du_vallon | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's taken weeks and weeks to get Aramis here, but with the weather taking a turn for the cooler, they might not have much longer to enjoy the time at the beach. It's something Porthos had been captivated with, as soon as he found out people did it for fun. True, it wasn't the south of France, but it was a small part of the city they now lived in and it was a beautiful sunny day that wasn't too warm, so Porthos feels ready to take advantage. He's just pushed the umbrella into the sand, settling the bags of food in the shade so they don't overcook, and tosses his phone on top of the blanket.

"Look, you got within twenty feet of the ocean and you aren't even wanting to go home," he teases with a smirk, stripping off his shirt and nudging off his trousers until he's in nothing but the navy blue swimming trunks that he'd had Allison help him purchase. He digs through the bag to find the suntan lotion to prevent Aramis from going an unsavoury pink, gesturing for him to strip off his things. "Come on, now, off with your shirt."

Porthos is enjoying this entirely and absolutely, given that while there's still a few people scattered on the beach, none of them have the beautiful view that he does.

"This is a much nicer view than Le Havre, though the south of France could equal this and do better," Porthos admits, squeezing lotion into his palm.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Aramis follows, walking in a straight, intent line towards Porthos where he's dutifully laid himself out on the chaise, looking like a disheveled angel with that body and those curls.

Aramis kneels between his legs, running calloused hands over Porthos' chest before he leans in to lick a stripe across his belly. Aramis hums. "You taste of saltwater."

"You probably do, too," Porthos points out, giving a soft groan of pleasure at the hands on him, followed by that generous mouth. He knows they couldn't have done this at the beach, but there's a part of him that wishes that everyone could see so they'd know who Aramis belonged to and vice-versa, with Porthos. He gives a heady sigh, chin tucked to his chest as he watches Aramis. "You should check," he says, very seriously, "to see if everything does."

"I intend to be thorough," Aramis assures him, shifting up so he can mouth over Porthos' collarbone as Porthos had done to him in the elevator, mouth open to suck at the tender juncture between his shoulder and throat. "I'm not going to tell you not to touch me," he murmurs, "But if you allow me to work unhindered for a time, I'll let you fuck my mouth when you are close."

Porthos nods, feeling a bit heavy with it as he shifts his knees even wider, cock straining against his trunks as he thinks about Aramis and his mouth and all the things Porthos wants to do to it. "You always say the sweetest things to me, chou," he laughs softly, lifting both his hands above his head as if a show of trust as he crosses them at the wrist, dangling over the back of the couch.

Aramis does not argue, smiling at Porthos before he leans in for a deep kiss, sucking on Porthos' tongue in prelude to what he intends to do to other areas, and soon. "Even that tastes of saltwater," he observes before he delves lower, sucking a dark, flat nipple into his mouth. "Must be all that bawdy language, mon loutre."

Porthos is more than content to lose himself in such a kiss, almost forgetting that other things are intended as he pulls reluctantly away to watch the way Aramis begins to descend, stopping along the way as if to marvel at the sights. "Can I truly help it?" he wonders, as though innocent in all this. "My partner walks nearly naked before me. It's a miracle saltier words didn't cross my lips."

"I like your salty words," replies Aramis, resting his cheek against Porthos' stomach so he can grin up at him. "Particularly when they're directed at me. I confess, I've made something of a sport of it."

Biting at the the tender flesh of Porthos side, Aramis scrapes his beard across the mark. "What can I make Porthos say today?"

Porthos' answering sigh is a happy thing, pleased as his face lights up with the delight of having Aramis exactly where he wants him. "Try your damnedest," he challenges, because he knows he can make Aramis rise to the occasion with little more than a well-placed word. "Your mouth always encourages fine profanities."

"I'll have them," says Aramis, as much a promise to Porthos as to himself. He ducks his head, abandoning prelude to suck at Porthos' heavy balls, already beginning to draw in towards his body. Aramis rolls them against his tongue, enjoying the salt and the taste that is uniquely Porthos before he abandons them inch by inch, setting his mouth to the base of Porthos' prick.

Porthos flexes his fingers and moves his arms so that rather than fixed above his head, they're stretched out on the chaise in either direction, widening his knees even more when Aramis' clever tongue begins his work. His eyes fall shut and his responding moan is filled with pleasure. "Good start," he mumbles, the words sedate and sluggish.

Aramis hums, sliding his mouth slowly up the length of him, finally settling in to take only the head between his lips. Dragging his hands along Porthos' thighs, Aramis sucks with a deliberate pressure, tongue making leisurely swirls against the head of Porthos' cock. Eyes open, he watches him, trying to guess the moment when Porthos will break and demand more.

Porthos' breaths become heavier things, and without even thinking about it, he starts holding them in only to let them out, hips thrusting upwards as he clenches the edges of the chaise, biceps straining as he tries to keep himself from pushing too deep into Aramis' mouth. He tips his head back, but forces it to fall forward to watch Aramis with a hooded and lustful look on his face.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look when you do this," he rambles, shaking his head. "No idea, Aramis, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever had on my cock."

Aramis lifts a brow as if to say such praise is to be rewarded. He sinks further down, taking the length of Porthos into his mouth for a slow, steady drag against his tongue. The weight of him makes Aramis' own cock ache between his legs, but he ignores it, content to savor the heated flesh in his mouth for now. Curling an arm beneath Porthos' thigh, Aramis brings himself closer still, sinking down until Porthos' dark hair tickles at his nose.

"Oh, you're so fucking perfect," Porthos says, licking his lower lip steadily until he has to bite down on it to prevent himself from doing nothing but cursing steadily. He wants to thrust his hips, but can't bring himself to, wary of the notion of choking Aramis without his consent or encouragement, so he grinds his arse back into the chaise, but it only increases the friction of Aramis' lips on his cock.

Porthos gives a startled moan, still grasping at the chaise because he's too occupied with how good it feels to think about the fact that his hands aren't on Aramis.

Aramis smirks around the flesh in his mouth, pulling back for a breath before he dives down again, not stopping this time until he can feel Porthos at the back of his throat. With a hand braced against him lest his hips shift too far, Aramis swallows, massaging Porthos' cock with the tight walls of his throat. He can't do it long, but it will be well worth it for the filth he's certain will pour from Porthos' mouth.

"Fucking fuck, Aramis!" Porthos yelps, having never felt that before in his life. It's enough to make his eyes go wide and he can't control his hands from flying off the chaise, burying both in Aramis' hair (and partially his neck) and trying to think, but the filter between his brain and mouth has shorted out and he's left with only what he can't stop from coming out.

"I can feel you, oh god, I can feel you wrapped around my cock, that's you, all hot and wet and divine, Aramis," he gasps, "fuck, it's like I'm fucking you, except...fuck," he whimpers, chest heaving as his heart races wildly. "You could teach the whores of Paris a thing or two."

Aramis groans and nearly chokes, eyes watering from the strain of not pulling off, but he manages it, swallowing convulsively until at last he has to pull back, sucking in air through his nose. He sits on his haunches and releases Porthos' cock, grinning up at him with wet cheeks as he seizes his hips to urge him forward. "Now then," he rasps, hoarse for his throat's pleasurable abuse as he kneels, looking for all the world like a child waiting for his treat, "I think it's time you fucked my mouth, don't you?"

"Here?" he asks, a bit dazed. Even though he thinks he can hold off, he aches so badly and wants to come. "Not in bed?" His fingers deepen their tangled hold on Aramis' hair and he coaxes his cheek to Porthos' knee for a moment, his hips moving forward with a sharp buck that he can't exactly help.

"Here," Aramis confirms in a ragged voice, mouthing at Porthos knee for lack of something better. He's eager for it, that's clear in his dark blown eyes, and he groans a little, trying to urge Porthos forward. "With my knees digging hard into the carpet, please, Porthos."

Porthos whimpers helplessly and he aches with need, has done so since the beach, and Aramis is torturing him being so beautiful and so close, which means that he can't hold back any longer. He's not even sure he could stand if called to do so. "C'mon then," he encourages, using his grip on Aramis' wild, sea-soaked hair to ease him away from his knee. "Show me how much you want it."

"Will you have me beg?" asks Aramis. They both know he's hardly above it, and he rubs his cheek along Porthos' thigh, rising up on his knees to bite at the juncture between Porthos' hip and leg. "Please, Porthos," he says, twisting his hair against Porthos' grip for the sting of it, "Please fuck my mouth. I want to feel it, I want you to fill me up until I can't breathe, I want you to make me take it."

"Now that's what I like to hear," Porthos says and even though he could definitely use a little more of that begging, he's not capable of waiting any longer, guiding his cock into Aramis' mouth and thrusting into that heat, grappling at the hair tighter to hold him in place as he works, eager to get to the depths of his throat for that tightness again, but mindful of not choking Aramis.

Porthos lets out a low moan, driving his thrusts hard and fast, feeling wild for it, but wanting nothing more than to come in Aramis' mouth without a warning, and at this rate, it won't take very long.

Aramis hangs onto Porthos' hips, the only true purchase he has when Porthos is dragging him onto his cock, filling him until he can feel him pounding against the back of his throat. Aramis gags but recovers, eyes streaming as he moans his encouragement. The grip on his hair is unrelenting, and above him Porthos looks lost and wild, beautiful and yearning for his release. Gathering himself, Aramis swallows hard, throat seizing around Porthos' length.

Porthos drags his hips back and when he thrusts forward into the wetness of Aramis' mouth, he comes without warning because even he hadn't been expecting it. Eyes wide, he stares at Aramis almost as if he half-expects to be chastened for his actions, but there's nothing but delight in his laugh, sagging back against the chaise as he keeps moving his fingers through Aramis' hair, trying to summon the energy to think of some way to bring Aramis off in turn.

Aramis chokes but swallows, wiping his mouth with a forearm and a trembling hand as he climbs into Porthos' lap. As if granted permission by Porthos' release, Aramis' own cock is a dizzying ache, and he whimpers as it drags against Porthos' belly. "Just a touch," he says, desperate, "All I need."