du_vallon | (no subject)

(no subject)

Porthos had lost his shirt ages ago. On purpose, at least, but the humidity has been killing him and in combination with the hard physical labour he's been after, it all boils together to become one very big bad idea to be too clothed. He keeps the shorts on, mainly because they're loose and breath and he needs something to protect him from too many splinters. He keeps prying off the ridiculous hat Aramis had foisted on him, mopping up his sweaty face and curls with his t-shirt, exhausted but knowing this is saving them money.

It just seems silly to pay someone to move the beams out of the rooms when Porthos has two working arms. That said, after two hours of labour and getting the wood to the yard for pick-up, he's beginning to think he ought to take on a side job and just pay for it. Ducking to pick up a bottle of water, he only drinks half before he douses himself with it, giving Aramis a suspicious look.

"You'd better not be lifting too much," he warns, still anxious even though it's been weeks since the hospital stay. "I'm gonna be cross if you throw out your back."

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Porthos shivers, wincing just once for the tightness and the mild discomfort for the lack of preparation, only so noticeable now because they're usually so very good about this. He's so, so glad to hear Aramis talking about children again like this and it makes him give a sharp whine of happiness, pushing against Aramis as he fumbles to wrap his hand around Aramis' to help with the strokes. "We only have to make a call," he reminds him. "Well, and convince Athos."

"Soon, Porthos," Aramis tells him, beginning to rock into him, letting his body adjust before he attempts more. "Now that I can see them again, I want to begin soon." His fingers stroke Porthos' cock with finesse, eager to distract him from any pain. "Please."

His breathing starts to get deeper, a little more relaxed, but he still wants for more. His mouth is dry and he leans up to steal whatever kiss he can from Aramis, desperate and eager for more and more. "We'll call," he promises, in the middle of a low moan. "We'll call and we'll ask them to send a new book, an updated book."

Aramis kisses back, tucking a next press of lips against Porthos' throat where he can feel his moan. "Perhaps Athos will look," he says, finally beginning to thrust, taking Porthos in earnest. He lets his cock slide through his fingers with every motion of his hips, moaning when Porthos grips him so sweetly. "If he likes."

Porthos frowns when Aramis' face is hidden, not wanting him to see how conflicted and wary he feels about that. He thinks that Athos still wants no parts of this, knows that Athos hates the process, and doesn't want Aramis to feel upset by it. "Or maybe ... maybe we tell him after," he suggests quietly, at odds with the sharp breaths he keeps taking.

"That will hurt him," Aramis argues, lifting higher on his elbow so he can thrust harder, eager to make Porthos' feel good. "Even if he refuses, we must tell him first. Push your leg higher," he pants, "Knee up, like that." Using the deeper angle, Aramis begins aiming his thrusts for Porthos' sweet spot.

Porthos still isn't sure that there's any good way to deal with this and he hates feeling at odds. So instead of thinking about the problem at hand, he lets himself simply indulge in what he feels, pushing his knee up like Aramis has instructed, starting to see white spots for the pleasure he feels. "Aramis," he moans out, eager to let go of his doubts, even if they linger.

"Yes, my darling," Aramis croons, feeling new bliss steal over him for the sight of Porthos' own. "You are so hot, so perfect around me, Porthos." Following the pattern of his moans, Aramis changes his angle and pace to see Porthos' expression screwed in ecstasy. "So beautiful when I'm inside you."

Porthos scrambles to grab hold of Aramis, now, hands trying to find any part of him. He tries shoulders, hips, and settles for one hand tangled in hair and the other wound around the small of his back as he gets out a choked sob for the compliment, the pleasure somehow more than he's ever experienced. "I can't hold out," he gasps. "Aramis, please."

"Go on, cariño," Aramis urges, stroking his cock in doubletime, his own breaths ragged in his throat. "I love to watch you fall apart, so beautiful when you come for me." Thrusting hard, Aramis pulls back to look at him. "Let go, Porthos."

Porthos leans up for a kiss when Aramis pulls away, seeking it out desperately. He breathes harder as his heartbeat goes wild, but when he comes, it feels like he's earned it, exhausting his body with the sharp arch of his back as he spills over Aramis' torso. He moves his fingers to grasp at his shoulders, muscles going lax, now.

"Oh," Aramis groans, the feel of Porthos spending almost unbearably erotic, his water cooled flesh almost scorched by the splash of his release. Bending his head, Aramis tucks his face in against Porthos' neck and thrusts desperately, spiraling himself towards his own release. "Tell me where we are," he says with hitched breaths against Porthos' skin.

Porthos gasps for the thrust, the unexpected pleasure of such a thing catching him completely off guard, though he loves it and finds himself scrambling for more, even despite his own weariness. "We're on our lawn. Outside our pond," he murmurs, turning simple words into seductive ones. "You're fucking me outside our house."

Aramis growls, glad for Porthos' grip on his shoulders, the cradle of his body as he speeds towards completion. "Our home," he gasps, dropping down to wrap both arms around Porthos as he goes taut, groaning into Porthos' skin and spending at last deep within him. Whimpering a little for the force of it, Aramis shudders and at last lifts his head, pressing clumsy but earnest kisses to Porthos' face.

Porthos lets a huff of amused laughter escape as he draws Aramis closer, laughing with delight for the kisses to his face. He squeezes Aramis a little harder, not letting him slide out. "We're going to have to go back in the pond, at this rate," he says joyfully. "And then I'll be all naked and glinting with water again."

"I'll not object," Aramis swears, even if it may be a bit before his body is ready for another round, his every muscle aching pleasantly for the enthusiasm of their coupling. He nuzzles Porthos' cheek. "When we live here, I think I'll have you like that all the time."

"I think children would object if I walked around naked," Porthos replies, sliding his fingers into Aramis' hair to twine and gently cup the shape of his head. "Athos might, too," he points out, though he doesn't mind the idea of wandering around their home naked, for all the private world to see.

"He will not once treated to the sight of it," Aramis replies with a chuckle, eyes slipping closed for Porthos' fingers in his hair. "Wet when outside, nice and oiled up when you are in," he decides. "Your form will be entirely irresistible."

Porthos grins as he imagines wandering around a massive house in nothing but his naked body, thinking of how Aramis and Athos' eyes would follow him. "Maybe for your birthday, I'll do yoga in nothing at all, while you and Athos sleep in a pile on the bed," he suggests, shifting his hand to stroke up and down Aramis' back.

"Every day is my birthday if it features a naked, bent up you," Aramis laughs, rubbing against Porthos like a cat as he strokes him. Aramis hums. "I will never grow tired of being held in your arms. Not for any of our hundred years."

Porthos hums softly, with a warm little breath of air pressed against Aramis' neck as he kisses there. "It's because I'm a bear, is it?" he teases, delighted as he curls Aramis a little tighter, giving a squeeze. "How about the morning after our proposal anniversary, I wake you up by doing all the new yoga poses I've been introducing, more complicated than ever. There's one," he murmurs, with a kiss, "that involves me on my head, legs folded up in the air."

"Promising," Aramis replies, pleased. He is growing sensitive, but is determined to remain within Porthos until it is no longer bodily possible. "And am I allowed to touch?"

"If it's the anniversary of our proposal, I can't see that you shouldn't be able to," Porthos muses, given that it would be a special occasion. He gives a soft grown, starting to feel hot and sticky. "You should see the poses I've been starting to do. Lots of balance on my forearms, legs in the air, tight, tight pants," he sighs happily, eyes still on the house in the distance.

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