du_vallon | (no subject)

(no subject)

It takes him nearly six hours to return the items that he'd stolen during his erstwhile time as a teenager. He does his best to appear chagrined and excuse an unseen nephew for his crimes while bringing back weapons, paying for food taken, and all manner of embarrassing items. That said, he does pay for one from the sex shop that he intends to keep for a later date, but only because it had looked interesting.

Weary and exhausted, he makes his way slowly back to the apartment, aware that he's been ignoring his phone while he works on returning everything that he can. He trudges back to the apartment, but stops for flowers and a bottle of wine. It's been a few days since he's grown up again (so to speak), but he still feels a touch awful about the stress he's put both Athos and Aramis under.

He lets himself into the apartment, petting the Captain as he settles, peering inside. "Aramis, are you here?" Glancing at his phone, he frowns to see he's missed several calls. "Chou?" he calls again, setting the wine on the counter with the flowers as he takes off his coat.

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"Oh, you like me big, is that it?" Porthos teases him with a growing smirk on his face, rocking down and pinning Aramis a little tighter to the bed, refusing to let him move. "I think you don't exactly mind our current positions, do you," he murmurs, his voice a low thing right up against Aramis' ear.

"Were I to pick any place in the world," Aramis agrees, his laughter turned breathless as Porthos grips him tight, "It would almost surely be this one." He tugs a bit, more to savor the renewed strength in Porthos' limbs than anything. "Why?" he asks in a teasing voice, shifting his mouth to Porthos' throat, sucking softly. "Is it not to your liking?"

"I mean..." Porthos trails off and lets his gaze slide over Aramis' body thoughtfully. He's thrumming with adrenaline and nervous energy, ecstatic about the news and worried about telling Athos and dreading being a screw-up, but right now, holding Aramis down and thinking of having him is the best cure.

"You are wearing a little too much for this to be preferred."

Aramis grins up at him. "I didn't think you'd want to hear about our child while I was nude." He begins tugging again, this time in earnest. "Unless you mean to undress me with your teeth, cariño, you'll have to let me go."

"I like hearing everything from you when you're nude," Porthos feels inclined to reply, a wicked grin on his face as he leans in with a playful growl, nipping at Aramis' collarbone with his teeth as though he does intend to use his teeth to make a mark or two.

He backs up, though, biting his lip as he waits for Aramis to undress. "So it turns out that we can confirm that as a fifteen year old lying about his age, I had a thing for the both of you. I wanted you to pin me down."

"A pity that was the only time I'd ever have managed it," laughs Aramis. Once freed, he tugs off his shirt, undoing his jeans to begin shimmying out of them. "And I promise, with our next child, I will tell you entirely in the nude. I'm sure they'll love that story when they're old enough to hear it."

"I don't know, I think if I take you to the gym enough, you could probably keep me down," he says in passing, eyes dipping hungrily to where Aramis is peeling off his jeans. "Slower," he insists, because after so long convincing Aramis into these clothes, he aims to enjoy it properly.

"I could define every muscle in this pale body of mine and it would still not match your bulk," says Aramis, but he slows as he pulls his jeans down over his hips, lifting them to press the hardness in his briefs even closer to Porthos' gaze.

"Oh, but I would like to see you try," Porthos promises, licking his lips as he watches Aramis slowly strip, whining when Aramis moves to give him a few of what he wants so much. "I want you to pin me down with just your hands and fuck me," is what he says, a needy look in his eyes. "I've been wanting it for days."

Aramis sucks in a breath, lifting his arms to encircle Porthos' wrists in a loose hold. He couldn't hold him down if Porthos truly wanted to rise, he knows that, but still he worries. "Are you certain?" he asks. "I'll give you anything you desire, Porthos, but usually you don't like to be restrained."

"You said it yourself, didn't you? It's not like you can actually keep me down," Porthos points out, and his body is craving a little control, as if his old wants are bleeding into his adult brain, skipping all the traumatic in-betweens that made him so averse to this. He leans up, surging forward to steal a kiss. "Don't worry. The moment I dislike it, I'll just throw you off. Maybe even spank you for it," he says, voice thick with promise.

It's enough to relieve the tension Aramis can feel winding through his muscles, and he smiles, smacking Porthos' arse to get him off of him. "Alright then," he says, "We will try it, and in the meantime you can tell me every prurient little fantasy you had about me as a whelp."

Porthos lets out a delighted laugh, rolling off of Aramis in order to lie prone on the bed, willing Aramis to undress him. "Well, for one, sitting at a table with you was murder. I just wanted to crawl to my knees and suck you off until I got you to scream. Then I might have bit," he confesses.

"You minx, you'd best not," chuckles Aramis, peeling Porthos' trousers down at once. "At least not without asking first." Leaning down, he nips gently at the tender flesh of Porthos' inner thigh. "But I'm gratified to know that I did not corrupt you entirely - you were deviant long before you met me."

Porthos lets out a strangled moan at the lips on his thigh, surprised by how desperately he's after this, given how long he's gone without. "Don't sell yourself short, beautiful," he mumbles, "no one looked half as pretty as you did, back in the Court. Even being in love with Flea and Charon, you had to look past the grime. You and Athos, all clean and pretty, it was confusing to want you so much and mistrust you all the same."

"I assure you, I'm just as pretty covered in grime as I am without," Aramis replies, "As you well know from the trenches." He peels down Porthos' boxers next, taking him in hand at once. "You seem in dire straits, cariño. Perhaps you need me to take the edge off."

"Trust me, I know all about how beautiful you are when you're dirty," Porthos agrees, whining when Aramis gets his hands on Porthos' cock, already straining with need. "Would it be with your mouth? I always find it hard to deny your mouth."

"I hadn't noticed," says Aramis with a filthy smile. He strokes Porthos until he's fully hard, dragging his tongue over him without real steadiness or aim, merely enjoying the taste of him. "Perhaps a test," he muses, sucking briefly on Porthos' head. "If you can stop yourself from hurrying me on, I'll know you're ready to let me hold you down."

"I've been fifteen for nearly a week," he protests, in barely more than a whine as Aramis talks about testing him and teases him into full hardness, his whine turning into a needy moan. "And you're asking me to be patient? More patient than usual? At this rate, you might be the one held down and taken apart until I get my way."

Aramis chuckles as Porthos begins to beg almost immediately. "I suppose we shall see," he says, "Now." Aramis licks him from root to tip but does no more. "Why don't you regale me with a tale of what you'd have done to Athos, lest I get bored on my lonesome down here, and I'll see if I want to make you spend."

He writhes and curses up a storm, unwilling to give up even his chance for something. "God, he looked like an old man," he huffs out with a laugh. "Not just the little bits of grey in his hair, but the way he talked and held himself. I thought he had to be at least forty or so."

That wicked look gleams in his eyes. "And I wanted to make him scream."

Aramis smirks for the description, but lowers his head, holding Porthos' shallowly in his mouth and bobbing as he speaks. The wickedness is rewarded with firmer suction, but Aramis breaks off with a wet pop when Porthos stops. "And how would you do that?" he asks, stroking him.

Porthos reaches for something to grab onto, his hand firming up on a pillow as he squeezes tightly, unwilling to let go. "When I was fifteen? I was going to cuff him to a hard surface, strip him down, and sit on him," is his insistence, the image still fresh in his mind. "Fuck him by riding him, make him...make him want more."

"A position I often find myself in," says Aramis in agreement, rewarding Porthos with the return of his mouth. He sucks him without pattern, tight one moment and loose the next, taking the length of him in and then sucking only at the head. He knows it must be driving Porthos mad, but after days of running around after him, Aramis is only too happy to return the favor. He smirks, loosing Porthos' cock to mouth at his balls.

Porthos glares at Aramis when he continues to give him the kind of attention that's making him lose his mind, especially when he hasn't had anything in over a week. "Babe," he whines, his breath hitching as he tries to get a little more.

"And you," he accuses, "I wanted to get my foot up your leg so bad."