[ It's filthy, it's depraved. Not a single soul in Whitewyrm would ever suspect that their distinguished guests would be entangled like this, lost in each other in a way that would make the gods faint, but Clive doesn't have the mental faculty to care. Right now, his world dials down to where he has Joshua's thighs clutched under his palms, to the taste and feel of him in his mouth, to the sweet words of affirmation in Joshua's soft voice.
There's no experience or finesse to what he does. All instinct, though instinct has served him well for twenty-five years of his life. He bobs, swallows, and tries not to choke when he pushes his limits; breathless, he comes up for air, and looks up at Joshua with what he knows is concentrated adoration. ]
Joshua. [ His voice is hoarse, but steady. ] Look at how greedy you make me.
[ Clive knows that he hardly looks the part of a protector right now. Disheveled and love-drunk, happily sinning between Joshua's legs. The mantle of responsibility shed, but still oath-sworn: still perversely upholding his promise to do anything and everything for the sake of his beloved brother.
And fuck, he wants Joshua so badly. He says so after another mouthful of Joshua's cock, only slightly embarrassed by the wet sounds he's making; he can't care, when the truth is so evident. ] I want everything you can give me.
[ I want is not a thing Clive says, almost ever. The past two days mark a record for most times he's expressed a personal desire that had nothing to do with duty― he has always eschewed selfishness above all else, having held deeply to the belief that he neither deserves it nor has earned it.
A part of him still believes that, but he knows Joshua would hate to hear it. So, like the act of trying to fit Joshua in his throat, he lets himself want. Clumsily, but wholeheartedly. He chokes around that feeling, literally and metaphorically. He dips down, down, and hums around Joshua's length, high on the feeling of being so damnably close. ]
[It's what he's always wished for for Clive, really. That he be able to want things for himself, apart from his duty. Even without the guilt he carries, Clive has a loyal soul - Joshua knows he would have devoted himself to his duty regardless. But that guilt adds a weight that means he never sets the burden down.
He's fought for years, thrown himself into the role of Rosaria's protector - Joshua's protector. Joshua loves him for it, understands just how much they needed it, but even so he wants more for Clive. He wants his brother to be happy, to want things for himself, to be free of guilt and duty and obligation if only for a little while.
Joshua never imagined such a thing might look like this. The most shameless of sins, something that they both want so desperately. And to know that Clive wants it, that it's truly his desire, is captivating all by itself. To know he wants this, and to feel it, to see his unfettered need -
It's no surprise Joshua is being brought to the edge so quickly.]
Everything I have is yours.
[Just getting the words out is difficult, with the way his breath catches. Joshua doesn't want to look away, but he can't help closing his eyes, biting his lip as the pleasure peaks. Trying to stay in control of himself for just a moment longer.]
Clive, I'm close -
[A warning is all he can give. Enough time for Clive to move away, if he wishes, but hardly more than that. And Joshua remembers vividly the night before, Clive licking his hand clean, how filthy and perfect it was. Even so, he deserves a warning, but Joshua can't do much more than that. All it really takes is the sight of Clive again, letting himself want, wanting Joshua, and Joshua can't stop himself from crying out as he comes.
[ Clive doesn't need a warning: it's doubtful that the impending threat of war could have filtered through to his consciousness in the moments before Joshua spills over. He's focused and greedy and utterly selfish in how he stays down while Joshua hits his peak, making his own muffled sound of contentment as he swallows, only barely aware of how utterly fucking immoral it is to be wasting his brother's precious spend like this.
(Not that Clive would invoke Anabella in bed, but this is likely the most blatant act of rebellion he can take against his mother and her obsession with bloodlines.)
It's bliss. Joshua is so good for him. He feels perfect, even despite the eventual discomfort that sets in as Clive struggles for breath; when he pulls up for air, it's only after he feels Joshua's sweet tremors abate, and he feels confident that there's nothing more for him to taste.
A low, ragged exhale, and Clive rests his head on his brother's thigh. His jaw is sore, but pleasantly― his eyes are slightly misted from the effort, but they're molten with affection, still, and he presses a tired kiss to Joshua's hip. ]
...I was afraid I wouldn't be any good at that.
[ Hoarsely, but with an unmistakable undercurrent of playfulness. Clive is too sincere to be coy about anything, but he can play at flirting if only because he knows that Joshua won't mind if he fumbles. It's not like Clive will ever stretch his flirting muscles for anyone but his brother, anyway. ]
[He reaches down to stroke Clive's hair, still catching his breath, still feeling little aftershocks of pleasure. He adores Clive, and he's constantly amazed - shocked, even - by what Clive seems willing to do for him. Even seems to want to do. Joshua is not so plagued with guilt as his brother, but even so he thinks he doesn't deserve this. He's never done anything to deserve this sort of devotion. He's not sure anyone could.
But it doesn't matter. So long as Clive wants to be with him, Joshua has no intention of ever giving him up. That may be selfish of him, and may be all the more reason why he doesn't deserve Clive's devotion - but that won't change his heart either. And if he can make Clive happy, even a little, it's worth it.]
You're good at everything you do.
[There's a touch of teasing in Joshua's voice too, but he does mean what he says. Clive's not perfect - Joshua knows that. But Joshua has always admired him, his hard work, his quiet confidence in hard-won skill, his determination. Of course, in this case Joshua really has nothing to compare it to, but he still feels amazing. Content, sated. So in love it's ridiculous.
His hand trails down, stroking Clive's cheek. He hasn't forgotten his intention to take care of Clive, but he needs a moment first. A moment to recover himself, a moment to simply look at Clive.]
You take me apart so easily.
[It's freeing in a way Joshua didn't expect. That for a little while he can think of nothing but Clive, nothing but what Clive's hands and mouth and body are doing. It's not often that Joshua's burdens slip away from his thoughts - the weight of a country is no small thing, and he has very little that's just his own. Perhaps that will change over time, as he becomes used to his position, but right now it consumes nearly every moment of his day.
Except the ones he shares with Clive, like this. So few, and he knows they'll never be free to spend as much time together as they might like, but even so - just for a little while, he can think of nothing but the man he loves. It's an impossible luxury, one he never thought of having.
He wants to give a little bit of that to Clive, too. A little of that freedom, shared between them.]
[ There's relief in the unshakeable knowledge that they have each other. That, for all the ways in which the world conspires to harm them, Clive is safe with Joshua, and Joshua is safe with Clive. Safe, even, to explore this thing they've embroiled themselves in, and to be happy about it.
Because Clive is. Happy, that is. Unspeakably. As children, Joshua was the one who made Clive feel even a modicum of worth when no one else could manage to; even now, with the both of them respectively twenty-five and twenty, Clive still feels saved and needed by Joshua every day.
He truly doesn't know what he'd do without his brother. Joshua is his world.
When bid to get up and slide into bed, Clive obliges― not without excusing himself for a quick beat to drink a mouthful of water for courtesy's sake. With that done, he strips his skintight top off (midnight black, with crimson seams and linings) and drapes it over the back of a chair, more haphazard with his own clothes than he was with Joshua's silks.
The mattress doesn't creak when he finally settles himself on top of it. At least the Sanbrequians had the decency to give Joshua a high-quality bed. ]
Don't get me too comfortable, [ he murmurs as he slides next to his brother and loops his arms around his waist, nuzzling up like an oversized hound. ] I might fall asleep.
[ Half-joking, half-serious. Historically, Clive has always been a light sleeper unless Joshua was sharing the bed with him. ]
[Joshua has made himself comfortable in the bed, and it is a nice one. In this, at least, Sanbreque is treating him properly, and he won’t complain. If only he really could share it with Clive.
Since the night before, it had been a long time since they’d shared a bed. After Phoenix Gate, Joshua had needed some time to recover - and once he had, he knew he was too old for it to be acceptable to sneak into his brother’s bed at night. As he grew, it ceased being sweet and innocent, became something with shades of impropriety. Or at least it felt that way to Joshua, though perhaps that was because his own thoughts began to turn less innocent.
But he’s missed it. The warmth of Clive’s body against his, the soft sound of his breath. The sense of safety that used to chase away his nightmares so easily. How he wishes Clive could stay.]
Would that you could. My bed will be far too cold without you.
[Joshua relaxes against Clive, warm and sated and pliant, enjoying that expanse of finely muscled skin against his own. He could fall asleep easily like this, he knows. But he also knows Clive has tended to him with such attentiveness, while setting aside his own needs.
He strokes a hand down Clive’s arm, and bends just enough to press his mouth to Clive’s shoulder. A gentle kiss, he stops short of nipping the skin. Given Clive’s exertions on the training ground today, Joshua knows he’s much more likely to be seen without a shirt than Joshua himself, so he ought not leave marks.
He’ll just have to treasure his own all the more for it.]
Let me take care of you. You’ve hardly been touched at all.
[ It's an exhausting thing, to have everyone constantly read between the lines of their interactions. To have one or both of them chided for standing too close― "it reflects poorly on the Archduke, to have his Shield hover so"― or to keep their fondness in check, so as not to raise questions of favoritism. (Or worse: sentiment.) As the years passed, it's become harder and harder for Clive to express fondness without the inevitability of judgment.
A strange thing, he thinks. Joshua is his brother. Who could blame him for holding his brother close to his heart?
And so, he doesn't take the luxury of his current closeness for granted. He cards his fingers through blond hair, bright and warm unlike his own raven-black; he'd always liked the way Joshua had settled against him when they were still young enough to get away with it, sunlight hair nested against Clive's shoulder, soft against his skin.
Really, he would be happy with just this. His own arousal is a dull ache, but not unmanageable; he could still steal away somewhere and take care of it on his own. ]
You needn't, if you're tired. [ Mindful, though he'd be lying if he said that he wasn't curious as to how Joshua might want to take care of him. ] And besides, I've touched you plenty.
[ 'Plenty' isn't 'enough', though. Clive doubts he'll ever know what 'enough' is when it comes to Joshua, which is exactly deranged enough that he hesitates to demand too much of Joshua right out of the gate. He says as much. ]
...Unless my clever brother wants to see how more more infatuated I can get.
[He is tired, admittedly, but that isn't going to keep Joshua from indulging himself. He has been focused on everything he must do in Sanbreque, diplomacy and delicate negotiations and forming alliances - but Joshua can't think of such things every moment of every day. His mind wandered to Clive, again and again. He's had time to think of what he might want to do, how he might want to touch his brother.]
Of course I do.
[Pushing Clive gently back on the bed, Joshua climbs atop him, settling over his thighs. Not quite touching, Joshua doesn't rest his whole weight on Clive. Though he's rather sure Clive could stand it easily enough if he did, he doesn't want his brother to be uncomfortable.
Joshua is good at seeming confident, sure of himself. It's a skill, one he mastered years ago, one he uses all the time now that he's Archduke. He really doesn't know what he's doing - he has only his own fantasies, dirty books he shouldn't have been reading, and the brief time they've spent together - but he knows what he wants, and so he isn't going to hesitate. It doesn't matter if he's uncertain, unpracticed. He seems utterly sure of himself, for the moment.]
When we're apart, I want your thoughts to be full of me. I want you to think of me when you're alone. When you touch yourself.
[And doesn't that mean he ought to give Clive plenty to think of? He bends down, pressing his mouth to Clive's chest. Exploring, carefully - drawing his mouth along smooth skin, putting his lips to old scars he wasn't able to soothe away with his flames, brushing his teeth gently across one nipple.
He's wanted to do this. To taste Clive, to touch him. It feels wildly transgressive now that he's doing it, and despite his air of confidence Joshua is quite afraid he'll do something wrong - something Clive doesn't like, even something that might hurt him. But he wants far too much to let that fear stop him.
His hands go to Clive's trousers, fumbling with the buttons there.]
[ Joshua has had to find his footing far too quickly in the aftermath of their tragedy, especially given his weakened state. (And whose fault was that?) Where Clive never flourished or thrived in studies related to rhetoric and presentation, Joshua－ with the help of the Undying－ excelled in it. Held himself upright, when any other boy of his age would have buckled.
And now－ well. He's a stately young man straddling Clive's thighs, making Clive's nerves go alight with just a few choice words. ]
You say so, as if you don't already occupy all of my thoughts. You'd faint if I knew what I've done to you in my head already.
[ A low sigh, as he arches subtly into the press of Joshua's lips. He could run a mile in full armor without letting his breath go ragged, but the feeling of that mouth against his chest, over his nipple, makes his pulse pound; Joshua should be able to feel Clive's heart jackhammering against his ribs, almost as if it wants to escape its confines to find its rightful place next to Joshua's heart.
He's still hard. Each touch makes that arousal feel a little more desperate for attention. When he feels fingers scrabble at his buttons, though, he laughs under his breath and reaches to help. ]
Patience, Joshua.
[ Maybe his brother isn't as composed or sure as he'd like to seem. It's terribly endearing, though he knows he ought not to patronize: Joshua is as capable as any young man his age could possibly be. Smiling about it, Clive hums and unfastens his trousers with one-handed ease, sighing warmly at the friction their hands make against the obvious outline of the erection straining between his legs. ]
[Joshua flushes a little, but he can't really be that embarrassed. Of course he wants to touch Clive, of course he can barely handle just how much he wants to touch Clive. He knows desiring Clive - his blood, his own brother - like this is wrong, but despite knowing that, it's hard for him to really see it that way. Clive deserves to be wanted, deserves to have everything he might wish for. And if Joshua is part of that, it only means he's wildly lucky. Clive could have anyone. Who would ever refuse him?
He tugs Clive's trousers down, shifting his weight just enough to move all that fabric between them out of the way. It's a bit of a balancing act - getting Clive's pants and underclothes off without moving too far away from him, which is the last thing Joshua wants to do right now - but it's manageable.]
When I see you like this, it's hard to have any patience at all.
[How is he supposed to, when Clive is laid out on his bed, hard and waiting to be touched? Joshua reaches out and wraps his hand around Clive. He's careful - this is all still new to him - but he doesn't hesitate. There's nothing he wants more right now than to give Clive pleasure.]
I do want to know, though. The things you've thought about.
[Joshua's had his own wandering thoughts, traveling places they should not. He used to drag his thoughts away, hate himself a little, fear Clive's disgust should he ever discover them. Now he wishes he'd indulged a bit more, learned what he could, so that he could be the kind of partner Clive deserves.]
Even the shocking ones. I don't think there's much I wouldn't do, if you were the one who wanted it.
[He begins to stroke Clive gently, blue eyes steady on him, wanting to be certain it feels good - but also simply wanting to look. It still feels impossible and new, seeing Clive like this, and Joshua wants to cling to every moment.]
[ His mouth forms the shape of an ah when Joshua's warm hand finally wraps around his now-bared cock, momentarily stunned by how immediately good it feels to have Joshua tending to him. There'd be a moment here where he reflects on how different this feels from his past experiences, all of which were either frenetic or pragmatic, but he has no space for that, really: the entirety of his focus dials down to where Joshua is touching him (everywhere, it feels like) and the sound of Joshua's voice carrying above the din of his own hammering heartbeat.
Oh, he's weak. All his years spent training and honing and steeling his spirit, and it's all for naught the moment Joshua gives him any scrap of attention. Joshua, who Clive always wants so terribly but felt he would never deserve; Joshua, who always soothes the worst of Clive's pathologies with a glance and a smile.
No one has ever given Clive permission, the way Joshua does. All his life, Clive had thought that maybe it was his virtue that he found meaning in finding the right place to die― it's only ever been Joshua that has told him to live, instead. ]
I'd speak on it, [ he finally huffs, hoarse but amused. ] But I'm finding it harder and harder to think.
[ And so, he'll have to tell Joshua about his very impolite thoughts when his brain isn't quite so scrambled. Last night had been a desperate sort of shoving together, a hurried rush to touch each other before either one of them could decide not to; tonight, Clive is starkly aware of how gentle and measured Joshua is being, and how his brother is watching so intently, and the scrutiny dusts a flush across his face. ]
...Come here. [ To hide his slight bashfulness, he reaches for Joshua and pulls him closer, claiming his mouth to distract him from looking. He cups that beautiful face, tipping it for a better angle to deepen their kiss, flooding arousal into Joshua's mouth with each exhale. His breath comes at the pace Joshua is stroking him, hitches and hikes when something feels just right. ]
[As much as Joshua likes watching Clive, seeing him like that, kissing him is always impossibly perfect. He can feel each breath, each moment of reaction to his touch. Tired though he might be, Joshua can’t deny the spark of arousal he feels knowing he’s the one causing this, he’s the one making Clive gasp.
Last night there was some part of him afraid everything would slip away, that Clive would think better of it and Joshua would lose his only chance to have what he’s wanted for so long. There’s still a tiny part of him that can’t help but fear that - there might always be - but mostly, that feeling is gone. He’s been allowed to touch Clive again, to kiss him, to want him. They’ll have more chances, as difficult as it might be to part sometimes. They’ll always come back together again.
So he can take his time this time. He can notice every movement of Clive’s body, can revel in each indrawn breath. He can trace his fingers along Clive’s length, kiss him like nothing else in the world matters, wrap his hand around Clive’s shaft and feel him gasp. And though Joshua wants him - always, every moment - he’s not half-mad with need, at least not right now. He can enjoy this.
But he can’t deny that he’s curious. About everything, really, but after what Clive did - well, how could he not be?]
Wait, [He pulls away from Clive’s lips, a little reluctantly, hand pausing for a moment.] I want to -
[And he can’t quite say it, or maybe he doesn’t know what to say, but it doesn’t matter. His actions will say it for him. Joshua draws back, slides down Clive’s body - still careful - and settles his weight further down.
Joshua’s never done this before, but Clive’s mouth on him felt like - like nothing else had, enough to make all his thoughts spill from his head so easily. He wants to give that to Clive, but he wants to experience it for himself, too. How Clive tastes. The weight of him in Joshua’s mouth. What it feels like to do that, to please him that way.
He takes his time, cautious at first, licking a long stripe up Clive’s cock before taking the head in his mouth.]
[ Wait is a little worrying, and Clive shifts under Joshua's weight for a moment, trying to pull his breathless-blurred focus back together enough to understand what it is that Joshua wants.
It turns out that he doesn't have to wonder: the comfortable warmth of Joshua's body slides downwards until it's unmistakable where he lands, and Clive is stunned into silence as he realizes that his brother― his beautiful, perfect brother― is mirroring what he did only a few minutes before.
And fuck, it's sacrilege when Joshua puts his mouth on him. If he thought the events of the previous night were like dripping ink on clean parchment, he has no comparison for how this looks and feels. Ironic, given what he'd just said about all of the impolite thoughts he's had about Joshua; he almost feels ashamed for having had them, when the reality of Joshua with his lips around his cock rewires his entire brain chemistry in a fraction of a heartbeat.
Ah, he breathes again. He must feel like iron in Joshua's mouth. Clive couldn't be harder if he tried. ]
Oh, fuck. [ His entire body shudders, tensing and relaxing in waves. ] I must be dreaming.
[ It's impossible. He was never meant to have this. He doesn't know how he can ever go on without it, anymore. ]
[It's so different from touching Clive, the intimacy of it satisfying in a way Joshua didn't expect. He can feel Clive's reactions, the movement of his body, and it only makes Joshua want more. He wants to make Clive lose control and know it's because of something he did, something he gave Clive.
He can't take Clive very deep, and he doesn't try, all too aware that it would cut his fun short if he isn't careful - Clive will certainly fuss if Joshua ends up coughing, or worse choking, because of him. But it's not so difficult to be careful, even while exploring as much as he pleases. Joshua is a little clumsy, but he's very aware of Clive's reactions, careful to pull back if he goes too far, encouraged by his obvious pleasure.
There's nothing he wants more than to make Clive mindless with desire. It isn't simply a desire to please, it's that greedy selfishness he can't stamp out as well. He wants all of Clive, everything he can get, all his.
He pulls away only for a moment, to breathe.]
I'm right here. I wanted this - I wanted to taste you. Don't hold back.
[And Joshua steadies himself, bends down, takes Clive a little deeper. He wraps his hand around Clive's shaft, because if he can't take Clive any further, at least he can stroke him, can push him over the edge like this.
He doesn't really know if he'll be able to swallow, the way Clive did, but he intends to try. Would it not be criminal to waste even a drop of something so precious?]
[ If Clive had enough functioning brain cells left, he might legitimately worry about the state of Joshua's throat after doing something like this. It's been a while since his brother has spent the better part of a week in bed, his recovery having been fraught but sure; Clive might actually die if he ever becomes the reason Joshua has to be put on bedrest again.
But. Again, no functioning brain cells left. If mindlessness is the goal, mindlessness is what Joshua gets. Clive's blue eyes gloss with heat and need, and the only thing reflected in them mirrors the only thing in his mind: Joshua, Joshua, Joshua. He has no reference for what a non-clumsy mouth over his cock would feel like, and even if he did, no courtesan would be able to elicit a fraction of the response that Joshua does with even his most tentative touches.
His hips jerk. Don't hold back, he's told, but Clive has absolutely no intention of fucking into Joshua's mouth; he's still trying to wrap his mind (poorly) around the fact that this is happening at all. Maybe when they've both grown accustomed to the novelty of each other's bodies, Clive might be bold enough to claim Joshua that way, but not tonight: for now, he makes a choked sound that's roughly in the shape of his brother's name, fingers winding in gold hair without tugging. ]
Like that, [ is a rasp, when the heat of Joshua's mouth dips low enough that it makes Clive see stars. ] Gods, you're perfect－
[ Biased, but who's going to argue against him? Joshua is everything Clive has ever wanted, and will want. Having him like this brings Clive to his edge far faster than he would have liked, and he grits his teeth against that vertigo-inducing feeling, gasping in time to his quickening pulse. ]
－Joshua. [ He shakes his head. ] I'm close. You have to...
[ Pull back, pull off. Clive, a hypocrite, has no qualms with swallowing, but thinks it might be beneath Joshua to taste him. ]
[His heart pounds just knowing he's done this to Clive. That he likes this, that it's good, that he's brought Clive to the edge with his touch and his mouth. Maybe someday it won't feel so much like a revelation, like a gift - maybe they'll get used to this. But right now, to Joshua, it still feels impossible and new, and he wants everything.
So he doesn't stop. He decided when he started this that he would see it to the end, just as Clive did to him. He wants to know what it's like, he wants to give that pleasure to Clive, and - he likes it. He likes the way Clive gasps, the way he feels in Joshua's mouth. It only makes him want to do more, to be better, to learn what feels good.
He knows Clive is warning him, but he doesn't pull away. Clive did it for him, so he'll do it for Clive - but it isn't just that. It's that he wants this, he wants to know how it feels. There's not a thought in his mind about it being beneath him, and even if part of him sees it as dirty, it's deliciously so. He would do this a hundred times for Clive. He may be an Archduke, he may be one of the most powerful men in Valisthea, but for Clive he would gladly get on his knees.
So he stays, and when Clive comes - he's more or less prepared, he swallows as well as he can. If a bit ends up on his lips, his chin, he doesn't care. The taste doesn't bother him at all - he's had to drink so many medicines over the years, Joshua is quite adept at such things - but it's rather a surprise, so he doesn't manage quite as well as he might have hoped. But still it's enough, it's what he wanted.
Joshua's own body, weary as it might be, has a surge of interest - easy enough to ignore, he knows he doesn't have the stamina to ask more from Clive tonight. But he can enjoy this, can lick it from his lips without any self-consciousness, lick the remnants from Clive as well. And he looks up at Clive, wanting to know he's all right, that he feels good.]
[ Clive flushes hot when he comes, and lifts his hand from Joshua's hair to keep himself from inadvertently gripping too hard; his peak hits him in a way that he's never experienced before, drawn-out and intense enough that it rips the breath out of his lungs. He moans in the shape of Joshua's name, once, twice, curled forward with lust-stained eyes not-quite-focused.
He finally gathers enough of himself after long stretches where he attempts to right his breathing, and it's only then that enough of his brain goes back online to register Joshua's attempts to lick them both clean. Hurried, Clive tips his brother's chin up and shifts forward, craning as much as he can to press his mouth against Joshua's. ]
Joshua, [ he murmurs, kissing along a flushed lower lip. ] Don't push yourself.
[ Fussing, but warmly. He tries to ignore the thoughtless, sex-addled part of him that thinks Joshua is fetching even with spend on his face; a little swipe of thumb over his brother's chin, and Clive tries to coax him back up to eye-level, where Clive can pull him into a close, claiming embrace. ]
...I knew it already, but there will never be anyone or anything that ever makes me feel the way you do.
[ Not only the feeling of Joshua's mouth on him― that was amazing, and also a given― but the want that lingers even afterwards, the ache that persists even when they're curled and pressed close like this. The persistent rightness when they touch, and the acute feeling of absence when they have to part. Clive sometimes loves Joshua so much that he thinks he must be splitting at his seams with it all. ]
[Joshua goes easily, curling close to his brother, relaxing into that embrace. He feels awfully satisfied with himself - possibly even just a bit smug, pleased that he was able to make Clive feel that good. He wants it so badly, after all, wants to carve a place for himself in Clive's heart that no one else will ever be able to match.]
You can be as selfish as you wish. I am yours.
[As much as Joshua can belong to anyone, he wants to belong to Clive. Even though they must always keep it a secret, even though there will be pressure to marry, even though he's sure Clive will be pressured as well, because the Rosfield line must be carried on - Joshua will fight as hard as he must to keep this. He doesn't want to be touched by anyone but Clive.
He kisses Clive again, slow and content, then curls into him, resting his head against Clive's shoulder. He could fall asleep like this so easily. He knows he can't - Clive can't spend the night in his bed, no matter how much Joshua might wish for it - but it's a very tempting desire. Clive is warm, and Joshua likes touching him. Likes the simple contact, the scent of his skin, the circle of his arms.]
I love you.
[He says it quietly. There's a touch of bittersweetness to it - Clive can't stay, Joshua can never be with him the way he deserves, they'll likely be apart often. But even so, Joshua would choose this again and again. Now that he has Clive, now that he knows what it's like to have his love returned, even the bits of pain that come along with it feel precious.
If Clive were anyone else, Joshua would have long since confessed his feelings, begged for a chance to be with him, asked him to accept the position of consort. He can't do that, he'll never be able to, and so he will love Clive with as much passion and determination as possible to make up for it.]
[ Something in Clive's heart aches at that I love you, and he pulls Joshua closer to trap that sentiment, to keep those words tucked firmly against his chest. It's cruel, that what they have is so natural and abnormal in the same breath. That it's as natural as breathing for Clive to love Joshua the way he does, while the rest of the world would look upon it with abject horror.
He'd thought he'd be able to give Joshua up for the sake of his brother's peace. For his happiness, for something uncomplicated. He'd thought he could take their father's place on the day of Joshua's betrothal, and smile as he watched Joshua promise himself, forevermore, to someone else.
God, it scares Clive that he doesn't think he'll have the grace to do so. Not anymore. ]
As do I. As long as I live, and until the day I die.
[ And beyond that. If he's ever reborn, he can only hope that he'll find Joshua in his next life, and reach for him again and again. He presses a kiss to soft blond hair, and breathes in the scent of warmth and amber and parchment. ]
...I fear you'll be taken from me all of tomorrow. You've your audiences, and a tour of Oriflamme, as I recall.
[ The small retinue that they've brought along will most certainly be accompanying Joshua, but Clive hasn't been invited as of yet. Most likely some misgivings around parading Ifrit the Blasphemous alongside the Phoenix; maybe if he remains hooded under a cloak, five paces behind the rest, they'd allow Clive to shadow Joshua for his safety. ]
[Joshua sighs, reminded of all he must do on the morrow. Clive is the only one he can safely express any weariness around - to the rest of the world he must appear strong, certain, faultless.
He doesn't hate being the Archduke. Joshua thinks that there are many things he can accomplish - he wants to carry on their father's work, make Rosaria safer for Bearers. He wants to give his citizens safety and prosperity. Rosaria is not a large country, but he wants to make it a haven for any who can't find safety in the wider world. He knows it will likely take his whole life, and still not be done even then - but it will be worth it, he hopes.
But the day-to-day work can be draining, and there will always be aspects of his duty that weigh on him greatly. Things he wishes he could escape from, even for only a moment. And while Joshua can find joy in it, there are times he wishes he could simply be a normal young man. Not a ruler, not a Dominant. Just a man, free to love who he wishes, do what he pleases.
But then, he would still love Clive, even so. In any life, he would, he thinks. At least in this one he can keep Clive close, tie them together with vows and duty itself. And when they're alone, he can forget about the rest of the world. For a little while.]
Yes. I've a full day - meeting the Emperor and his advisors to begin negotiations will be trying. The city might be nice to see, though.
[Oriflamme has a great history, and Joshua has always been interested in that sort of thing. Dion will be his guide once more, so Joshua expects he'll be able to coax a few tales from him.]
I will try to prevail upon them to send you with us. But if I can't - I think you've won quite a bit of respect from their knights today. They ought to treat you a bit better.
[It's delicate, he knows. He can't insist too strongly on bringing Clive along, as the Sanbrequians are surely ready to find some insult in it, or simply to think less of him for refusing to be without his strongest guard. But Joshua can ask, and force them to be the ones to refuse his requests, which in the end gives him another bit of power - after all, just as he must be careful of offending them, they can't entirely afford to offend him. Refusing to let him bring Clive may result in a concession elsewhere, and Joshua needs all he can get.]
[ The boyish part of Clive, the part that stole Joshua away from his nameday party to jump in a stream, wishes he could take Joshua by the hand and lead him away from Whitewyrm, to adopt an alias for the both of them so that they could spend one uncomplicated day touring Oriflamme as lovers. They don't look so much alike that anyone would suspect anything, and it would be a welcome reprieve from politics and subterfuge and the balance of the world as they know it.
A fantasy. Reality dictates that they'd last half a day at most before Sanbrequian guards turn the city upside down looking for two missing foreign Dominants. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but not nearly so bitter that he'd consider putting an end to this.
(One day. Clive just wants one day. He'll fight to earn it, in his future: just one day, where he can exist with Joshua far from anyone who would know them.) ]
I'll be alright. [ The Imperial Dragoons are under Dion's jurisdiction, and they all seem far more decent than most; the other rank and file are largely the same as the soldiers that Clive has faced against in the past, fearful and full of contempt, but Clive can simply choose not to consort with them. He's rather more curious about the Bearers that the Empire have conscripted forcefully into their service, as he hears nothing but horrific stories about their treatment― maybe he can look into the truth of it, and see if there's anything that can be done about finding a way for them to desert and escape to Rosaria.
A thoughtful hum, and he combs his fingers through Joshua's hair before kissing him again. They're both naked and tangled, and if Clive falls asleep now, there will be no mistaking what they've done here in bed together. If the maids in this castle possess spare keys, they'll be ruined. ]
The more the Sanbrequians snarl and hiss at me, the sweeter it'll be to return to you at the end of the day. [ So don't worry, is the sentiment here. ] You, on the other hand...
[ A light nip, to Joshua's bottom lip. ] ...Don't let the rabble get too close.
[He laughs softly against Clive's lips. As if he could ever possibly think of anyone but Clive. It's a ridiculous thought, now that he knows what Clive's hands on his skin feel like, now that he's tasted that far too tempting mouth. But he knows the advances will still come - he's too tempting a prize, young and unmarried with so much power. The thought brings only weariness. He will have to practice patience.]
I'll be thinking of you all day.
[He will have much on his mind, but even so, he knows it's still true. Clive has been in his thoughts all day, and Joshua knows that isn't going to change. This evening together has only given him more to cling to, more to remember when he's feeling bleak. Stealing a few moments with Clive like this may be the best reward he could possibly imagine.
He thinks back to what they spoke of further, considers it again. It's not a terrible idea, but he's not sure it's an acceptable one either.]
I can... ask Dion if he might help me spread a few rumors. It would make things a little easier.
[It would require a bit of playacting, but not much, as both would be expected to be very proper in public. Joshua is fairly certain Dion would agree, might even be amused by it - and it may serve his purposes, too, since Joshua suspects he may have a lover stashed away somewhere. It's impossible that Dion would be with anyone who could cause such a scandal as the man Joshua loves, but he might welcome a bit of a smokescreen anyway.
It would be useful. But it may cause problems in its own way as well, if the Emperor decides it would be wise to press for a marriage. Joshua doesn't know how likely that would be - Dion is the heir, could he even inherit if he were wed to another ruler? - but the possibility remains.
And - he doesn't want Clive to worry. He only wants a little breathing room, but if the price would be Clive's discomfort, it isn't worth it.]
[ He gives the suggestion about Dion some thought, and reaches an easy conclusion: ]
If it would make things easier.
[ And with the unspoken caveat that they'll be able to trust the Crown Prince, but he'll leave that to Joshua's expert discretion. It's not deference as much as the simple reality that Clive knows that his brother is far better at maneuvering these things than he is, and that he has faith in Joshua's ability to navigate these murky waters with the care that it requires.
Besides, Clive is fairly certain that Dion Lesage isn't cut from the same cloth as his father. He neither seems the warmongering sort, nor the sort of prideful idiot to antagonize Rosarian royalty for the thrill of it― if he'll be a good friend to Joshua, it'll be more than Clive could ever hope for.
And truly, Sanbreque is the easiest external force to ally with at the moment, with Dion halfway to the throne. The Dhalmeks remain hostile, and the king of Waloed is... strange and elusive. Clive has only seen Barnabas Tharmr a handful of times, only enough to count on one hand, but he has never liked the way the man looked at him or Joshua.
Wandering, meandering thoughts. Clive shakes them away, quite literally, and manages to smile softly as he sits up. ]
I'll be looking forward to hearing the rumors circulate. It'll help me get a feel for the books you've been reading in my absence.
[ His brother, sneaking racy erotica between his duties. The thought of it makes Clive grin, almost boyishly so. ]
[Joshua is more than a little reluctant to move, but he really has no choice. He pries himself off Clive with quite an effort, already feeling a little colder, a little more lonely.
But he knows Clive can’t stay. And they’ll have more time, at least a little more before they return to Rosaria and Clive has to leave to secure the border. Joshua will cling to each moment they have, no matter how brief.
When he sees Clive smile like that - a rare thing, a precious one - Joshua can’t help but adore him. Anyone would, he thinks, and he knows how lucky he is to have this. To have Clive, to be able to love him the way he wants to. Joshua isn’t going to take this for granted.]
Mostly I just read boring, dusty old history books. You might be disappointed.
[He smiles, teasing a little. Really, they aren’t in the least boring. He’s always loved old tales, something that easily blossomed into a love of history, of hidden stories and rare accounts. It will always be nothing more than a hobby, but he can steal an hour here and there to read.
Discovering those racy bodice-rippers had been a surprise. Joshua hadn’t been able to resist reading them, though he still doesn’t know where they came from. Not their mother, certainly. Uncle Byron? Their father, even? Regardless, though he was educated about the facts of life, Joshua has never has friends his age to gossip and learn from. Anything beyond the basics was thanks to those books - wildly unrealistic, he always knew, but still somewhat educational.]
Being with you isn’t anything like what’s in those books.
[The real thing is so far beyond those steamy, overwrought scenes. It’s Clive that makes the difference. It wouldn’t be the same with anyone else.]
[ In another life, Joshua might have been an aspiring historian, gone off to Kanver to join the ranks of bright young men and women who'd shape the future of Valisthea. It would have been a far less lonely life, and he would have been surrounded by friends and peers.
He might even have been less close to, and with, Clive. (The thought of that, selfishly, is a little less appealing.)
Clive gets up off of bed, but only to move towards the wardrobe and to fish out a set of comfortable-looking sleepwear for Joshua to slip into. As much as he likes the sight of Joshua naked and tangled in bedsheets, the maids in the morning might die of a heart attack if they see Rosaria's Archduke in such a state of undress. ]
You're liable to give me a big head, if you keep flattering me.
[ Softly, affectionately. Clive winds his way back to bed, and bids his brother raise arms and legs to be dressed in his new clothes. Indulgent, because Clive is permitted to be in Joshua's company. If he had the choice, he would be the only one to tend to Joshua for the rest of Joshua's life. ]
...A part of me still wonders if I'm not dreaming. [ He said as much, with Joshua's mouth over him. ] I've wanted you for so long, but never thought it would come to anything.
[ And it shouldn't have, but here they are. Stumbled onto the truth, and scrabbling to keep each other afloat. ]
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There's no experience or finesse to what he does. All instinct, though instinct has served him well for twenty-five years of his life. He bobs, swallows, and tries not to choke when he pushes his limits; breathless, he comes up for air, and looks up at Joshua with what he knows is concentrated adoration. ]
Joshua. [ His voice is hoarse, but steady. ] Look at how greedy you make me.
[ Clive knows that he hardly looks the part of a protector right now. Disheveled and love-drunk, happily sinning between Joshua's legs. The mantle of responsibility shed, but still oath-sworn: still perversely upholding his promise to do anything and everything for the sake of his beloved brother.
And fuck, he wants Joshua so badly. He says so after another mouthful of Joshua's cock, only slightly embarrassed by the wet sounds he's making; he can't care, when the truth is so evident. ] I want everything you can give me.
[ I want is not a thing Clive says, almost ever. The past two days mark a record for most times he's expressed a personal desire that had nothing to do with duty― he has always eschewed selfishness above all else, having held deeply to the belief that he neither deserves it nor has earned it.
A part of him still believes that, but he knows Joshua would hate to hear it. So, like the act of trying to fit Joshua in his throat, he lets himself want. Clumsily, but wholeheartedly. He chokes around that feeling, literally and metaphorically. He dips down, down, and hums around Joshua's length, high on the feeling of being so damnably close. ]
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He's fought for years, thrown himself into the role of Rosaria's protector - Joshua's protector. Joshua loves him for it, understands just how much they needed it, but even so he wants more for Clive. He wants his brother to be happy, to want things for himself, to be free of guilt and duty and obligation if only for a little while.
Joshua never imagined such a thing might look like this. The most shameless of sins, something that they both want so desperately. And to know that Clive wants it, that it's truly his desire, is captivating all by itself. To know he wants this, and to feel it, to see his unfettered need -
It's no surprise Joshua is being brought to the edge so quickly.]
Everything I have is yours.
[Just getting the words out is difficult, with the way his breath catches. Joshua doesn't want to look away, but he can't help closing his eyes, biting his lip as the pleasure peaks. Trying to stay in control of himself for just a moment longer.]
Clive, I'm close -
[A warning is all he can give. Enough time for Clive to move away, if he wishes, but hardly more than that. And Joshua remembers vividly the night before, Clive licking his hand clean, how filthy and perfect it was. Even so, he deserves a warning, but Joshua can't do much more than that. All it really takes is the sight of Clive again, letting himself want, wanting Joshua, and Joshua can't stop himself from crying out as he comes.
Luckily, this time the walls are stone.]
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(Not that Clive would invoke Anabella in bed, but this is likely the most blatant act of rebellion he can take against his mother and her obsession with bloodlines.)
It's bliss. Joshua is so good for him. He feels perfect, even despite the eventual discomfort that sets in as Clive struggles for breath; when he pulls up for air, it's only after he feels Joshua's sweet tremors abate, and he feels confident that there's nothing more for him to taste.
A low, ragged exhale, and Clive rests his head on his brother's thigh. His jaw is sore, but pleasantly― his eyes are slightly misted from the effort, but they're molten with affection, still, and he presses a tired kiss to Joshua's hip. ]
...I was afraid I wouldn't be any good at that.
[ Hoarsely, but with an unmistakable undercurrent of playfulness. Clive is too sincere to be coy about anything, but he can play at flirting if only because he knows that Joshua won't mind if he fumbles. It's not like Clive will ever stretch his flirting muscles for anyone but his brother, anyway. ]
Look at you. Beautiful.
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But it doesn't matter. So long as Clive wants to be with him, Joshua has no intention of ever giving him up. That may be selfish of him, and may be all the more reason why he doesn't deserve Clive's devotion - but that won't change his heart either. And if he can make Clive happy, even a little, it's worth it.]
You're good at everything you do.
[There's a touch of teasing in Joshua's voice too, but he does mean what he says. Clive's not perfect - Joshua knows that. But Joshua has always admired him, his hard work, his quiet confidence in hard-won skill, his determination. Of course, in this case Joshua really has nothing to compare it to, but he still feels amazing. Content, sated. So in love it's ridiculous.
His hand trails down, stroking Clive's cheek. He hasn't forgotten his intention to take care of Clive, but he needs a moment first. A moment to recover himself, a moment to simply look at Clive.]
You take me apart so easily.
[It's freeing in a way Joshua didn't expect. That for a little while he can think of nothing but Clive, nothing but what Clive's hands and mouth and body are doing. It's not often that Joshua's burdens slip away from his thoughts - the weight of a country is no small thing, and he has very little that's just his own. Perhaps that will change over time, as he becomes used to his position, but right now it consumes nearly every moment of his day.
Except the ones he shares with Clive, like this. So few, and he knows they'll never be free to spend as much time together as they might like, but even so - just for a little while, he can think of nothing but the man he loves. It's an impossible luxury, one he never thought of having.
He wants to give a little bit of that to Clive, too. A little of that freedom, shared between them.]
You must be uncomfortable. Come up on the bed.
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Because Clive is. Happy, that is. Unspeakably. As children, Joshua was the one who made Clive feel even a modicum of worth when no one else could manage to; even now, with the both of them respectively twenty-five and twenty, Clive still feels saved and needed by Joshua every day.
He truly doesn't know what he'd do without his brother. Joshua is his world.
When bid to get up and slide into bed, Clive obliges― not without excusing himself for a quick beat to drink a mouthful of water for courtesy's sake. With that done, he strips his skintight top off (midnight black, with crimson seams and linings) and drapes it over the back of a chair, more haphazard with his own clothes than he was with Joshua's silks.
The mattress doesn't creak when he finally settles himself on top of it. At least the Sanbrequians had the decency to give Joshua a high-quality bed. ]
Don't get me too comfortable, [ he murmurs as he slides next to his brother and loops his arms around his waist, nuzzling up like an oversized hound. ] I might fall asleep.
[ Half-joking, half-serious. Historically, Clive has always been a light sleeper unless Joshua was sharing the bed with him. ]
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Since the night before, it had been a long time since they’d shared a bed. After Phoenix Gate, Joshua had needed some time to recover - and once he had, he knew he was too old for it to be acceptable to sneak into his brother’s bed at night. As he grew, it ceased being sweet and innocent, became something with shades of impropriety. Or at least it felt that way to Joshua, though perhaps that was because his own thoughts began to turn less innocent.
But he’s missed it. The warmth of Clive’s body against his, the soft sound of his breath. The sense of safety that used to chase away his nightmares so easily. How he wishes Clive could stay.]
Would that you could. My bed will be far too cold without you.
[Joshua relaxes against Clive, warm and sated and pliant, enjoying that expanse of finely muscled skin against his own. He could fall asleep easily like this, he knows. But he also knows Clive has tended to him with such attentiveness, while setting aside his own needs.
He strokes a hand down Clive’s arm, and bends just enough to press his mouth to Clive’s shoulder. A gentle kiss, he stops short of nipping the skin. Given Clive’s exertions on the training ground today, Joshua knows he’s much more likely to be seen without a shirt than Joshua himself, so he ought not leave marks.
He’ll just have to treasure his own all the more for it.]
Let me take care of you. You’ve hardly been touched at all.
[The worst of crimes, really.]
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A strange thing, he thinks. Joshua is his brother. Who could blame him for holding his brother close to his heart?
And so, he doesn't take the luxury of his current closeness for granted. He cards his fingers through blond hair, bright and warm unlike his own raven-black; he'd always liked the way Joshua had settled against him when they were still young enough to get away with it, sunlight hair nested against Clive's shoulder, soft against his skin.
Really, he would be happy with just this. His own arousal is a dull ache, but not unmanageable; he could still steal away somewhere and take care of it on his own. ]
You needn't, if you're tired. [ Mindful, though he'd be lying if he said that he wasn't curious as to how Joshua might want to take care of him. ] And besides, I've touched you plenty.
[ 'Plenty' isn't 'enough', though. Clive doubts he'll ever know what 'enough' is when it comes to Joshua, which is exactly deranged enough that he hesitates to demand too much of Joshua right out of the gate. He says as much. ]
...Unless my clever brother wants to see how more more infatuated I can get.
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Of course I do.
[Pushing Clive gently back on the bed, Joshua climbs atop him, settling over his thighs. Not quite touching, Joshua doesn't rest his whole weight on Clive. Though he's rather sure Clive could stand it easily enough if he did, he doesn't want his brother to be uncomfortable.
Joshua is good at seeming confident, sure of himself. It's a skill, one he mastered years ago, one he uses all the time now that he's Archduke. He really doesn't know what he's doing - he has only his own fantasies, dirty books he shouldn't have been reading, and the brief time they've spent together - but he knows what he wants, and so he isn't going to hesitate. It doesn't matter if he's uncertain, unpracticed. He seems utterly sure of himself, for the moment.]
When we're apart, I want your thoughts to be full of me. I want you to think of me when you're alone. When you touch yourself.
[And doesn't that mean he ought to give Clive plenty to think of? He bends down, pressing his mouth to Clive's chest. Exploring, carefully - drawing his mouth along smooth skin, putting his lips to old scars he wasn't able to soothe away with his flames, brushing his teeth gently across one nipple.
He's wanted to do this. To taste Clive, to touch him. It feels wildly transgressive now that he's doing it, and despite his air of confidence Joshua is quite afraid he'll do something wrong - something Clive doesn't like, even something that might hurt him. But he wants far too much to let that fear stop him.
His hands go to Clive's trousers, fumbling with the buttons there.]
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And now－ well. He's a stately young man straddling Clive's thighs, making Clive's nerves go alight with just a few choice words. ]
You say so, as if you don't already occupy all of my thoughts. You'd faint if I knew what I've done to you in my head already.
[ A low sigh, as he arches subtly into the press of Joshua's lips. He could run a mile in full armor without letting his breath go ragged, but the feeling of that mouth against his chest, over his nipple, makes his pulse pound; Joshua should be able to feel Clive's heart jackhammering against his ribs, almost as if it wants to escape its confines to find its rightful place next to Joshua's heart.
He's still hard. Each touch makes that arousal feel a little more desperate for attention. When he feels fingers scrabble at his buttons, though, he laughs under his breath and reaches to help. ]
Patience, Joshua.
[ Maybe his brother isn't as composed or sure as he'd like to seem. It's terribly endearing, though he knows he ought not to patronize: Joshua is as capable as any young man his age could possibly be. Smiling about it, Clive hums and unfastens his trousers with one-handed ease, sighing warmly at the friction their hands make against the obvious outline of the erection straining between his legs. ]
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He tugs Clive's trousers down, shifting his weight just enough to move all that fabric between them out of the way. It's a bit of a balancing act - getting Clive's pants and underclothes off without moving too far away from him, which is the last thing Joshua wants to do right now - but it's manageable.]
When I see you like this, it's hard to have any patience at all.
[How is he supposed to, when Clive is laid out on his bed, hard and waiting to be touched? Joshua reaches out and wraps his hand around Clive. He's careful - this is all still new to him - but he doesn't hesitate. There's nothing he wants more right now than to give Clive pleasure.]
I do want to know, though. The things you've thought about.
[Joshua's had his own wandering thoughts, traveling places they should not. He used to drag his thoughts away, hate himself a little, fear Clive's disgust should he ever discover them. Now he wishes he'd indulged a bit more, learned what he could, so that he could be the kind of partner Clive deserves.]
Even the shocking ones. I don't think there's much I wouldn't do, if you were the one who wanted it.
[He begins to stroke Clive gently, blue eyes steady on him, wanting to be certain it feels good - but also simply wanting to look. It still feels impossible and new, seeing Clive like this, and Joshua wants to cling to every moment.]
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Oh, he's weak. All his years spent training and honing and steeling his spirit, and it's all for naught the moment Joshua gives him any scrap of attention. Joshua, who Clive always wants so terribly but felt he would never deserve; Joshua, who always soothes the worst of Clive's pathologies with a glance and a smile.
No one has ever given Clive permission, the way Joshua does. All his life, Clive had thought that maybe it was his virtue that he found meaning in finding the right place to die― it's only ever been Joshua that has told him to live, instead. ]
I'd speak on it, [ he finally huffs, hoarse but amused. ] But I'm finding it harder and harder to think.
[ And so, he'll have to tell Joshua about his very impolite thoughts when his brain isn't quite so scrambled. Last night had been a desperate sort of shoving together, a hurried rush to touch each other before either one of them could decide not to; tonight, Clive is starkly aware of how gentle and measured Joshua is being, and how his brother is watching so intently, and the scrutiny dusts a flush across his face. ]
...Come here. [ To hide his slight bashfulness, he reaches for Joshua and pulls him closer, claiming his mouth to distract him from looking. He cups that beautiful face, tipping it for a better angle to deepen their kiss, flooding arousal into Joshua's mouth with each exhale. His breath comes at the pace Joshua is stroking him, hitches and hikes when something feels just right. ]
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Last night there was some part of him afraid everything would slip away, that Clive would think better of it and Joshua would lose his only chance to have what he’s wanted for so long. There’s still a tiny part of him that can’t help but fear that - there might always be - but mostly, that feeling is gone. He’s been allowed to touch Clive again, to kiss him, to want him. They’ll have more chances, as difficult as it might be to part sometimes. They’ll always come back together again.
So he can take his time this time. He can notice every movement of Clive’s body, can revel in each indrawn breath. He can trace his fingers along Clive’s length, kiss him like nothing else in the world matters, wrap his hand around Clive’s shaft and feel him gasp. And though Joshua wants him - always, every moment - he’s not half-mad with need, at least not right now. He can enjoy this.
But he can’t deny that he’s curious. About everything, really, but after what Clive did - well, how could he not be?]
Wait, [He pulls away from Clive’s lips, a little reluctantly, hand pausing for a moment.] I want to -
[And he can’t quite say it, or maybe he doesn’t know what to say, but it doesn’t matter. His actions will say it for him. Joshua draws back, slides down Clive’s body - still careful - and settles his weight further down.
Joshua’s never done this before, but Clive’s mouth on him felt like - like nothing else had, enough to make all his thoughts spill from his head so easily. He wants to give that to Clive, but he wants to experience it for himself, too. How Clive tastes. The weight of him in Joshua’s mouth. What it feels like to do that, to please him that way.
He takes his time, cautious at first, licking a long stripe up Clive’s cock before taking the head in his mouth.]
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It turns out that he doesn't have to wonder: the comfortable warmth of Joshua's body slides downwards until it's unmistakable where he lands, and Clive is stunned into silence as he realizes that his brother― his beautiful, perfect brother― is mirroring what he did only a few minutes before.
And fuck, it's sacrilege when Joshua puts his mouth on him. If he thought the events of the previous night were like dripping ink on clean parchment, he has no comparison for how this looks and feels. Ironic, given what he'd just said about all of the impolite thoughts he's had about Joshua; he almost feels ashamed for having had them, when the reality of Joshua with his lips around his cock rewires his entire brain chemistry in a fraction of a heartbeat.
Ah, he breathes again. He must feel like iron in Joshua's mouth. Clive couldn't be harder if he tried. ]
Oh, fuck. [ His entire body shudders, tensing and relaxing in waves. ] I must be dreaming.
[ It's impossible. He was never meant to have this. He doesn't know how he can ever go on without it, anymore. ]
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He can't take Clive very deep, and he doesn't try, all too aware that it would cut his fun short if he isn't careful - Clive will certainly fuss if Joshua ends up coughing, or worse choking, because of him. But it's not so difficult to be careful, even while exploring as much as he pleases. Joshua is a little clumsy, but he's very aware of Clive's reactions, careful to pull back if he goes too far, encouraged by his obvious pleasure.
There's nothing he wants more than to make Clive mindless with desire. It isn't simply a desire to please, it's that greedy selfishness he can't stamp out as well. He wants all of Clive, everything he can get, all his.
He pulls away only for a moment, to breathe.]
I'm right here. I wanted this - I wanted to taste you. Don't hold back.
[And Joshua steadies himself, bends down, takes Clive a little deeper. He wraps his hand around Clive's shaft, because if he can't take Clive any further, at least he can stroke him, can push him over the edge like this.
He doesn't really know if he'll be able to swallow, the way Clive did, but he intends to try. Would it not be criminal to waste even a drop of something so precious?]
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But. Again, no functioning brain cells left. If mindlessness is the goal, mindlessness is what Joshua gets. Clive's blue eyes gloss with heat and need, and the only thing reflected in them mirrors the only thing in his mind: Joshua, Joshua, Joshua. He has no reference for what a non-clumsy mouth over his cock would feel like, and even if he did, no courtesan would be able to elicit a fraction of the response that Joshua does with even his most tentative touches.
His hips jerk. Don't hold back, he's told, but Clive has absolutely no intention of fucking into Joshua's mouth; he's still trying to wrap his mind (poorly) around the fact that this is happening at all. Maybe when they've both grown accustomed to the novelty of each other's bodies, Clive might be bold enough to claim Joshua that way, but not tonight: for now, he makes a choked sound that's roughly in the shape of his brother's name, fingers winding in gold hair without tugging. ]
Like that, [ is a rasp, when the heat of Joshua's mouth dips low enough that it makes Clive see stars. ] Gods, you're perfect－
[ Biased, but who's going to argue against him? Joshua is everything Clive has ever wanted, and will want. Having him like this brings Clive to his edge far faster than he would have liked, and he grits his teeth against that vertigo-inducing feeling, gasping in time to his quickening pulse. ]
－Joshua. [ He shakes his head. ] I'm close. You have to...
[ Pull back, pull off. Clive, a hypocrite, has no qualms with swallowing, but thinks it might be beneath Joshua to taste him. ]
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So he doesn't stop. He decided when he started this that he would see it to the end, just as Clive did to him. He wants to know what it's like, he wants to give that pleasure to Clive, and - he likes it. He likes the way Clive gasps, the way he feels in Joshua's mouth. It only makes him want to do more, to be better, to learn what feels good.
He knows Clive is warning him, but he doesn't pull away. Clive did it for him, so he'll do it for Clive - but it isn't just that. It's that he wants this, he wants to know how it feels. There's not a thought in his mind about it being beneath him, and even if part of him sees it as dirty, it's deliciously so. He would do this a hundred times for Clive. He may be an Archduke, he may be one of the most powerful men in Valisthea, but for Clive he would gladly get on his knees.
So he stays, and when Clive comes - he's more or less prepared, he swallows as well as he can. If a bit ends up on his lips, his chin, he doesn't care. The taste doesn't bother him at all - he's had to drink so many medicines over the years, Joshua is quite adept at such things - but it's rather a surprise, so he doesn't manage quite as well as he might have hoped. But still it's enough, it's what he wanted.
Joshua's own body, weary as it might be, has a surge of interest - easy enough to ignore, he knows he doesn't have the stamina to ask more from Clive tonight. But he can enjoy this, can lick it from his lips without any self-consciousness, lick the remnants from Clive as well. And he looks up at Clive, wanting to know he's all right, that he feels good.]
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He finally gathers enough of himself after long stretches where he attempts to right his breathing, and it's only then that enough of his brain goes back online to register Joshua's attempts to lick them both clean. Hurried, Clive tips his brother's chin up and shifts forward, craning as much as he can to press his mouth against Joshua's. ]
Joshua, [ he murmurs, kissing along a flushed lower lip. ] Don't push yourself.
[ Fussing, but warmly. He tries to ignore the thoughtless, sex-addled part of him that thinks Joshua is fetching even with spend on his face; a little swipe of thumb over his brother's chin, and Clive tries to coax him back up to eye-level, where Clive can pull him into a close, claiming embrace. ]
...I knew it already, but there will never be anyone or anything that ever makes me feel the way you do.
[ Not only the feeling of Joshua's mouth on him― that was amazing, and also a given― but the want that lingers even afterwards, the ache that persists even when they're curled and pressed close like this. The persistent rightness when they touch, and the acute feeling of absence when they have to part. Clive sometimes loves Joshua so much that he thinks he must be splitting at his seams with it all. ]
I grow selfish by the second.
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You can be as selfish as you wish. I am yours.
[As much as Joshua can belong to anyone, he wants to belong to Clive. Even though they must always keep it a secret, even though there will be pressure to marry, even though he's sure Clive will be pressured as well, because the Rosfield line must be carried on - Joshua will fight as hard as he must to keep this. He doesn't want to be touched by anyone but Clive.
He kisses Clive again, slow and content, then curls into him, resting his head against Clive's shoulder. He could fall asleep like this so easily. He knows he can't - Clive can't spend the night in his bed, no matter how much Joshua might wish for it - but it's a very tempting desire. Clive is warm, and Joshua likes touching him. Likes the simple contact, the scent of his skin, the circle of his arms.]
I love you.
[He says it quietly. There's a touch of bittersweetness to it - Clive can't stay, Joshua can never be with him the way he deserves, they'll likely be apart often. But even so, Joshua would choose this again and again. Now that he has Clive, now that he knows what it's like to have his love returned, even the bits of pain that come along with it feel precious.
If Clive were anyone else, Joshua would have long since confessed his feelings, begged for a chance to be with him, asked him to accept the position of consort. He can't do that, he'll never be able to, and so he will love Clive with as much passion and determination as possible to make up for it.]
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He'd thought he'd be able to give Joshua up for the sake of his brother's peace. For his happiness, for something uncomplicated. He'd thought he could take their father's place on the day of Joshua's betrothal, and smile as he watched Joshua promise himself, forevermore, to someone else.
God, it scares Clive that he doesn't think he'll have the grace to do so. Not anymore. ]
As do I. As long as I live, and until the day I die.
[ And beyond that. If he's ever reborn, he can only hope that he'll find Joshua in his next life, and reach for him again and again. He presses a kiss to soft blond hair, and breathes in the scent of warmth and amber and parchment. ]
...I fear you'll be taken from me all of tomorrow. You've your audiences, and a tour of Oriflamme, as I recall.
[ The small retinue that they've brought along will most certainly be accompanying Joshua, but Clive hasn't been invited as of yet. Most likely some misgivings around parading Ifrit the Blasphemous alongside the Phoenix; maybe if he remains hooded under a cloak, five paces behind the rest, they'd allow Clive to shadow Joshua for his safety. ]
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He doesn't hate being the Archduke. Joshua thinks that there are many things he can accomplish - he wants to carry on their father's work, make Rosaria safer for Bearers. He wants to give his citizens safety and prosperity. Rosaria is not a large country, but he wants to make it a haven for any who can't find safety in the wider world. He knows it will likely take his whole life, and still not be done even then - but it will be worth it, he hopes.
But the day-to-day work can be draining, and there will always be aspects of his duty that weigh on him greatly. Things he wishes he could escape from, even for only a moment. And while Joshua can find joy in it, there are times he wishes he could simply be a normal young man. Not a ruler, not a Dominant. Just a man, free to love who he wishes, do what he pleases.
But then, he would still love Clive, even so. In any life, he would, he thinks. At least in this one he can keep Clive close, tie them together with vows and duty itself. And when they're alone, he can forget about the rest of the world. For a little while.]
Yes. I've a full day - meeting the Emperor and his advisors to begin negotiations will be trying. The city might be nice to see, though.
[Oriflamme has a great history, and Joshua has always been interested in that sort of thing. Dion will be his guide once more, so Joshua expects he'll be able to coax a few tales from him.]
I will try to prevail upon them to send you with us. But if I can't - I think you've won quite a bit of respect from their knights today. They ought to treat you a bit better.
[It's delicate, he knows. He can't insist too strongly on bringing Clive along, as the Sanbrequians are surely ready to find some insult in it, or simply to think less of him for refusing to be without his strongest guard. But Joshua can ask, and force them to be the ones to refuse his requests, which in the end gives him another bit of power - after all, just as he must be careful of offending them, they can't entirely afford to offend him. Refusing to let him bring Clive may result in a concession elsewhere, and Joshua needs all he can get.]
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A fantasy. Reality dictates that they'd last half a day at most before Sanbrequian guards turn the city upside down looking for two missing foreign Dominants. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but not nearly so bitter that he'd consider putting an end to this.
(One day. Clive just wants one day. He'll fight to earn it, in his future: just one day, where he can exist with Joshua far from anyone who would know them.) ]
I'll be alright. [ The Imperial Dragoons are under Dion's jurisdiction, and they all seem far more decent than most; the other rank and file are largely the same as the soldiers that Clive has faced against in the past, fearful and full of contempt, but Clive can simply choose not to consort with them. He's rather more curious about the Bearers that the Empire have conscripted forcefully into their service, as he hears nothing but horrific stories about their treatment― maybe he can look into the truth of it, and see if there's anything that can be done about finding a way for them to desert and escape to Rosaria.
A thoughtful hum, and he combs his fingers through Joshua's hair before kissing him again. They're both naked and tangled, and if Clive falls asleep now, there will be no mistaking what they've done here in bed together. If the maids in this castle possess spare keys, they'll be ruined. ]
The more the Sanbrequians snarl and hiss at me, the sweeter it'll be to return to you at the end of the day. [ So don't worry, is the sentiment here. ] You, on the other hand...
[ A light nip, to Joshua's bottom lip. ] ...Don't let the rabble get too close.
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I'll be thinking of you all day.
[He will have much on his mind, but even so, he knows it's still true. Clive has been in his thoughts all day, and Joshua knows that isn't going to change. This evening together has only given him more to cling to, more to remember when he's feeling bleak. Stealing a few moments with Clive like this may be the best reward he could possibly imagine.
He thinks back to what they spoke of further, considers it again. It's not a terrible idea, but he's not sure it's an acceptable one either.]
I can... ask Dion if he might help me spread a few rumors. It would make things a little easier.
[It would require a bit of playacting, but not much, as both would be expected to be very proper in public. Joshua is fairly certain Dion would agree, might even be amused by it - and it may serve his purposes, too, since Joshua suspects he may have a lover stashed away somewhere. It's impossible that Dion would be with anyone who could cause such a scandal as the man Joshua loves, but he might welcome a bit of a smokescreen anyway.
It would be useful. But it may cause problems in its own way as well, if the Emperor decides it would be wise to press for a marriage. Joshua doesn't know how likely that would be - Dion is the heir, could he even inherit if he were wed to another ruler? - but the possibility remains.
And - he doesn't want Clive to worry. He only wants a little breathing room, but if the price would be Clive's discomfort, it isn't worth it.]
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If it would make things easier.
[ And with the unspoken caveat that they'll be able to trust the Crown Prince, but he'll leave that to Joshua's expert discretion. It's not deference as much as the simple reality that Clive knows that his brother is far better at maneuvering these things than he is, and that he has faith in Joshua's ability to navigate these murky waters with the care that it requires.
Besides, Clive is fairly certain that Dion Lesage isn't cut from the same cloth as his father. He neither seems the warmongering sort, nor the sort of prideful idiot to antagonize Rosarian royalty for the thrill of it― if he'll be a good friend to Joshua, it'll be more than Clive could ever hope for.
And truly, Sanbreque is the easiest external force to ally with at the moment, with Dion halfway to the throne. The Dhalmeks remain hostile, and the king of Waloed is... strange and elusive. Clive has only seen Barnabas Tharmr a handful of times, only enough to count on one hand, but he has never liked the way the man looked at him or Joshua.
Wandering, meandering thoughts. Clive shakes them away, quite literally, and manages to smile softly as he sits up. ]
I'll be looking forward to hearing the rumors circulate. It'll help me get a feel for the books you've been reading in my absence.
[ His brother, sneaking racy erotica between his duties. The thought of it makes Clive grin, almost boyishly so. ]
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But he knows Clive can’t stay. And they’ll have more time, at least a little more before they return to Rosaria and Clive has to leave to secure the border. Joshua will cling to each moment they have, no matter how brief.
When he sees Clive smile like that - a rare thing, a precious one - Joshua can’t help but adore him. Anyone would, he thinks, and he knows how lucky he is to have this. To have Clive, to be able to love him the way he wants to. Joshua isn’t going to take this for granted.]
Mostly I just read boring, dusty old history books. You might be disappointed.
[He smiles, teasing a little. Really, they aren’t in the least boring. He’s always loved old tales, something that easily blossomed into a love of history, of hidden stories and rare accounts. It will always be nothing more than a hobby, but he can steal an hour here and there to read.
Discovering those racy bodice-rippers had been a surprise. Joshua hadn’t been able to resist reading them, though he still doesn’t know where they came from. Not their mother, certainly. Uncle Byron? Their father, even? Regardless, though he was educated about the facts of life, Joshua has never has friends his age to gossip and learn from. Anything beyond the basics was thanks to those books - wildly unrealistic, he always knew, but still somewhat educational.]
Being with you isn’t anything like what’s in those books.
[The real thing is so far beyond those steamy, overwrought scenes. It’s Clive that makes the difference. It wouldn’t be the same with anyone else.]
It’s much better than I imagined.
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He might even have been less close to, and with, Clive. (The thought of that, selfishly, is a little less appealing.)
Clive gets up off of bed, but only to move towards the wardrobe and to fish out a set of comfortable-looking sleepwear for Joshua to slip into. As much as he likes the sight of Joshua naked and tangled in bedsheets, the maids in the morning might die of a heart attack if they see Rosaria's Archduke in such a state of undress. ]
You're liable to give me a big head, if you keep flattering me.
[ Softly, affectionately. Clive winds his way back to bed, and bids his brother raise arms and legs to be dressed in his new clothes. Indulgent, because Clive is permitted to be in Joshua's company. If he had the choice, he would be the only one to tend to Joshua for the rest of Joshua's life. ]
...A part of me still wonders if I'm not dreaming. [ He said as much, with Joshua's mouth over him. ] I've wanted you for so long, but never thought it would come to anything.
[ And it shouldn't have, but here they are. Stumbled onto the truth, and scrabbling to keep each other afloat. ]
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