du_vallon | (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

"Then, sir," he says again, glad to not have to say 'lover' again because getting married means that he gets to call him husband instead of lover. He digs his heel into Aramis' back, breathing heavily. "Tell me if this hurts," he says, absolutely breathless already as he stares up at Aramis. "Sir, fuck me harder."

"Your naughty streak continues," Aramis returns with a grin. He deepens his strokes, huffing slightly with exertion, but Aramis does not take Porthos any harder until he gets what he's after. He holds Porthos' wrists, pressing them into the mattress as he moves. "Say please, boy."

They're skirting the edge of what he can bear, but he's so pent-up for the attention and the sex that it slips away and he finds the issue isn't as bad as he had worried. "Please," he drags out the words, a low growl in the single word. He opens and closes his fingers, biting his lip.

"I missed you so much," he exhales.

Aramis' expression softens, but rather than lean in and give Porthos the kiss he wants, he moves faster, driving into Porthos now. He takes care to angle himself just so, aiming for that pleasurable spot inside him to distract from the hands that encircle his wrists. "Good, boy?"

Sometimes, Porthos worries about the way they act. Sometimes, he thinks maybe they go too over the top, but when he gets a kiss like this, gets fucked like this, it's hard to ignore. He gasps and nods, his eyes latching onto Aramis'. "So good, I can't believe it," he promises, squirming on the bed, trying to push himself up to get Aramis deeper.

Aramis groans as Porthos shifts and manages to take him deeper, losing himself in the heat of Porthos' body as he thrusts, watching Porthos' sweet face for any hint of discomfort. "Harder?" he asks, grunting with the effort of holding Porthos down and driving into him with such force.

He nods frantically, wanting to have every little bit of Aramis that he can get, his hands getting a touch desperate to claw for him when it feels like they have moments apart. "I missed this so much," he moans, as if he's gone away on purpose rather than being forced and gone. "God," he gasps, "imagine you...imagine you at sixteen."

"I was skinny," says Aramis with a breathless chuckle as his hips snap forward, driving him relentlessly into Porthos' body, "But my maman said I was very handsome." His own body burns, muscles trembling as he works, but Aramis has no intention of giving Porthos anything less than what he's asked for.

"You know," he gasps, "Like this, neither of us has a spare hand for that cock of yours."

Porthos lets out a whine of displeasure when he stares down at his straining cock, aching even though he's come recently. "If you were sixteen and I'd been fifteen," he manages, rocking his hips upwards, "would you have seduced me with all that charm?"

"Immediately," Aramis answers at once, groaning when Porthos' hips lift to meet his, "I always had a talent for finding the loveliest thing in the room. You would not have stood a chance, my darling."

"The endurance we would've had," he manages to huff out breathlessly before Aramis hits a sweet spot that has him twisting and thinking maybe he doesn't need a hand on him. "How do I feel?" he coaxes, thinking that hearing Aramis talk about it might go a long way in helping him even more.

"Like heaven," Aramis promises, shifting to keep at the angle that has caused Porthos such bliss. "Hot and tight around me, and beneath me a picture of glorious abandon. Everything I love about you and have missed so much this last week," Aramis answers, breathless for the speech.

"I missed you too," he promises. "I'm sorry I was a pest and an arse. No one had put me in my place, seeing as no one cares about the colour of your skin so long as you're a good thief. Wasn't until I tried to get out that I realized what the world's like."

"You were not a pest," says Aramis, winded, but he leans down to capture Porthos' mouth in a brief kiss. "But you know how I worry when you are out of eyesight." Pushing Porthos' leg higher, Aramis begins to take him as deeply as he can, knowing that his body will not endure this pace for much longer. "Far better to keep you right here, as long as I can."

Porthos lets out a sharp gasp for the push, gaping at Aramis like he's hurting him instead of giving him abject pleasure. The torture, though, is amazing. "I kept sneaking away," he agrees with a breathless laugh. "It got to be a game, for me."

Aramis watches Porthos fervently, studying his face for the particular grimace that means he is enjoying himself past words. "I gathered that," Aramis tells him, his grip on Porthos' arms beginning to slip with sweat. "You were quite insolent."

Porthos twists their hands when the grip slips slightly, holding onto Aramis' fingers and keeping them pinned above their head. His eyes are alight on Aramis', but he's out of words now. He just whines, a needy little thing as he rocks upwards, trying to capture as much of this feeling as he can. "Fucking love you," he manages to get out, in small bursts.