Chapter Text
“Precious creature,” Cid murmured, pressing leisurely into the trembling body below. A choked groan answered him, a splotchy flush at the top of Clive Rosfield’s cheeks from the praise– from the past half hour of activities– and his eyes squeezed shut, his lips bitten red…
He rested on his side against Cid’s chest, fingertips twisted in the bedding, while the older man propped up his thigh and speared him from behind, taking his time. Always taking his time.
It was hot and cold between the Wardens of Fire and Thunder, one or the other of which Clive often found himself bedded beneath. The Phoenix lent Joshua a refractory period unheard of among men, and he didn’t often let Clive forget it. Cid, on the other hand, was “at that age where one shot was enough… and he was going to make it count.”
Clive buried his face in the pillow, stifling a soft moan. He– he himself was more accustomed to Joshua’s unquenchable urges… He was impatient. And after six months with Cid, he knew– he knew what to expect. What was coming. He wanted it.
“Please…” he choked quietly into the bedding.
The blackout curtains were drawn away from the picturesque windows, leaving the gauzy drapes beneath to blot the thin, burning red line, edging above the eastern horizon. It was like headlights cutting through mist and rain. Barely illuminating the sleek, minimal furniture, and the puffy hills of the dark, mussed bedspread, tangled around two pairs of masculine calves and ankles…
“Please, what? I can’t hear you…” Cid crooned, his fingertips nudging at the front of his throat, bidding him to come out from hiding. Clive lifted his head with a gasp– electricity burst through him when Cid bumped his prostate.
“Oh, Founder…” he mumbled, forgetting everything. Cid was silent for a moment, just churning into him– almost distractedly, while Clive clenched uselessly to attempt holding him inside.
“You’ve been distracted tonight,” Cid finally said, releasing Clive’s leg– which trembled anew, fighting to remain lifted amidst Cid’s slow torments, and ran his calloused fingertips, feathery-light, across the plains of bunched muscles decorating Clive’s sides… Dipping into his impossible little waist, and then petting the pleasant curve of his hip. “What’s on your mind?”
It was technically Saturday morning, which meant that Clive had been with him for around 10 hours. It was Cid’s weekend, after all. Sometimes they had dinner together– sometimes somewhere fancy, in Oriflamme, and sometimes somewhere rowdy, an opposite train ride to Ran’dellah. Sometimes Cid would prepare him a meal in his flat. He liked to keep him guessing.
It felt like courting, which always made Clive internally flush– and Joshua outwardly seeth. Clive couldn’t be sure why Cid did it– for which of those reactions, primarily?
As the sky started to darken, they’d fuck on any convenient surface– generally, Cid’s sprawling sofa or dining room table, with the wall-to-wall windows of the burgeoning warehouse’s top floor ‘executive suite’ offering a tolerable view of far-off city lights, blinking on all around them.
The Deadlands was far from the central houses of Oriflamme, Ran’dellah, or Rosalith; but they were bright enough that even the Hideaway, a pinprick dropped right in the center, situated on the brink of low-income housing and industrial districts, could see the dueling skylines.
The jewel-bright city of Valisthea never felt larger than when Clive found himself in these dark outskirts, like an inky black hole around which everything spiraled. Distantly.
… and then, after they’d kicked off their weekend in that traditional way, Cid would invite him down to the ‘show floor’ as it was opening up, where Clive could do whatever he wished– always with the feeling of being watched. Appreciated.
Would he mix drinks at the bar? He was getting quite good at it. Or would he sit on the other side, exchanging stories with Gav? Would he stand outside with the bouncer, in the chilly night air? Would he be roped around Cid’s table, into a chat with Otto, Tarja, and lately Jill Warrick, his childhood friend, and Dominant of Shiva?
Would he be dragged onto the dance floor? Would he be plied into drinking until he stumbled a bit? Or would he retreat to the cobwebby upper floors, which housed years’ worth of storage, just for a moment of peace and quiet, where he would wonder what Joshua was doing at that very moment…? Maybe send him a text message, even though Joshua was terrible at responding.
Or would he find himself on one of the levels between, where the rooms could be rented, the nightstands contained handcuffs, and the bedposts were always creakier than the last time? Clive was pretty sure he’d sampled– or been sampled, more accurately– every room.
It was becoming… comfortable. Sometimes, on the off weekends, he thought about popping by.
But, to Cid’s question, none of that was what was currently on his mind.
“It’s… nothing…” he garbled, back to the present, where his arse was past the point of being sore from this prolonged pounding– instead, it felt comfortably abuzz, like the rest of his skin, swallowing up each of CId’s leisurely strokes greedily.
He wanted to stroke himself in time– but he knew better. His cock jutted out from between his legs, flushed, neglected, and wet at the tip. He gave a small, broken moan.
“You can’t lie to me,” Cid whispered in his ear, his breath hot, and smelling familiarly of tobacco. “... Not least of all because you can’t lie in general,” he laughed.
If Cid’s hand hadn’t crept around to tease at his cock, stealing all the thoughts from his head, he would have turned and glared. Instead, he gave a shaky, shattered gasp.
“Tell me,” Cid commanded in that low, gravelly tone. “I have many means of prying the truth from you, recall.”
Clive trembled, lost while Cid stroked him, a rough thumb swiping across his tip, rubbing the dampness around. His sticky thighs were now sandwiched together, for he couldn’t think to hold them apart with Cid’s interference, but Cid didn’t seem bothered by the reduced access. He pumped forward steadily, his hand mirroring the movement, caressing Clive’s stiff, feverish flesh.
But then it stopped. “Now,” Cid insisted.
Clive moaned shakily, swallowed drily. And then, after a beat of silence, turned his face. He sought out Cid’s lips, pale and perpetually smeared with Carmex. He couldn’t meet Cid’s eyes, so he focused on the muted sheen of lip balm, and strained for a light, clumsy kiss.
“I… It’s Joshua,” he mumbled, trying hard to ignore his flesh, screaming for release. He swallowed, struck suddenly mute. But Cid spurred him into action when he chuckled and teased, “Isn’t it always?”
Clive’s expression pinched up into a frowning glare. “Joshua has been speaking with Mother lately. Well, they– ah!” he wheezed as Cid’s hand started up again, just the breath of a touch.
It was wildly distracting– it drained all of the weight from his words, made it easier to spit out– just spit it out, so they could get back to it! The tiny pinprick that had become his mind, wailed. ‘Who gives a fuck about Mother? There’s nothing to it!’
“They’re not… It’s not impossible between them, like it is for Mother and me,” he choked out. “But it was usually just phone calls on the holidays, until recently.”
“Mm,” Cid commented, beginning anew the rolling of his hips. Clive flopped over, crying out, and throwing an arm over his face. “Continue.”
“Easy for you to say!” Clive choked, but Cid swatted his flank insistently. “Do we have to do this now?” he asked plaintively.
Cid grinned, his teeth flashing in the dark, “I understand it’s hard to split your attention. We can stop this if it’s too difficult to multitask…”
Frustrated tears sprang to Clive’s eyes.
“Jah– Joshua was more in… integrated into Mother’s new family, after Father passed away… After she remarried.” He didn’t add that he’d been shipped off to boarding school in the far tip of the Northern Territories, which is where he’d first met Jill.
Mother had probably hoped he’d never return. The school he’d attended was well known for their combat- and nature-focused study tracks, situated as it was at the very edge of the city, with its backyard opening up to the forests and mountains that Valisthea butted up against. Most graduates ended up joining the military. She’d probably hoped he’d take that path… or be eaten by the wildlife beforehand.
Cid made another ‘hm’ sound, adjusting their positions just enough to send another shock up Clive’s spine. “Ah!”
“Go on,” Cid whispered. Clive chewed desperately at his lip.
“But he took his ruh-rightful place… in Rosaria… when he kuh–came of age. His in–inheritance… Th– the bulk of Father’s puh–properties and wealth… Five years ago,” he huffed. “Muh– Mother, and Sebastian, I thee–think, had hoped… it would become… an extension… of Sanbreque. Josh… shua… wanted to revuh– vitalize the neighborhood… They would have bene– benefited from… business and real estate… part–partnerships… Founder! This is impossible!” he cried out, thrashing suddenly.
Cid dropped his handful to wrap an arm, like an iron vice, around his waist, anchoring him stubbornly. Clive sobbed, bucking blindly, until, minutes later, realizing it was all in vein, finally lurched to a halt. Tears streaked his cheeks.
Cid withdrew with a slick squelch– never let it be said he wasn’t thorough in preparing his beloved ‘pet’– and drew back, earning a new litany of sobs.
Cid sat up on his haunches and rolled Clive over onto his back, positioning Clive’s legs to either side of his waist. The boy’s greedy hole fluttered, desperate and inviting, but Cid ignored it. He leaned forward, gathering Clive’s thick wrists in one hand, and pinned them above his head.
Clive didn’t make a fuss, and only blinked blearily at him through helpless tears. Cid hovered above him, petting his brutally scarred cheek. Smearing a few tears away.
Inches of open air separated Clive’s straining erection and Cid’s heavily hanging flesh, but Cid didn’t move at all to close the distance. He stared expectantly down, eventually stroking Clive’s throat, down the center of his chest… Ignoring his puffy, bruised nipples…
“Go on,” he commanded. With a grimace, Clive screwed his eyes shut, and tried to continue. What was the point of this?!
“Joshua is smart,” he wheezed. Firmly. “He wasn’t born to his position by mistake. He can see through anyone’s duplicity…” Cid made an encouraging sound.
“... But he doesn’t hate her. He– he has a soft spot for her,” Clive explained wretchedly, “She’s always loved him…”
He fell silent, and Cid finally deigned to brush a thumb across his nipple, palming his chest. He gasped. It felt like an electric shock– even though he didn’t see the flicker of light to suggest it was from Cid.
“This is what’s been on your mind, then? Maybe I ought to have waited,” Cid teased, leaning down to capture Clive’s lips in a long kiss. “Discussing Annabella Lesage, your terrible mother, during sex, wasn’t on my bingo card for this year…”
“You asked!” Clive practically shouted, bristling with defensiveness. Cid leaned back, laughing.
“Aye, that I did. Well, is that it, then? Or is there more?” He stared expectantly. Clive considered lying– trying to lie– but then he remembered that he was useless at it. He sagged in defeat. He should give up ever getting off at this rate. The sky was already a few degrees lighter from when he started his tale, beckoning him to sleep. Beckoning him not to talk about it.
But Cid had asked. He sighed, the last of the fight draining from him. Even his cock seemed to relax a bit, waning a little bit, a little of the redness going out of it. His eyelashes fluttered.
“It’s more about Dion,” he glanced up, as if to confirm that Cid was following– as if anyone didn’t know Dion Lesage’s name.
“Bahamut? That no-fun brick house,” Cid puffed out with a smirk. “What about him ?”
“He and Joshua have a history, much of which is beyond my understanding. I wasn’t there,” he said softly– almost guiltily. “I’m sure he looks at me and Jill in much the same way.”
‘Where is this going…?’ Cid thought, rubbing his thumb across Clive’s racing pulse, comfortingly.
“They are… friends. More, in times past, I gather,” he stuttered, blushing. His cock softened even further. Drooping, as if sad. Cid worked hard not to snort aloud. “And…” His throat closed up again.
“Yes?” Cid prompted.
“It’s hard to explain!” Clive hissed in frustration. But after a beat, he continued. “Since this arrangement. With you,” he started, glancing up to read Cid’s reaction– though his face remained carefully blank, “He’s visiting Sanbreque more often. He’s sometimes more detached. More irritable with me. I’m afraid…” he choked to a halt again.
“You’re jealous,” Cid offered. Clive shook his head violently.
“No! It… It would only be fair,” he gritted his teeth, glaring over Cid’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t grudge him outside companionship, not when I enjoy–” he choked again, cheeks aflame– but he couldn’t take it back now, “um. It.” He finished. Fuck.
“Then what is it?” Cid prompted, hiding any fluttering, favorable reaction to Clive’s statement. “... Isn’t the Warden of Light with that military man, Terrence-something?”
Clive shrugged. “I don’t know,” he sassed. “That’s a question for Dion– or Joshua.” He finished dully, plunged back into despair.
“I don’t care if he’s rekindling something with Dion,” he said, more to himself than anyone. “As his First Shield, I’m at his disposal. And I’m happy for him.”
Cid snorted. “You can’t even lie to yourself!” he jabbed. Clive glared up at him.
“I only wish that he’d talk to me about it,” he insisted. “He’s closed me out of the affair. And if there’s some way that I’m not performing… that I could perform better–”
“Ah, I should have guessed,” Cid announced, nodding. “It’s not jealousy, it’s self-depreciation.”
Clive’s frown deepened. “No,” he snapped. “I merely– he deserves–”
“Enough,” Cid said, suddenly releasing Clive’s wrists in order to sit back and palm his hips, dragging him a bit more firmly up onto his lap. Clive gasped, his cock giving a perky jolt. He’d almost forgotten.
“I’ve heard enough, and I know the truth of it now. I’ll have a chat with the Phoenix,” he decided, spitting into his palm and giving himself a cursory stroke before guiding the head of it to the place between Clive’s splayed thighs. The young man looked up at him, breath quickened with anticipation, his cheeks bright again. He clutched the pillow around his head, spit shiny on his barely parted lips. “Tomorrow. No sense in waiting…”
Clive’s eyebrows drew together, but his thoughts were obliterated as Cid slid home, slowly drawing up above him, bending his knees back as he settled in. Clive couldn’t stifle a cry, shivering.
“... for he is mine as much as you are,” he added. “And if he’s in Bahamut’s bed, I don’t know why I shouldn’t have heard about it. It’s high time he remembered his allegiances, if you ask me,” he continued.
A distant part of Clive couldn’t help but think something about that was totally backwards– but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why, and Cid had started up a quick pace, sending them right back to where they’d been before, so all Clive could do was gurgle in confusion and agreement, tossing his head as he was taken.
Toes curling, knuckles turning white, gasping around plentiful, heated kisses while the sunrise crawled across the blankets, the headboard clacked against the wall, and he eventually spurted creamy seed across his own clenched stomach, gasping and crying out beneath the Warden of Thunder.
x
Later that day, in Rosaria…
Now, deep in Rosaria was an area Cid didn’t often find himself in. Sure, it was beautiful– steeped in art, history, and church incense. It was one of the smaller boroughs, eclipsing only the Iron Kingdom and Crystalline Dominion, and yet it had more churches and religious facilities per capita than even Sanbreque. Not exactly Cid’s regular scene. He was lucky not to burst into flames when he stepped onto holy ground– particularly in Rosaria.
But today, he’d made an exception. He’d even been so kind as to not bind Clive to the bed– with the stern understanding that he was not to follow nor interfere, and that he’d better be right back where Cid left him at the Hideaway by sundown.
Sundown was a few hours hence. Plenty of time to have an audience with the esteemed Phoenix and be back to check on things before his staff opened up another Saturday night.
Now, arranging a meeting with the Phoenix was hard work. House Rosalith was about as easy to infiltrate as any royal palace might be, with gilded gates, towering walls, stern-looking guards, extra-modern security system, and all.
Cid had never managed it, and had never even been given a phone number where ‘his people’ could contact Joshua's ‘people.’ Not a central office number, or anything! Not to mention the Phoenix was hardly ever at home, darting around like a wayward spark, public appearances and his ‘personal research projects’ abounding.
Nigh impossible to pin the little bird down.
Luckily, it was just another neighborhood in Valisthea, and it was easy enough to grab the Phoenix’s attention. Way easier than grabbing Bahamut’s, for example. That required some real mischief-making. Not as easy as grabbing Odin, Garuda, or Titan, conversely.
Cid liked to imagine that Joshua was probably bored, reading, most of the time, anyway, and was eager to answer any distress calls across his district. And that’s where it came in handy that Cid had a rather poor reputation across the board of neighborhood churches, and the bishops and priests or what-have-you did appear to have a direct line to their god.
All he had to do was breeze into a place of worship and wink sidelong at an altar boy, and voila! It felt like the Phoenix was bursting in like a heatwave within minutes! Very convenient.
Cid cheerfully paid the parking meter, stamped his cigarette out, and then sashayed toward the church he’d picked out for today.
And, exactly according to plan, as soon as the heavy door fell shut behind him, and he was bathed in the beautiful light of stained glass Phoenix wings, and the robed fellow glanced up from the pulpit to greet him– the deacon or whomever grimaced, waved someone over before they scurried off, and then asked him in a closed-off tone, “To what do we owe the pleasure, Ramuh?”
“I’m not speaking for Ramuh today, thanks,” he replied with a grin. “It’s just little ole Cid.” He paused next to a pew and reached for a hymn book, humming cheerfully while he flipped through.
“You know very well you are trespassed from the churches of Rosaria–”
“And how is that emulating the divine goodness of the Phoenix?” Cid pouted. “It’s hardly fair. I just wanted to ask about being added to the roster!”
“Why do I find that hard to believe?” a new voice asked.
Joshua Rosfield, led by the panting assistant, stepped around a corner, dressed– it appeared– for a religious service.
He wore prim dark pants, high-waisted, with heeled boots, and something like an elegant black corset belt, from the back of which trailed two ankle-length, ruffled bolts of fabric, embroidered with gold, like the long tail-ends of a bow. Was there a bow on the back? Cid was eager to know. It all served to enhance his airy red sleeves, drawn in by dark cuffs around his wrists and throat.
Cid whistled appreciatively, earning a murderous glare from the bishop.
“Have you been following me?” Joshua demanded. “How did you know I was here?”
“I was about to ask you the same question,” Cid replied innocently. “Were you waiting for me?”
Joshua’s expression was soon matching that of the bishop’s. “Why are you here, and not with my brother?”
The bishop shot Joshua a startled look, but Joshua didn’t pay him any mind, nor did he seem concerned about revealing this information.
“Well, that’s what I’m here to talk with you about…” Cid started. Joshua’s face turned ever stormier.
“Is something the matter with him? Where is he?” Joshua demanded.
Cid set the hymn book back on the back of the pew.
“A moment of your time…” Cid said, leaning against it, and crossing his arms loosely. His eyes twinkled in challenge. Joshua could have breathed fire.
“Follow me,” Joshua ground out, turning on his heel. Cid was disappointed to see that there wasn’t an elaborate bow in the back, only some complex web of loops and ties at the top of the cascade.
“Edmund, we’ll be in the gardens. See that nobody is within earshot, please,” Joshua decreed. The bishop, Edmund, nodded immediately, and gestured for his assistant to hang back while Joshua led Cid at a clipped pace towards the back.
A smile spread across his face as he followed. Worked every time…!
x
“We won’t be overheard,” Joshua said with confidence, even though Cid had not asked. “The courtyard is protected by a spell of silence. It’s generally reserved for making confessions.”
“Ah, that will be perfect, then,” Cid said, walking over to the shade of an old, towering tree. It was chilly out– a winter afternoon, the sky a clear, perfect blue. Fondly, Cid thought that it matched the eye color of two brothers he’d come to enjoy very much. He turned to meet the gaze of one of them. ‘Yep,’ he confirmed. A perfect match.
“What does that mean?” Joshua demanded, fists clenching. “Tell me what news you bring of my brother, and then go.”
“He required gentlest of care last night,” Cid clucked, admiring a smattering of snowy-white flowers. Stone still, with not a single breeze through the place. Cid tucked his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, seeking warmth. “He was very upset.”
“About what.” There was barely any inflection to indicate that it was a question. Joshua seemed about ready to take to the skies, and investigate himself, at the source.
“Well, he’s noticed that you’ve been… distant, and that your relationship with Dion Lesage has deepened, of late…”
A shadow of confusion flitted across Joshua’s face. “... Clive is not the jealous type,” he said, almost to himself. Cid nodded.
“Aye, he’s more hurt than anything,” Cid plopped down on a pretty garden bench, and then continued: “That you would fall into bed with another man without even telling him when or what for. He’s tortured over the thought that he’s disappointed you.”
“Fall into– Tortured– Oh, fucking Founder,” a plethora of emotions, too quick to name, darkened Joshua’s eyes, before he squeezed them shut and pressed the bridge of his nose between index finger and thumb. “Con-fucking-found it,” Joshua hissed. “This is…”
Cid tipped his head to the side. “You’re not denying it,” he pointed out. “ Do you have something to share with the class?”
“Nothing to share with you, I’m sure,” Joshua bit out. “And I presume you won’t be returning my brother to me until tomorrow…”
“Correct,” Cid chirped, “So I think it’s best you give me a message to pass along.”
“Tell him we can discuss this, face-to-face, when he–”
“No,” Cid interjected. “Not good enough, I’m afraid.”
“What business of it is yours , Telamon?” Joshua snarled. Suddenly, the area surged in heat, and Cid was comfortable slipping his hands from his pockets.
“We have an agreement–”
“Yes, my brother,” Joshua snipped out. “My brother for your silence. Something you are not very good at, and I consider retracting our deal every damn day !”
“Calm yourself, Phoenix,” Cid laughed. “It wasn’t just your brother I bought that day, wouldn’t you agree? I bought the arm that holds his leash… the heart that directs the arm…”
“You have no hold over me, or my heart,” Joshua said, deadly quiet.
“All I’m saying is that you are more in danger of me changing the terms of our agreement than the reverse, Joshua,” Cid chuckled, and reached once again into his pocket. “Do you mind if I smoke?”
“You may not smoke here,” Joshua snapped, his fists clenched ever more tightly. “Now, go.”
“No,” Cid unfolded from the park bench and stood at full height– Joshua had the slightest advantage with that heeled boot, but it was no matter. “Tell me, why have you been cozying up with Bahamut?”
“Tell me why you care!”
“How about I give you to the count of three, and then there will be consequences,” ever-present laughter filled his damnable voice.
“How dare you–”
“One–”
“You have no authority–”
“Two– I have some sway with Clive, though, do you agree? Perhaps I’ll tell him your mother whispered in your ear, and you just don’t care for him that way anymore…”
“ Fuck you–”
“Thr–”
In a flurry of fire, Joshua pounced, barely managing to twist his gloved hands in the front of Cid’s t-shirt before he was flipped over on his back, electricity searing the air, lending a shock of strength to any of Cid’s movements. Joshua huffed when his back struck the grass, boots clunking on the cobblestone path.
“ Why should you care?” Joshua bellowed, red like tinsel bursting through his hair, fire racing to his fingertips. He swung a delicate fist, which Cid smacked aside. Electricity raced across Cid’s skin, white streaking his hair.
The wide, blue sky above distorted subtly with the beginning of crystal formations. The Mothercrystals would hang like swords of Damocles, signaling a battle between Dominants…
The sun beat hard upon them, like a smoldering-hot eye. Distantly, a crack of thunder…
“Because I count you as mine , just as I count your brother, and as your devoted bedmate, I should simply like to know ,” Cid met Joshua’s energy, his voice cracking like a whip.
“Devoted–hah! I am not yours! And neither is my brother!” Joshua howled furiously. He jerked his knee up, and escaped Cid’s hold when the older man twisted to block. From his feet, he summoned fire to his fists and aimed for Cid’s face– but in a crackle of lightning, the man was gone.
Joshua surged forward, knowing very well that staying still in a duel with the Warden of Thunder was asking for defeat.
In a flurry of fire, he darted down the path, seeking the telltale shower of sparks from movement. A ring of fireballs formed around him, waiting to be flung like projectiles upon a target. A burst of hot air encased him, folding him into a forward movement, while his eyes skimmed amongst the blurred scenery, flower patches merging with streaks of bark and clouds of nondescript, green leaves…
He skidded to a halt when lightning touched down all around him, squealing, high-pitched, sending broken cobblestones and pottery asunder. Cid pounced upon him, knocking him to the ground at the center of it. Furious, Joshua hurtled a beam of fire up at him, but Cid had his wrists in hand in a moment, slamming them into the dirt.
“Why won’t you answer?” Cid asked, and Joshua hollered back, “Because I don’t answer to you!”
He ripped a hand free and slammed a handful of fire into Cid’s stomach, but instead of retreating, Cid snarled and replied in kind. The pummel of electricity took Joshua’s breath away– Phoenix though he may be, Clive was his champion, and he wasn’t practiced in fighting alone.
He cried out with a grimace, just as Cid flipped him over onto his twinging belly. Joshua thrashed, but Cid was a master of subduing squirming little boys.
“Tell me.”
“It was only once– recently, damn you!” Joshua roared, vibrating with anger. “It was a mistake , it always fucking is, and you can tell Clive as much, if you must . Some of us have boroughs to run, and not just a cute little night club, so where is the crime in expanding my alliances?”
The truth spilled out like poison, and a grin, glittering with lightning, greeted him from above– not that he could see it, with his face pressed into the dirt.
“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Inclined as I am to say that better alliances can be found elsewhere. But it does still beg the question of why you withheld it from the first. Clive nor I is the jealous type, remember? You said it yourself. So, why the secrecy, Your Grace ? Have you forgotten to whom you belong?”
“I don’t need permission from anyone ,” Joshua snarled– all while Cid tore his corset and draperies off, leaving the delicate fastenings a pile of char. Joshua was struck speechless, a shock like cold water of knowledge as to where this was heading.
His heartbeat pattered in a surge of adrenaline– Surely he wasn’t about to be bent over in the courtyard of his own church ?! He gave a wild yank, but Cid held him fast, giving him no quarter, and only kicked his knees apart a bit.
“No, but relationships require communication ,” Cid admonished, yanking his trousers roughly over his pert rump.
“We’re not in a–”
“We are. And you are, as well, with your brother, who deserves at least that much from you,” Cid argued, yanking his undergarments down. He adjusted his position, hauling Joshua’s wrists back to press into the small of his back. Joshua heaved out a gasp, trying– and failing– to writhe away. Electricity burned his wrists, holding him still.
“I–”
“You’ve been selfish,” Cid said. And then breached him with two fingers. Joshua howled in discomfort, fingers clenching, but he could do naught but rock back and forth on his cheek and his knees while he was finger-fucked, scissored open. And then a third joined, dry but for the lick of lightning.
“Owwww,” he wheezed– he couldn’t help it, couldn’t help the surge of tears, his furiously flushed cheeks. It hurt–
“There are at least two people you answer to– one of them being me ,” Cid rumbled, voice deep as thunder. His fingers battered against Joshua’s prostate, causing his breath to catch in hiccupping cries, his cock growing, utterly unattended, in his trousers. Another traitor.
Cid drew out suddenly, and a helpless, wrecked cry spilled past Joshua’s wet, parted lips. With what emotion, even he couldn’t name. It turned high-pitched when Cid came back, pressing in with his cock.
“Oh– please– wait–” he wheezed, spit dripping messily from his chin, but the fire was cooling on his skin, leaving him open and vulnerable, a god pinned down beneath another god.
His golden hair feathered beneath him, tears pooling on the ground from the roughness, from the remembrance of who he courted– that he was not surrounded by all simple pawns… as Cid entered, and cleaved him open.
“Suh… Cid…” Joshua wheezed, gravel scraping his chin. His eyes rolled back as Cid came inside of him, warmth painting his insides. Distantly, he realized he’d come in his trousers, without so much as a single touch. His thighs trembled, fighting to keep his bottom lifted up.
Cid backed up off of him, leaving him to kneel, prostrated, in his own filth– and the bulldozed remains of his immediate surroundings. Spend trickled from inside, staining his rich fabrics. He could hardly think to lift himself up from the humiliating position, but Cid was already on his feet, zipping himself up.
The heat– and the promise of crystals– faded from the atmosphere, leaving them in a quiet, cold void.
Joshua was glad… that the ministry of the Undying, if any of them had seen through a window… would die before speaking of it, or asking about it. Still, he would need to discuss things with Edmund.
“What will you tell my brother.” Joshua asked, his voice flat. Spent. Finally, he was struck by the indignity of his position, and pulled himself up onto his hands and knees, and then, grimacing, sat back in the tatters of his garb.
“Hm…” Cid answered, already searching for an exit. “I don’t know. Think of something to tell him yourself. Tonight. At the Hideaway.”
Joshua groaned, but by the time he looked around again, Cid was gone. The muscles in his jaw pulled taut. Just like Cid to come in here, fuck up his garden, and leave him, with ripped trousers, to do damage control, when all he wanted to do was sleep for a week.
And then his brow furrowed, to imagine that Clive had known… and had been hurt…
“Ugh… It seems I have an engagement to attend tonight,” he groaned, wiping a bit of spit and gravel from his cheek. Fucking Cid. He squeezed his eyes shut, summoning the flames of rebirth.
If he was to do anything more today… First, he’d need to be able to walk again.