du_vallon | (no subject)

(no subject)

After Aramis (and himself, if he's honest) had calmed down from the news, the next most important step lies before them. While they're incredibly happy, Porthos still has his own set of nerves to deal with and he can only imagine that it pales in comparison as to what Athos is likely to be feeling when he hears the news. In order to help sort of calm the mood (or really just soothe Athos), Porthos has popped out to buy a few bottles of wine and one very special bottle of champagne.

When he returns, he can see Athos' coat hanging and knows he's here, which is good because he doubts either of them could prolong the news much longer. Porthos nudges up against Aramis in the kitchen, pressing the side of the champagne bottle to his skin once he raises his shirt. "Steady on," he murmurs. "Let's talk to him."

It could go well, he thinks.

Or they could be ending the night drinking a great deal to soothe the wounds. "Athos," Porthos summons. "C'mere, Aramis has got some news."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Athos is breathing hard by the time the kiss ends, hair falling in his eyes and fingers digging into Aramis’ skin where he has clutched at his hips. Pressed close like this, the three of them are one, skin-to-skin and limbs tangled. And yet they have only just begun. Seeing Porthos whisper in Aramis’ ear, but unable to catch the words, Athos feigns disapproval, even as his eyes twinkle with amusement and desire. “Keeping secrets now, are we?"

Aramis' own eyes are wide, his body flushing with the possibility of either, but not even he has the patience it would take to open any one of them for more than one cock. His blood is up, and so, he would wager, is Athos'.

"A fine idea," he says for all to hear, grinning broadly. Aramis leans in close, nosing Athos' hair from his ear so he can nip it. "On your back, darling," he murmurs, then twists to catch Porthos' mouth in a kiss. "Some oil, please."

Porthos leans back a little so he can find the oil, but he doesn't hand it off first, because he intends to keep it for himself. "Brace yourself," is what he says, giving Aramis fair warning that he's not going to get what he wants. He slides his palm up and down Aramis' arse, nudging just his thumb in, at first, rubbing circles before he slicks up his fingers.

Athos releases Aramis reluctantly, giving the man’s hip a final squeeze before he sinks back onto his elbows. Reclining in front of both men, he can see that Porthos intends to do things his way, and the man’s determination intrigues Athos, as does the scene before him. He has always relished watches Aramis and Porthos together, since the very beginnings of their intimacy, and he is willing to forgo the touch he craves if it means he can watch them like this. At least for now.

Aramis' mouth drops open in surprise, sucking in a breath when Porthos touches him dry. He drops down onto his arms over Athos, trying to smile as Porthos' large thumb nudges at him again. "Forgive me," he murmurs, nuzzling at Athos' cheek. "I am delayed."

Porthos gets the lube on his fingers before he passes it to Aramis to help prepare Athos, bowing his head down to press slow, steady kisses to the top of Aramis' spine. "Don't worry," he murmurs, half to Athos, half to himself. "Everyone's going to get a turn, we just have to make sure we don't break anyone."

“It is worth the wait,” Athos murmurs, voice thready as his anticipation builds. He cups Aramis’ cheek, gaze flickering to Porthos, who looms over them both, and then back to Aramis’ face, already twisted with pleasure. They have not even begun to touch him properly, but he is swept up in the way they touch each other.

He nips at Aramis’ lip. “But do not make me wait too long."

"Never," Aramis promises, "Unless, of course, you ask me to." He grins and accepts the oil, rewarding Athos' patience by reaching for his cock first, giving it a few firm, slick pumps before he reaches beneath him. "Leg up, if you please," he says, breathing a little harder when he feels Porthos' own slick fingers. "Not too gentle?" he asks, turning his head. "I've missed your strength."

Porthos lets out a soft huff of amusement as he presses his fingers a little further, with a little more roughness than before. "Are you going to ask for a little roughness, Athos?" Porthos asks, his voice low and his gaze half-lidded and hungry. "I want to see Aramis rough you up," he confesses, grabbing Aramis by the hips and tightening his grip so his fingers make a bruising impact.

Tipping his head back with a small moan, Athos pushes into Aramis’ hand; the touch is gone far too swiftly, and he finds himself needing to suppress a tiny whimper, even as he knows that something better yet is coming. He lifts his leg, expertly hooking it at Aramis’ hip, gaze shifting from him, to Porthos and back. At the suggestion, his eyes go wide and dark, and he nods fervently. In their roughness he can escape, their bodies can pound together, leaving them aching, remembering these moments for days to come.

“Yes,” he says, voice breaking with need, “please."

Porthos' hands are so tight that Aramis can feel each individual bruise as it forms, and he shivers, for a moment caught between Porthos' intoxicating strength and the picture Athos makes beneath him, spread out and vulnerable, asking for it.

"Sangdieu," Aramis curses, pushing against Athos' leg until it's higher still, exposing him completely for his fingers. Aramis wastes no time, circling Athos' hole with slick only once before he pushes two fingers within him, stretching him with short, widening thrusts.

Porthos grins as he bends down, kissing each knob of Aramis' spine as he works his slick fingers inside of him while Aramis works on Athos. He means to come out of tonight with the both of them utterly wrecked and unable to speak and he thinks he might be getting close.

"Isn't this a pretty picture," he sighs happily.

Athos smirks breathlessly, each trust of Aramis’ fingers more satisfying than the last. He brushes Aramis’ hair out of his face, fingers trailing on his cheek, and then reaches back to squeeze Porthos’ hip. They are entangled in body as they are in soul, and for now, Athos lets himself believe that they will remain as such.

“It is,” he agrees with Porthos, quite pleased with his own vantage.

Porthos presses into him firmly, and Aramis shakes with it, those long strokes of his broad fingers. He begins to time the thrust of his own fingers into Athos' body in the same rhythm, so it is almost as if Porthos touches the both of them together.

"Tell me when," he whispers to Athos, pressing his forehead to the man's shoulder. "By God, you are so hot inside."

Porthos rests his chin on Aramis' shoulder as he watches the two of them move and work, his eyes alight with passion and interest. "He's like an inferno," he teases fondly, biting his lip as he stares at the both of them. "Hot as anything. I love it."

Athos scoffs, the sound close to a breathless laugh. So often, he pretends skepticism and disdain when he is at a loss for words; now is one of those times, though the pleasure is far too great for him to fool anyone. “Pardieu,” he whispers, and as Aramis thrusts his fingers deep inside him, he cries out.

“Ready,” he says, voice rough, “ready when you are. I want to see you take him, Porthos."

"You will, darling," Aramis promises, lifting his head to kiss Athos' cheek. His fingers tremble as he withdraws them. The three of them have done so much together, and Aramis has perhaps sampled in bodily pleasures most of all, but he has never done this, and he finds himself rather undone by the thought of it.

Aramis casts a questioning look at Porthos over his shoulder. You first? he seems to ask, or will it be easier for Porthos if Aramis is first inside Athos beneath them?

"Be easier if you started," Porthos says, as he thinks of how this is going to work and realizes that in order for Aramis to not be shifting around, seeking out what he can, it's best if he pushes into Athos first, only to be taken himself. And Porthos, a little smug about it, will be free to move as he pleases.

After capturing Aramis’ lips for a terribly tender kiss, Athos lies back to gaze at both of them, eyes full of fondness. “I suppose I have it easy,” he says, amused. He strokes Aramis’ cheek, gently tilting his face until they again can gaze into each others’ eyes. “You will be perfect,” Athos murmurs, catching the uncertainty in the other man’s eyes. He exhales shakily. “I want you inside me."

With both instruction and reassurance in his ears, Aramis releases the breath he's been holding, smiling with a tenderness that is at odds with the firmness in his grip when he bends Athos' leg back further still, making the room that he needs to take him. Shifting forward, Aramis aligns himself and thrusts all the way within Athos in one long stroke, gasping at the tight heat as it swallows him up.

Athos may play at coldness, but there is no denying the warmth in him, heart and body when one is allowed as close as this. "Hot as anything," Aramis sighs in agreement with Porthos.

Porthos falls a little more in love with the both of them every single day, but when they're at things like this, he wonders that his heart can't expand because it's so incredible the things they get up to and how amazing they are together. Once Aramis is in Athos, Porthos breathes anxiously and excitedly as he slowly pushes his way into Aramis, gasping.

"So, am I controlling how fast Athos gets fucked?" he asks, like a child on his birthday.

“Oh my god.” Athos lifts his leg higher, back arching, a tremble going through his body. Both Aramis and Porthos look at him with awe in their eyes, and he wonders that he does not spill apart from the mere intensity of their shared gaze.

“You do indeed,” he answers, voice cracking, the intensity of it all close to overwhelming.

Aramis breathes out, closing his eyes as he finds himself not only buried deep within Athos, but speared on Porthos' cock as well, the heavy weight of him pushing relentlessly in as his body makes room. Porthos asks a question, and Athos responds, but it's all Aramis can do to remain where he is, trembling as he adjusts to his place between two men, able to give the both of them pleasure at once if he could only bring himself to move.

"Please," Aramis breathes out.

Porthos presses his tongue to his cheek to try and stop himself grinning like a madman, eager as hell in order to get as much as he can out of this. He breathes out slowly and engages his core with all his yoga and strength-training, eager to keep this slow and steady. With a slow push, he eases into Aramis, aware that it makes him move a little forward, so it's Athos he looks to, to see the reaction.

Athos moans aloud, unable to help it. Watching Aramis and Porthos pant and gasp as much as the press of Aramis inside him, or the blessed friction of Aramis’ body brushing against his cock. Locking his gaze with Porthos, Athos gives the other man a shaky, encouraging nod. Then he does the same for Aramis. Athos may be beneath them both, but he has his own sort of control over the situation.

“Yes,” he murmurs encouragingly, breathing swiftly becoming ragged. “That’s it…"