featheredflames: (4)
[personal profile] featheredflames
It's been days now since Joshua's been gripped by a terrible itch that can't be scratched. It sits just beneath his skin, unsettling, leaving him restless. It's as if every bit of him has been pricked and plucked, a fire of muted embers waiting to be re-lit. By the third day he had figured it was the Phoenix that was making him feel that way, that the bird within him was feeling caged. In a way it made sense; it had been sometime since he had fully primed or even semi-primed. The creature within wanted to unfurl and stretch its wings, quite literally.

But there was no opportunity nor reason to.

An accumulation of aether though, without any safe means to release it, wasn't exactly a healthy state to be in. Some evenings he felt feverish, too hot to sleep with sheets, let along a nightgown. During the day he felt sick to his stomach. Clive, of course, worried, as did the rest of those at his court. What was he to do though? All he could do was lie and reassure them that he was fine. That it would pass.

But he wasn't.

It wouldn't do Rosaria any good for its leader to be cagey and his mood was spreading to others despite his best attempt to keep his problems to himself. He could never keep away from Clive though. Not for long, nor did he want to. It's in his throne room one evening, past the time where all should be in bed, that Clive finds him pacing about. Bare feet walk over the cool stones of the floor deliberately before he comes to a stop, realizing that his brother is there, watching him. He must look a sight, hair messed and dressed in nothing but his linen nightgown, walking about like a phantom without a purpose.

"I'm fine." He speaks before Clive can question him, the nails of one hand scratching at his wrist. Clive doesn't seem convinced.

Date: 2024-08-04 07:20 pm (UTC)
will_o_wykes: joshua embrace (running into the fire)
From: [personal profile] will_o_wykes
It's the last permission he needs. With a groan, Clive captures Joshua's mouth once more. How many times had he noticed Joshua's plump, pretty mouth and had to set the thought aside? Joshua's love was enough; it was wrong of him to crave Joshua's body for himself. But having him in his--in their bed with as much as Clive slept with him--is all that matters and still, it's not enough. Clive bites at Joshua's lip just to hear him gasp before swiping his tongue over it. He needs Joshua just as much as Joshua needs him. Himself, Ifrit, them together--he needs them to be as close as possible, as Joshua commanded.

The spark from Joshua has lit a fire in Clive and as much as he'd like to drink Joshua's body at his leisure like he deserved--he feels like he can't wait any longer. It is with effort that he pulls away from devouring Joshua's mouth to peel off his smallclothes, baring him fully and utterly.

"Joshua." It comes out as a moan. He's beautiful. Clive has seen Joshua clothed and nude alike, but never like this. A manhood perfectly proportionate between his legs, flushed and long. He wants the weight and heat of it on his tongue, to coax even more pretty sounds out of his brother. "You have me," he rasps. "You always have."

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Joshua Rosfield

December 2025

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