Coronation

[featheredflames]

It is all far too much attention for Joshua's liking.

He knew this was how it would be, that there would be a certain amount of fussing the be expected...but this was beyond the scope of acceptable fussing surely. So much unnecessary commotion over a fitting of ceremonial robes that he wouldn't wear more than a handful of times at that... Would it not be better to spend time focusing on the clothing he would be draped in when he finally dawned his father's mantle? The day-to-day wear that he would need to sport as Archduke of Rosaria.

That would come later, in time, he had been reassured. This outfit would get at least a few days of wear out of it. The ceremony was to last more than a singular evening, festivities dragging on for nearly a week after the event of the coronation itself. Already Joshua feels weary at the thought. Fancy suppers and meeting with dignitaries were in his future but right now his present reality was a miserable one. Fabric is cinched around his waist as measurements are taken and pins are adjusted. He feels like a doll as he's fitted, made to stand for bells on end. Founder he could only hope that some semblance of reprieve would find him soon, hopefully before his knees gave out...

Swallowing he stares out the window, doing his best not to move as the tailors do their work as quickly as they can. It would be unfair if he told them to stop - they were only doing as they had been instructed to, to rework and refit the robes his father wore on his crowning day. Joshua cannot help but think they don't suit him - Clive would wear (and fit!) them far better than he. Yet it was tradition...and while he may be able to escape the tailors ere long, there was no escaping protocol and the duty that loomed over him.

Comments

[flamebrand]

The ghost of his self-control is mortified－ the rest of Clive isn't. The heat in the pit of his stomach seems to spread to every part of him, makes his next kiss taste like flame; one elbow braces his weight against a wooden beam as their bodies press closer, chest to chest and pulse to pulse.

There are entirely too many layers between them. Joshua in his less officious but nevertheless extensive outfit, Clive in his tight-hugging leathers. Frustrating, Clive thinks, as he releases Joshua's mouth to kiss along his jaw, nuzzling against the dip of his neck, dizzy with the feeling of slotting so perfectly against his brother.

As if by design, his wicked mind supplies. His breath runs ragged along the shapely column of Joshua's neck, teeth scouring over delicate skin.

"Joshua," he rasps. "Flames, I'm meant to be saving you from this."

This, he demonstrates with a knee between his brother's legs, making friction along whatever interest might be mounting there. It might be easier to back off if there's nothing there; it might be easier if Joshua were to banish him from his sight. It's his heart that knows that Joshua won't, and it's his heart that clenches at that knowledge.

[featheredflames]

Save him?

The notion is absurd, so out of pocket that he's startled more by it than the knee grinding against his crotch. What did Clive even mean? Was he not supposed to enjoy being touched in such a way? Was he to be saved from Clive himself? Ridiculous. Not even a thought he can entertain.

"Why would I ever want to be saved, Clive?" The question comes out desperate, panted, as if he's run a thousand yalms. If anything Clive is saving him by finally indulging in this taboo. Joshua had thought himself mad at times, for wanting a twisted closeness he thought he could never have...but it seemed his darkest fantasies would be made manifest, brought to light and fueled by both their flames.

To think Clive could want him at all in such a capacity is flattery of the highest caliber. His brother never wanted anything at all. Joshua would give him the world, moon, and Metia if it were possible. At least he can give Clive himself, and while that seems a poor consolation prize, if that's what Clive wants, Founder forbid if he will not have it.

[flamebrand]

Why is an easy enough question to answer. There are scores of reasons why two brothers bound by blood should keep affection separate from lust; scores more, still, when one of the two is days away from inheriting a throne. Mostly, it just isn't done, and that should be justification enough for Clive to peel himself away and demand that Joshua forget this, that he never think on it again lest it corrupt him further than Clive already has.

And yet. His mind churns around the implication set in the margins of his brother's question. The 'why' is secondary, in truth, to the use of the word 'want'. It questions Clive's assumption that this isn't exactly what Joshua desires, and Founder, fuck－

－there's nothing in Clive that could refuse his brother anything. There's a mirrored thought here, that though Rosaria and the world continuously take and take from Joshua, Joshua barely asks for anything in return.

A sigh through grit teeth, and Clive closes his eyes. His chest is still pressed against his brother's, one hand at a perfect waist where the fabric of Joshua's tunic has rucked up, leaving Clive free to thumb against bare skin.

He feels good. So fucking good. Clive can't bear the layers that separate them, and his breath is hot along Joshua's neck as he dips, kisses, rakes his tongue over his brother's pulsepoint.

"And this is what you want?" A desperate, last-ditch attempt to make Joshua see how twisted this is meant to be (and horrifically isn't). "For me to ruin you?"

Teeth scour under Joshua's jaw as punctuation.

[featheredflames]

Mother and Father had been cousins. That was a fact Joshua had learned when he looked over their family tree. It was a common practice as well, intermarrying to keep the bloodline of the Phoenix pure. Why then would it be so terrible for him to be with Clive? Sure, he would be expected to produce an heir at some point...but could he not have this happiness for now? Did he have to give it up and deny himself when something he had wanted so badly was now right here in front of him?

"Ruin me? Clive, please. Surely you realize it is the opposite."

He could never ruin him. It was simply not possible.

Joshua groans as he feels the hot, wet tongue of his brother slide over his throat, the teeth a temptation rather than threat. Fingers find the shaggy scruff of Clive's nape, twisting into locks that will need to be brushed out later. It's fine, really...Clive has brushed his hair out he can always return the favour.

"You're mine, Brother, and I yours...how can you ruin me when you better me?"

[flamebrand]

Is it unfair that the only reason their relationship is far more contentious than a brother-sister union is because Clive doesn't have a womb? Possibly. The Rosfield line has been carefully curated for centuries now, but it's not so much the carrying on of their bloodline that Clive is preoccupied with at the moment; rather, it's the twisting of delicate fingers in his hair, the warmth of Joshua's exhale against his ear, the honey-sweet words coming out of that perfect mouth.

Of course Clive is Joshua's. In every way, in every context, in every lifetime they might live together. A substantive truth that rends Clive in two but mends him in the same breath, and finally settles some of the roiling guilt in the pit of his stomach.

Made for each other. Clive, Joshua's shadow, born five years before him just to make sure that Joshua would never, ever live even a moment alone in this world. His brother's acceptance melts something inside of him, letting him vent tension and nuzzle against soft blond hair with open affection.

"Joshua..."

His teeth find a soft earlobe this time, trapping it for a gentle nibble. "...You've driven me out of my mind for so long, being so sweet and beautiful."

[featheredflames]

"Ah..."

An airy laugh slips free as Clive suckles and nibbles his ear, teasing him in a way he didn't think his brother capable of. It's a side of him that he has always wondered about, craved to see, and now here it is. Clive's mask has slipped and his confident, ever devoted brother is now greedy and wanting. That's perfectly fine, so long as he remains the target of that desire. He tilts his head to the side to allow him more access to delicate flesh, nails digging dull into the back of his brother's neck.

"The same could be said of you Clive, although I would claim you are far more handsome than you are a beauty."

[flamebrand]

He's wanted no one else like this. The scant amount of times he's exposed himself to intimacy (only countable on one hand) have been more lessons than trysts: egged on by fellow soldiers, then guided by more experienced hands on how not to hurt.

There's nothing practical or sane about what he desires from Joshua. Clive wants to put his mouth all over the map of Joshua's body, to taste him and open him and feel him unfurl. Golden, molten, beautiful. It's all he can think about as he kisses along Joshua's neck again, teeth painting pale skin a pretty shade of pink, leaving just enough pressure to mark without bruising.

"Everything and everyone pales in comparison to you," is a warm murmur. He isn't thinking of how he must look, or his side of the equation: just Joshua, and wanting to remove his gloves to feel the toned surface of his brother's stomach. Leather brushes up against navel, where Clive has snuck his hand under that neatly-pressed tunic.

More, his mind unhelpfully supplies. The guilt grows quieter and quieter the more Joshua allows him, and he feels less and less monstrous about it.

[featheredflames]

The extent of Joshua's experience with intimacy was regulated to inked pages of romantic fantasies and raunchy poems and letters, penned desires he had no personal frame of reference for. He had never kissed nor been touched in such a fashion, not beyond platonic embraces or lips pressed to his cheeks or forehead in a bid to comfort when he had been ill. Physical touch for Joshua was always meant to soothe, not excite, and beyond his own timid exploration of his body, he was as virginal as one might expect the Phoenix, a god made flesh, to be.

His mind was a gutter, in contrast, and many untoward thoughts had his brother at the center of them. He can scarcely believe it, that Clive would want him in such a fashion. It wasn't as if his brother wasn't handsome - he could have anyone he fancied and yet here he was, choosing Joshua. There had been times he thought it cruel, that he had essentially trapped Clive into his service, but that was what his brother wanted...along with this as well.

The leather clad fingers on his middle leave him gasping, teeth leaving marks he wishes he could see right now. Clive was ravenous and wanting, but what was wrong with that? Every man had a hunger within him - even Joshua did to an extent - so why would his brother be any different? If anything, it's flattering to know he's so desired, even if, perhaps, he probably shouldn't be.

"Come now Clive," he breaths out his brother's name, moaning softly as he tries to think of how exactly he should respond. How far should he let this exploration go? Should he stop him? It was rude to Ambrosia to make use of her stable for such things but at least she doesn't seem to mind for now... "I am just a man, like you. There is nothing special about me."

[flamebrand]

Clive has enough sense in him to know that there were better ways for his selfishness to manifest. That there might have been any number of things to want that would be less destructive, less catastrophic, less consequential than his all-encompassing infatuation with the one person in his life who he holds above all else: Joshua, both his purpose and his ethos.

No one ever needed to trap Clive into bending the knee for his brother. Since the moment they met, Clive was Joshua's in a way that should have made the Undying shudder. And now, the Undying have more reasons to want Clive dead: a faltering of the bloodline, yet again by Ifrit the Blasphemous' hands.

Those hands are gripping Joshua's waist, sliding up under Joshua's tunic, thumbing leather over the peak of a sweet, pink nipple. Clive can feel his mouth water; he's lost all sense of where and when, save for the reality of being in Joshua's immediate periphery.

"You're my brother." Not the Phoenix, not the Archduke-to-be. "And you're perfect."

Lifting his head from where it'd been nuzzled under the carved line of his brother's jaw, Clive claims him for a deep, lingering kiss. Impressing upon him that he is perfect, that everything about him since birth has been perfect, that he's only grown more perfect as the years rolled by. Unbearably, intolerably.

When their mouths part, a thin line of saliva connects their mouths; Clive tips his head, and licks it off of Joshua's flushed lips.

"－Fuck, I've wanted you. Wretchedly, and for so long."

[featheredflames]

It is a valid argument - he is Clive's brother and in that sense he is special. Joshua cannot imagine an existence where he wasn't, where Clive wasn't his. A man could take many lovers and have many friends, but Clive would only ever have one brother, and that title was his alone.

Perfect though...now that was a claim Joshua would contest - if he had use of his mouth to. But he doesn't, not when Clive's tongue is against his teeth and he's left to gasp against his brother's lips. Already he feels as if he's burning, his own face flushed from the tips of his ears straight down his throat. There is a ravenous hunger that has been presented before him, as Clive looks at him like a man half-starved. Again, he cannot fault him for it - not when he feels it too.

Clive is practically pawing at him, fingers squeezing at his waist and his skinny chest. There isn't much to grab but the sensation of being touched at all is a jolt to his system that fans the flames of desire that already had begun to burn. When Clive parts just enough to speak and lick at his mouth like a dog, he cannot help the wanton whimper that falls out of him.

"As have I. You have me, Clive. I promise. You always shall."

No one else ever has or will.

[flamebrand]

He shivers on his next breath, fueled by the sweet trill of Joshua's responsiveness. The flush on his brother's cheek feels like fire on fire, fuel to flame, and Clive nuzzles again for more of that warm friction that makes the hellbeast in his chest rumble with sharp-teethed recognition. Mine mine mine.

It's a terrible thing, Clive knows. Uncontrolled, untamed. Love, with the potential to raze a duchy to the ground－ where would they go, what would they be if they were outcast?

They would still be brothers, he supposes. Bound to each other by this curse-turned-blessing. Joshua speaks about possession, and every errant fantasy Clive has ever had about claiming Joshua comes back to the fore, making him sweep his brother into his arms and press his straining cock to the flat of Joshua's knee, still covered and hidden under all their layers.

"And you, I. As long as you have need for me, or want for me."

I'm yours, he murmurs, and tries to part Joshua's knees for a better, firmer upwards grind, hips to hips－

－but Ambrosia finally voices her concern from her vantage point a few feet away, wiggling her snow-white feathers in mild consternation. Clive knows that sound: it's chiding, plain and simple, and makes him remember himself and where he is.

A blink, a sigh, and he peels back.

[featheredflames]

They really should not be doing this.

Not because Joshua has any issue with what Clive wants or seemingly is trying to do, but because he already can hear himself growing louder as he moans with every touch he's graced with. Ambrosia is the voice of reason and rightfully so - this is her domain and what they are doing is terribly rude.

"...Forgive us, My Lady."

Yes, she deserves an apology and no he will not be made feel silly for it either, even if he's sure Clive is going to scrunch his face up because of it. When his brother does pull away Joshua cannot help but want to follow, a hand reaching out to curl fingers around his sleeve.

"It would be rather rude of us to continue here, making Ambrosia an unwilling audience...but that does not mean it need end here."

They both have their own quarters, after all.

[flamebrand]

With their bodies parted, Clive has more space to be mortified at himself for his transgression, for the outburst that has resulted in even their chocobo being offended by the display. Shame winds through him for a brief ripple of a second, tempered only by that slight tug to his sleeve; he glances down at where Joshua has wound his fingers into the fabric of his currently un-vambraced arm, and sips a low, deliberate breath through his teeth.

Joshua wants this. Has permitted this of him. Has seen his wickedness, and assured him that Clive is better for it. Something that still feels impossible, but something he doesn't want to deny, if only because he can't bear the thought of this being the thing that drives a wedge between them irreparably and inextricably.

He smooths his knuckles along Joshua's flushed cheek, then presses another quick, chaste kiss against his temple.

"I'd keep you through the night, if I had any say in things."

A low sigh, as he steps back again. Ambrosia wiggles again in warning, and he at least has the sense to smile about it.

"...Forgive me. I forgot myself." To do something like that here, where anyone could have walked in... that would have been truly ruinous. Again, Clive is the one who's meant to protect Joshua from things like this, not to be the cause of it.

[featheredflames]

The shame on Clive's face is plain as day, and the sight of it settles in Joshua's gut in a strange way. Like silt it shifts and moves, but soon filters away at the press of lips to his temple.

Through the night. Founder, had his brother truly suppressed such a hunger inside of him for this long? The warks from Ambrosia snap him from his daze further, as the warmth of Clive's embrace is overtaken by the considerably cooler air that fills the space between them.

"There is no need to forgive you." If anything he should seek his bird's forgiveness, not his. There is a sigh as Joshua draws his gaze away from his brother, worrying his lip as he leans back against the stable wall, resisting the urge to toe at the hay about them with his foot. "...We are supposed to attend supper in a bell or so. It would not do to become unpresentable. Even so..." His hand still holds fast to his brother's sleeve, grip tight. "Once we are finished our meal...we will continue what you started, Clive."

[flamebrand]

Alright, alright. He'll entreat his bird for her forgiveness, which she demands with another sharp kweh; Clive moves towards her, still within Joshua's range and the curl of his fingers in his sleeve, to run his palm through the soft forest of snow-white feathers. Sorry, girl.

Ambrosia calms, and so does Clive. Insofar as he stops toeing at his mire of self-loathing, that is. There's still fire in his veins and fire in his belly and fire in his head, hungry and seething, stoked by Joshua's promise that this thing they've started will continue, kept safe and hidden behind a locked door.

Reason says that this is his last chance to stop themselves from tumbling down the hill that they're already rapidly descending. To save them both from a fate they won't be able to overturn once they set it in stone－

－but isn't it already? Clive has already said I love you, and nothing about it was sane or chaste. So, after a drawn inhale, he tips Joshua's chin to claim his mouth again with every intention of telegraphing his desire.

"In every way that you wish, Joshua." A promise. "I'll go to you, and you'll have all of me."

His hand brushes down Joshua's chest, and flattens for a brief moment against his stomach.

[featheredflames]

The kiss and firm palm against his belly has his breath hitching in his throat as Joshua's wide, bright blue eyes search his brother's face frantically. There is no fear in his own expression, only desire and he sees that want mirrored right in front of him. Oh Founder, he was doomed.

But it's a fate he is all too willing to accept, the promise one he will eagerly ensure Clive holds fast to. All of him. Joshua shudders at the thought.

"And you shall have all of me in turn."

Finding his voice he finally swallows, reaching a hand up to cup Clive's cheek, smoothing a thumb beneath one of his deep blue eyes before giving him a few pats to the face.

"Come now, before we lose ourselves in one another. Supper is supposed to be in a bell or two, is it not? Uncle is supposed to arrive shortly, if he has not done so already. I imagine Mother will be none too pleased if we are not ready to greet him...or smell like bird when we do."

[flamebrand]

"Even more furious, still," Clive breathes, almost a laugh, "if she finds you smelling of me."

Her beautiful boy, soiled by the scent of mutt. To emphasize, he nuzzles against Joshua's neck once, then another time for good measure, before straightening and fixing his brother's shirt. Not even the promise of bending his beloved Phoenix over a flat surface will keep Clive from fussing.

"Go change. I'll do the same."

His leathers will be marginally lighter, and maybe he might put a comb to his hair. A half-smile, and he pats the soft cushion of Joshua's hair.

[featheredflames]

If he smelled of Clive. Please. What a ridiculous notion. Even so, Clive rubs himself against him with a well-intentioned nuzzle and Joshua cannot help but roll his eyes and laugh.

"It is a good thing she does not have the nose of a hound." That would be problematic for a number of reasons Joshua rather not think too deeply on. His cheeks color, ruddy from the returned pat to his hair as he takes his hand back to himself. "At least you won't be dressed up like a pretty little doll."

Joshua would be, knowing their mother's preference to see him in lace and frills.

"...Till supper then?"

[flamebrand]

"You've grown far too handsome for the lace she likes to dress you in."

Which isn't to say that Joshua isn't very pretty in them－ he is. Fetching despite their mother's ostentatious tastes, though Clive thinks that Joshua has outgrown the princess-adjacent styling. His brother is soft and angelic, yes, but he also wears his strength in posture and poise.

One last brush of knuckles to Joshua's cheek, and Clive relents.

"Until supper. Try not to laugh if I start eating quickly."

[featheredflames]

There's a sound of agreement there. Yes, he had outgrown the lace and frills...but there was no protesting his fashion choices so long as Anabella had her say. He was still her perfect little boy, regardless of how much he had grown it seemed.

Clive's teasing promise has him chuckling, eyes twinkling and bright at the promised prospects of after supper delights.

"Please do not choke. We will have the whole evening to ourselves once we are dismissed."

[flamebrand]

"Then I pray that we're dismissed quickly."

Founder, please no smalltalk about the governing Houses and how one of their daughters might be well-matched for Joshua. If their mother will be at the dinner table, it's likely that she'll go on endlessly while Clive and Rodney sit in silence, making friends with their entrees until she deems their presence unnecessary; usually it's a ritual that feels like biting foil, but Clive can endure it tonight given what he has to look forward to.

And, yes, he's looking forward to it. An insane prospect, but one that his brother has made abundantly clear that he wants. And, at the end of the day, that's everything that Clive desires: for Joshua to be able to express what he wants, and for Clive to be the one who can grant it.

So they bid Ambrosia one last farewell (she likely feels cheated out of an extended visit; Clive will have to make it up to her sometime), and part to change into something lighter for supper. A collared shirt, dark form-fitting trousers, leather buckles. When the bell rings to usher everyone into the dining room, Clive passes by his mentor, who nods at him and tips his head.

You look happier than usual, Rodney notes. Finally come to terms with your brother's coronation?

"Something like that," Clive sigh-laughs, as he moves to take his seat. He'll try not to stare too intensely at Joshua when he decides to grace them all with his presence.

[featheredflames]

Clive has the luxury of dressing in attire far more comfortable for supper, but Joshua is not allowed such relief. He is scolded for smelling like bird and bid to change into a new set of frills for the evening. A little braid is even set into the side of his hair just for good measure, while a necklace of shimmering silver is hooked around his throat. He rather not wear any of it at all, but at least Clive would be the one helping him out of it.

And oh, what an exciting thought that proved to be.

He takes the seat beside his brother, much to their mother's displeasure, but does not move to respond to her disapproval. Soon he will be the one in control and in charge of supper placements. It only made sense to have his Shield at his right anyway.

Uncle Byron is quick to welcome him and make comments and Joshua is grateful for the man's ability to draw the attention of the table to himself. The food at present is delightful, save for a couple unruly carrots, and Joshua makes quick work of his meal and wine. Dessert is offered but he declines, not wishing to prolong the social longer than needed.

Besides, a treat of a different sort was waiting for him once he could be free.

"I have to admit I am feeling rather tired and full. It is a pleasant state to be in, admittedly, although I am disheartened that I will need to excuse myself."

[flamebrand]

Joshua moves to dismiss himself, and Clive－ who has valiantly refrained from mooning too hard at the dinner table－ follows suit, allowing a polite three beats to pass before he scrapes his chair back to stand up.

"I'll accompany you to your room," he offers. Anabella shoots him a disapproving look, but Rodney clears his throat and cuts her off before she can say anything to the contrary. Well, that leaves us to finish the desserts. The cakes are Hanna's recipe.

Bless the Murdochs. Byron enthusiastically picks up on this particular train of conversation, and Rodney waves the pair off with one last go on, First Shield.

And so, on they go. Clive is perfectly deferential, holding the door for Joshua and waiting until his brother steps out first to follow, always remaining two and a half steps behind down the hall to Joshua's quarters until they finally cascade inside.

The deference doesn't quite end there, but it continues in a more playful vein. The doors close behind them, and Clive reaches to take his brother's hand so that he can press his smile against his skin.

"We missed Lady Hanna's cake," he chuckles.

[featheredflames]

Every walk further away from the supper table and down the corridor sets Joshua's pulse alight, quickening with each step he takes toward his chambers. Thankfully both of them are driven to reach their mutual destination, and Joshua eagerly turns to face his brother once the doors close, only for his hand to be snatched up in play. He scrunches his face, teasing in turn. It's always fun when Clive lets down his guard and wants to have a bit of fun.

"A criminal offense to make, certainly...but I suppose I can pardon us both in a few days time."

His grin spreads wider as he takes a step toward Clive, not removing his hand from his brother's grasp.

"Besides, I am sure our uncle will appreciate the extra helping."

[flamebrand]

It feels a bit like misbehaving, all of this. Like the times Clive has deigned to pilfer Joshua away from the cloisters of the castle walls and out where their mother didn't wish Joshua to be. There's nothing so benign or innocent about what Clive is planning to do now that they have this sliver of privacy, but still. It slants his lips into a boyish smile, and he looks slightly younger for it.

"He was just talking about how he wanted to watch his weight."

Typical Uncle Byron, saying one thing and immediately doing the opposite. Clive huffs, fond, then maneuvers their linked hands, guiding Joshua's hand to the back of Clive's neck.

With that done, he cranes forward for a long, lingering kiss. It has the weight of all the years that he'd spent denying himself, as well as all the things he hadn't had the courage to speak until today. The fact that he's here, rubbing noses with Joshua and trading breaths is something he wouldn't have let himself imagine only a few hours ago.