du_vallon | (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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"Nope," he counters breathlessly. "Just trying to make myself feel better." He does it again, feeling like he's stripping himself completely of all of his layers, gasping as he leans down and presses his forehead to the top of Aramis' head, huffing out breaths. "Can I please come?" he begs.

"Prolonging your pleasure is all I ever wanted for you," Aramis groans, tilting his head to take Porthos' mouth, kissing him as deeply as he can before Porthos lifts up again. "Three more strokes," he says. "Last three more strokes, my darling, I know you can."

He gives a whimper, something that says how very little he isn't actually sure that he can last much longer, but when Aramis gives him a goal, Porthos is going to do his absolute best to do right by it. He keeps moving, keeps sliding up and then down, capturing kisses as he waits for those last three strokes that are coming.

"C'mon," he coaxes. "Aramis," he urges. "Please, come on."

Grinning breathlessly, Aramis strips him with merciless speed, leaning up to whisper in his ear. "Come, my Jupiter," he says and nips his jaw as he leans back, his eyes open and ready to receive the glorious sight of his husband spending whilst speared on his cock.

That's utterly unfair. Porthos comes, mouth stupidly wide open as he spends all over Aramis, making an absolute mess of the both of them as he sinks back onto Aramis' cock, feeling worn and pleased and entirely too perfect for words. "And to think, I was just trying to learn Spanish today," he sighs.

Aramis feasts on the sight of Porthos as he comes undone, his beautiful face awash with stunned bliss. His seed is hot where it strikes between them, and Aramis moans, gripping Porthos' hips with both hands as his hips shift helplessly. "Porthos," he says, a little desperate, for he needs only a bit more. "Please."

Torn asunder, but determined to bring Aramis pleasure, he centres a hand on Aramis' chest as he works to start up the rhythm again, every muscle screaming and aching for it, even though he wants this so badly. "Always," he vows, bucking as if riding a horse, now.

Aramis hangs onto Porthos' hips and cries out as orgasm rushes up, overtaking him and stealing his senses for long moments. He falls back against the headboard, body limp but his hands reaching to pull Porthos down for another, gentler kiss. "Perfect," he murmurs. "You are so good to me, Porthos."

Porthos' eyes fall shut at the bliss of feeling completely filled up. He lets out a ragged, choked cry as he sinks down for more kisses, wanting to feel like this as long as he can. "It was in the wedding vows," he teases. "I didn't dare break them."

"True," says Aramis with a breathless laugh, hissing as Porthos shifts on his now sensitive cock, but he would not move him for all the world. "Thank heavens the part about you riding my cock like a beast was said in French for the reception's sake."

"Only Athos, d'Artagnan, Constance, and Allison had to live with that particular image," he teases, kissing Aramis again. "Maybe Jim," he amends, because he's pretty sure Jim's fluent in French by now. He sighs and places his hands on Aramis' chest.

"I don't want to move," he says stubbornly.

"Certainly Jim," Aramis answers, "I saw him give us a 'thumbs up' from the altar. Then do not move," he says, pulling Porthos' forehead to rest against his own. "We will stay just like this forever. Or at least until I lose all circulation in my legs."

"Could you imagine? We'd become the very first medical case. Fused together by fucking," he teases, closing his eyes as he leans in to kiss Aramis again, a soft brush of a thing. "God, I adore you."