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Clown was stuck inside his head.
This did not happen often. Usually, Ferre was there to balance out his mind, keep him thinking, and keep him on task.
But Ferre wasn’t here.
He was off in the overworld making a deal with the leader of…cinder something. Arch? Crest. Cindercrest. Saparata. The man was a pain to deal with, which was why Clown had sent Ferre instead of going himself.
Sue him, he was having a headache and didn’t want to deal with that overworld nonsense.
But that did leave him alone with his thoughts, which was an extreme oversight on his part because when he’s alone, his mind spirals quite fast into the territory of self deprecation. Fun times.
Currently, his mind was tearing apart his sexual desires, or rather, lack thereof. Which was quite an… odd topic, but stay with him here.
Clown was asexual. He knew that. He was fine with that. Except during times like now, when he couldn’t help but feel… out of sorts with it.
He had tried… intimacy, for lack of a better term, a few times, most of it by himself, once with a partner. But it never felt right. It felt forced, on his end. (Not due to unconsensualness, but it still felt forced.) Almost worse than that, actually, it felt like…nothing. He knew what it was supposed to feel like.
A coil of heat in his gut, a warm pleasure that spread through his limbs, a loose, happy, blissed out feeling after a climax.
Most of all, it was meant to feel good.
Not hollow. Not empty. Not nothing.
It was meant to feel good. So why- why didn’t it feel good?
Clown was in his room, pacing. It had been four hours since Ferre left. He needed something to fill his void in his mind. He looked at his left hand and the purple ring on his ring finger.
He dug his communicator out of his bedside drawer.
<You whisper to BranzyCraft> hey can u come to my room rq?
There were a few minutes before a reply popped up, during which Clown did not stop pacing.
<BranzyCraft whispers to you> Of course, darling. Why? Is something wrong?
Clown hesitated before typing.
<You whisper to BranzyCraft> head stuff
There was zero hesitation as a reply popped up.
<BranzyCraft whispers to you> On my way.
Clown set down his communicator on his bedside table then sat down on the red sheets, his tail flicking anxiously beside him.
He shouldn’t be nervous. This is Branzy. His husband for gods sakes. But he still had trouble being vulnerable. It was still difficult for Clown, even around Branzy. He was still so used to hiding his vulnerabilities because that’s weakness and weakness is death.
It was like that on Lifesteal and it’s like that on Unstable.
ClownPierce could not, can not, afford to be vulnerable. To be weak.
But again, this is Branzy, this is his husband, who won’t betray him, won’t leave him, won’t hurt him, use this against him or judge him. Logically, he has nothing to fear.
He hadn’t been thinking logically for a few hours now.
Branzy would probably think he’s stupid for this. Because it is stupid, isn’t it? It’s such a dumb thing to get so worked up about. To be so upset about that he had to call his husband so he could think clearly.
That was so, so stupid. Wasn’t it?
There was a soft knock at the door. “Clown?”
Clown’s eyes snapped to the door. He swallowed thickly before answering. “…come in.”
The door opened and Branzy slipped inside. He shut and locked the door behind him then walked quickly over to Clown, sitting next to him on the bed.
Branzy took Clown’s left hand and brought it up to kiss the ring on it. “What are you thinking about?”
Clown hesitated. “…asexuality.”
Branzy blinked and tilted his head. “What about it, darling?”
“I-“ The words caught in his throat, unsure how to word how he felt. “I don’t know how to-…”
Branzy hummed, interlacing their fingers. “That’s okay. You wanna lay down?”
Clown nodded. Branzy smiled, then his free hand went to the back of Clown’s neck, undoing the clasp that held his mask on. He slipped it over his head and set it aside on the bedside table, next to Clown’s communicator.
Then Branzy moved to sit with his back against the headboard, pillows propping him up comfortably. Clown quickly moved towards Branzy like he was a starving man and Branzy was his respite. He wrapped his arms around his husband's waist. His head rested in Branzy’s lap, who ran his fingers through Clown’s white-tan hair, messy from being under his mask constantly.
Clown sighed, relaxing contentedly in his husband’s lap. His tail rested comfortably on Branzy’s thigh. Branzy’s own tail mirrored Clown’s.
“Do you want to talk, or just lay here while you get your thoughts in order?” Branzy asked after a few moments.
Clown thought for a moment. Then he tapped Branzy’s leg twice. Branzy hummed in acknowledgement and kept petting Clown’s hair, one hand playing with a divoted scar on the latter’s left ear.
Clown sighed, content to stay right here and not think or move for the rest of eternity. That was a good plan. He liked that plan. He voted they do that plan. He closed his eyes and nuzzled further into Branzy’s lap.
Then Branzy tapped his forehead. “Clown? Don’t you dare fall asleep or I'm going back to my workshop.”
Clown tensed, his nails digging into Branzy’s back at the sheer notion of him leaving. He can’t leave. Clown can’t be alone, so Branzy can’t leave, ot he won’t be able to think clearly (It originally said think straight, idiot he has a husband-)and he’ll spiral more and he might do something horrible and stupid and if that happens, Branzy will think he’s pathetic and useless for not being able to be alone for five seconds without completely falling apart-
“Woah! Woah, Clown, baby, look at me. Can you do that for me?” Branzy guided his head up to look Clown in the eyes. “Deep breaths. In… out. In… and out.”
Clown copied Branzy the best he could. That was simple and easy. In, out. In… and out. Easy. He met Branzy’s gaze.
“Back with me?” Clown nodded and Branzy smiled, leaning down to kiss his husband's forehead. “Good. I won’t leave, I’m sorry I said that. But can you please just tell me what in voids name has you so worked up?”
Clown looked at him for a moment, then buried his face in Branzy’s chest and mumbled, “Am I broken, darling?”
Branzy froze. “You- what? That- well, first of all, no, second, you said this was about asexuality? What makes you think you’re… broken?”
“…doesn’t feel good.” Clown said quietly.
“What doesn’t feel good?” Branzy pressed and Clown looked up at him, teary eyed.
“Sex.” Clown tried to blink back the tears unsuccessfully. “It’s meant to feel good, it’s supposed to feel… like- something. Not nothing, not hollow, not empty, not forced.” A few tears tracked down Clown’s cheeks. “Why doesn’t it feel good, Branzy?”
“Oh… my beautiful ruby, come here.” Branzy sat Clown up and pulled him into a hug. Clown sobbed into his shoulder. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on Clown’s back. “It’s okay. You’re good, it’s fine.”
“…s’ not fine.” Clown mumbled. “I-I’m not-“
“Ah, ah, ah.” Branzy cut him off. “Let’s get something clear, Clown. You are not broken. You are not wrong for not feeling how most people do during sex. That is perfectly fine and I feel a similar way and you know that. And we have found what works to make us both feel good and happy. Yes?”
“…yeah?” Clown sniffled.
“So, just because you’re wired a little differently doesn’t make you broken. It makes you unique and special and something beautiful.” Branzy leaned down to kiss Clown on his lips.
Clown melted, all of his thoughts fleeing and being replaced with the simple feeling of Branzy’s lips on his, soft, warm, solid, real.
Real, real, real.
Just Branzy. Just them. Nothing more. Only the touch of skin on skin, lips on lips, and shared breath between them.
Branzy pulled away a centimeter. “Better?”
Clown nodded sluggishly. “…yeah. I just-…” He trailed off.
Branzy tilted his head. “You just…?”
Clown blinked hard, willing back more blurry tears. “I don’t know.”
Branzy smiled warmly. “That’s okay. You want to do something fun?” Clown had a guess as to what he meant. Something that he did when Clown was feeling particularly self loathing. He nodded. Branzy’s smile widened. “Lay back.”
Clown complied, sinking down into the sheets and pillows. Branzy sat on his knees next to him and made quick work of removing Clown’s outer layer of costume, leaving him in his dark undershirt and leggings.
Branzy leaned down to kiss Clown’s lips once more, then nuzzled into his husband’s neck. He sat up again and removed his vest, leaving him in his rolled up undershirt and pants.
He leaned down again, peppering kisses on Clown’s neck while one of his hands snaked down and tugged gently at the hem of his shirt. Branzy mumbled against Clown’s neck. “Color?”
Clown blinked, pulled from the warm, fuzzy, hazy headspace in his mind, lost in the feeling of Branzy’s skin on his. It took him a second to articulate words. “G-green.”
Branzy hummed then pulled away from Clown’s neck to lift his husband’s shirt over his head. Clown shivered as the cooler air hit his skin. Cooler. Not cold, they were still in the nether, after all.
Branzy resumed his task, pressing light kisses to Clown's neck. Then he worked his way downwards. He kissed over skin and lingered on scars in particular whilst mumbling praises to Clown as he went.
A kiss to a stab scar. “You’re so beautiful.”
A kiss to an arrow scar. “My handsome ruby.”
A kiss to a long, winding scar. “So, so pretty, always.”
Kiss to a thin scar. “So gorgeous, all for me.”
Kiss to a large, spider webbed potion scar. “My beautiful crimson love.”
Kiss to a small but deep scar. “Even when you feel bad, you’re still so pretty for me.”
Kiss. “Beautiful.”
Kiss. “Handsome.”
Kiss. “Strong.”
Kiss. “Cunning.”
Kiss. “Powerful.”
Kiss. “Incredible.”
Kiss. “Mine.”
Clown let his eyes flutter shut at some point during it all. He let his mind go quiet. He pushed away all of his thoughts except for Branzy.
Branzy’s lips on his skin. Branzy’s hands rubbing circles on his sides. Branzy’s voice praising him for simply existing. Branzy’s tail wrapping around his groundingly. Branzy’s ear and hair brushing his stomach as he keeps moving down. Branzy’s breath puffing warm air on his torso.
Branzy, Branzy, Branzy.
His amethyst. His husband. His lover.
His.
Branzy stopped a few inches above Clown’s waistband, then laid on his side next to Clown. “Feel better?”
Clown nodded and turned to face Branzy. “Yeah… thank you.”
Branzy smiled warmly and scooted closer to hug Clown and kiss his forehead. “Of course. Anytime, darling.”
Clown’s eyes shut and he returned the hug and snuggled into Branzy’s chest. He drifted into sleep as Branzy rubbed circles into his back.
He was fine. Not broken. Not weak. And Branzy loved him, even when he was vulnerable. So he could be fine.
(Meanwhile in the overworld…)
“What do you mean he’s not here?!” Saps yelled and his tail flicked angrily.
“Clown had his reasons. He sent me as his representative. I don’t see how that makes any deal invalid.” Ferre said coolly, his own dragon like tail flicking. He readjusted his mask.
“Ugh. Fine. Let’s get to it then.” Saps sighed in exasperation.
Ferre nodded. Underneath his mask, his eye twitched. Coloratus were always annoying, but Saparata in particular seemed to be infuriating.
Clown owed him so much for making him do this.