, and it would be only natural for Clive to offer that sort of help. It wouldn’t mean anything.
But here, it might. And if Joshua himself turns them away, there will be whispers that someone else is tending to him, and likely rumors will fly as to who. If he lets them in - what a farce, Clive having to hide. And Joshua is already half undone.
He sighs, tilts his head just enough to press his lips to the curve of Clive’s jaw.]
Dismiss her, please.
[It’s the best of these poor options. It won’t be so surprising to have Clive in his room - after all, he escorted Joshua there, and naturally they’d have much to discuss. It shouldn’t be remarkable.
It only means that Joshua really can’t try to convince him to stay the night. He wants to, badly, though he knows it’s unwise - he wants to fall asleep next to Clive, feel that intimacy and safety. But if Clive is missing from his own room all night, it will be noticed, and everyone will think he spent it in Joshua’s room rather than out carousing with any of his admirers. All the worse because they will be right.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow, for all that Joshua knew it was a poor idea to begin with. He pushes Clive away gently and stands, stepping away from the bed - with no intention except to reduce any appearance of inappropriate behavior, any passing thought that might come from the sight of him, half-undressed by the bed, Clive obviously having been close just a moment before.
It isn’t easy to step away. It isn’t easy to put any distance between them, not when, for a moment, Joshua could relax into his touch.]
Of course, [ he says, about the apologies. The maids are only doing what they've been commanded to do, and thus, they're not at fault for the intrusion; it's late, and Clive is sure they'd like nothing better than to return to their rooms and sleep.
He only allows himself a frisson of disappointment (for now) as he obliges the distance that they have to make, and tries to steel his face into quiet neutrality for the imminent conversation that he'll have to engage in. Speak the truth, he tells himself. Only lies of omission, not falsities.
(It burns him to think that the world will only know the masks that he and his brother are required to wear, but that's the cost of leaning into their taboo.)
The maid on the other side of the door winds up being more a girl than a young woman― no older than he was on the Night of Flames, Clive thinks. Her doe eyes widen when she's met with the tall, imposing figure of the Lord Commander instead of the softer outline of the Archduke, and she stammers through her apologies, which Clive waves off with a gentle hand. ]
I have business to discuss with His Grace, [ he explains. ] I'll see to it that he gets settled before I retire for the night.
[ The poor girl looks lost; Clive softens at her trepidation, and rests the flat of his palm over her hair. ] If anyone gives you trouble, tell them that Ifrit threatened to swallow you whole.
[ That seems to placate her, somewhat: she looks surprised, momentarily, by the joke, but hides a smile under one hand as she reaches into her apron pockets for something to hand to Clive. A perfumed note, which the girl says was handed to her by one of the noblewoman who'd been at the banquet― "I was told to give this to His Grace," she explains, to which Clive nods and takes the item in question from her. ]
I'll see to it that he receives it, [ he reassures her, despite his mounting headache. The girl leaves with a curtsy, and it's only after he's sure she's properly gone that Clive closes the door with a long sigh.
Holding up the note for Joshua's perusal: ] They're awfully persistent.
[He watches Clive, overcome with affection. For all that his brother is thought of as terrifying, for all that he knows Clive might even think of himself as someone people ought to keep their distance from, Joshua has always known that he has an incredibly kind heart. Of course he would treat a nervous serving girl so gently, of course he would soothe her fears so easily.
Joshua is not so very much older than that girl, but with the weight of a country on his shoulders, with all the darkness he's lived through, he feels a hundred years older. It's sweet to watch Clive's gentle kindness, something Joshua feels himself but rarely gets to see otherwise.
Clive has probably earned an admirer there, though certainly for more innocent reasons than the others.
Once the door is closed, Joshua makes his way to Clive, taking the note. He barely glances at it, doesn't unfold it. He has to play the game to some extent, he has to seem polite and approachable, but he really has no desire to actually get caught up in those courtly games. He certainly doesn't want to encourage anyone.]
They truly are. I wouldn't be surprised if you find someone in your bed when you get back to your room.
[Because for all that the attention paid to him has been heavy, none of it has been quite so forward as that paid to Clive. It frustrates Joshua to think of it - and perhaps there's a bit of jealousy there, too. Not because he thinks Clive would ever take an interest in any of them, but because they can pursue him so openly. These people who only see him as a curiosity, who don't know him or respect him, can do things that Joshua will never be allowed to do.
He doesn't regret this. He never could. He loves Clive so desperately that he feels lucky even knowing it must always be a secret. It's only that he knows, too, that Clive deserves better. He deserves adoration. The world ought to know that he is loved - but Joshua will never be able to give him that.
He touches the corner of the note to a candle flame, letting it burn. He doesn't bother looking at the contents. There's nothing it could say that would interest him, and the swift, fiery destruction soothes a bit of his discontent.]
Perhaps I can ask Dion to manufacture a secret affair. They would leave me alone if they thought their prince was interested.
[It would come with other problems, but it might be worth it. He thinks Dion could be trusted for something like that, since it wouldn't concern the fate of nations - only Joshua's peace of mind.]
[ He has barely a moment to be annoyed by the thought of someone in his bed before he catches Joshua burning the note. His mouth flies open in a bemused bark of a laugh, surprised by the audacity of the gesture but delighted by it in equal measure.
See, is a private thought he has to himself. No one should ever mistake my brother's patience for weakness.
Once Clive is sure that Joshua is far enough away from the candle (it really wouldn't do to set the castle on fire on their first night), he pulls Joshua to him, mindful of the clothes that his brother is still wearing, moving to undo the last of the ties around his waist to divest him of the vest. The rest is easy enough for Joshua to remove on his own, if he wishes to: a crisp white dress shirt, and a final thin undershirt. Clive doesn't touch Joshua's trousers, mostly because he can't be held accountable for what he might do if that layer sloughs off.
Especially when they're discussing Dion and affairs. He tries not to mind the mental images too much, or have them at all, but they surface anyway. Joshua and Dion are the both of them beautiful men, and they would be perfectly matched in station and age. ]
The Phoenix and Bahamut. It would be likely.
[ Dion had been... warm. Even the teasing at dinner was largely to give excuses for Clive to leave, and he'd been kind about Clive's earlier dismissal, besides. Still, a part of Clive balks at the idea of people looking at Joshua and envisioning him in the crown prince's bed; not just because Sanbreque and Rosaria have a bloody history, but because. Well.
It's petty jealousy, is what it is. He finds himself opening the front of Joshua's dress shirt, undoing the first three buttons of it to reveal the mark he'd left the night prior, and to press his mouth against it to freshen the reddening. ]
...Did he seem interested?
[ Blue eyes flick up. The truth is that Joshua is free to have anyone he wants― Clive would never deny him― but that Clive is only a man. Infatuated with someone he was never meant to have, and possessive of him in ways that make guilt weigh even heavier on his mind. ]
[It's a romantic idea, really. The Phoenix and Bahamut, two young Dominants whose countries are at odds, falling in love against their better judgment. The sort of affair that's just forbidden enough to be appealing, the sort of thing that would inspire dreamy bards.
And Dion is kind, and brave, and handsome. Joshua quite likes him, he's been more than welcoming. He's even been more respectful to Clive than nearly anyone else here - Joshua thinks Dion and Clive would get along well, should they ever have the chance to interact in a somewhat less complicated setting. They're both warriors, leaders, with a strong sense of right and wrong.
But all the qualities Joshua likes about Dion are ones that he loves in Clive. He can look at Dion and know that he's handsome, but he doesn't feel that sting of desire, that flush of heat that comes when Clive touches him. He doesn't think he could feel that way with anyone else, doesn't think he could want anyone the way he wants Clive. And more than that, the way he loves Clive, with a piece of his heart that no one else will be able to touch, no matter what may happen.
The sort of forbidden that could ruin them. But the way Joshua feels with Clive's mouth on his skin -
He doesn't care at all.]
No, I don't think so. He's been kind, but we were alone for some time today and he didn't say or do anything even a bit flirtatious.
[Admittedly, Joshua isn't terribly practiced in these things, so if Dion was being subtle he could have missed it. He doesn't think so, though.
He raises a hand, carding his fingers through Clive's hair, wanting nothing but to pull him closer. To peel that clothing off him and tug him to the bed. It's all so new, and Joshua hasn't had his fill of Clive yet - perhaps he never will. He fumbles a little with the buttons of his own shirt that Clive hasn't yet touched, his breath catches, it's struggle to keep his mind on what he was saying. Something about Dion?]
- I don't think I'm his type.
[Though Joshua also doesn't particularly care either way. There's only one person he wants to want him.]
[ There are two wolves inside of Clive: the one that wants to keep Joshua for himself, and the other that wants the entire world to adore his brother for who he is. The latter wins his internal struggle this time around, even as he slides further down the expanse of Joshua's smooth chest as it's revealed to him, button by excruciating button. ]
Impossible. [ Warmly, as he kisses over one pink nipple. ] You're everyone's type.
[ A little offended, actually, that anyone might think his perfect, beautiful, kind, smart, resourceful brother to be anything less than immediately desirable. Clive kneels in front of Joshua, the position more intimately familiar to him than anything else, and litters more kisses downwards, over Joshua's navel and sideways along his hip.
God, he's wanted Joshua all day. The training and politicking distracted him from the ache of it, but now that there are closed doors and drawn curtains, his proximity to Joshua is enticingly heady― it still feels insane to be allowed this, to have this be his new normal whenever they have the space and privacy for it.
Clive doesn't want anything else. He doesn't need acknowledgment or easy pleasure. Like this, knelt in front of Joshua with his hands bracketing his waist, he feels like the most fortunate man in all of Valisthea. ]
I worry that you've no idea how attractive you are.
[ Very biased, Clive knows. Still, it's a harmless flirt (since Dion apparently didn't!!!), and he presses it against Joshua's stomach before pulling back just an inch. ]
[It's not harmless at all. It's so simple for Clive to disarm Joshua complete, to bring a flush to his cheeks and a smile to his lips. Every man and woman cooing at him tonight could line up to tell him how lovely he was, and it would slide off him in a moment - but when it's Clive, it means something. When it's Clive, he tucks every word away to think about later, to hold close and warm him when they're apart.]
I only care about what you think of me.
[Here in Sanbreque, what Joshua wears matters - he makes a quiet statement by remaining in Rosarian colors, by matching his brother, and by choosing cuts and fabrics that bring to mind the fire they both wield. And of course he wants to look good, he wants to be impressive in the face of what the Sanbrequians must think of them. He wants them to look at him and understand that he isn't just a boy their actions nearly killed, he's an Archduke. A force in the world.
But he doesn't care if they think he's attractive. Joshua didn't come here to make a match - it wasn't on his mind when they left Rosalith, and it certainly wasn't after last night.
He only cares if Clive thinks he's attractive. And to Joshua, Clive is the most handsome man in the world. He himself is only a pale imitation.]
It's you everyone should have been looking at tonight. [And plenty of them were, Joshua saw it.] I certainly was.
[He gazes down at Clive, fingers touching his cheek, the scar there, across to brush his lips. His body is responding to Clive's attention, he can't help it, and wouldn't if he could. Clive's mouth on his skin is impossible to resist, Joshua wants it all the time.
Though it is a bit embarrassing - especially with Clive right there, where he'll surely notice.]
[ Rosaria's Archduke is freshly twenty years of age, and there are bound to be those who still see him as young and capable of being manipulated. As if Joshua hasn't been navigating those stormy waters since he was old enough to speak, as if Clive hasn't been there to watch his brother weather the internal politics of his own family with the sort of self-awareness a child of his age shouldn't have had to cultivate.
Clive cares what others think of Joshua. Mostly, he hopes they never think to harm him again. The boy the world forced to prime under duress is now a young man, and he has the power to tilt Valisthea's political balance with one word.
He is also, incidentally, a young man with needs. This, the world doesn't need to know about him: just Clive. He grows warm at both the assertion and the reality of Joshua's not-so-polite looking, and shifts downwards enough so that he can press that scarred cheek to the outline of Joshua between his legs.
Wicked of him, he knows. Wanting to tend to Joshua's every need shouldn't encompass something like this, and yet. What should repulse him only excites him, shamefully and entirely. ]
If it's looking you want to do, you can do as much of it as you like.
[ Maybe Joshua would like Clive's mouth on him. It's something Clive has never done for another man, and something he would gladly do for Joshua. It seems safer than any other alternative, which might end with him involuntarily falling asleep on his brother's bed.
A breath, and he nuzzles closer. Ifrit tried to break the Firebird once; now, the Phoenix is the only one Ifrit will ever bow to. ]
Founder, Joshua. You do something to me that I can't control.
[ With confidence: only Joshua could manage it. It's how they've managed to find themselves in this position at all, with Clive having been felled by one touch and one wistful remark about his brother wishing that they were freer to do as they pleased. ]
[Joshua’s hand touches Clive’s hair, hovering there, as if he’s not sure whether to pull him closer. He wants to - his heart is beating hard, his breath already coming a little more quickly. When Clive presses against him, he sways like a sapling in a breeze.
He wants everything Clive might be willing to give him. There’s nothing that Joshua would refuse him.]
Clive - [There’s a catch in his voice, just a small one. Desire, the sort that feels impossible to ignore.] I want to do far more than just look at you.
[The thought of affecting Clive so much, so deeply, would have been unbelievable only days ago. But now it’s impossible to deny. The way Clive looks at him, touches him, it’s something out of Joshua’s most secret fantasies. The sort of thing he’d told himself to stop thinking about, the sort of thing that had haunted his dreams.]
And I - I want you to lose control. With me, and only me.
[Clive is so careful everywhere else. So cautious of propriety, of his place, of what he feels he must atone for and of the gazes of others. Joshua understands, for all that it hurts him to see sometimes - they both have a role they must play.
But here, when it’s just the two of them, Clive should be allowed to set down his burdens, too. They should both be able to want, and be able to reach out.
Joshua’s hands move to the fastening of his trousers, though he doesn’t quite unhook it yet. His eyes, hungry, are on Clive.]
[ Warmth sits heavy in the pit of Clive's gut. It pools, sinks, settles, and for a perfect moment, Clive is breathless with it. This awful, sinful thing that makes him want for his own blood, and makes him want to demonstrate it in action. Even when they're so close, Clive yearns for Joshua; he doesn't think he's ever stopped yearning for Joshua, ever since he waited days and days for his brother to wake again after his near-death.
His near-murder, even. Guilt winds its way through Clive for a knifepoint moment, but he swallows it in favor of focusing on the look on Joshua's face, a mirror of Clive's own hunger.
It makes him see stars again. Despite it, he manages a soft laugh. ]
Where did you learn to goad like this? [ Craning his neck, kissing at the fingers poised over the clasp precariously holding Joshua's trousers together. If it'd been lace, Clive would have undone them with his teeth. ] I'll need to see what books you've been reading.
[ His mouth slides over Joshua's knuckles, and finds the smooth outline of a ring finger. His teeth close around the bottom of it, where a promise would sit if his brother were ever betrothed; a place Clive will never be entitled to. ]
...On the bed, Joshua. I want to please you.
[ If Clive could get away with it, he'd stitch Joshua to white sheets and spoil him until he's boneless and spent, too tired to do anything but list against Clive and accept his love and attention. There's so much going on in that clever head, and even for just a day, Clive wants to make it so that his brother has no obligation to think of anything but the understanding that he is thoroughly and completely loved, body and soul.
One more kiss to the rise of Joshua's knuckles, and Clive rakes his hot palms along that thin waist, edging forward on his knees to coax Joshua backwards towards the mattress again. No more interruptions, he hopes. ]
[Joshua goes easily, not an ounce of hesitation in his body. Though he's read plenty of steamy tomes he ought not have even had in the library, in truth he doesn't need any of them for inspiration. All he needs to do is look at Clive and for once let himself say what he's thinking, what he truly wants. It's impossibly easy.
They may never be able to make the sort of vows to one another that Joshua might like, but they're already bound together. They always will be, their eikons reflecting one another, their hearts beating in unison. This isn't the first time Joshua has had Clive on his knees.
He moves to the bed, feels the mattress hit the back of his legs. It's for the best, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand much longer with Clive paying him that sort of attention. It's overwhelming, when Clive touches him, when Clive's mouth is against his skin, when Clive looks at him like he might gladly eat Joshua alive. Truly, Joshua is powerless against it. It is a very good thing that Clive is sworn to him, that he can be trusted completely - because he could ask Joshua for anything, anything at all, and Joshua would gladly give it.]
Should I take these off?
[He wants them off, of course, but - Joshua's quite gotten the feeling Clive likes undressing him. If Clive would rather do it himself, of course Joshua will let him. He's been undressed by servants enough times that he's lost count, and Clive has even helped him now and then before this (though never so much, never further than undoing laces and fastenings that Joshua couldn't reach, and even just that used to make Joshua's heart beat harder, used to leave him struggling to hide the flush that had risen to his cheeks). He ought to be used to it.
But it's different now, different when he knows Clive wants him. There's a reverence there that Joshua doesn't think he's imagining, and on his part, a sense of vulnerability that shouldn't be as thrilling as it is. Joshua isn't terribly shy of his own body (though he's always admired Clive's far more), but when Clive looks at him he feels exposed, wanted, desired.
He slips his finger under the clasp, unhooking it. They're coming off regardless. The confines of those trousers are getting a little too uncomfortable for him in this moment.]
Or would you like to do it?
[Joshua is not entirely sure he can sound seductive, given his extremely limited experience, but he certainly is trying.]
[ Joshua barely needs to attempt anything: just the promise of any part of him being relinquished to Clive is enough for his throat to go dry with need. ]
Let me, [ he rasps, after Joshua loosens the clasp keeping his waistband in place. Eager, lust-wracked. Clive can't bother to hide it anymore with their bodies tucked together they way they are, Joshua on the bed with his knees splayed, Clive between them. Every single nobleman and woman who'd been present at the dinner would have a heart attack if they could see the Rosfields now, configured in a way that leaves absolutely no room for doubt as to what their intentions are.
It doesn't matter. They don't matter. Clive kisses the patch of skin revealed after Joshua unfastens the front of his trousers, then works to shimmy that last layer off of him, underclothes and all. It still makes Clive's head spin to see Joshua's smooth, pale thighs, and the arousal that sits between them, proving that Joshua does want Clive in a way that he can't misinterpret.
He is utterly ruined by this. Whatever self-control he possesses turns to ash. He nuzzles his face against Joshua's interest with unabashed hunger, just the sight of it alone enough to make him hard in his own leathers; he knows it must be obscene, the way he presses his cheek against Joshua's cock, letting the smooth metal of their matching earcuffs (their vows, their unbreakable bond) touch along that heat.
Blue eyes flick up, drenched in need. ]
―Founder, I'd spend the entire night making you come if I could.
[ Speaking of losing control. Unwisely, he kisses down to the soft skin of Joshua's inner thigh and lingers there for a breath before letting his teeth sink inwards, leaving a mark similar to the one dotting Joshua's collarbone in a place that only lovers would have access to. ]
[Joshua breathes in, a stuttering gasp. It's still all so new to him, last night his first taste of intimacy. And it's all the more intense because it's Clive, because Joshua wants him so very badly, because he's had to be so careful all day long. He couldn't look too long, couldn't touch him at all. He's been good, and now for a little while he doesn't have to be.]
I wish we had all night.
[He does, desperately. Joshua tries to hard to be a proper Archduke, to be what Rosaria needs, but when Clive is with him like this all he wants is more. All he wants is to steal more time alone with his brother, someplace no one can see them, somewhere they can indulge in all these terrible things they both know they shouldn't want. To forget the world for a little while, and only think about Clive.
Joshua cards his fingers through Clive's hair, disarranging it more than it already is, but of course it only makes Clive look rakishly handsome. Joshua can't look away, doesn't want to look away. His other hand holds on to the edge of the bed, keeping him steady, because it will be all too easy to get too caught up in this. It's happening already, that love bite on his thigh a trophy, proof that in this moment he's nothing but Clive's. The rest of the world doesn't matter.]
I've been thinking about you all day. I shouldn't have been, but - I couldn't help it.
[He couldn't look, couldn't touch. But Joshua could not quite control his thoughts. Even while most of them circled around what he needed to do, how he needed to be seen by Sanbreque - everything else gravitated so easily to Clive. If he was all right, if they were treating him well. Fierce pride when he saw Clive handing those knights their defeats, though naturally Joshua had never expected anything else.
It's not surprising, really. Just the night before, Clive finally gave Joshua everything he ever wanted, everything he thought he could never have. It's remarkable that Joshua can think about anything else at all. A testament to his training, perhaps, that he can focus on matters of geopolitical importance when he's suddenly understood what real desire feels like.
He's feeling it now. There's no doubt of that - finally free of his confining clothing, Joshua can breathe a little more easily, but his arousal hasn't flagged in the least. Every touch, every movement that Clive makes only excites him more.]
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I feel a bit like I've been pecked at by vultures, in fact. Or nibbled upon by a pack of very hungry rabbits.
[He wishes he could reach out, take Clive's hand. Just for a moment, just to feel something real.]
I knew that it would be... difficult here, but I suppose I didn't expect to it to be like that. Like each and every one of them think that if they can get me in - in bed, they'll win some sort of prize.
[But then, that's true, isn't it? Even a brief dalliance would give a noble Sanbrequian family leverage. All the better if someone could manufacture an infatuation - or worse, a pregnancy. And naturally, a marriage proposal would be the ultimate prize. Most of the nobles clustered around him were not of high enough rank to be considered if Rosaria simply wanted a political marriage (really, only Dion or one of the Emperor's siblings or their children come near the appropriate rank to wed an Archduke), but if they could manage to trick him into falling in love -
Well, Joshua knows of plenty of rulers throughout history who have made unwise marriages because they were in love. And he can't judge them, as he hopes to avoid marriage for exactly the same reason.
He can't even really blame the men and women flocking around him tonight. They want to rise in the world, and he's an obvious path. He might resent them a bit for thinking he's an easy target, that he would fall for such obvious social climbing, but he can't blame them. This is what their lives have revolved around since they were born, just as his has revolved around the Phoenix, Rosaria, the Archduke's throne.]
Were they awful to you?
[That's what he's more worried about, really. At least the nobles hounding him were reasonably pleasant about it. He knows Clive may not have received such consideration.]
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He's eager to be out of earshot, out of eyeshot. Though, after tonight's dinner, he's starkly aware of the possibility that someone might be bold enough to trespass－
－which means that sharing a bed with Joshua is out of the question. There will be no way to explain away naked bodies in sheets, which goes well and far beyond what is expected for a vassal and his liege, let alone brothers bound by blood. ]
I minded their prying eyes on you more than their wandering hands on me. [ Bluntly, because he has no need to hide that trespass from Joshua. Clive is his, and Joshua has the right to know if anyone has set their hands on what rightfully belongs to him. ] Beautiful as you are, I didn't relish the rabble lusting after you.
[ He could endure a pass at his cock by a drunk noblewoman; he would have found a blade to draw if the same had been done to Joshua. Let the Sanbrequian nobles dream of climbing the social ladder, or being given a fleeting glance; they were raised to chase. But not at the cost of Joshua's dignity, or his autonomy. Clive would never allow anyone to corner Joshua as if he was some animal to cage. Never again. Their mother did enough harm without yet another high-minded fool trying to reassert themselves in that now-empty space. ]
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He might hate Sanbreque. It doesn't matter. He can't let it affect these negotiations.]
I don't think lust came into it, much. They saw me as an opportunity, and an easy mark. But none of them touched me - not like that. [A breath, muttered:] How dare they.
[Joshua saves anything else for the moment when they've got a door between them and the rest of the world. Luckily, that time has nearly arrived.
His room is right in the middle, a suite fit for a visiting monarch. Finer than his rooms at home, really - Rosalith is a smaller castle, like Rosaria is a smaller country. The furnishings are lavish, bordering on garish in Joshua's opinion, but it's all meant to impress visitors with Sanbreque's wealth. All that he cares about right now is that he can shut the door, and lock it - though who knows who might have a key. Still, it's the best they can manage right now.]
I hate the thought of them with their hands on you. [He turns to Clive, lets himself be angry, just for a moment.] I wish we could burn this place.
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With that done, and the door shut and locked behind them, Clive can finally approach Joshua with the sort of urgency he wouldn't dare show in public. Four quick strides take him back in Joshua's orbit, with one ungloved hand outstretched to press itself against the jut of his brother's jaw.
And god, he'd been aching for the contact. Years and years of self-denial broken by one night of hedonistic indulgence, and now Clive crumbles under the weight of a single day without touch. It would be comical if not for the circumstances they're in. ]
―Joshua. I won't let myself be the reason for the failure of your mission. [ Thumbing just along the corner of Joshua's eye, Clive moves another half-step into his space. The assertion is sincerely meant; no matter what happens, this is his brother's first foray into public relations as Archduke of Rosaria, and no amount of offense will make Clive jeopardize it.
That said, he relaxes into Joshua's anger. An honest thing, so rare for Joshua to show. ]
Though you are still beautiful when you scowl. [ This time, his thumb swipes along the corner of Joshua's mouth. ] Come here.
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Joshua slides his arms around Clive, one hand settling at the back of his neck, brushing bare skin there. He knows they aren’t safe here, not really, but he can’t be without this. He’s grown so greedy, so quickly.]
I hate them for doing it, but - I wanted to touch you too.
[A soft, quick confession. He wanted Clive from the moment he saw him, the most eye-catching thing in that room. There will never be a world in which Joshua can kiss his brother in front of onlookers, but he wanted to so badly.
He can do it now, finally, and so he does.
It’s not an innocent peck. There’s need wrapped up with frustration, but more than that, relief. Here with Clive, Joshua is safe. For a moment, at least, he can have what he wants. So he presses his lips to Clive’s and kisses him properly - or at least as well as he’s able, given his still-limited experience.
Afterward, Joshua doesn’t move away. He is where he wants to be, for as long as Clive will allow it.]
The only good thing about this trip is that I get to see you all dressed up.
[Not that he doesn’t like Clive no matter what he wears - and it isn’t as if he goes about in rags, either. He is the Lord Commander, after all. But they so rarely have need of such fine clothing, and Joshua does appreciate the view.]
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There's still the understanding that they have no business pawing and clawing at each other like hungry animals with no sense. What they can't do in public, they shouldn't be doing at all. But the reality exists that it feels perfect to be pressed heartbeat against heartbeat with Joshua, tangled and close, and Clive smiles at the assertion that he was both wanted and admired by his most precious person. ]
As ever, it's for your benefit.
[ Both to keep up appearances, and to match colors with Joshua. They are, and will always be, a unified front. ]
And you―the Archduke's regalia suits you. [ Sliding one hand up the breadth of Joshua's back, tracing and appreciating his shape. The tailors have worked wonders with their father's clothes, modifying and updating them for Joshua to wear proudly. ] ...I declined accompanying you to your fittings for a reason, you know.
[ It would have been far too much to pine after Joshua when he was being fitted to wear the crown. A sullying of something sacred, Clive'd thought.
Look at him now, kissing Joshua in foreign territory with his palm splayed against the small of his brother's back. Unholy and unwise. Elwin would be so disappointed in him, he thinks. ]
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I just thought that sort of thing bored you.
[He wouldn't blame Clive. It would be boring to sit around, watching someone get measured and try on clothing. It had bored him more than a little, and he'd been the one doing it.
But it's reassuring to know that the end result is appealing. More than reassuring - especially since Joshua isn't interested in being appealing to anyone but Clive. He understands that he has to seem available in these courtly games, or else rumor will spread quickly, but that doesn't mean he needs to flirt in return.
Part of him thinks it wouldn't be so awful, really, to let people think that he has a lover at home that he won't betray. It wouldn't stop everyone, but it might make things a little more bearable. But Joshua knows that would lead to closer scrutiny, and while they can evade some attention with the obvious - Clive is his brother, no one's first assumption will be that they've crossed the line into something so sinful - there are surely some who might be willing to look too closely. He can't draw that sort of attention, not when they have a secret that could easily ruin them.]
I knew they were afraid of you, but I hate the way they're treating you. [Joshua raises a hand, touches Clive's cheek. Gentle, because Clive is precious to him.] I can't even do anything about it - they haven't overstepped the rules of diplomacy.
[Not even the unwanted touching, not really, as much as Joshua's anger sparks at the thought of it. There are plenty of men who would welcome such a thing, after all, and it's likely that those responsible even see it as a kindness. As if Clive might be lacking for attention.
Joshua doesn't think that's possible. In that, he can understand it, a little. Who could look at him and not want him?]
You could stay here, though. With me.
[There are plenty of reasons that's a terrible idea, and Joshua knows it. But he can't help but offer anyway.]
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...You tempt me. You know I'd like nothing more.
[ A forward lean, to press his mouth against Joshua's jaw. Kissing pale, thin skin, but not with enough intent to bruise. ]
But, like you, I would hate how the Sanbrequians would treat you if they noted my absence from the barracks. [ Because, inevitably, the rabble will assume that the Brothers Rosfield are too paranoid to sleep apart from each other for even a night. ] They would underestimate you, and I won't have it.
[ As if any of them have even a fraction of Joshua's strength. His brother, the Phoenix. This castle could be cinders and ash if Joshua willed it; it's only by his grace and kindness that any of them are extended a chance at peace.
A sigh, and Clive pulls back enough to cradle Joshua's face again. Despite that soft exhale, he lets the corner of his lips hike into a smile. ]
Still. I'll stay for as long as I can. [ Terminally incapable of denying his brother anything. Joshua deserves a bit of spoiling, after having endured the events of the day. ] If it would please you.
[ Reverent words, but unmistakably a tease. ]
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It would please me.
[He knows, of course, that Clive can’t stay. He knew that when he offered it. But Joshua couldn’t help himself - he’s never had a night like the one they just shared. He’s never fallen asleep next to someone, woke to next to them. He’s wanted that, of course, idle imaginings that were never specific because he knew he could never have what he really wanted.
It still doesn’t feel quite real. Like it might disappear, like he might somehow lose this, lose Clive. It isn’t about doubting Clive - that’s something Joshua could never do. It’s more the impossibility of it all, all the reasons they both know they shouldn’t be doing this. But now that they have, Joshua knows he’ll never want anything else. No matter the danger.]
And you? [He tugs Clive back with him, just a little further, so that he can sit on the edge of the bed, Clive just between his knees] What would please you?
[Joshua’s anger has melted away easily in the face of Clive’s attention. It’s hard for him to feel anything negative when Clive is looking at him like that. But if anything, Clive is the one who ought to be spoiled - after all the insult he’s suffered today, and will surely suffer tomorrow.
At least there’s a cadre of Sanbrequian knights nursing their bruises tonight because of him.
Joshua looks up at his brother, reaching out as well, slim fingers resting on the ties of his all-too-tempting leathers.]
After all you’ve done for me today, my shield, I would gladly reward you.
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He can't be greedy. The fact that Joshua has accepted how deep his desires really go should be enough.
Should be. It's hard to think of should when Joshua is speaking to him the way he is, with hands roaming over his body. Clive remains standing between his brother's knees, and reaches to slide his fingers along and under his chin. All those men and women clamoring for scraps at Joshua's table, and here Joshua is now, asking Clive what would please him. ]
...It would please Your Grace's shield, [ he finally says, ] to strip His Grace of his finery, and to have him be Joshua once more.
[ A knowing half-grin, more a quick quirk of his lips than anything else. With that, he finally settles into a kneel, still tucked between Joshua's thighs. ]
My Joshua. [ Low and warm, before he leans in for a kiss. Sometimes he thinks it a miracle that no one has seen his infatuation for Joshua for what it is, but he's had years of denying it to himself, he supposes. ]
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He is greedy. He knows it. But Clive is all he wants, and Joshua would throw himself into fire for his brother. The possibility of Sanbrequian condemnation is not quite enough to give him pause - but he will, always and forever, be swayed by Clive's own desires. Including his self-restraint, if he is able to hold onto it where Joshua isn't.
He is swayed, though, immediately and utterly, by Clive's careful words.]
How shocked those knights you thrashed would be if they heard that silver tongue of yours.
[He says it so fondly. There was no chance Joshua would refuse, of course, but when Clive asks like that - Joshua would give him anything he asked for. Anything at all.
He kisses Clive, and when they part, rests his forehead against Clive's - just for a moment.]
That's what I want to be. [Quiet, only for him.] All I want to be.
[Joshua will never lay down his duty, of course, can never truly cease being the Archduke. But here, in these stolen moments, he can be something else. Something that eases just a bit of the burden from his shoulders.]
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[ Just as 'Joshua' is Clive's. Neither of them are referred to so casually anymore: only Sir Wade calls the elder Rosfield by his first name on occasion, and only because everyone knows that Sir Wade has been with the brothers since the Night of Flames. Both of them have had to shed their childhood and their personhood quickly in order to serve, and so―
―this is their reprieve, as twisted and wicked as it might be. No one in the world will ever know what Joshua and Clive have had to endure to be where they are, and no one in the world will understand that it's this bond that they share that has allowed them to live through the unspeakable and unimaginable.
Clive smiles, and presses his lips briefly against the corner of Joshua's mouth one more time before he sets to work on the complicated clasps and ties keeping his brother's formalwear in place. It's a bit of a shame to tug the silks off of him when he looks so striking in them, but he can appreciate that the pomp and circumstance must get stifling after a while; it's nice to peel the layers off and liberate his brother from the weight of it all.
It's when he has his arms circled around Joshua's middle, undoing the last of the laces keeping the corset-like vest hugged tight to his brother's form, that he hears a knock at the door. One of the castle's handmaids, he presumes, by the meek way that her muffled voice sounds through the door.
"Your Grace? I apologize for the intrusion... I was told you would need help getting settled for the night."
Right. Everything Clive is doing now, servants usually take care of. It's not the work of a Lord Commander to get his Archduke ready for bed.
Under his breath, against Joshua's ear: ] ―Should I dismiss her, or should I hide?
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With Clive here, it had been easy to forget. And had they been at home, the servants wouldn’t think twice about being turned away by their Lord Commander - Clive and Joshua had plenty of things to discuss, were often found in one another’s company, and it would be only natural for Clive to offer that sort of help. It wouldn’t mean anything.
But here, it might. And if Joshua himself turns them away, there will be whispers that someone else is tending to him, and likely rumors will fly as to who. If he lets them in - what a farce, Clive having to hide. And Joshua is already half undone.
He sighs, tilts his head just enough to press his lips to the curve of Clive’s jaw.]
Dismiss her, please.
[It’s the best of these poor options. It won’t be so surprising to have Clive in his room - after all, he escorted Joshua there, and naturally they’d have much to discuss. It shouldn’t be remarkable.
It only means that Joshua really can’t try to convince him to stay the night. He wants to, badly, though he knows it’s unwise - he wants to fall asleep next to Clive, feel that intimacy and safety. But if Clive is missing from his own room all night, it will be noticed, and everyone will think he spent it in Joshua’s room rather than out carousing with any of his admirers. All the worse because they will be right.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow, for all that Joshua knew it was a poor idea to begin with. He pushes Clive away gently and stands, stepping away from the bed - with no intention except to reduce any appearance of inappropriate behavior, any passing thought that might come from the sight of him, half-undressed by the bed, Clive obviously having been close just a moment before.
It isn’t easy to step away. It isn’t easy to put any distance between them, not when, for a moment, Joshua could relax into his touch.]
With my apologies.
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He only allows himself a frisson of disappointment (for now) as he obliges the distance that they have to make, and tries to steel his face into quiet neutrality for the imminent conversation that he'll have to engage in. Speak the truth, he tells himself. Only lies of omission, not falsities.
(It burns him to think that the world will only know the masks that he and his brother are required to wear, but that's the cost of leaning into their taboo.)
The maid on the other side of the door winds up being more a girl than a young woman― no older than he was on the Night of Flames, Clive thinks. Her doe eyes widen when she's met with the tall, imposing figure of the Lord Commander instead of the softer outline of the Archduke, and she stammers through her apologies, which Clive waves off with a gentle hand. ]
I have business to discuss with His Grace, [ he explains. ] I'll see to it that he gets settled before I retire for the night.
[ The poor girl looks lost; Clive softens at her trepidation, and rests the flat of his palm over her hair. ] If anyone gives you trouble, tell them that Ifrit threatened to swallow you whole.
[ That seems to placate her, somewhat: she looks surprised, momentarily, by the joke, but hides a smile under one hand as she reaches into her apron pockets for something to hand to Clive. A perfumed note, which the girl says was handed to her by one of the noblewoman who'd been at the banquet― "I was told to give this to His Grace," she explains, to which Clive nods and takes the item in question from her. ]
I'll see to it that he receives it, [ he reassures her, despite his mounting headache. The girl leaves with a curtsy, and it's only after he's sure she's properly gone that Clive closes the door with a long sigh.
Holding up the note for Joshua's perusal: ] They're awfully persistent.
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Joshua is not so very much older than that girl, but with the weight of a country on his shoulders, with all the darkness he's lived through, he feels a hundred years older. It's sweet to watch Clive's gentle kindness, something Joshua feels himself but rarely gets to see otherwise.
Clive has probably earned an admirer there, though certainly for more innocent reasons than the others.
Once the door is closed, Joshua makes his way to Clive, taking the note. He barely glances at it, doesn't unfold it. He has to play the game to some extent, he has to seem polite and approachable, but he really has no desire to actually get caught up in those courtly games. He certainly doesn't want to encourage anyone.]
They truly are. I wouldn't be surprised if you find someone in your bed when you get back to your room.
[Because for all that the attention paid to him has been heavy, none of it has been quite so forward as that paid to Clive. It frustrates Joshua to think of it - and perhaps there's a bit of jealousy there, too. Not because he thinks Clive would ever take an interest in any of them, but because they can pursue him so openly. These people who only see him as a curiosity, who don't know him or respect him, can do things that Joshua will never be allowed to do.
He doesn't regret this. He never could. He loves Clive so desperately that he feels lucky even knowing it must always be a secret. It's only that he knows, too, that Clive deserves better. He deserves adoration. The world ought to know that he is loved - but Joshua will never be able to give him that.
He touches the corner of the note to a candle flame, letting it burn. He doesn't bother looking at the contents. There's nothing it could say that would interest him, and the swift, fiery destruction soothes a bit of his discontent.]
Perhaps I can ask Dion to manufacture a secret affair. They would leave me alone if they thought their prince was interested.
[It would come with other problems, but it might be worth it. He thinks Dion could be trusted for something like that, since it wouldn't concern the fate of nations - only Joshua's peace of mind.]
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See, is a private thought he has to himself. No one should ever mistake my brother's patience for weakness.
Once Clive is sure that Joshua is far enough away from the candle (it really wouldn't do to set the castle on fire on their first night), he pulls Joshua to him, mindful of the clothes that his brother is still wearing, moving to undo the last of the ties around his waist to divest him of the vest. The rest is easy enough for Joshua to remove on his own, if he wishes to: a crisp white dress shirt, and a final thin undershirt. Clive doesn't touch Joshua's trousers, mostly because he can't be held accountable for what he might do if that layer sloughs off.
Especially when they're discussing Dion and affairs. He tries not to mind the mental images too much, or have them at all, but they surface anyway. Joshua and Dion are the both of them beautiful men, and they would be perfectly matched in station and age. ]
The Phoenix and Bahamut. It would be likely.
[ Dion had been... warm. Even the teasing at dinner was largely to give excuses for Clive to leave, and he'd been kind about Clive's earlier dismissal, besides. Still, a part of Clive balks at the idea of people looking at Joshua and envisioning him in the crown prince's bed; not just because Sanbreque and Rosaria have a bloody history, but because. Well.
It's petty jealousy, is what it is. He finds himself opening the front of Joshua's dress shirt, undoing the first three buttons of it to reveal the mark he'd left the night prior, and to press his mouth against it to freshen the reddening. ]
...Did he seem interested?
[ Blue eyes flick up. The truth is that Joshua is free to have anyone he wants― Clive would never deny him― but that Clive is only a man. Infatuated with someone he was never meant to have, and possessive of him in ways that make guilt weigh even heavier on his mind. ]
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And Dion is kind, and brave, and handsome. Joshua quite likes him, he's been more than welcoming. He's even been more respectful to Clive than nearly anyone else here - Joshua thinks Dion and Clive would get along well, should they ever have the chance to interact in a somewhat less complicated setting. They're both warriors, leaders, with a strong sense of right and wrong.
But all the qualities Joshua likes about Dion are ones that he loves in Clive. He can look at Dion and know that he's handsome, but he doesn't feel that sting of desire, that flush of heat that comes when Clive touches him. He doesn't think he could feel that way with anyone else, doesn't think he could want anyone the way he wants Clive. And more than that, the way he loves Clive, with a piece of his heart that no one else will be able to touch, no matter what may happen.
The sort of forbidden that could ruin them. But the way Joshua feels with Clive's mouth on his skin -
He doesn't care at all.]
No, I don't think so. He's been kind, but we were alone for some time today and he didn't say or do anything even a bit flirtatious.
[Admittedly, Joshua isn't terribly practiced in these things, so if Dion was being subtle he could have missed it. He doesn't think so, though.
He raises a hand, carding his fingers through Clive's hair, wanting nothing but to pull him closer. To peel that clothing off him and tug him to the bed. It's all so new, and Joshua hasn't had his fill of Clive yet - perhaps he never will. He fumbles a little with the buttons of his own shirt that Clive hasn't yet touched, his breath catches, it's struggle to keep his mind on what he was saying. Something about Dion?]
- I don't think I'm his type.
[Though Joshua also doesn't particularly care either way. There's only one person he wants to want him.]
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Impossible. [ Warmly, as he kisses over one pink nipple. ] You're everyone's type.
[ A little offended, actually, that anyone might think his perfect, beautiful, kind, smart, resourceful brother to be anything less than immediately desirable. Clive kneels in front of Joshua, the position more intimately familiar to him than anything else, and litters more kisses downwards, over Joshua's navel and sideways along his hip.
God, he's wanted Joshua all day. The training and politicking distracted him from the ache of it, but now that there are closed doors and drawn curtains, his proximity to Joshua is enticingly heady― it still feels insane to be allowed this, to have this be his new normal whenever they have the space and privacy for it.
Clive doesn't want anything else. He doesn't need acknowledgment or easy pleasure. Like this, knelt in front of Joshua with his hands bracketing his waist, he feels like the most fortunate man in all of Valisthea. ]
I worry that you've no idea how attractive you are.
[ Very biased, Clive knows. Still, it's a harmless flirt (since Dion apparently didn't!!!), and he presses it against Joshua's stomach before pulling back just an inch. ]
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I only care about what you think of me.
[Here in Sanbreque, what Joshua wears matters - he makes a quiet statement by remaining in Rosarian colors, by matching his brother, and by choosing cuts and fabrics that bring to mind the fire they both wield. And of course he wants to look good, he wants to be impressive in the face of what the Sanbrequians must think of them. He wants them to look at him and understand that he isn't just a boy their actions nearly killed, he's an Archduke. A force in the world.
But he doesn't care if they think he's attractive. Joshua didn't come here to make a match - it wasn't on his mind when they left Rosalith, and it certainly wasn't after last night.
He only cares if Clive thinks he's attractive. And to Joshua, Clive is the most handsome man in the world. He himself is only a pale imitation.]
It's you everyone should have been looking at tonight. [And plenty of them were, Joshua saw it.] I certainly was.
[He gazes down at Clive, fingers touching his cheek, the scar there, across to brush his lips. His body is responding to Clive's attention, he can't help it, and wouldn't if he could. Clive's mouth on his skin is impossible to resist, Joshua wants it all the time.
Though it is a bit embarrassing - especially with Clive right there, where he'll surely notice.]
I always am.
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Clive cares what others think of Joshua. Mostly, he hopes they never think to harm him again. The boy the world forced to prime under duress is now a young man, and he has the power to tilt Valisthea's political balance with one word.
He is also, incidentally, a young man with needs. This, the world doesn't need to know about him: just Clive. He grows warm at both the assertion and the reality of Joshua's not-so-polite looking, and shifts downwards enough so that he can press that scarred cheek to the outline of Joshua between his legs.
Wicked of him, he knows. Wanting to tend to Joshua's every need shouldn't encompass something like this, and yet. What should repulse him only excites him, shamefully and entirely. ]
If it's looking you want to do, you can do as much of it as you like.
[ Maybe Joshua would like Clive's mouth on him. It's something Clive has never done for another man, and something he would gladly do for Joshua. It seems safer than any other alternative, which might end with him involuntarily falling asleep on his brother's bed.
A breath, and he nuzzles closer. Ifrit tried to break the Firebird once; now, the Phoenix is the only one Ifrit will ever bow to. ]
Founder, Joshua. You do something to me that I can't control.
[ With confidence: only Joshua could manage it. It's how they've managed to find themselves in this position at all, with Clive having been felled by one touch and one wistful remark about his brother wishing that they were freer to do as they pleased. ]
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He wants everything Clive might be willing to give him. There’s nothing that Joshua would refuse him.]
Clive - [There’s a catch in his voice, just a small one. Desire, the sort that feels impossible to ignore.] I want to do far more than just look at you.
[The thought of affecting Clive so much, so deeply, would have been unbelievable only days ago. But now it’s impossible to deny. The way Clive looks at him, touches him, it’s something out of Joshua’s most secret fantasies. The sort of thing he’d told himself to stop thinking about, the sort of thing that had haunted his dreams.]
And I - I want you to lose control. With me, and only me.
[Clive is so careful everywhere else. So cautious of propriety, of his place, of what he feels he must atone for and of the gazes of others. Joshua understands, for all that it hurts him to see sometimes - they both have a role they must play.
But here, when it’s just the two of them, Clive should be allowed to set down his burdens, too. They should both be able to want, and be able to reach out.
Joshua’s hands move to the fastening of his trousers, though he doesn’t quite unhook it yet. His eyes, hungry, are on Clive.]
Will you?
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His near-murder, even. Guilt winds its way through Clive for a knifepoint moment, but he swallows it in favor of focusing on the look on Joshua's face, a mirror of Clive's own hunger.
It makes him see stars again. Despite it, he manages a soft laugh. ]
Where did you learn to goad like this? [ Craning his neck, kissing at the fingers poised over the clasp precariously holding Joshua's trousers together. If it'd been lace, Clive would have undone them with his teeth. ] I'll need to see what books you've been reading.
[ His mouth slides over Joshua's knuckles, and finds the smooth outline of a ring finger. His teeth close around the bottom of it, where a promise would sit if his brother were ever betrothed; a place Clive will never be entitled to. ]
...On the bed, Joshua. I want to please you.
[ If Clive could get away with it, he'd stitch Joshua to white sheets and spoil him until he's boneless and spent, too tired to do anything but list against Clive and accept his love and attention. There's so much going on in that clever head, and even for just a day, Clive wants to make it so that his brother has no obligation to think of anything but the understanding that he is thoroughly and completely loved, body and soul.
One more kiss to the rise of Joshua's knuckles, and Clive rakes his hot palms along that thin waist, edging forward on his knees to coax Joshua backwards towards the mattress again. No more interruptions, he hopes. ]
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They may never be able to make the sort of vows to one another that Joshua might like, but they're already bound together. They always will be, their eikons reflecting one another, their hearts beating in unison. This isn't the first time Joshua has had Clive on his knees.
He moves to the bed, feels the mattress hit the back of his legs. It's for the best, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand much longer with Clive paying him that sort of attention. It's overwhelming, when Clive touches him, when Clive's mouth is against his skin, when Clive looks at him like he might gladly eat Joshua alive. Truly, Joshua is powerless against it. It is a very good thing that Clive is sworn to him, that he can be trusted completely - because he could ask Joshua for anything, anything at all, and Joshua would gladly give it.]
Should I take these off?
[He wants them off, of course, but - Joshua's quite gotten the feeling Clive likes undressing him. If Clive would rather do it himself, of course Joshua will let him. He's been undressed by servants enough times that he's lost count, and Clive has even helped him now and then before this (though never so much, never further than undoing laces and fastenings that Joshua couldn't reach, and even just that used to make Joshua's heart beat harder, used to leave him struggling to hide the flush that had risen to his cheeks). He ought to be used to it.
But it's different now, different when he knows Clive wants him. There's a reverence there that Joshua doesn't think he's imagining, and on his part, a sense of vulnerability that shouldn't be as thrilling as it is. Joshua isn't terribly shy of his own body (though he's always admired Clive's far more), but when Clive looks at him he feels exposed, wanted, desired.
He slips his finger under the clasp, unhooking it. They're coming off regardless. The confines of those trousers are getting a little too uncomfortable for him in this moment.]
Or would you like to do it?
[Joshua is not entirely sure he can sound seductive, given his extremely limited experience, but he certainly is trying.]
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Let me, [ he rasps, after Joshua loosens the clasp keeping his waistband in place. Eager, lust-wracked. Clive can't bother to hide it anymore with their bodies tucked together they way they are, Joshua on the bed with his knees splayed, Clive between them. Every single nobleman and woman who'd been present at the dinner would have a heart attack if they could see the Rosfields now, configured in a way that leaves absolutely no room for doubt as to what their intentions are.
It doesn't matter. They don't matter. Clive kisses the patch of skin revealed after Joshua unfastens the front of his trousers, then works to shimmy that last layer off of him, underclothes and all. It still makes Clive's head spin to see Joshua's smooth, pale thighs, and the arousal that sits between them, proving that Joshua does want Clive in a way that he can't misinterpret.
He is utterly ruined by this. Whatever self-control he possesses turns to ash. He nuzzles his face against Joshua's interest with unabashed hunger, just the sight of it alone enough to make him hard in his own leathers; he knows it must be obscene, the way he presses his cheek against Joshua's cock, letting the smooth metal of their matching earcuffs (their vows, their unbreakable bond) touch along that heat.
Blue eyes flick up, drenched in need. ]
―Founder, I'd spend the entire night making you come if I could.
[ Speaking of losing control. Unwisely, he kisses down to the soft skin of Joshua's inner thigh and lingers there for a breath before letting his teeth sink inwards, leaving a mark similar to the one dotting Joshua's collarbone in a place that only lovers would have access to. ]
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I wish we had all night.
[He does, desperately. Joshua tries to hard to be a proper Archduke, to be what Rosaria needs, but when Clive is with him like this all he wants is more. All he wants is to steal more time alone with his brother, someplace no one can see them, somewhere they can indulge in all these terrible things they both know they shouldn't want. To forget the world for a little while, and only think about Clive.
Joshua cards his fingers through Clive's hair, disarranging it more than it already is, but of course it only makes Clive look rakishly handsome. Joshua can't look away, doesn't want to look away. His other hand holds on to the edge of the bed, keeping him steady, because it will be all too easy to get too caught up in this. It's happening already, that love bite on his thigh a trophy, proof that in this moment he's nothing but Clive's. The rest of the world doesn't matter.]
I've been thinking about you all day. I shouldn't have been, but - I couldn't help it.
[He couldn't look, couldn't touch. But Joshua could not quite control his thoughts. Even while most of them circled around what he needed to do, how he needed to be seen by Sanbreque - everything else gravitated so easily to Clive. If he was all right, if they were treating him well. Fierce pride when he saw Clive handing those knights their defeats, though naturally Joshua had never expected anything else.
It's not surprising, really. Just the night before, Clive finally gave Joshua everything he ever wanted, everything he thought he could never have. It's remarkable that Joshua can think about anything else at all. A testament to his training, perhaps, that he can focus on matters of geopolitical importance when he's suddenly understood what real desire feels like.
He's feeling it now. There's no doubt of that - finally free of his confining clothing, Joshua can breathe a little more easily, but his arousal hasn't flagged in the least. Every touch, every movement that Clive makes only excites him more.]
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