du_vallon | (no subject)

(no subject)

When Porthos had started to learn English, he'd used books and the people around town to improve his knowledge. He hadn't been awful to start with, but there had been a lot to be desired. This time, he's got Aramis and it's only Spanish, so it's not like he absolutely needs to learn it, but it's important for Aramis and it's something that he wouldn't mind surprising him with now and again.

Still, as he sits cross-legged staring at Aramis, he's starting to get a little frustrated with the way you have to speak differently, and how it sounds so entirely strange to his ear.

"Why do my R's have to sound like that?" he demands, because they're not like that in French. And he's defaulted back to French, which he's been doing all lessons even though he knows he's supposed to be learning by speaking more in Spanish than French or English. It's only that the other languages are so much easier by now. Letting out a growl of frustration, he drags a pillow into his lap to lean his elbows on it.

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Aramis grins and nips at Porthos' hipbone, lips skimming against the muscle below it, sharply defined for all of Porthos' yoga. He licks a short, hot line against his skin, pausing when his tongue meets cotton.

"Look at that, they're already sliding a bit further," he praises with a lopsided grin as he nudges them down another inch, cock straining against the fabric. For all the teasing, he's still not good at not wanting Aramis and it definitely, certainly shows. "A little more and they might just melt right off."

"It does seem promising," Aramis agrees, sliding his fingertips beneath the cotton where it rounds Porthos' thighs. He forgoes skin this time, lowering his mouth to frame Porthos' cock. Breathing out, Aramis surrounds him in warm, wet heat, lips tightening to grip him through the fabric.

Porthos gasps at the heat, throwing his head back and reaching for one of the wooden poles of the bed, gripping on tightly before his knees do something stupid like give out on him. He reaches down and shoves them down all the way to his ankles, nudging them off and pushing forward like Aramis is his prey, pinning him to the bed and leaving no room between them.

His eyes are dark and fixed on Aramis. "Why are you wearing so much clothing?"

Aramis gasps in pleasure as Porthos descends, the length of his warm, firm body pressed against him. Clothed or not, it still feels like heaven. "You didn't request I remove any," he tells him sweetly. "I didn't want to act out of turn."

Porthos eases off of Aramis, completely naked now and perched on the edge of the bed. "
Toda la ropa, por favor," he instructs, sprawling out at the head of the bed with all the lovely cushions available for padding as he reclines.

"Not poco a poco?" Aramis teases, but he pulls his shirt over his head at once, toeing his socks off in the same breath. He gets his fingers around the button of his jeans and pops it, but he pauses when he gets to the zipper.

"Perhaps you will help me in turn, cariño?"

Porthos grins when Aramis gets the shirt off, leaning over him for a quick kiss, but only so he can also reach into the bedside table, where he's been keeping fuzzy pink cuffs for a special occasion like this. As he's kissing Aramis, he slides his hand up along the banister and locks Aramis up to it, keeping one hand free.

With that done, he inches his way down and does what Aramis has been so good to teach him -- inching that zipper down with only his teeth.

Aramis laughs in surprise and pleasure as the cuff locks. "I did not think you understood that," he says, nearly losing the words to a gasp as Porthos takes his zipper between his teeth and drags it down, hot breath kissing each new inch of skin revealed.

"Porthos," Aramis breathes, burying his free hand in his curls. "By God, you have gotten good at that."

"You're a very good teacher," he reminds Aramis and grins as he gets both hands on the jeans once the zipper is down, yanking them off with a great deal of force, stripping Aramis of the last of his clothes before he climbs back atop him, waggling his brow. "Now, do I put your excellent mouth to use or mine, or just both?"

Aramis makes a sound low in his throat. He has longed for Porthos for so much of the day, sprawled next to his stubbornly clothed form on the bed while Porthos studied, that sweet mouth forming Spanish words. He wants Porthos' mouth, and selfishly, Aramis wants it without distraction. "Your mouth," he says, "Please. Just for a little while."

Porthos grins fondly as he licks his thumb and rubs it in circles around his lips, slowly and carefully as he winds his way down Aramis' body without delay, taking him in deep past his lips and beginning to suck in small little devoted movements, easing his way to deeper strokes of his tongue and bobbing back and forth, as deep as he can.

Porthos does not tease or delay, and Aramis chokes on his moans, head thrown back as he slides deep into Porthos' mouth. "Porthos," he grinds out, fingers tightening in those curls until he forces them to loosen. "By God, your mouth - " Aramis is nearly past speech, a rare enough event, and his hips hitch helplessly upward, seeking even more heat. "Your mouth is heaven."

If he's going to earn compliments like this all the time, then Porthos could definitely be convinced to wake Aramis up with his mouth every single day. Maybe Athos too, right after, and keep both his lovers plenty happy. He works harder to tighten his tongue's strokes when Aramis' hips hitch, wanting to keep control -- which he does by grabbing hold of Aramis' hips and forcibly pinning him down when he tries to urge forward.

Aramis groans when Porthos pins him down, holding him easily despite his body's continued attempts to rise to meet that hot mouth. Somehow, the suction of Porthos' cheeks becomes even tighter, and Aramis whines, fingers leaving Porthos' hair to twist in the sheets. His cuffed arm strains, metal cuffs rattling against the headboard as he shifts, nearly undone with pleasure. "Tan bueno," he breathes. "Eres tan bueno conmigo."

God, Aramis is going to break him. He feels like he's taking him apart with his sounds and his Spanish and it sets Porthos' body half to trembling as he moves his palms up and down Aramis' body with great reverence, easing off only to pay more attention to the head of Aramis' cock, kissing it softly before he applies hot breath and a kiss to his balls before returning to straddle his lower legs and bend down to keep sucking him off.

Aramis can feel Porthos' hands tremble where they hold him down, and he knows as soon as Porthos descends again that he cannot last. He means to hold out and enjoy this, but Porthos' mouth is too sweet, and Aramis wants deep in his bones to spend inside of it. "Cariño," he warns, body beginning to seize as the pleasure coils, "Oh, you will undo me." He manages to get his fingers back in Porthos' curls, hand curled reverently against the back of Porthos' skull as he spends and moans.

His breaths are short little things, barely shy of a whimper, and when Aramis holds onto him, he latches on as determined as possible in order to guide Aramis through this, holding on and guiding him through his orgasm. When he's through, he eases back with a smirk on his face.

"Mi querido marido," he praises happily.

"You have been paying attention," says Aramis when he gets his lungs back, grinning rather stupidly at Porthos with his head braced against the headboard. His chest heaves, but his eyes are focused where they rest on Porthos' pink lips. "How do you get better at that every time?"

"It's a trick," he teases, leaning upwards and crawling up Aramis' body very slowly. "I get you all hot and bothered so that you don't notice what happens when I give in to you because you're so desperate for anything that you love everything."

"I always love everything that you do," Aramis protests, but he laughs as Porthos crawls up his body, even as that laugh dissolves into a pleased hum for the press of his skin. "Are you claiming you were winding me up this entire time?"

Porthos can't even hold it in. He laughs and shakes his head. "I honestly just wanted to study," he confesses. "Normally I'd do it at the library where you couldn't interrupt me, but it seemed silly not to use the expert I had on hand." He strokes his hand down Aramis' bare hip, reaching up to uncuff him and set the pink fuzzy things to the side.

"You're so beautiful," he says tenderly.

"You make me beautiful," Aramis replies, pulling his freed arm down to throw around Porthos' neck and keep him close. "You make me feel like I could do anything, and when you look at me, I feel like the most handsome man in the world."

He grins and nips Porthos' jaw. "And when you look at your book instead I want to spank you."

"You're the one who wanted me to learn Spanish," he accuses, because he feels like he's getting mixed messages about what Aramis wants. "How on earth am I supposed to learn and practice if every time we sit down to review it, you want to spank me?" he asks, all innocence and guile.

"You drag me into bed with you, and then you open a book," Aramis chides, dragging his other hand down Porthos' back to squeeze at his arse. "I have already sworn not to touch you while you are half nude and bending all over the place, a man has his limits, Porthos."