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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"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."

Aramis rests his cheek on Porthos' thigh, rubbing his jaw as he smiles up at him. "Making you spend was my goal," he points out. "Or did you think that you could resist me?" Aramis presses a kiss to Porthos' skin. "You were wonderful."

Porthos blushes, because he wishes he'd held out just a touch longer. He whines with displeasure when Aramis is too far, reaching out to try and coax him back with his fingers, feeling sated and needy all at the same time. "Tell me about Ana Lucia and what you'll do with her for the first night."

Aramis huffs out a laugh, climbing up Porthos' body to enfold him in his arms, his fingers brushing through Porthos' curls. "I'm not certain I'll be able to let go of her," he admits. "Watch her, hold her, until my arms simply won't work anymore."

"I'm going to have to teach Athos how to cuddle, aren't I?" Porthos muses knowingly, because if Aramis' arms are going to be occupied by the babe, then he's going to have to teach their third how to hold him the way he likes to be surrounded, seeing as he knows it's going to be a needed thing.

"You'll be too busy fighting me to let go of her for your turn," says Aramis with a chuckle. "And Athos," he adds in a softer voice. "I still have hope that he will change his mind once she is real, when he can hold her. Surely she will be impossible not to love."

"Maybe, but if you think I'm going to stop wanting physical affection for myself while you two are busy, you're mad," he accuses, fondly (of course), but absolutely matter of fact. He slides his palm over Aramis' arse, giving it a sharp slap when he thinks they've been lying around too long. "I think I'm ready to go again. Are you?"

Aramis raises a brow. "I've yet to spend, brat," he answers with a swat to Porthos' backside. "In which case I'm more than ready, yes." Aramis reaches to free the lubricant from their bedside table and uncaps it with his thumb. "Now how shall I have you?"

"Even past thirty, I'm a brat," he retorts, taking great joy and glee from Aramis' reply, grinning at him wildly. "You can have me any way you want me. That's the beauty of marriage. It's all yours," he guarantees.

"So long as you are held down," Aramis replies, studying him briefly. He has only a prayer of holding down Porthos if they are face to face, and he slots himself back between his legs, rubbing the oil between his hands to warm it. Aramis rubs his slick fingers against Porthos' hole and begins to stretch him. "Let us pray you are not back to virgin tight."

Porthos cranes his chin over his neck to give Aramis a dubious look. "Don't act as if you're against that idea," he accuses, because he thinks that Aramis could find himself new raptures of joy if he were to find that Porthos had somehow regained his virginity. He wiggles his arse helpfully, grinning back at him. "I'm waiting."

Aramis chuckles and adds another finger, hard enough that in this moment, he is thankful indeed Porthos is not quite so virginal. "Patience," he says and adds a third finger, his motions turned the slightest bit rougher to test whether Porthos can take it.

Porthos lets out a crude sound, barely more than a whine and a howl when Aramis pushes into him, three fingers so much after having nothing for days and days. "When have I ever, ever been patient?" he retorts, voice hoarse and filled with pleasure.

Aramis doesn't answer, for they both know the answer is never. Instead he stretches Porthos a moment more, then pulls away to wipe his hands. "You were an awful bother when you were little," he notes as he folds himself over Porthos' body, dragging one of his large thighs up to expose him. "Running away, thieving, generally giving me a fright every second that I was conscious."

Aramis lines up his cock, sinking slowly into Porthos with a look of great concentration. "So you're going to be a good boy, now, and take it, hmm?"

"You forgot wanting to blackmail you by fucking you," he provides, gasping and letting out a grateful moan when Aramis slides into him. "I'm gonna be your good boy," he guarantees, eyes locked on Aramis', not daring to look away. "Yours, Aramis, all yours. You tell me what to do."

Aramis groans as he sinks in to the hilt, Porthos' body so hot and tight around him. "Arms up," he answers in a graveled voice, leaning down to kiss Porthos' newly bearded chin. "Where I can hold them. Put your other leg around my waist."