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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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."

"Hmm?" Aramis hums, waiting a moment to see if Porthos will break, but he does not. He sucks Porthos down his throat again, taking him steady and deep just long enough to give him hope before pulling off again. "Only a foot?"

"We were in a public place," Porthos reminds him of that night with the cards. "And maybe I wanted you at unease so I could steal your money and blackmail you by your desire for me." He writhes again, the sound he makes a hoarse, desperate thing. "What did you want me to do?"

"Nothing," Aramis admits, "But now that you are yourself again, I still want to know what you had in mind." He kisses Porthos' inner thigh, deciding to have mercy on him at last. Taking Porthos back into his mouth, Aramis pleasures him to the best of his ability, taking him down in long, deep strokes that bump at the back of his throat.

Porthos tangles his fingers in Aramis' hair, some part of him still itching to be pushed down and pinned and for pleasure to happen because he needs it. He lets out a soft exhalation, though, when Aramis takes him deep. "You always did know how to make me happy," he murmurs, brimming with affection.

Aramis groans in appreciation for the fingers in his hair, taking Porthos as deep as he can manage and swallowing each time before pulling back, urging him towards his completion. With his thumb still slick with spit, he presses it between Porthos' legs, rubbing that tender strip of skin just behind his balls to make it sing.

Porthos is fairly sure that he's in heaven. He's an adult again, they're going to have a baby, and Aramis is giving him such pleasures that he's half sure that he died and this isn't actually his life, but instead it's some kind of afterlife filled with plentiful orgasms. "Chou, darling," Porthos ekes out, digging his blunt nails into Aramis' scalp as he tries to grab harder.

Aramis moves steadily, chasing Porthos' gasps and groans to find the right rhythm, sucking in breaths of air where he can. His eyes water with the grip in his hair and the bumps to his throat, both, but he doesn't stop, eager to make Porthos spend after so long apart.

His curses are steady, mixed with Spanish and French, as if eager to show off what he's learned since being that fifteen year old. He lightens his grip, but only barely, his curses turning to soft whining noises of praise as he arches his hips off the bed, still getting used to his mass once more. "What're you doing to me?" he gasps.

Aramis tightens his lips and sucks in his cheeks, his jaw aching but the rest of him eager. Porthos' pre-cum is sweet on his tongue, but Aramis wants more, all of it, and he drags his free hand down Porthos' broad thigh, squeezing in encouragement.

He's been young too long because all the patience he's earned as an adult is missing, barely lasting for half the time he usually does before he's climaxing, letting out a surprised gasp when it comes over him, earlier than he's dealt with in so, so very long. He flushes, a touch embarrassed, and peers down his body. "Sorry," he confesses. "I didn't mean to be so easy."