du_vallon | (no subject)

(no subject)

Wearing the scarf that had been purchased for him last year, Porthos has managed to recreate his outfit as best as he could. It's not exact and it's hardly the same (honestly, he doesn't remember much about the night beyond the scarf, the food, and Aramis bending down on one knee while the land passed by). It's all those things he's glad to recreate as he settles onto their table on the boat, fidgeting as if he's expecting yet another proposal.

Like an eager child at a party, Porthos' eyes are casting about everywhere they can, desperate to find the waiter for champagne, though he remembers to check in with Aramis, because being at sea (even so limited) can't be enjoyable for him. "Are you okay?" he murmurs quietly. "Should I get you something stronger to get your mind off the water?"

He's practically bouncing from eagerness, so happy to be back as he is.

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Porthos thinks that maybe, it might happen. Then again, La Fere is sort of a reason to believe that it might not convince him. "How about we take a lot of photographs of him and frame them in a big collage?" he suggests, if Athos won't sit for the portrait.

"That does not seem quite so regal," says Aramis with a frown, but if it is the best they can manage, it will have to do. "I will try very hard to convince him," he says. "I like the thought of us together so much, preserved in our handsome youth to the end of our days."

"He ripped the one at La Fere," he quietly reminds Aramis, not having realized it until later what the pictures had been. "But we can talk to him and suggest it, though I have no idea what sort of painting it would be. In our uniforms, I think, but isn't that a touch boastful?"

So, perfect for Aramis and himself, but poor for Athos.

"Not boastful," argues Aramis. "He equates that uniform with honor. I only fear that it will bring him sadness." He nuzzles Porthos' cheek, as much to comfort Porthos as himself. "But it feels right. The first way in which we found ourselves the Inseparables."

"Then we'll have to bring up the idea," Porthos agrees, resolutely as he finally decides that he's worked open Aramis enough to give it a shot. "And see if he'll agree to sit for a portrait. Him sitting in a big chair, you think? With us standing at each side, like loyal soldiers as we are?"

"All together," says Aramis. "That is how I see us. He has so often been our leader, yes, but I do not like the idea of him removed. It troubles him already."

Leaning in, Aramis kisses Porthos' cheek. "Now let us leave off of talk of portraits for a time," he says, taking Porthos in hand to stroke him in the water.

Porthos lets out a brief laugh, filled with soft joy. He knows that he's going to definitely take some very private pictures for Aramis, too, but that will come in time. He shifts and moans when Aramis takes him in hand, eyes a touch wild as he looks up for Aramis to ground him. "You going to settle atop me?" he asks, breathlessly.

Aramis nods down at him, holding Porthos steady while he lifts and positions himself. It takes some doing, but he manages the angle, finally sliding down onto Porthos. He closes his eyes, for the water helps, but without oil it is still a snugger fit than Aramis is used to.

"You must like that," he notes, breathless, "So tight around you, my love."

Porthos lets out ragged cries through the effort of Aramis finding the right position, which seems difficult and half impossible right up until he's so perfectly surrounding him, and then the sounds turn to other cries all together. "Fuck," he curses, hand clasping at the edge of the tub, nodding a touch frantically. "I do like that. Feels so different," he marvels.

"Like another first," says Aramis, opening his eyes to grin at Porthos and his desperate grasping. "I like it, too," he murmurs, gripping Porthos shoulders to lever himself slowly up again, sinking down at a pace he would not manage out of the water. "You fill me so slowly, I can feel every inch."

Porthos swallows hard, staring up at Aramis with a star-struck look on his face, filled with adoration and love as he works to thrust up, but the water prevents him from going too fast. "God," he chokes out. "Aramis," he gets out, his whine hardly decent at all, but it's the only sound he can muster right now.

Aramis grins as Porthos' moans fill the room. "Marvelous acoustics in here," he notes, guiding them through another tortuously slow roll of his hips. He finds that this way, he can shift them in a faint corkscrewing motion, treating Porthos to a new friction around his cock.

Porthos gasps and gives Aramis an accusatory, angry look for the sudden change, mainly because he hadn't been prepared and it feels like he's being torn apart with pleasure, now. His fingers find purchase, grabbing Aramis' skin as he growls out his name, pushing up and thrusting into him as fast as he possibly dares, now. "Villain," he curses out. "You're a wicked thing."

Aramis would chuckle for the vehemence in Porthos' voice, but those quick thrusts from below drag Porthos' cock in just the right spot, and Aramis feels his own cock swell harder. "Shall I stop?" he asks, voice tight but determined to tease Porthos.

He shakes his head fast and hard, holding onto Aramis as he drags him down onto him a little more. "No," he gets out, knowing he'd be sweating a storm if he weren't in the water. "No, keep going, keep doing this." He breathes out with such content. "You're so handsome," he praises, running his pinky over the profile of Aramis' face.

Aramis opens his mouth, catching Porthos' pinky to suck between his lips. He laves at it with his tongue, mouth hot around it as he continues to ride Porthos' cock. "Sometimes," he allows, even as his body trembles with pleasure, "I think it's a pity I can't ride your cock and suck it at the same time." Unbidden, his hips pick up the pace. "I suppose Athos' would do."

Porthos nearly blacks out for the image Aramis presents, overwhelmed with how perfect it is. He gasps and lifts one hand to tangle in Aramis' hair, gripping on tight as he thrusts up, watching the water turn to waves as if responding to the new frantic pace. "Our bed needs to see so much more," he agrees.

Aramis groans for the grip to his hair. "We have time," he gasps, whining when his cock brushes Porthos' tight belly, the touch too faint to be more than teasing. "There is so much more of that book of yours to try out, especially now that there are three of us."

Porthos feels the drag and it reminds him to stop being so selfish, to pry his hand off of the edge of the tub and reach down to wrap it around Aramis' cock, inelegant in his fumblings, but hopefully offering some relief as he jerks Aramis off, causing a new flurry in the water.

"Whole chapters," he agrees, excitedly.

Aramis' whine becomes a mewl, and were he not so practiced at riding Porthos' cock he would falter for the pure bliss that is Porthos' hand, rough and calloused in the slippery water. "Porthos," he pants, and even for the buoying water his thighs are beginning to burn, muscles pumping faster in time with his building pleasure. "I fear I won't last."

Porthos is grinning now, daring Aramis to come with that greedy, eager smile on his face. He keeps going, keeps stroking and hitching his hips in upward thrusts to try and coax himself deeper into him. "I don't want you to last," he reminds him. "I want you to spend."

Aramis cries out as Porthos urges him on, and in this as in all things, it is impossible to resist him. Holding tight to Porthos' shoulders, Aramis stops fighting the pleasure that coils deep within him. He fucks himself down onto Porthos' cock, into his hand, and when ecstasy shakes him loose he lets it, spending between them with Porthos' name on his lips.

Porthos leans up to kiss him when he feels Aramis start to lose control, eager and desperate for this kiss as much as any of the others. He steals away the 'Porthos' from Aramis' lips with the kiss, nipping at his lower lip as he tries to hold him as close as he can.

When he eases back, he's still thrusting haphazardly, trying to find a rhythm, but he's worried he's gone and lost it all.

Aramis loses himself for long moments, held up by Porthos' broad hands alone, but little by little his head clears, and he realizes Porthos is barely moving. Returning sluggishly into motion, Aramis lifts his hips, crying out softly each time Porthos' cock brushes that still buzzing place inside of him. He wraps his arms around Porthos' neck and leans in close. "Here we are," he murmurs in Porthos' ear as they find the rhythm. "So hard and thick in me, Porthos. I can't wait to feel you spend."

Porthos lets out a grateful sound, trapped in the water and Aramis' weight atop him that when Aramis leans in to help him out. He groans as his breath is stolen from him, so close as everything gets so tight, so hot, and so overwhelming, and he leans his forehead against Aramis', as tightly as he can while he comes, his eyes alight on his husband's.

"I love you," he breathes out, with a low moan.

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