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Maybe it was the extra drinks, but none of the men in the group found it all that surprising to receive this fruit cake today of all days. They were celebrating D'Artagnan’s official admission to the king’s Musketeers in an inn room, and they assumed it was a gift from some admirer. So they eagerly cut into it and placed it as the centerpiece of their impromptu party. The room wasn't much, but they wanted a quieter setting where they could chat in confidence. It had a single window and a sofa without armrests. They were sitting on either side of a low, square table. Between the beer and the chatter, the cake was practically gone by the time the symptoms began.
“I hadn’t realized that alcohol made me feel so hot, ” said D’Artagnan, unbuttoning his doublet, which felt as if it were constricting him.
“That’s surely because you’re thinking about all the girls you’re going to take home, ” replied Porthos, smiling and patting him on the back.
“No, no, D'Artagnan is right, I feel strange too,” Aramis meticulously removed the same garment, rolled up his sleeves and checked his pulse, placing his index and middle fingers on the inside of his wrist. “Heavens, I hope nothing we ate was poisoned. My pulse is racing.” He was about to continue speaking but stopped suddenly when Athos, to his right, placed his hand on his thigh, stroking it slowly. It wasn’t that it was unpleasant—they’d been having intimate encounters for months—but it was supposed to be a secret. It wasn’t like him at all to make any strange gestures with anyone even remotely nearby. After all, they could get into serious trouble.
With a mix of fear and embarrassment, he turned his head slowly to look at him out of the corner of his eye, to see if he could figure out what was wrong with him. The moment their eyes met, Athos breathed heavily and moved dangerously close to him. He seemed to be waging a mental battle with himself while Aramis held his breath, waiting to see if he would do something stupid.
“I can't take it anymore. I don’t know why but right now, I feel the same as when we're alone, but multiplied by 100. I'm burning up, and if there's only one way I can relieve it, so be it.” With that, Athos closed the distance between them and kissed him passionately, as if it were the first time.
The eyes of the three witnesses, including Aramis himself, widened in astonishment. The strangest thing was that he himself couldn’t turn away. Suddenly, the uneasy feeling he’d been experiencing for the past few moments dissipated, replaced by a soothing sensation of pleasure that coursed through his entire body.
For his part, D'Artagnan nearly fell off his chair in surprise, yet he began to embrace this warm feeling that was enveloping him by the moment and turned to look at his companion as well.
Porthos understood the gesture immediately and moved back a few inches, raising his hands as if to protect himself. “I feel it too—” He was panting, and his cheeks were visibly flushed. “But we shouldn’t… I don’t understand what’s happening.”
D’Artagnan wasn’t going to take no for an answer given the situation, and he leaned in as close as he could. He leaned some of his weight onto the man’s chest and rested his hands on his strong arms. “Maybe this push was what I needed. I’ve always found you all so attractive that I sometimes fantasize about sharing a bed with the three of you.” Just speaking, D’Artagnan was salivating as he looked into his eyes. “And as for you, you’re so strong—you could handle me however you wanted. Force me to take you all in my mouth... Fuck, let me eat you, please.”
Seeing his pleas broke the last shred of caution Porthos had. He took his face firmly in his hands and lost himself in the kiss. D’Artagnan wasn’t as experienced as he was, and was clearly nervous, which gave the big man the chance to take complete control. As he explored the feel of his tongue, his large hands caressed the young man’s entire torso and back beneath his shirt. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Athos was on top of Aramis on the small sofa and was removing all of his lower garments. This was more than enough to take as a signal to do the same, so he picked D'Artagnan up and sat him on the inner windowsill, which was at a better height for him. With his expertise, he practically tore the clothes off him until the young man was completely naked, and put him down afterwards.
“You have perfect skin, did you know that?” said Porthos, before biting his neck. “I was dying to leave a mark on you.” D'Artagnan flinched at the slight pain and whimpered at the way he was being treated.
“Now, get down on your knees for me. Show me how badly you want to suck me off.”
The young man felt his cheeks burn and slowly dropped to one knee. Suddenly, he felt Porthos, smirking with smug satisfaction, grab him by the hair and yank him down to force him to obey immediately. He hit the floor with a thud and felt the rough boards scrape against the skin on his knees.
It was time to face what lay before him. He unbuttoned his breeches and pulled the fabric all the way down to reveal a massive, erect member. D'Artagnan took a deep breath and steeled himself. He took the base in his left hand and slowly stroked its entire length with his right hand to get used to it. He gave the tip a little kiss before starting to take it into his mouth, which was already overflowing with saliva from impatience.
The musketeer standing before him groaned deeply with every thrust of his mouth, and he grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck with one hand while leaning on the windowsill behind him with the other. “Damn, you've done this before, huh? Your mouth's so fucking hot, you're doing amazing,” Porthos growls, followed by a chuckle, “but you're going to have to work hard because I've got good stamina.” Being challenged sends a wave of heat through D'Artagnan, who resolves to give it his all.
While all of this was going on, Athos finished pulling down the breeches of his elegant companion, who was looking away at the wall in utter embarrassment. Being the kind of person he was, Aramis didn’t even want to think about the fact that his other two friends were just a few feet away, doing indecent things as well. They could all be executed for sodomy if someone were spying on them. But at the same time, the adrenaline was making him feel so good that he was letting himself go without giving it much thought—something he rarely did. This contradiction was driving him crazy.
Athos knew his personality very well and loved being able to break down his model-like demeanor, so he rejoiced at having such an opportunity. "You're beautiful, Aramis. I know you’re going to be a good boy for me and do everything I tell you, right?”
As was now his custom, he nodded, breathing heavily.
“Very well,” the regal man positioned himself between his legs and prepared to enter him. “I want you to switch between looking at me and at them—watch us closely and be aware of what’s happening.”
The poor devotee looked up at him suddenly, surprised and with the eyes of a lamb. “B-but I’m so embarrassed—what if they look back at me~ehw? ~mhmm.” As he spoke, Athos thrust himself fully inside him, feeling his familiar warmth. “Then they’ll see how well I’m fucking you and how handsome you are.”
With a groan of defeat, Aramis turned his head to find a shocking sight: his friend D'Artagnan was taking the thrusts of a man who easily outmatched him in both strength and size. He used his hands to help guide the movement, but Porthos had never been known for his finesse, and he moved his head as he pleased to hit the spots he liked best.
The moans of the four grew louder until they filled the entire space, along with the sound of skin against skin.
During one of his glances at his partner, Aramis held back the urge to roll his eyes and whimpered in the lowest voice he could manage, “I-I'm going to... will you let me? Please?” He looked as if he might cry at any moment.
Athos loved having so much control over him, and this time he’d behaved so well. “Very good, sweetheart, come for me.”
The man finished coming on his stomach and huffed contentedly, his breathing settling a bit. Athos leaned in and kissed his forehead with a sweet smile. “I love you. You’re the best thing in the world.” Aramis smiled, listening to his partner, who seemed like he was about to propose one of his ideas “I want to try something to have fun with D’Artagnan—plus, I’m sure he’ll like it deep down. You’re with me, right?”
It was the first time that day that the usually calm man flashed the same knowing smile as Athos in approval.
Tears pooled at the corners of Dartacan’s eyes as his friend’s every thrust pushed him to his limit. He felt the back of his throat burning and struggled to keep his mouth open, but he was determined to finish what he had started. It had been difficult for him to focus on pleasing him, since all this time his own erection hadn’t subsided and continued to throb with excitement with every movement.
Porthos growled louder by the moment, and little by little his grip grew impatient as he approached climax. “God, you’re so good—I’m going to come~ Swallow it.”
The stream of thick fluid completely filled the young man’s mouth; he tried to pull away but was held firmly in place to take it all. "Mmgghh—" Only a few drops spilled from the corner of his lips when he finally pulled away, catching his breath.
He stayed there on his knees, eyes closed, for just a few seconds until he saw his other two friends approaching.
“How's it going? Porthos is a brute, but people usually enjoy him quite a bit if they're into that” Athos said, looking down at him. “We've got a little something for you.”
They didn't wait for him to answer. Aramis crouched first, sliding an arm behind D’Artagnan’s head and shoulders, while the count moved to take his legs. With a brief exchange of glances, they lifted him together and carried him the short distance before easing him down onto the sofa.
Aramis knelt beside him and wrapped his fingers around his erection, stroking it slowly and drawing a string of whimpers from the man. Athos, standing by their side, slipped his fingers into D'Artagnan's mouth to coat them with saliva, and could feel the vibrations of his throat around them.
He then knelt down next to his entrance and proceeded to insert one finger, then another, exploring his insides.
This double stimulation was wreaking havoc on the young man’s composure; who arched his back whenever his most sensitive spots were caressed. When Athos decided he was ready enough, he entered him without warning, taking delight in the expression of pleasure he couldn’t help but make.
“Fuck-k! This is too much~” D’Artagnan cried out, clenching his fists.
A few moments later, his legs began to twitch slightly, and he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Aramis was nodding to someone behind him. Before he could comprehend what that could have meant or even come close to orgasm, Porthos grabbed his wrists and pinned them firmly above his head in a hold from which there was no escape.
Aramis also saw his chance to arouse D'Artagnan and seized it: he moved his head closer to his member without stopping his hand movements and took the tip into his mouth, expertly licking it in circles with his warm tongue.
This made the young musketeer roll his eyes and moan with a trembling voice as he neared climax. Everyone could tell, and, as they had agreed, they slowed the pace of the stimulation and watched with delight as his expression turned to panic. “No, no, please let me cum—hm,” he moaned agonizingly, shaking his hips and trying unsuccessfully to lower his arms. “I can’t take this~ I’m going crazy, mmhh.”
His partners picked up the pace again, watching his reactions closely. Athos thrusted into him with all his strength, drawing moans from the young man every time he struck his prostate. When he himself felt close as well, he signaled to Aramis, who increased the pace and switched from shallow licks to deep throat with agility, taking D’Artagnan completely by surprise. He looked at both of them anxiously, asking for permission with his eyes. The dominant veteran gave him a growl of approval and managed to synchronize with his partner’s orgasm. While Athos moaned in a deep, controlled voice, his friend came inside Aramis’s mouth with a broken, rapid sound, his whole body convulsing.
When the storm of emotions had subsided, the four sweaty men sat down to calm down a bit
Aramis broke the silence, clearly distressed “Do you think anyone saw us?”
“I don’t know, but they definitely heard us, hahaha,” replied Porthos, more than satisfied with the final result. “Don’t worry about it too much. Look.” He walked over to the window and checked that the few other windows visible were either closed or looked into dark rooms. Besides, it was already dusk, and visibility was very poor. “It would take some real bad luck for someone to just happen to look up. If anything happens, we can handle it.”
That reassured the whole group, who carried on with a new and pleasant dynamic. However, there was still something unresolved.
“Still, that doesn’t change the fact that we’ve been poisoned,” said Porthos, arms crossed.
“It was probably the cake,” admitted D’Artagnan, who had been the first to try it.
“Maybe it just didn’t have the effect it was supposed to. “I doubt anyone wanted to see us like this,” Porthos whispered, a little embarrassed. “Well, mulling it over isn’t going to get us anywhere. We’ll find out eventually.”
________
A few hours earlier, Milady de Winter was standing at one of the windows across the street, waiting for the show to begin. Ever since their first disagreements, she had always found the group intriguing and appealing. Knowing they were going to gather for this occasion and that she had the chance to watch them, she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to give them a little nudge and have some fun watching them.
As they began to undress, Milady also shed her own clothes and began to touch herself, analyzing every detail.
D'Artagnan’s eagerness, Porthos’s roughness, Athos’s dominance, and Aramis’s sensuality. She thought of them all as she masturbated throughout the encounter.
Before anyone could regain their senses, she closed the windows and acted as if nothing had happened, though she might spy on them again in the future.