Chapter Text
“That must have been horrid today,” Aramis mused as he settled into his armchair, watching Porthos closely.
The darker man didn't answer from where he was sat in his own chair, a deep brooding expression on his face. They'd been escorting a parade through town when a young woman had broken through the crowd and been crushed to death under the royal carriage.
Athos had come with them to the home Porthos and Aramis shared and walked now onto the thick rug that marked the living area of their rooms. He clapped Porthos on the shoulder as he passed and, with his other hand, passed him a bottle of wine.
“Ta,” Porthos grunted, taking the bottle.
Aramis watched him but relaxed somewhat when Porthos sighed deeply, shaking himself out of his gloom.
“You say Constance knew her and the missing girl?” Athos asked.
“Yeah. Been stood with them both in the crowd apparently,” Porthos answered. “She was so small.”
Aramis let Porthos brood for a few seconds before saying his name softly.
“Sorry,” Porthos said, shaking himself again. He took a long swig from the bottle and passed it to Aramis before sitting back heavily in his chair. “Yeah. Apparently she attended the comtesse de Larroque's salon as part of lessons. But proper lessons not just writing and reading. Science stuff as as well.”
“In secret, I assume?” Athos asked.
Porthos nodded.
“It's not like the nobility approve of commoners knowing as much as they do,” he muttered.
Athos bristled slightly but let it pass. Porthos had grown up the child of a freed slave, stealing and fighting to live while Athos had grown up the heir to lands and, to this day, held them and their title. Aramis met his eyes for a second but Athos shook his head. Porthos had reached the girl's body first and Athos could allow a passing comment without taking offence.
“They attended the same lessons?” Athos asked.
“You suspect a link?” Aramis asked.
“It won't hurt to ask,” Athos mused.
“What did Tréville say about your thief?” Porthos asked, lifting his head, the deep frown finally easing.
“It turns out the victim was actually Father Sistini, the Jesuit priest,” Athos commented.
“Luca Sistini?” Porthos asked, frowning still but in vague recognition this time. He turned to Aramis for assistance placing the name.
“He's the one who thinks the Pope should rule every Catholic country in the world,” Aramis explained.
“Right. 'finks the Pope should be able to arrest and kill Kings and Queens who don't do as he says?”
“That's him,” Athos answered, a small smile turning the corners of his lips.
“The King was not impressed,” Aramis said, grinning.
“Sistini was encouraged to enjoy his brief stay,” Athos said drily.
Porthos chuckled.
“Aramis told me about 'im. How did the Cardinal take it? I know he loves the church but he has his hooks in the King. Does he in the Pope?” he asked shrewdly.
“Well as I said to you when he wrote the pamphlet, the Pope is the ruler of Catholics on Earth, not all people. The King is the ruler of all the people of a nation. God loves all people, whether they follow his laws or not. I'm not sure the same can be said of a human messenger on Earth, even if that messenger is His Holiness. Men are fallible,” Aramis said.
Porthos nodded, remembering the conversation. Aramis had brought the pamphlet home one morning from church and they'd discussed it at length. It's where he'd known the name from.
“You don't think the Cardinal will seek to elevate the Pope's authority and then use his influence with the King to further that agenda?” Athos asked. “As Cardinal, he holds an extremely senior position in the Catholic church. He's quite senior among the school of cardinals itself, is he not?”
“I think Porthos has the measure of Richelieu. It's far easier for him to manipulate the man he sees all day, every day than one he sees only every few years in Rome. Were the Pope the ruler of all, he would send instructions to his Cardinals around the world and they, including Richelieu, would be bound to follow them as well as making sure their Kings do. In the current situation, Richelieu has a hand in actually making the rules and has a much greater influence than he would as the Pope's serf,” Aramis said thoughtfully.
“I see the logic in that,” Athos said, inclining his head. “We visit the comtesse's salon tomorrow?”
“Yeah. If we wait until after breakfast that's when Constance says Fleur and Therese went most days,” Porthos said.
The morning was growing late as the four men exited the comtesse's salon. Athos briefly instructed Aramis and Porthos to return to the garrison and report to Captain Tréville that Fleur was not present before nudging d'Artagnan in the direction of his quarters.
“What's wrong?” d'Artagnan asked, searching the older man's face under his hat.
Athos didn't answer and d'Artagnan simply walked briskly beside him. It wasn't until they were in the single room Athos called home that the Musketeer spoke.
“We kissed,” he said bluntly.
D'Artagnan blinked in surprise, being completely unprepared for this revelation.
“You and the comtesse? OK,” he said slowly.
“We agreed that we would neither lie nor fail to disclose things from one another,” Athos said.
“Oh,” d'Artagnan said, his face brightening. “Well thank you for telling me, then.”
“You... You don't mind?” Athos said, searching the tanned face carefully.
“I can't deny I'm slightly jealous of her,” d'Artagnan answered, grinning. “I haven't kissed you for two days.”
Athos removed his hat and stepped closer to d'Artagnan. He gently placed his hands on d'Artagnan's slender waist, maintaining an unusual amount of distance between them.
“Would it please you to know this as close as we got and I merely returned her kiss rather than initiating?” he asked softly.
“It would,” d'Artagnan said, smiling. “I don't wish to hold you back, however. If it would make you happy to spend more time with her, I encourage you to do so.”
“She asked me to dine with her tonight,” Athos admitted.
“What did you answer?”
“I didn't,” Athos said.
“Would you like to go?”
“I haven't spent time with you for so long,” Athos answered, his eyes tracing the shape of d'Artagnan's lips.
“Two days,” d'Artagnan said. reasonably.
“That's a long time,” Athos argued, his voice lowering.
“I think you should go. I think you like her,” d'Artagnan said gently. His hands were roaming absentmindedly across the back of Athos' leather doublet.
A small amount of colour came to Athos' cheeks and d'Artagnan grinned at his unusual shyness.
“She spoke of all women being equal,” Athos said, frowning.
D'Artagnan tilted his head at the slightly unexpected tone.
“You don't think so?”
“Men aren't equal,” Athos said, frowning at the wall over d'Artagnan's shoulder.
The Gascon extracted himself from Athos' embrace and retrieved a bottle of wine from the chest beside the door. He hid the small smile that came to his lips when he noticed none of these bottles had been touched since he was last here. Athos' drinking was under control, then.
When he returned to his lover, Athos had removed his sword belt and hat, and was undoing his doublet. D'Artagnan sat the bottle on the small table before adding his sword belt to the chair on which Athos' lay.
“That makes you dislike her? That she sees equality when there is none?” d'Artagnan asked, confused. “Might it not be that she's simply seeing the world as it could be? Hope and freedom, like she said.”
“I don't think so,” Athos said slowly as he tossed his doublet over the wooden baseboard of his bed. “It's more a complete ignorance of how the world truly is.”
D'Artagnan sat beside Athos on the small bed and studied the man's profile. His lips were pursed and the frown lines were back between his eyebrows.
“She reminds you of your former self,” d'Artagnan said softly.
Athos didn't respond for several long seconds and when he finally did, he simply nodded without looking at d'Artagnan.
“You learned,” he murmured.
Athos nodded glumly but finally turned to look at d'Artagnan, sadness in his eyes. The Gascon pressed a hand gently against Athos' cheek. Any mention of his past, any reminder of the life he'd left behind made Athos impossibly sad. Out of everyone he knew, only d'Artagnan was aware of the treachery and tragedy that had made him leave that life. It was the same treachery that made him so adamant about being told the truth and clearly why he felt d'Artagnan must be fully aware.
“You aren't that man any more,” d'Artagnan said quietly, his hand still resting on Athos' cheek. His thumb traced the man's cheekbone under the ungroomed hair. “You are wiser, more humble, more generous, more considerate.”
Athos turned his head slightly to kiss the small of d'Artagnan's wrist.
“You have done me so much good, d'Artagnan,” Athos said softly.
“Offer a little of yourself up,” the Gascon said quietly. “Perhaps your experience will be useful to her.”
“You think I should go?” Athos asked softly. His tongue swiped over the thin skin of d'Artagnan's wrist before he pressed a more lingering kiss to it.
“I do,” d'Artagnan answered, smiling.
“Then I will. I want you to know I will keep you informed and pursue no more than companionship without informing you fully,” Athos said formally.
“I understand,” d'Artagnan said gently.
“That truth and honesty is the foundation of us, d'Artagnan. I won't do anything to jeopardise that,” Athos insisted.
“I understand,” d'Artagnan repeated more softly.
“I still feel bad leaving you on one of our nights together. I haven't had you in my bed for so long,” he said.
“Two days,” d'Artagnan said again, grinning.
“That's a long time,” Athos repeated, his voice lowering just as it had done earlier.
“It's not even noon,” d'Artagnan murmured.
“So true,” Athos said, his own hands reaching up to take d'Artagnan's away from his face. His thumbs rubbed gently against the same place his lips had covered seconds ago.
“Send a messenger to your lady and I will reward you for being so bold,” d'Artagnan said.
“Oh?” Athos asked, reluctantly standing and picking up his doublet. “How?”
D'Artagnan leaned back on the bed, resting on his elbows.
“By being bold,” he said, smirking.
By the time Athos returned after grabbing the first messenger he could find and then bounding back up the stairs to his room, d'Artagnan had stripped down to just his underwear and was sat against the wall, hands stroking his firm tanned belly.
“How bold of you,” Athos said, licking his lips at the sight.
“Indeed,” d'Artagnan said, looking up through his impossibly long lashes. “Perhaps you're a little overdressed for the afternoon's activities?”
“I don't know what they are,” Athos countered, unbuckling his belts.
“They require no clothing,” d'Artagnan said bluntly.
“Yet you're still wearing some.”
“I'll happily match you,” he answered, lightly.
Athos raised an eyebrow but got undressed anyway, the hunger in d'Artagnan's eyes along with the sight of him in Athos' bed made the Musketeer semi hard before he'd even tugged his shirt off, finally leaving him in just his braies. He made an imperious gesture at d'Artagnan.
“I said I'd match you... Not go ahead of you,” d'Artagnan said, smirking.
“My my,” Athos murmured, stalking forwards until he was knelt with a knee either side of d'Artagnan's thighs. “Aren't you mouthy today?”
“Bold, Papa. Just bold,” the Gascon replied, his voice losing its cocky edge with Athos so close.
Athos ghosted his lips across d'Artagnan's, just touching enough to feel his mouth part eagerly, before pulling away and standing back up.
“Very well, my lovely boy,” he said.
Without flourish, Athos unlaced his linens and let them drop, leaning down to push the bottoms over his calves. As he stepped out of them, he raised an eyebrow expectantly.
“Very well,” d'Artagnan echoed, rising gracefully to his feet. He swept an arm to the side for Athos to take his vacated spot on the bed, unable to resist brushing his fingers against the man's hip as he passed.
“You're so beautiful,” Athos said as he sat down.
D'Artagnan smiled warmly at his lover and stepped forwards but was stopped by a foot on his thigh.
“Enough,” Athos said firmly but there was familiar twitch of amusement under his moustache.
D'Artagnan was slower to remove his underwear, not letting his almost fully hard cock be visible until the last possible second. He stood watching Athos' dark grey eyes for several seconds while he stroked himself slowly. He gestured for Athos to do the same and silence fell, the gentle teasing gone as each man's eyes focused intensely on his lover's hand stroking themselves.
It was only when they were both fully hard and starting to pant slightly that d'Artagnan took a step forwards.
“Lay down,” he said, shakily. “Face the wall.”
Athos raised an eyebrow, able to guess why but complied anyway. This was new territory. So far in their relationship, all penetration had been exclusively in the opposite direction.
“Very bold,” he said softly as he arranged himself comfortably on his side, his back and buttocks exposed.
A hand smoothed across the skin of his back and he sighed contentedly.
“I love you,” Athos said quietly.
D'Artagnan joined him on the bed and Athos' cock throbbed with anticipation.
“I love you too, Athos,” the unseen d'Artagnan replied softly.
There was a lot of rearranging and Athos remained silent until d'Artagnan finally stilled.
“Are you okay pup?” he asked.
“Yes Papa,” d'Artagnan whispered, arousal thick in his voice. “Will you help me?”
Athos smiled at his nerves and nodded.
“Of course my love,” he said quietly.
A hand stroked over his buttock and he smiled to feel the oil on his fingers leaving a trail across the fine dusting of hair. A second, dry, hand pulled his buttock up, leaving the space between them exposed. Air passed across his entrance and again his cock throbbed impatiently.
“With my trigger finger?” d'Artagnan asked, shakily.
“Yes but only when you feel I'm ready. Just touch me first,” Athos said calmly. “It's been a while.”
He sighed when he felt d'Artagnan's index finger press tentatively against the muscles guarding his entrance. The oil was plentiful and when the finger moved in one long stroke across him he moaned quietly.
“Is that good?” d'Artagnan asked nervously.
“Very,” Athos sighed. “Try and think what feels good for you.”
The finger grew lighter and was soon joined by another. The two oiled digits began to move in light circles around his entrance but maddeningly stopped short touching the centre of the ring.
“You're so firm,” d'Artagnan whispered.
“I really am,” Athos replied, amusement in his voice. “Aren't you? I would have hoped you were enjoying this too.”
D'Artagnan laughed behind him and the fingers began to press a little harder, enough that he could feel the muscles responding now, as the Gascon relaxed slightly.
“Oh I am, Sir. You're so... tempting,” d'Artagnan replied quietly.
“Mmm,” Athos said, sinking happily against the bed. The pattern d'Artagnan's fingers were making was rhythmic, a repeated circle, pressing on the tight ring of muscle. He began to breathe in time with the motion but inhaled sharply when the tip of d'Artagnan's index finger pressed fleetingly against his entrance itself.
“Sorry,” d'Artagnan whispered.
“Do it again,” Athos nearly moaned.
D'Artagnan complied but kept his fingers moving. He began to stroke up and down over Athos' hole.
“Does it... feel different?” Athos asked. “From when you did it before?”
“Yes,” d'Artagnan breathed. “It feels like... softer?”
“That's... I'm...” Athos tried to say but his body arched slightly as d'Artagnan slipped the very tip of his finger into Athos' body. His breath whooshed out him.
“Sorry,” d'Artagnan repeated.
“No... It's good,” Athos said, regaining his voice. “I was trying to say ready. I'm just... Feels very good, pup.”
D'Artagnan's body relaxed again and Athos clenched briefly around d'Artagnan's finger. The same chuckle sounded and the digit started moving. Slow, gentle strokes seemed to turn Athos' body to jelly and he sighed happily into the pillow.
It was long minutes before he remembered that d'Artagnan was probably waiting for his guidance so Athos tilted his hips slightly, offering himself up to d'Artagnan.
“More please,” he murmured.
The finger withdrew and for a moment Athos felt that unpleasant empty sensation but it was short lived as a moment later two fingers were pressing at his entrance. There was a slight burn as his unpractised muscles widened to allow them access but it was quickly replaced by a pleasant ache as they began to move inside him.
After several gloriously slow minutes of this, Athos tilted his hips again.
“I want to fuck you,” d'Artagnan said hoarsely.
Athos' cock throbbed, not just at the thought but at the uncharacteristic vulgarity. He moaned softly.
“I... I want that,” he said in a whisper. “You're... considerably wider than two fingers, however.”
“You want a third?” d'Artagnan asked, his voice thick. There was a confidence there that made Athos throb again and he had to squeeze his cock to alleviate the pressure.
“Don't,” d'Artagnan said, suddenly firm. Athos tensed but d'Artagnan's voice returned to its slightly gravelly tone. “I want you to spend with me inside you.”
Athos moaned again, louder this time, and squeezed himself hard.
“Okay, puppy,” he said. “This will be easier on my knees.”
“This felt... more romantic,” d'Artagnan said, uncertainly.
“Everything I do with you is romantic,” Athos said, twisting to look at d'Artagnan. “I want... I want to feel you... To feel you...”
D'Artagnan watched as the colour rose in his lover's cheeks and he became uncharacteristically shy.
“Athos?” he asked, removing his fingers, unsettled by this hesitancy.
“I know I can be aggressive so I don't want to... overwhelm you,” Athos said slowly.
“I'm good to go,” d'Artagnan said, grinning widely.
Athos' eyes narrowed slightly and locked onto the Gascon's. In the few seconds before Athos spoke, d'Artagnan's mouth went dry as a bone and butterflies rose in his stomach.
“I want to know you can see yourself fucking me,” Athos said darkly.
It was d'Artagnan's turn to groan deeply and he leaned over awkwardly to kiss Athos. Their half turned spooning position made the kiss clumsy and messy and neither man cared.
D'Artagnan stood on shaky legs while Athos rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself onto his knees. He arched his back slightly, offering his bottom up to his lover.
“I want you so much,” d'Artagnan murmured.
“I'm right here,” Athos said, smiling softly.
D'Artagnan nodded and quickly moved to his knees behind Athos, slotting in between Athos' legs. This shift in position parted Athos' cheeks and d'Artagnan inhaled sharply at the sight. He dipped his two fingers back in and both men moaned, Athos at the sensation, d'Artagnan at the sight.
It captivated d'Artagnan, the vision of his tanned fingers sliding in and out of the pink muscles, the way they parted for his knuckles, closed around the slimmer parts. His head was filled with the way his cock would look in the same position and he used his other hand to stroke himself slowly.
“More,” Athos said quietly.
D'Artagnan complied, adding a little oil to his third finger before sliding all three in together. He felt resistance at this and paused when Athos' hips gave a little jerk.
“Athos?”
“I'm good,” Athos panted. “Just let me adjust. You'll feel it.”
D'Artagnan smiled and kept his hand still. With his other, he began to stroke his index finger on the space between Athos' entrance and the skin behind his sack, stretched tight as his cock hung heavy and hard between his legs.
“Oh puppy,” Athos breathed and his arched his back further.
D'Artagnan took the message and pressed his fingertip a little firmer, his own cock throbbing at the gruff moan Athos gave. Athos' muscles fluttered slightly around his fingers and he gave them an experimental twist, earning a longer moan.
“Your body wants me,” d'Artagnan whispered. “Feels like I should start moving?”
Athos nodded and moaned again when d'Artagnan did so, his digits moving slowly in and out of him. The clever Gascon began to twist them as they moved and the feeling of his body opening for his lover made Athos' arms shake. He shifted down to his elbows, tilting his hips up again. The slight shift made d'Artagnan shift too and his fingers took a more vertical path, moving deeper into his body.
“D'Ar... D'Artagnan,” Athos panted.
“Sir?”
“Too slow,” Athos growled.
“I don't want to hurt you,” d'Artagnan said uncertainly.
“Get on with it,” Athos snapped impatiently.
D'Artagnan laughed and obediently sped up, moving his fingers in and out more rapidly, setting up a steady rhythm that had Athos panting and his cock weeping onto the linens beneath him after less than five minutes.
“Now,” Athos growled.
“Are you sure?” d'Artagnan asked, his smirk audible.
“Yes,” Athos snapped.
D'Artagnan twisted his fingers to the left, to the right and then spread them slightly, forcing Athos' entrance to part a little more.
“Really sure?” d'Artagnan asked.
Athos twisted slightly to stare at d'Artagnan sternly.
“I want you inside me. I want to feel you fuck me. Now,” he said.
D'Artagnan could have come in that instant if he'd still been stroking himself.
“Yes Sir,” he said quickly.
The fingers withdrew and Athos couldn't help the sensation of loss in the few seconds before they were replaced by the blunt, spongy head of d'Artagnan's cock pressing at the still slightly parted hole. D'Artagnan moaned and pushed, one hand on Athos' hip and the other on himself to steady his entrance. Despite the three fingers, Athos' body still resisted at first and d'Artagnan worried he was going to hurt his lover until Athos pressed back and with a sudden lurch forwards, the head of his cock pressed home.
“Puppy,” Athos panted.
“Sir,” d'Artagnan moaned in reply, the sensation overwhelming him for a second. The heat was phenomenal and almost entirely unexpected. He'd sort of expected how tight it would feel, how well gripped he felt, but the overwhelming sensation of heated velvet surrounding him was simply glorious. After a few seconds he came back to himself and pressed further in but Athos jumped.
“Too soon,” he gasped.
“Sorry,” d'Artagnan said, quickly.
“Just rock with me,” Athos said, more calmly.
Slowly Athos began to rock back and forth on his knees and elbows while d'Artagnan matched his movements. Together they moved as Athos' entrance began to relax around him. Without needing to be told, d'Artagnan added a little more oil to his length and, as their bodies moved, he began to move further into Athos.
It was several wonderfully long, immeasurable minutes of this until d'Artagnan felt Athos beginning to push back impatiently and he gripped both of Athos' hips and pushed himself entirely into his lover. The deep guttural moan this caused was something d'Artagnan would never forget and he simply rested there for several long seconds, luxuriating in the feeling of being so deep inside the soft, wet heat of his lover.
“If you don't move this instant and make good on your promise to fuck me I will refuse to ever do this to you again,” Athos growled.
D'Artagnan laughed, his entire body relaxing, and stroked Athos' hips with his thumbs.
“I need a minute sometimes as well,” he said softly.
“I want you to fuck me, d'Artagnan,” Athos said, plainly.
D'Artagnan moaned loudly and withdrew slowly until just the head of his cock remained inside Athos.
“Watch,” Athos said hoarsely.
“Yes Sir,” d'Artagnan whispered and shifted his grip until he could hold Athos' cheeks apart with the heels of his hand. He moved back inside in one, slow, smooth stroke and nearly spent again at the sight of himself disappearing into Athos' body.
“Fuck,” d'Artagnan moaned.
Athos groaned and shifted impatiently. D'Artagnan repeated the motion, just as slowly, understanding why Athos wanted him to see this. It was a heady and unbelievably arousing sight to watch Athos' muscles shift around him, welcoming him, making room for him. He pushed back in forcefully and Athos groaned loudly.
“Yes,” he hissed, arching himself against the hard thrust.
D'Artagnan pulled back entirely, his cock coming free suddenly. Athos' muscles began to close but before they could, d'Artagnan pushed back in, marvelling at the way the ring was almost forced to accept him.
“I want you so badly,” d'Artagnan moaned.
Athos twisted and his eyes softened as they met the dark brown ones of the Gascon above him.
“Then take me,” he urged.
D'Artagnan's breath caught in his throat at the phrasing and he watched without breathing as Athos shifted until his chest was pressed flat on the bed. He reached back with his arms to spread his own cheeks a little further.
D'Artagnan took the invitation, moving his hands to Athos' hips and began to move faster. Each thrust was sharp, firm and almost painfully deep. They rocked Athos' body on the bed and he moaned deeply, turning his face to muffle the noise. The Gascon couldn't take his eyes off the point where their bodies met. Having Athos do this to him was his favourite thing in the world but he'd never realised it could feel so good the opposite way round. He felt close to Athos in a way he couldn't quite name. It was more than just connected or trusted. It was like he had a part of Athos nobody else could touch. Aramis had done this but not since they'd met d'Artagnan and it was something Porthos had never shared. It was a deep part of Athos he didn't allow many people to get close to and to allow him in was overwhelming emotionally and physically utterly wonderful.
“Sir.. I need..” d'Artagnan panted as the feeling of his orgasm rushed upon him.
“Oh yes,” Athos panted, almost desperate to feel his Gascon release inside him.
“I want you to... Please... with me inside you,” d'Artagnan gasped.
“Then... I... I need... Stay still and touch me,” Athos panted.
D'Artagnan complied, pressing as deep as he could into Athos' body, feeling Athos clench around him. He groped around under Athos until he found his weeping cock, hard as a rock. It took less than a second for d'Artagnan to gather enough moisture to stroke him easily.
“Faster,” Athos demanded, grinding back against the length impaling him.
D'Artagnan again obeyed, speeding his hand up, gripping tightly like he knew Athos liked. He could feel the tremors in Athos' body and knew he was close.
“Give yourself to me,” d'Artagnan whispered.
Athos nodded into the pillow and arched his back impossibly even further. D'Artagnan pressed forward with his hips so hard he could feel Athos' thighs trembling with the position as he was forced to hold some of the Gascon's weight.
With a deep groan, Athos finally reached his climax and he came, shuddering beneath his lover. With d'Artagnan's cock impossibly deep and like iron inside him, d'Artagnan's hand fast, tight and rough on his own member and d'Artagnan's other hand gripping him hard on the hip, Athos came apart, shaking and gasping.
Only when he managed to gain his breath back did he realise d'Artagnan was panting just as hard and as the two of them collapsed untidily to the bed, he realised the Gascon must have spent inside him after all.
“You're amazing,” Athos whispered.
D'Artagnan couldn't yet form words and simply sprawled across Athos' back like a heavily breathing blanket. He nuzzled into the back of Athos' sweaty neck and had enough presence of mind to press a moist kiss there.
Athos wasn't sure how long they lay there and didn't remember falling asleep but was definitely woken up by d'Artagnan stirring slightly.
“M'still inside you,” the slender man mumbled.
“It's okay,” Athos said quietly.
D'Artagnan rolled away slightly but to Athos' surprise, he pulled Athos onto his side as well without dislodging himself.
“Rejoice in the rigours of youth,” he murmured as he felt d'Artagnan thickening inside him.
“This okay?” d'Artagnan asked, nuzzling into the back of Athos' neck.
“Very,” Athos whispered. “As long as you don't expect me to... rise to the occasion.”
“Just can't resist you,” d'Artagnan murmured, rocking his hips slightly while his cock filled out.
Athos murmured happily at the sensation of d'Artagnan growing inside him. It was one thing to receive an increasing number of fingers but this was something else. He knew his body would be able to take it so soon after their thorough love making but having d'Artagnan grow and thicken inside him was so different, so intimate.
“Feel so good,” d'Artagnan murmured into his ear. “Can feel my release inside you.”
Athos moaned in embarrassment and hid his face in the pillow. Cleaning up was something he was normally very diligent about but there was a lot of moisture between their bodies as oil and seed had gathered while d'Artagnan softened. As he grew harder, Athos was surprised to find he didn't mind the mess for the first time in his memory.
D'Artagnan rocked slowly, holding Athos tenderly.
“Sore?” he asked.
“No,” Athos answered in a small voice.
“Going to feel me through your dinner?” d'Artagnan asked softly, lips brushing Athos' ear.
The Musketeer moaned at the idea of being sore, freshly fucked, body tingling with the memory of d'Artagnan as he spent time with a woman. The idea made him feel warmed that d'Artagnan wanted him to think of him as well as absurdly dirty that he would have the secret of their so recent and thorough love making and Ninon would never know.
“Is that a yes?” d'Artagnan asked, pressing gently into Athos.
“Yes,” Athos whispered.
D'Artagnan rolled him onto his stomach without asking but stopped him when Athos tried to push himself to his knees.
“Just like that,” the Gascon whispered.
Athos whimpered, feeling suddenly small, when d'Artagnan withdrew entirely. He felt his cheeks flame in shame when d'Artagnan pulled his buttocks apart ad cool air hit his still hot entrance.
“Hey, hey,” d'Artagnan whispered. “No embarrassment with me, remember?”
He waited patiently, on his knees, stroking firmly across the muscled back, grounding his prone lover. As he felt Athos relax slightly he pressed gently back into his body and felt a shudder go through the man beneath him.
“I don't mean it to embarrass you, my love,” he murmured, rocking gently. His hands moved to Athos' waist but began stroking him again.
“When I say you're going to feel me all night,” d'Artagnan spoke into the quiet, grinding his hips in small circles, “I simply mean to head off your already stated feeling of betrayal.”
Athos simply groaned and seemed to melt into the mattress. D'Artagnan felt the acquiescence in his body and began to fuck into him more rhythmically. He sacrificed the gentility of the beginning for smooth, languid strokes. There was less urgency this time and having already come once, he was in better control of himself. He used this opportunity to simply get used to Athos' body. He experimented with speed, depth and angle until he had Athos panting beneath him at a pace far quicker than he'd intended.
“Thought you didn't think you could rise,” d'Artagnan chuckled affectionately.
“Can't,” Athos panted. “You feel good enough on your own.”
Athos couldn't name the feeling spreading through him. It wasn't submission like it was with Aramis and Porthos. It was surrender. It wasn't surrender where he gave up his power, though. It was more like he gained something by being able to trust this much, to love this much again. By putting enough of his faith in d'Artagnan to reach this moment, he had tapped into a deep well of emotion that was hitherto unreachable between them. He knew d'Artagnan wouldn't hurt him, he knew d'Artagnan wouldn't betray him, wouldn't lie to him.
D'Artagnan stretched out above him, covering Athos' back with his own sweaty body. Wet, hot kisses were pressed against his neck and he moaned deeply. His heart ached even as the motion in and out of his body continued. At this angle d'Artagnan was moving faster but far more shallow. He could feel himself being opened more and more with the motion even as his heart felt laid bare.
“Love you,” he gasped.
“Love you too. So much,” panted d'Artagnan into the sweaty mop of hair.
Athos drifted for a long time before he felt d'Artagnan's strokes growing erratic. His entrance throbbed with a delicious tenderness he would remember long after the actual feeling had faded.
“This... This moment...” d'Artagnan rasped into Athos' ear, “I've never loved anyone more.”
Athos was beyond words and simply mumbled his love into the pillow again.
When d'Artagnan finally came, his entire body collapsed onto Athos' and he didn't even have the presence of mind to kiss his neck this time. Hot breaths would have to do.
“You 'mazing,” he mumbled.
Athos couldn't answer at all. His entire body was trembling and there was a lump of emotion in his throat. He simply lay there, content and wrung out, in d'Artagnan's arms. One of the tanned hands found its way around to stroke the soft flesh of Athos' belly and the Musketeer found himself calming quickly.
“Yep.. 'mazing,” d'Artagnan repeated drowsily.
Athos chuckled and twisted, reluctantly slipping off d'Artagnan's softened cock, at which both men hissed in a breath of shock.
“So are you, my love,” Athos said. “Pass me a cloth please.”
D'Artagnan opened one eye and looked at Athos.
“Why must you make me move so soon?”
“It is least unpleasant when done sooner rather than later,” Athos countered.
“True,” d'Artagnan muttered and he reluctantly heaved himself to a sitting position and reached the cloths Athos kept by the bed for this purpose. He leaned towards Athos but the man shifted away, embarrassed.
“I'll do it,” he murmured.
“I made the mess,” d'Artagnan said firmly.
“One bridge at a time,” Athos said quietly.
“Why leave one bridge uncrossed?” d'Artagnan asked, just as quietly.
Athos hesitated for a beat but it was long enough for the gentle yet sure hands of d'Artagnan to roll him to his stomach. His face flamed to life at the feeling of seed leaking from him but he couldn't deny there was something strangely intimate in the action. D'Artagnan was gentle and thorough and before Athos knew it, the hands withdrew and by the time he'd managed to turn onto his back, d'Artagnan was snuggling up beside him.
“Two hours?” d'Artagnan guessed, glancing at the sliver of light coming in through the shutters.
“Three at least,” Athos corrected. He lifted his arm and d'Artagnan settled into his normal place, head pillowed on Athos' chest.
“Mmkay. Let's sleep. I'm tired,” he mumbled.
“I bet,” Athos said drily. When d'Artagnan chuckled, he leaned down to press a kiss into the tangled black hair. “Me too, puppy.”