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English
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Published:
2023-07-23
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649
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1/1
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weakened resolve

Summary:

Clive struggles to accept that Joshua is not the weak child he remembers.

Notes:

written for anon question on retrospring

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Clive is so careful, so gentle with his brother, so, so afraid of hurting him again, guilt and fear crashing into him because he can't believe that Joshua is alive at all. Every time he touches him, there's a fear that he'll disappear under his fingers, scatter into a thousand tiny embers, or fall apart into ash at his feet.

But Joshua is warm and present in his hold, and so alive. His form shifts with each breath he takes, his eyes shine as he looks at Clive—and he smiles. Joshua still has the capacity to smile at Clive, at his big brother, at the shield who failed to protect him when it mattered the most.

In that regard, Joshua is stronger than Clive. He's stronger in being unafraid to love, stronger in refusing to allow Clive to blame himself. He's stronger and firmer than Clive remembers. His head is held high, his shoulders wide. The hips underneath his hands are not-so-slight, his voice is deeper, and he can't reach down to kiss his forehead any more. Now, he has to look up, get on his tiptoes to press his nose against the soft curls of his crown, all while he fights tears from gathering in his eyes at being able to kiss his brother like this at all.

But those kisses, as much as Joshua appreciates them, as much as Clive hurts giving them, are not what he wants.

Yet still Clive can't shake the illusion of him being a frail child; still Clive worries to touch him in earnest, touches feather-light, fingers never truly settling upon skin. It's as if Clive is refusing that Joshua is something that can bear the brunt of his weight, as if a firmer touch will bruise him.

Maybe Clive isn't only afraid of hurting Joshua; maybe he's afraid of leaving a mark upon him, irreversible and traumatic; an inescapable sin like the scar on his cheek.

He knows Joshua has plenty of his own sins, each terrible in its own right. The darkest one that stains his heart still is the distance he's put between them, the hiding, the plotting in the shadows. The keeping of his terrible secret.

Clive doesn't realize that he can't stain what was already dirty to begin with. Clive needs to realize that Joshua, too, holds in himself a strength to equal his; isn't the fact he's standing here with him now proof of that?

Maybe Clive needs to realize that it isn't a matter of strength at all.

"I'm not made of glass, Clive," Joshua hisses into his ear. Nails dig into his thigh, as if to hold him in place, as if Joshua's digging talons into prey. "I'm beginning to think you want me to be."

"No-- no, I don't," Clive intones uneasily, the words coming slowly to him, thick and forced. There's a waver in his voice, hidden fear being made apparent, a jumble of emotions exposed that Joshua is forcefully tearing apart. He's done with taking his time; they've been taking their time for eighteen years, now.

"Then fuck me." Joshua's voice is pure fire, heat rivalling that of Ifrit's own. His body feels like it, too; the hands upon Clive thighs could scorch him even through cloth and glove, the breath against his neck akin to steam from a boiling pot.

Clive's hands clench upon his hips, trembling, and he closes his eyes in a silent whimper, unable to face the intensity of his younger brother, scorching like the sun. Joshua presses closer, hot lips mouthing at Clive's neck as he forces the noise to be audible, forces Clive to register the weight of his brother against him, the length rubbing against his thigh, just as scalding as all the rest of him.

Maybe what Clive needs to realize is that Joshua is capable of getting exactly what he wants.

Notes:

you can find me on twt @soffgluten :)
thanks to @roscest for the beta-ing!