Chapter Text
“Joshua, stop moving around.”
“It’s hot. ”
Clive smothered a groan into his brother’s nape as he continued to wriggle on his lap. The feeble breeze from the cracked window in Clive’s bedroom did little to cool his rapidly warming skin. He could smell the faint scent of low waters on the coast, salty and humid. The summer had been one of Rosaria’s hottest in decades. Too hot by far to be this close, but nothing could really keep them apart, let alone weather.
He had heard Joshua before he arrived at his door, the patter of his small bare feet against the stone floors of Rosalith Castle echoing in the quiet of the night. Clive unlocked his door and opened it just as he was about to knock. Joshua’s face lit up with a grin as Clive motioned him in, tucking his book of choice for the evening under his chin as he made his way to Clive’s bed.
Really, Clive shouldn’t allow himself this pleasure anymore—Joshua was becoming too old for this kind of behavior. But it was a ritual he was loath to part with. Ever since he had learned how to read Joshua delighted in reading to Clive, and falling asleep in his arms. And Clive could not deny Joshua anything—much less the closeness that he also craved.
And so they had settled in for their evening together, though Joshua was clearly restless. After only a few moments of being held on Clive’s bed, he quickly wished to be parted with his long night gown. Clive propped himself up on his elbow as he laid in bed, idly admiring Joshua’s pink cheeks and the blonde curls sticking to his forehead. He rummaged through Clive’s own clothes, pulling out a thin white linen undershirt, satisfied to be in just Clive’s shirt and his own smallclothes.
Clive had stifled a laugh against his knuckles, not wishing to embarrass him. He swam in Clive’s shirt, the hem coming to almost mid thigh and the sleeves going past his little fingers. He was thankful to whoever dressed Joshua for the evening for misjudging the temperature—he truly looked sweet in Clive’s clothes, with his bare thighs free for Clive to take in and his over-long sleeves being cutely fidgeted with. Finally content, Joshua climbed back onto the bed and Clive pulled him in towards himself, allowing his brother to get comfortable.
He pressed his nose against Joshua’s hair and breathed in the wafting scent of the Morgansbeard salves he spread on his chest at bedtime to ease his lungs. Sweet, tart, and medicinal. Clive loved that smell. Though it was a reminder of his illness, he couldn’t help but feel warmth bloom in his chest whenever he smelled Morgansbeard in the garden, unable to not think of his baby brother. Clive inhaled once again, feeling peaceful. Joshua shifted so that he was mostly on the bed while Clive’s legs caged around him, and cracked open his book to where he had last left off.
It was rather dry, really. An aged tome on a Greagorian acolyte's accounts on serving various Dominants of Bahamut over the course of many decades. It was enough to put Clive asleep, if he focused on it and not Joshua—but Joshua was enraptured. He was constantly starved for new books to keep him company, especially when he was too ill to do anything but read. And so, each one was precious.
Clive rested his chin on Joshua’s locks as he continued, on some northern war many centuries ago. “Surely, Sanbreque will win,” Joshua decided. “The Northern Territories won’t be able to withstand the siege.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Clive humored him. “The Northern Territories are known for their masonry. Sanbreque cannot break through their icy walls. Certainly, they cannot scale them. They would slip right off.”
Joshua peered back at Clive and looked at him as if he had grown another head. Clive couldn’t help but smile. “Not the ground, Brother. It would be from the air. They have dragons!”
Clive laughed. “Of course, how silly of me. The dragons just slipped my mind.”
They never slipped Joshua’s mind though. Anything with dragons was a good read, regardless of how academic the material was.
“Don’t stop there. Unless you are tired?” Clive had only been half heartedly listening anyway. He felt his attention drift back to Joshua’s nape, where beads of sweat slowly trailed down his delicate neck. He occasionally swiped his fingers on a lazily drifting droplet, instead of using his tongue as he desired, to taste salt and sweetness.
“Not tired,” Joshua mumbled. “I’m just—” He began his squirming again, trying to get comfortable.
He stopped suddenly, and huffed. “It’s too—I’m so hot.” Joshua leveled a pout at Clive over his shoulder. “Or I suppose I ought to say you are. You’re like a fireplace, Brother.”
Clive chuckled into his hair. It was true—he did run hot.
“You’re one to talk,” Clive pressed an open palm against Joshua’s small chest, easily covering most of it with the span of his fingers. His chest was slightly tacky from the salve, décolletage exposed from Clive’s large shirt.
“You’re always just as warm. It’s the firebird, right in here.” Through his shift Clive could feel the ribs that caged the Phoenix within his brother, and the delicate, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He pressed down lightly and felt the give of his soft flesh before returning his hand to Joshua’s hip.
“Some blessing the Phoenix is. Tonight, it’s brought me nothing but sweat,” Joshua lamented. “If it’s because of the Phoenix, then what is your excuse, Clive?”
Clive thought for a moment. “Your blessing, perhaps?”
“Maybe I should take it back, then. At least, at night.”
“I wouldn’t let you.” Clive brought one of his hands to Joshua’s chin to tilt his head back, used the other to brush aside his damp curls, and then pressed a kiss to his sticky forehead. “It’s mine, now. To protect you with.” He gently rested his fingers on Joshua’s throat as he kept his lips pressed to his forehead, feeling the flutter of his heart.
Joshua closed his eyes and sighed, and Clive’s chest tightened seeing his small smile. “I know.”
Clive brushed a thumb over his pink cheeks. He was totally limp in Clive’s arms, at ease and breathing steady. Clive wondered if he was going to fall asleep. He had leaned his head back into Clive’s shoulder, neck still craned and eyes closed.
“Do you want to keep reading?”
“Yes,” Joshua tilted his head forward and Clive felt the tremble of him stretching his arms. He then pushed his book to the side of the bed.
“Just—let me get comfortable.”
Joshua lifted himself from where he was mostly seated on the bed, to into Clive’s lap proper. He maneuvered Clive’s legs around himself until he got the hint to cross them, allowing Joshua to no longer have to cross his own and to stretch his legs out. He pressed back against Clive until he was flush against his chest, his rear right on Clive’s crotch. Clive stilled for a moment, and cleared his throat. Joshua didn’t seem to realize something was amiss.
Clive had Joshua in his lap many times over the years, and it occurred to him the difference in the feeling of it as time went on. Joshua was growing like a weed. He filled up more of Clive’s lap, and Clive loved the comforting weight of Joshua on him, even though he was slighter than he should be. All of him was growing, however, including his plush little ass pressed right against Clive’s manhood.
Clive himself was growing quickly, too. Much of what he was learning of himself came less from his tutors and more from the barracks. Often he would overhear bawdy talk and leave with his cheeks aflame. The few tomes he picked out from the library that detailed things that could be done of a more, romantic nature, he would say, left him in a much similar state of bashfulness. But, he retained the more important bits of information. Or rather, the most enjoyable parts. How to take himself in hand and seek his release, in the safety of his bedroom in the evening. Or in the morning. Or midday, and probably again at night. Any time to himself that wasn’t monopolized by Joshua or his training.
Every time he would try desperately to think of anything else but his fingers threaded through strawberry blonde curls. Of a warm body that seemed to drift into him like gravity. Soft, secure, and pliant. The vivid image of pink lips parted in a gasp of pleasure was so ingrained in him it was like it was real, and Clive clung to it.
“Clive,” Joshua would say breathily, so clearly pleased. “I’ve always wanted you.” And in his fantasies it meant everything the word ‘want’ could possibly mean.
As his spend would rapidly cool on his fingers, the shame would fill him. He would not want him, if he knew. But his own desire would flood him again eventually, and he was too weak to deny himself his fantasies. Such was his daily purgatory, and Clive pleaded to the Founder that this was only a temporary affliction. Joshua needed him as his shield, he did not deserve one that would disgrace him.
His own private shame had followed him into his time with Joshua as Clive’s cock began to stiffen.
Flames, he thought, Please don’t let him notice. He sent a horribly blasphemous wish to Metia for Joshua to remain ignorant. Every slight movement of his rear made Clive tremble, and if he tried to pull away, Joshua would unconsciously press back. Clingy, as always. Though Clive normally relished that, this time his touch was nightmarish. Yet it was also heavenly, to his mortification.
He bit his lip and fought the urge to rut forward, face as bright red as the Phoenix’s flaming plumage. If Joshua had noticed his state, he gave no indication. Clive couldn’t understand how he couldn’t feel him. His thin cotton sleeping wear left little to the imagination, his only cover his sheets bunched around his midsection haphazardly. Perhaps Metia had answered his wish, which seemed like a horrible waste of such a precious thing, but Clive felt relieved all the same.
Joshua gradually stilled on his lap, to Clive’s relief and his prick’s disappointment. His book was still closed, the silk bookmark poking out from where he had saved his page. Clive hovered over him, leaning in to look around at the side of his face. Joshua’s brows were pinched together as if in thought, as he worried his fingers around the fabric jutting out from the book. His cheeks were a ruddy red, still seemingly too warm.
“Joshua?” Clive hoped his embarrassment couldn’t be heard in his voice.
Joshua opened his mouth as if to speak, and then closed it again. He continued to fidget, until he found his resolve. “Clive, could I ask you something?”
“You already have.”
Joshua glared immediately at him for the pedantry. Clive chuckled, and added, “But yes, of course you can. Anything, for you.”
He rested his hand on Joshua’s to keep him from fidgeting and to get him to focus. Joshua instead began to fidget with Clive’s fingers, making them bend and straighten. Clive was thankful for the conversation, to hopefully allow himself to calm down before his brother noticed his affliction.
“I would like you to do something for me.” He ducked his head, and from this angle Clive couldn’t see his face anymore.
“Anything.”
Clive didn’t know how to further convey his devotion through words, so an opportunity to do so with action was always greatly appreciated. He felt Joshua tense and Clive was suddenly afraid he was making to leave, most likely disgusted with Clive’s predicament.
Joshua shifted around instead to face him, straddling his thigh with a knee straight to Clive’s crotch. Gods, that was even worse.
Joshua looked directly at him. “Brother. Could you kiss me?”
Clive blanched. “What—what could possibly have made you think of this, all of the sudden?” Clive wondered what he has been reading, when he’s not reading to Clive. Perhaps he had been reading the very same illicit tomes that Clive had peaked at.
Joshua’s brows furrowed. “It’s not sudden. I think about it a lot.”
He leaned in, and pressed his chin into Clive’s clavicle to rest his head on his shoulder. Clive hoped he couldn’t feel his thundering, rapid heartbeat. Joshua peaked up at him from under his downy eyelashes.
“Do you think about it?”
Clive wished that he hadn’t. He wished that he didn’t wake with sticky sheets and his brother’s name on his lips, sick with want and shame. Wished that he didn’t rub himself raw any chance that he could get, so thick was his desire for him.
He wished he could lie to his brother. “Yes,” Clive whispered.
Joshua bolted upright suddenly, eyes bright. “Then, we should! We can.” He looked resolute. “Show me how. I-I demand it, as an order. To my Shield.” His fierceness fizzled into shyness. The tension in Clive drained out as he laughed, and Joshua ducked his head back into Clive’s shoulder.
There were many responses on Clive’s lips. That they were brothers, that he was his Shield, that it was inappropriate, and that he was much too young. They died on his lips as he gazed at his brother, patient but excited and willing, straddling his thigh and pressing his face into his neck. His sound thoughts gave away to eagerness pathetically fast as his brain left him and his cock and heart decided to do his thinking for him. Clive could really never say no to Joshua.
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Clive leaned Joshua back and gripped his hips to shift him from his thigh into the middle on his lap, hoping he continued to be ignorant of Clive’s hardness. He cupped his chin and jaw easily with one hand. Clive took a moment to look upon Joshua, and sucked in a breath. He was more than beautiful. His blonde waves damp to his forehead, his red cheeks, his full lashes, his plump lips—and Clive’s shirt rucked around his hips, revealing smooth creamy thighs. He was everything that Clive wanted. His entire world was seated in his lap, with eyes gazing expectantly and lips parted, waiting and wanting. Clive used his thumb to part Joshua’s mouth further, and then pressed his lips to his brother’s.
Clive made no attempt to smother his groan as he tasted Joshua for the first time, the sound swallowed by his small awaiting mouth. His mouth—unsurprisingly, considering the rest of him—was brilliantly hot and wet, tasting of tart medicine and herbal tea. Clive desperately wanted more, to press his tongue in so deeply that Joshua could only taste and breathe his brother. Patience, he chastised himself. He would not behave like a beast trying to devour Joshua. Or rather, he would try not to. He was only human—and a man. And his brother was so very tempting.
Joshua wasn’t kissing back. He sat pliant in Clive’s lap, letting his brother do what he pleased, unsure of what to do with himself. His wet puffs of breath when Clive briefly gave him a reprieve were rapid, and his small fists clenched Clive’s shirt like he was afraid Clive was going to pull away. As if he could.
Clive cracked open his eyes and noted Joshua’s were open. He trailed his hand that was cupping Joshua’s chin to lightly thumb over Joshua’s eyelid, urging it closed, and he felt him sigh into his mouth. Clive licked at the seam of Joshua’s lips, asking for permission for deeper entry, and when no response was given, he pushed in anyway.
Joshua made a surprised sound, high in his throat, that gave way to a whine. He fisted Clive’s shirt tighter and arched into the kiss, moving entirely on instinct. Clive maneuvered the hand not cradling his chin to Joshua’s curls, not able to resist threading his fingers through them. He gripped them, very gently, and tilted Joshua’s head back further and deepened their kiss. With Clive’s tongue down his throat, the sound of Joshua’s moan was entirely swallowed, and only the vibration could be felt, reverberating through Clive’s own chest.
Tentatively, Joshua began to mimic Clive’s own motions, pressing his tongue as far in as he could manage. Clive gave an appreciative rumble, and nipped at Joshua’s bottom lip in reward. Joshua bit at his lip right back and Clive couldn’t help but rut forward. Joshua let out a quiet gasp and shuddered at the sensation. Gods. Clive was reeling. He hedonistically allowed himself to grind against his little brother again and relished the high keen that he earned. This is going too far. Mournfully, he gave one last abrupt thrust and then stilled his movements.
He used the hand on Joshua’s chin to tilt his face back, breaking their kiss. Clive felt utterly muddled, his mind foggy—he was currently entranced by the string of saliva still connecting him to his brother’s lips. And flames, those lips—Clive could feel himself starting to heat even more, just taking in the state of his baby brother. His lips were plump and red, so obviously thoroughly kissed, and still slick with Clive’s and his own saliva. His hair was tousled from Clive’s grip, his entire face was flushed, and his chest rose rapidly with his wet puffs of air. Clive’s shirt had slipped off one of his shoulders. His gaze was glazed but expectant—he looked desperate. Did he desire more of Clive’s kisses? Or was he expecting more? Clive swallowed thickly—he was past his breaking point. His smallclothes were already so tight from excitement, and he shifted uncomfortably, his poor rock-hard length aching for attention.
“Alright,” Clive licked the spit from his lips. He placed his hands under Joshua’s armpits and began to lift him up. “It’s time for bed. Up you go.” He felt sweat trickle down his brow—their ministrations didn’t really help the growing temperature of the room.
“What?” Joshua all but cried out, eyes wide. “You’re making me leave? Clive!” he whined. He clung to Clive’s midsection, making him difficult to lift up, so Clive just pivoted away from the bed so Joshua would be forced to place his feet on the floor.
Joshua held tightly to Clive’s waist, and looked up at him pleadingly. “Can’t I sleep in here?” He smothered his face into Clive’s taut stomach. “At least give me another kiss...” Clive could barely hear the muffled words. Joshua spoke so innocently, unaware of how much he tempted his brother. Clive sighed.
“That’s the rub. If I let you sleep in here, I’ll kiss you, and surely I’ll keep going all night.” He carded his fingers through his hair, attempting to soothe him.
Joshua peered up at him, brows knit in confusion. “Why is that so terrible? That sounds nice.”
It was difficult to not break into a grin. Clive felt as if he’d had a victory in combat, like winning the Ducal Tournament again, or a sparring match against Commander Murdoch. He thrummed with the joy of knowing not only was Joshua alright with this ardor, but he yearned for it, for Clive’s touch, for his brother’s kisses. He cleared his throat instead, lest he get carried away and be convinced to begin his kisses anew. He had his own needs to take care of, and Joshua’s welfare to keep in mind as well.
“Because you need your rest, sweet brother. I can’t have you awake all night, especially when you’ve not been feeling well.”
Joshua’s face crumpled. “But it’s only a cough....” He sighed, dejected, as he often was when faced with his illness. “Fine.” He huffed, and padded towards Clive’s bed and retrieved his book, tucking it under his chin with the most forlorn face. Fondness bloomed in Clive’s chest.
“Joshua,” Clive said before Joshua could open the door to Clive’s bedroom.
Clive knelt down so he was eye level to Joshua, and cupped both his cheeks with his hands. He pressed his lips to his brothers, warm, dry and chaste, and then kissed the crown of his hair as well.
“Sweet dreams, Joshua.”
Joshua’s frown gave way to a shy and sweet smile. He hugged his book tighter.
“Goodnight, Clive.”
After his door closed, Clive once again heard the patter of small feet on stone, echoing down the halls. It was when he could no longer hear them that he began to frantically undo the laces of his breeches, barely making it to his bed before he had his cock in hand. Joshua’s scent still clung to his sheets.
He hissed as he grabbed his hot length, too sensitive and too dry, but began to furiously pump himself anyway, smearing the wetness at his cock-head against the rest of his prick. His fantasies began, so much more vivid now that they were inspired by reality . He let his head thump back against the bed frame as it tilted towards the ceiling, eyes pinched shut, and thought of his brother’s sweet kisses.
Just the weight of Joshua in his lap had made him want to groan, to thrust up and meet that plush ass, to hear Joshua’s cries of pleasure as he pushed up to meet him. He’d swallow up every sound greedily as he kissed him, every pant and moan and the begging —begging for his big brother to take him. Clive would oblige him, of course, as he was a good brother, but not before he’d had his fill of him first. He could not think of a more fitting way to show his devotion than by worshiping Joshua’s body, as he deserved, as Clive deserved. He’d kiss every inch of him until Joshua was a shivering mess on the edge, overstimulated and near tears, but asking for more.
“Joshua—Ah—” His precum just barely gave him the slickness he needed, his balls already drawing up taut as he fucked his fist. He wouldn’t last, but he didn’t want to. He needed his release before his desire for his brother drove him to madness. Clive had nearly crossed that line, his lack of restraint was shameful. But surely, anybody in his position would not have been able to resist.
He was powerless to Joshua. Clive certainly couldn’t deny him when he asked so sweetly. He’d give all of him over, anytime he would ask. Which would be often, of course. Once he had Clive inside of him, he would be desperate for it again, and again. And Clive was always willing to indulge him.
He groaned at the thought of it, filling his brother, his tight pink pucker fluttering around him, scorching hot. He craved to be as close as they could possibly be, and he could not think of how to be any closer. Inside him, he would feel whole. Clive wished they could get closer beyond that, to be one, to never part. He wished that they had always been together, that Joshua had not come five years too late, that they had shared a womb.
His head thumped painfully against the wall as he slammed it back and peaked, panting his brother’s name in shuddering gasps as he bucked into his grip at every spurt of seed, painting his fingers. He kept his pace until it was painful, whimpering at the overstimulation, unable to let go of the images he had concocted in his mind.
He waited for the shame to fill him, but he found himself feeling quite good. Giddy, even. Though he felt suddenly exhausted. He stripped off his unlaced trousers, peeled out of his soiled smallclothes, and collapsed back into bed. He didn’t bother with new sleeping pants and undergarments—it was too hot anyway.
Clive grinned into his pillow, heart aflutter. He would have to finish his drills quickly tomorrow, so he could have more time with Joshua.