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"Lord Rosfield is almost the man your father knew he'd be," Sir Murdoch praised aloud as Clive struck down his foe. It was hardly a fair contest for the other Shield took all of three steps before being sideswiped with an elbow and dealt the mock fatal blow.
Joshua applauded his beloved brother's bow, but his focus was fixated on the remark and the matter-of-factness of it. Another ducal heir in his position may have found the commentary pointed. Joshua, however, was dripping in awestruck curiosity.
"Surely, not so soon," Joshua replied, pursing his lips before squinting towards Clive.
Murdoch disagreed with a shake of his head, then waved for the First Shield to commit to his next spar. Clive’s aura hardened once more to that of a combatant and the clash of metals began anew with intentional delay to give the opponent a chance.
"One more rain," the Lord Commander mused, nostalgia on his voice, "And the growth spurt that will take him will shed the rest of his youth. The distance between you two will grow greatly.”
Sitting taller, Joshua’s mouth fell open, not in offense or to show otherwise, but in pondering and interest. Still, Sir Murdoch amended quickly, “For a couple years at least, until you've struck your stride," and it served only to deepen the wonder.
One more rain...
Joshua was not naïve enough to take the turn of phrase literally, but he was not foolish enough to deny it. From twelve to fourteen, Clive shot up like a weed, transformed as miraculously as the butterflies in summer. A blink of an eye, it felt like, and "Big Brother" took a blunter meaning.
Would it be so sudden again? Would he even recognize Clive?
"I can see Elwin in him now," Sir Murdoch waxed, far beyond Joshua's reach but serving him well all the same, "And I dare say he will be the spitting image then."
Perhaps Joshua would recognize Clive after all.
The pair lost themselves in their thoughts, eyes focused on the young man as he defeated his opponent by swift parry and thrust. And as he turned to bow once more, the first droplets of rainfall speckled the ground.
“Is there something you need, Joshua?” Elwin asked while looking up from his notes, shaking Joshua from his daze.
He was supposed to be studying the map on the table, shadowing his father’s observations and forming his own. The importance was not lost on him nor did he find the study of neighboring nations trite, just boring. Yet, his mind drifted to the Archduke and Sir Murdoch’s words.
How could he not stare? Absence had been a commonality all Joshua’s life to the point he could not so clearly recall his father's face from memory save the portraits. To say it did not bother him before would be a lie. However, now he had another reason to resent the neglect. He had been robbed of a sooner glimpse of the future.
Not only his, but Clive's.
Mannerisms once believed to be strictly his brother’s rose to the surface in Elwin. The way he became lost in thought while rubbing his knuckle over his lips, to how he crossed his arms during conversations, and even the rhythm of his laughter all had been passed to Clive. Joshua drank up each movement, trying to uncover every trace and hint.
Those did not account for the physical characteristics Joshua also documented with utmost care.
Elwin’s dark hair was an obvious trait shared, but what of the length? Would Clive eventually allow his own to grow not just on his head, but on his face as Elwin did? Joshua reasoned, he would look quite handsome if he would. Like a knight from a fairytale groomed by adventure and duty.
And what of his broad shoulders and strong arms? Surely, Clive would also grow sturdier in his practice and patrols. A sword, much like Elwin’s, also rested on Clive’s back. Blades begat battle, which begat scars. Their father did well to hide his, but what of Clive? Would Clive do so too? Or wear them as badges of honor as a Shield of Rosaria?
It was a treasure hunt that stole all Joshua’s attention and would continue to do so for weeks.
“No, just looking at you, Father,” he finally said.
Elwin laughed, not in awkwardness but affection, relieving Joshua of any worries of peculiarness.
“I see.”
And when Joshua’s intent did not falter, Elwin grinned. Then, he winked.
Memories spun Joshua's heart to a flutter and fell into a mess of giggles, recognition setting him ablaze. His father, none-the-wiser, disregarded his childish response as pure playfulness and perhaps the shyness of being caught staring, shaking his head and returning to his papers. But to Joshua, he had been given a grand gift and one he would weave into daydream after daydream until it came to fruition.
For in that familiar wink, he could see what Sir Murdoch saw.
And oh, he had so much to look forward to.
Joshua sat upon the ducal throne as the Archduke of Rosaria. His feet dangled over the edge of the seat, kicking absently in the air as he waited. Sunlight warmed the empty audience chamber and Joshua basked in the tranquility, though in his belly stirred uncertainty.
His First was late and that was very not like him.
“Has my brother forgotten me?” Joshua asked the sun rays, his small voice echoing twice over until silence once more settled. Yet, it settled only for a heartbeat.
Distant footsteps grew until the chamber’s doors creaked open, revealing a man and Joshua was elated.
He was tall and hardened by battle with a scar on his cheek and creases around his blue eyes. Black hair cascaded down to his chin, cut just so that it would settle neatly under a helmet and away from foe’s grasp. Framing his jaw and upper lip was stubble which was not as well maintained as his locks, but was charming all the same like a well-traveled prince.
Two weapons were secured on his form, one upon his back and another strapped to the hip for he was well-prepared. And adorned in armor befitting a king, it suggested his strength and power as he walked with no burden. Yet, Joshua knew above all it was a symbol of love.
His love, for only the best would suit his beloved First Shield.
“Forgive the wait, Your Grace,” he spoke in a deep, gentle rumble like that of a babbling brook, “I was seeing to a potential threat.”
“And was it found to be threatening?” Joshua teased, giggling to himself when the man pouted as he bent the knee.
“It could have been, had I not investigated.”
“And I thank you for your thoroughness, Clive,” Joshua added, composing himself and simpering at his brother. Ever the protector, Clive was one he could always rely on for all matters.
All matters.
The fidgeting of his feet growing more restless, Joshua lowered his gaze and remarked with bashfulness, “Have you become weary from your duties?”
Raising his head, Clive regarded him in kind.
“Never. Does Your Grace have need of me?”
The words were charged, meaning potent and clear as the certainty was solid as stone. Even as a blush painted his cheeks, Clive did not hesitate or retreat, but awaited the answer with wanting eyes.
Loyal eyes.
“I always have need of you, Clive,” Joshua confessed, the heat building within him, “I have sent the others away thus.”
He needed not another word.
Standing to his full height, Clive towered over the Archduke, stripping away his weapons and armor one by one until the light of the sun set, enshrouding them in the intimacy of dusk. Joshua kindled a flame that he might admire the man before him and all his glory, reaching with possessive fingers to mark each muscle for all was his to bear.
The First shivered and swallowed. “Do I please you, Your Grace?”
Flattening his palm, Joshua covered Clive's navel and little else. And when Clive reached with his own palm, he covered the entirety of Joshua’s clothed chest. He could be destroyed in an instant were that large hand not so tender.
“More than you know,” Joshua answered, legs becoming so weak he was grateful for the throne he still had yet to grow into. Daringly, he declared with eyes drifting downward, “Do I please you?”
The answer was before him, filling with blood the longer his eyes lingered. Obediently, it rose until it appeared painfully hard and in much need of care. Joshua would ease some of that tension with a small caress along its length.
Clive gasped out, “Only you do, Joshua,” and he begged for breath with quivering lips as lungs failed him and mind reeled. Joshua would give him the air he so needed for he was a doting Archduke.
Stubble scratched his face and hands as he pulled Clive down for a kiss, mouths locked in fevered recklessness. Clive’s tongue, so abundant yet kind, delighted Joshua as he met it with small licks, urging it to claim him wholly until he was little else but a drink. Firm, calloused fingers cupped his jaw, tilting his head back that he may be just that. And he moaned into it all, body igniting for his brother’s touch.
Before Joshua could command, Clive broke the kiss to give more along his neck and chest, peeling layers of ducal garb away to reveal more skin to worship. Fingertip to fingertip and belly to toes, not one part was forsaken, each press of lips and tongue seering desire deep into Joshua’s core. Deeper still as he settled between the Archduke’s legs and lifted him into loving arms.
“Clive…!” Joshua moaned out as long strokes of tongue mapped him from bottom to prick and back. Little hips rocked with the motion, chasing every spark and squirming when stubbled cheeks tickled his inner thighs. And when two hands completely encased his ribs, he squeaked his willingness as a captive.
Effortlessly, he was flung upwards to Clive’s chest, cheek resting where the First’s heart galloped and cried its devotion. Joshua rewarded it with a kiss and feeling its pace quicken even still, he asked, “Does it beat for me?”
“Only for you,” Clive avowed, “As I breathe only for you and become passioned only for you.”
The words drowned Joshua, filling him until overflowing with heat and love and righteousness. That those words be spoken so true and plainly…yet, proof would be his undoing. Joshua begged, craving that very end as if it would kill him otherwise, “Deny me your full passion no longer, Clive!”
And Clive obeyed, breaking down his restraints until nothing remained but their coupling.
Joshua screamed, the completeness overwhelming as reality faded to a rapturous burn and then bliss. Every part of him gave way for Clive from his body to his soul, creating the perfect slot which only Clive could fill. One might think the Archduke would burst into pieces from such perfection, yet his being bent and arched, showcasing the evidence of their success by the bulging from his belly.
His hands traced it that he might memorialize its wealth, feel its plentiful bounty as each thrust carved deeper, claiming all it could. And to be certain of the absolute, Joshua wrapped himself around the First that he might do the same, enveloping Joshua in an embrace that left him invisible to the world.
Loved, protected, and cherished—Safe behind his Shield.
His big brother.
Joshua awoke with a sigh, the blistering white behind his eyes fading to a pleasant pink as orgasm took its toll. His body quivered and then wilted, sinking into the bed as the world became clearer and his dream more apparently just that —A dream.
As if to emphasize the realization, a familiar voice whispered, “Did you have a nice dream?” while a hand stroked his flat stomach.
It would not remain so if Joshua had his way.
Turning over to face a bright-eyed, teenage Clive, Joshua nodded and said with a grin, “You were in it.”
“I should hope so with those noises,” Clive retorted and chuckled when Joshua covered his face, “You were grinding into me for a while.”
“You do that too, you know!”
“I know.”
A moment of silence was populated with their giggling and Joshua scooched as close as he could, pressing himself fully to his brother and taking measure of the difference from fantasy to reality.
“So, what happened in it?” Clive questioned, draping an arm around Joshua and squeezing.
And seeing no reason to lie, Joshua answered, “I was Archduke and you were older. Taller,” he detailed, craning to stretch his hand above Clive’s head to show him the difference, “And had facial hair and scars.”
Clive’s brows knitted together in amusement as he considered this.
“Alright…and how did you look?”
“The same.”
“The same?”
“Yeah. You were so much bigger than me,” Joshua said with wide, sparkling eyes, “But still nice and gentle. I thought you were quite dashing. Would you grow stubble for me?”
“I-I…wait, wait!” Clive jolted upright. Eyes blinking rapidly, he regained his mental footing as he pieced together Joshua’s words. “Joshua, you dreamt we…we had sex while I…?”
“Yes?” Joshua stated with a shrug and got back to the important topics in the same breath, “If you ate all the vegetables off my plate every dinner, would you grow taller faster?”
“Joshua?!”
The younger joined his brother sitting upright, crawling into his lap with sincerity and determination on his face. Clive balked before it and his protests slipped from his mouth as a stutter. Joshua would not be deterred.
“You're my big brother, after all,” he reasoned, “And you should continue to be so and for that you need nourishment.”
Shaking his head, Clive replied, “And what of you? Surely you'll grow too. You might even match me in height! Maybe more depending…”
And as if such a suggestion was the most egregious thing Clive could have ever said, Joshua proclaimed with sour expression, “I won't let it happen!”
Taken aback by the distress and melting into a laugh, Clive soothed the boy with pecks on the forehead and several hugs, finally conceding to say, “I’ll do my best. Though you must eat your own vegetables.”
A matter which would be debated later, both knew, but a compromise for now.
“And the stubble,” Joshua reminded, feeling Clive’s cheek and lighting up, “You do have some!”
Clive rolled his eyes, but smiled as Joshua continued rubbing his face. “It’s too patchy to grow out.”
“Not forever!”
“You are adamant, Joshua.”
“I am,” Joshua huffed while smirking. Then, once his surveil was complete, he nestled into the crook of Clive’s neck. Soft murmurs were lost against skin and Clive tilted his head, nudging Joshua to speak up. So, he did.
“There is one thing you do have now, however.”
Quizzically, Clive quirked his eyebrow as he waited for what Joshua so keenly spoke of.
And was met with a hand snaking down his trousers and a furious blush rushing to his cheeks.