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[somepoorsoul]

Though he has spent much of the last week imagining Aramis and Porthos’ return - in anticipation, and joy, and a bit of fear - now that he knows the moment draws near, he finds himself teeming with uncertainties. There are things he must say - now, before the opportunity slips through his fingers forever, and all he has left is the memory of those moments in the stables, the press of lips against his and hands blissfully burning his skin. Athos still does not trust himself, and perhaps he never will, but he trusts his friends, more than he has trusted anyone. And so, there are things he must say.

But first, he must welcome his dear friends home. Athos has not attempted to make a meal for them, knowing that no meager fest he could concoct would match Porthos’ skill in the kitchen. But he has procured a few bottles of fine wine, one of which sits already open and half drunk on the kitchen counter. The steadying of his nerves has taken one, and then two, and three glasses. Now, shamefully, he pours himself a fourth.

He has never been very good with words.

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[afineseamstress]

Aramis is slower to move, laughing faintly when the speed of Porthos' exit from the table actually moves his hair. He turns in his chair and sips his wine, a tempered eagerness in his eyes as he gazes on the pair of them.

The first time Porthos and he came together, it was like standing in a tempest. However much Aramis has hoped Athos would come to them, however he had expected it would happen, if not today then soon, he can't help but wonder if he knows just what he'll be unleashing upon himself.

Rising from his seat, Aramis comes forward. "Do you wish to begin now?" he asks, for if Porthos is to reign himself in, he will need every warning.

[somepoorsoul]

For just a moment, panic flickers in Athos eyes. For just a moment, he second-guesses everything he has thought through, every eventuality he has feared and set aside. For just a moment, he wonders what the hell he has gotten himself into.

But only for a moment. As careful and contemplative as he can be, Athos does not hesitate once he has made a decision. Now is no exception. He shifts closer to Porthos, grabbing his wrist, eyes intent upon the man even as he speaks to Aramis. “I have waited long enough, have I not?” he says in a low murmur, with a voice that barely seems his own.

His heart may be in his throat, but he wants this. He wants them.

[du_vallon]

Porthos takes that opportunity to tighten his grip, now, on Athos, turning him around until his back is pressed to Aramis' front. He pins him in place so he can't move, not when he's flush against Porthos' body, but before he can properly start, before they can devour him, there's one thing he wants to make clear.

"You're not just sharing our beds," he says firmly. "You're sharing our lives and I don't want to hear a single argument. Not one." He holds him, now, clasping his hips and Athos will bruise there, sharp fingerprints, Porthos is making sure of that.

He bows his head into Athos' neck to kiss where the locket lies, giving Aramis the floor, now.

[afineseamstress]

Aramis ducks his head, nose tucked behind Athos' ear to breath him in. This moment has grown closer to reality in fits and starts, moving in increments and then in leaps, and it is difficult to believe that it is really here. Aramis closes his eyes and breathes again, smelling wine and faint shampoo and the scent of Athos' skin beneath.

Reaching his arms around him, Aramis begins undoing the buttons of Athos' shirt, knuckles scraping the warmth of Porthos' chest as he works. "This is only part of it," he agrees, spreading a palm beneath Athos' ribs when the shirt is open, fingers dipping the barest inch beneath the hem of his trousers. "We want everything."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos inhales softly, giving himself over to the embrace with a slight shudder, eyes slipping shut. He had given the rest of himself over to these two men years ago, that is the truth of the matter - in fits and starts then, too, often without even realizing it, until they were les inseparables, never seen apart. In the end, when he had thought, and wondered, and stared sightlessly at the ceiling on sleepless nights, he had realized what a small thing this was compared to all of that heart and trust. Small, but wondrous.

Tipping his head to rest against Aramis’, he slides his hand down Porthos’ arm to grip his elbow, more steadied and certain than he has felt in a long time.

[du_vallon]

Porthos laughs softly from where he's laying a trail of kisses over Athos' skin, spinning him around to give Aramis the front of Athos' body to work with, now pinning him from behind. "Aramis and I kissed right here for the first time too, you know," he murmurs. "Inches from where we're standing right now. It's also where he vowed not to see other people. It's almost a shame we have to leave this place eventually. Seems lucky for us."

His heart is racing madly and wildly, only lifting his head to communicate with Aramis in a single brief moment, a look that asks if they shouldn't move to their spacious king-sized bed in the bedroom.

[afineseamstress]

Aramis replies with a lifted brow that says that when he finally steps back, Porthos really ought to put Athos over his shoulder to get him there. "We have many firsts ahead of us," he says, brushing Athos' open shirt from his shoulders as he slides forward, pushing a knee between his legs.

"But I have to ask." Aramis takes Athos' face in his hands and searches it. "Have you ever shared a bed with a man before?"

[somepoorsoul]

Athos makes a soft sound as Aramis presses close, his heart beating hard in his chest. His locket is comfortingly cool against his skin in sharp contrast to the heat of their hands. He can feel the flush rise on his cheeks, a result of want and sheepish embarrassment combined, and he forces himself to meet Aramis’ gaze when he shakes his head.

Swallowing hard, he rests back in Porthos’ arms, fingers trailing lightly down Aramis’ chest. “As you say, many firsts."

[du_vallon]

Porthos grins for that, giving a nod to Aramis that says he ought to back away unless he means to get smacked in what he intends to do. In the meantime, he helps to push aside Athos' shirt, watching the path of Athos' fingers down Aramis' chest -- one of Porthos' favourite things in the whole world. "Aramis and I are plenty experienced," he promises. "We've got the lube, the condoms, and so many ideas, I think we could both burst."

[afineseamstress]

Aramis shivers for the simple touch, nearly innocent against his shirt, yet as intimate as a heated kiss from the man giving it. Aramis traces his fingertips over Athos' knuckles in turn, throwing a quelling look over Athos' shoulder at Porthos.

"We need not get to them all tonight," he says with a smile, disengaging from Athos with reluctance. It is not a moment too soon, for in his wake, he feels the rush of air as Porthos grabs and sweeps Athos over his shoulder. Aramis laughs and heads into the bedroom, dimming the lights just a touch before he sits on the edge of the bed to lie back on his elbows.

[somepoorsoul]

Athos falters at Porthos’ words, abruptly aware of his relative inexperience and the fool he will surely make of himself. He does not have long to contemplate, though, for all of a sudden, Porthos is lifted him into his arms like a sack of flour and carrying him bodily into the bedroom. He yelps a protest, and when he is deposited on the bed next to Aramis, flushed and hair tousled, he glares.

At least, he tries to glare.

“I should hit you for that."

[du_vallon]

Porthos chuckles happily as he looms above the both of them, brushing off his arms as he peers down at Athos, gaze sliding over to Aramis. "He doesn't like it the way you do," he notes. "You get all breathless and a bit whimpery." He slides forward, though, pushing his hand through Athos' messy hair as he leans in for a kiss, smirking the whole while.

He slides over to Aramis, unsure how they should do this. He kisses him lazily, speaking against his lips as he does. "How do we do this?" he mumbles, nipping his lower lip as he climbs over him to the head of the bed, still fully clothed despite Athos' pulling ahead in that department.

[afineseamstress]

Aramis laughs again, leaning back to kiss Porthos' knee when he crawls away. "We have much to learn of one another, and plenty of time," he says, nodding towards Athos with a look that clearly says, get his clothes off.

Reaching for a short pinch of Athos' backside after, Aramis stands, giving Porthos another significant look as he starts at his own cuffs, loosening them while he returns to the kitchen for the wine.

[somepoorsoul]

“I think I’d like to see that,” Athos murmurs with a brief curve of a smirk in response to Porthos’ quip about carrying Aramis. It’s hard not to feel exposed, both literally and figuratively, but he resists the urge to look away as the two men kiss, caught in a heady place between excitement and fear, like he has trespassed where he should not go, but has decided it’s worth the cost.

Heart beating hard, but expression composed, he watches Aramis go, his gaze then flickering to Porthos. A soldier is often called upon to feign confidence, and he puts that skill to work now, sitting up and gripping Porthos shirt to haul him close. With a hesitation that only those who know him best might detect (and the trouble is, these are the men who know him best), he kisses the other man hungrily, free hand snaking around to grip the back of his neck.

[du_vallon]

Porthos knows very well that it won't take long for Athos to see, given that Porthos has a habit of porting Aramis around all the places he likes to tug him when he isn't moving fast enough. He watches him leave curiously, but can't find himself too disappointed seeing as soon Athos is tugging him in.

He feels the hesitation, but tries to undo that as much as he can by sinking back into the kiss, dragging Athos on top of him with his hand splayed on his back until he can ease back and brush his thumbs over Athos' cheeks slowly. "Anything that's too much, you just have to say. Okay?"

[afineseamstress]

Aramis drinks from the bottle as he returns, smiling for the sight of them twined together as he sets it on the nightstand. "We can do as much or as little as you like," he agrees, stripping his shirt from his shoulders. It's a little chilly in the room yet, but Aramis knows that won't last for long, undoing his belt next to push his trousers from his hips. He can't help but make slow going of it, a long held habit for Porthos' benefit, but he leaves his boxers on for now.

Crawling on his knees towards them, Aramis sits back on his heels. "But I find it's best to throw you in the deep end and see how well you swim."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos is infinitely grateful for their assurances – more grateful than he is ever likely to admit. He nods a little, and offers Porthos a reassuring half-smile, then pushes himself up, still half leaning over Porthos when he stills, caught staring for a moment as Aramis disrobes.

“I can swim just fine,” he deadpans, because for all his protests and fears, he does have his pride. And as though to prove it – to himself as much as anyone – he leans down to kiss Porthos roughly and thoroughly again, hands sliding under his shirt to run over his bare skin.

[du_vallon]

Porthos lets out a muffled sound of shocked surprise, not sure why he's the one getting kissed like that when Aramis is the one who talked about throwing him in to swim or drown. Still, he's hardly going to complain. Still, Aramis has ideas and Porthos is happy to share those notions because they've talked about this and it's not hard to know what Aramis wants.

So while he's parting his lips and sinking into such a lovely kiss, his arms are working around Athos' elbows, holding tight. He pulls himself away from the kiss, cheeks flushed and an apologetic look in his eye. "Sorry, lapin," he offers, and flips Athos so that he's on his back to Porthos' front, his arms locked behind his back.

He's held down, restrained, and ready for Aramis. "I definitely think we should do that thing we talked about," he agrees with Aramis, despite not having said a word out loud about said plans.

[afineseamstress]

"A fine idea," agrees Aramis, even as he clucks his tongue, eyes raking over Athos before he meets Porthos' eye. "So many clothes yet, cariño." Crawling over them both, Aramis nips Porthos' bottom lip, pressing a kiss to his scar before dropping down to where Athos lies prone between them.

Aramis gazes at him for a long moment before he ducks his head, dropping a kiss to Athos' flushed cheek. "Too many clothes, indeed," he murmurs, and fastens his mouth to the curve of Athos' throat, pressing hot, sucking kisses there while his fingers work the clasp of Athos' trousers free.

[somepoorsoul]

The very moment Athos believes he has grasped some semblance of control, Aramis and Porthos gleefully wrest it from him, a power they have that is unsteadying and intoxicating both. When Porthos flips him round, Athos grunts with surprise, immediately tipping back his head under Aramis’ mouth to tuck against Porthos’ collarbone. He pulls against the man’s hold, not truly to break free, but to revel in the strength of it.

“Sounds ominous,” he observes, voice hitching as Aramis’ hand brushes his groin. He should not want this, certainly not so desperately, but now he cannot think of a single reason why.

[du_vallon]

Porthos grins because he knows what comes next and he loves what comes next. He's a bit envious of what Athos is about to experience, if he didn't get it himself every single day on a near steady basis, given that Aramis has a habit of doing this after yoga with him. "How long has it been, lapin?" he murmurs, slow and heavy. "Aramis, how long do you reckon, since a man of your handsome nature was where you are now?"

[afineseamstress]

"Porthos, please," says Aramis, pushing Athos' trousers over his hips so he can drag his underwear down with his teeth, "I am without equal." His smirk loses focus, however, for the sight of Athos' cock, only half-filled yet, but that will soon change. Aramis glances up for one eager glance at the pair of them, then he curls his fingers around it, stroking loosely while his mouth goes to the juncture of Athos' hip, biting down as he strokes Athos to hardness.

[somepoorsoul]

Athos begins to chide Aramis for his arrogance, but the words are not even formed when he is pulling down his pants with his teeth and touching him, and Athos can no longer think on anything else. As much as he had wished it otherwise, abstinence has never lessened desire, and for six years he has dealt with it with too much shame for real pleasure. Now, his mind has no room for anything but want, not when Porthos is murmuring in his ear and Aramis is smirking joyfully as he strokes him to hardness. He has not forgotten the day when he walked in on them, Porthos' mouth around Aramis’ cock, a scene he has since imagined in every permutation. With that image in mind he whines, and then closes his eyes against the unbidden sound, biting his lip hard to suppress his next undignified whimper.

[du_vallon]

Oh, that sound is something that Porthos wants to hear for the rest of his life. He grins and holds him a little tighter, his fingers stroking over the bare skin that's available to him. "He's good at that, isn't he?" he murmurs. "The way he touches, the way he works, that look in his eye. He's never more beautiful than he is when he's like this," he narrates, smiling fondly down at Aramis from where he's lying prone, holding Athos back.

[afineseamstress]

Aramis exchanges a wild look with Porthos for that whimper, plucked straight from their imaginations and even sweeter in reality. He holds Porthos' gaze as he guides Athos' cock to his mouth, wanting to share this first taste with him, but his eyes fall closed as soon as that smooth, firm heat hits his tongue.

Aramis groans, hands curling around Athos' hips as he lowers himself, sucking at the velvet flesh inside his mouth gently at first, then growing in pressure as he begins to move. It is perfect, Athos is perfect, just as they knew he would be, and the only thing that could make this better would be the tug of fingers in his hair. It is by Aramis' own design that neither of his companions' fingers are free, but he whines with wanting anyway, eager for every pleasure.