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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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[somepoorsoul]

Aramis’ response sends a shudder through Athos that he cannot contain. He pulls back enough to gaze down at Aramis again, running his thumb along his hairline, then the edge of his ear, and then jaw, fingers finally curling tightly at the nape of his neck to tug, again, at his hair. Athos glances up at Porthos again - for assurance, steadiness, the warmth that always lingers in his brown eyes - and slides his other hand down to stroke Aramis’ cock, refusing to hesitate, however uncharted these waters might be.

[du_vallon]

He wants, so badly, to get in the middle of the two of them and interfere, but that'll come. He needs to be patient and he grins as he watches him, breathing sharply as he slides his hand into his own trousers, watching the show in front of him with pleasure and eagerness. He catches Aramis' gaze, then Athos', and smiles beatifically for the way they check for him, grinning.

"I think if you look at him, he won't need more than a few strokes, especially if you touch his back," Porthos murmurs, moaning for how good they look and his hand coaxing him to his own pleasure.

[afineseamstress]

"I want to last, damn you," Aramis hisses, mouth open for further admonishments that die on his tongue as Athos strokes him. His touch is firm, unpracticed but unrelenting, and Aramis feels his toes begin to curl. Porthos has not lied, if he looks into Athos' eyes too long he will come, but he cannot bring himself to look away. "Athos," he whispers, traitorous back aching for the blunt edge of his nails.

[somepoorsoul]

Athos grins despite himself, glancing up again at Porthos as though for approval, breath catching when he sees him touching himself, knowing that both these men are being brought such pleasure thanks to him. He again meets Aramis’ gaze, relishing greedily the way his eyes go wide with want and pleasure.

All because of him.

Athos does his best to respond to Aramis’ whines, and groans, and shaky looks, adjusting pressure and touch. But mostly he just holds the other man’s gaze, keeping up the intensity that so clearly drives Aramis mad, riding the wave of his eagerness through any lingering uncertainty.

[du_vallon]

Porthos eases off his own touches, because right now, he doesn't want to miss the way he knows Aramis is about to inevitably fall apart and how Athos is going to see it for the first time. He refuses to be outside of his control when he sees it and his eyes latch onto Aramis' face before sliding to Athos, watching him intently as he grips the sheets in his fist, something to hold onto.

"Aramis, chou, give in," he coaxes, because god, does he want to see this.

[afineseamstress]

Aramis' gaze flits between them, whole body strung tight between the twin points of his stinging scalp and the building pleasure as Athos slides him through his fist. When he feels orgasm beginning to curl hot around his spine, he doesn't fight it, staring at Athos in wonder until his mouth cracks open in a joyful smile as he begins to spend, every new shuddering pulse punching another whimper from his throat.

[somepoorsoul]

Athos would not have imagined that Aramis could be more spectacular to look upon than he already is, tense and prone beneath him, but then he spends, and becomes something truly perfect. Athos does not let up his touch until Aramis is entirely sated, and in those last throes of pleasure, he presses kisses to his temple, and jaw, and lips, swept away to breathlessness merely through watching him.

[du_vallon]

Porthos grins to himself, remembering how he'd felt the first time that Aramis had spent in his arms, watching Athos enjoy himself through kisses and the look on his face. "See?" he replies smugly. "What did I tell you? He's perfect," he praises, of his husband.

[afineseamstress]

Eyes closed, Aramis drifts a moment, body singing with the aftermath of Athos' touch, and he smiles faintly to realize that it continues, soft kisses dropped on his skin until the wet heat behind his eyes has nothing to do with pain at all. Aramis blinks them open, agreeing without knowing just who Porthos is speaking of, but it doesn't matter. Right now, they are all three of them perfect.

He turns an unfocused smile on Athos, a little wondering still that they are finally here, naked body and soul, and reaches for Porthos' hand. "It was perfect," he agrees.

[somepoorsoul]

It finally is too much for him: the wonder in their eyes, their warmth, their compliments. Athos’ gaze skitters away, and he closes his eyes to collect himself. He has not felt this exposed in a very long time, and not merely because he lies naked. How right that he is with these two men, that they now know him in this way as well, and yet how terrifying it is to share so much of his heart with those he needs so dearly. Perfect. Nothing about him is perfect, and the more he shares, the likelier they are to finally discover as much.

He fights back the momentary panic, though, and looks at them both with a tiny curve of a smile. How do they manage to carry such delight and joy? What would it be to wake up beside those smiles each morning?

Athos shares none of his thoughts; he so rarely does, though if anyone can read something of his emotions, it is his companions. Instead he lifts a lifts a brow at Porthos. “So you can be patient, given the right circumstances."

[du_vallon]

Porthos twines his fingers with Aramis' and clasps him tight as he grins at the both of them, snorting with a sudden burst of laughter for Athos' comment. He's hardly patient, but his care and love for the other two outweigh his neediness in this situation. He gives them both a wry smirk as he settles back against the board, slouching and knees falling to the side. "You asking to do something about it?"

[afineseamstress]

Aramis brushes his thumb against Porthos' knuckles, gazing at him with a bloom of fondness too tender for speech, unable to rid himself of the knot his throat until he's lifted their joined hands to kiss Porthos'. He has been patient, and Athos terribly brave, and Aramis could not love either more.

Lifting up on his elbows, Aramis reaches for Athos, kissing away the hint of fear he sees in his eyes as best he can. "I can show you, if you like," he murmurs. "How to use your mouth on him. Otherwise, I can happily vouch that your hand is ecstasy. Or something else entirely."

He brushes his thumbs against Athos' cheekbones. "Whatever you want, Athos. We have our whole lives to be good to one another."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos’ pride twinges at the look of gentle concern in Aramis’ eyes, hating still the way his inexperience shines. But he nods and leans in close, pressing their foreheads together and allowing himself to take comfort in Aramis' assurances. He closes his eyes, and takes a breath, and thinks of Porthos, his eagerness and warmth, and how he would look, wild and undone. Such a heady thought bolsters his courage.

“I believe I would like to use my mouth,” he decides in a low murmur.

[du_vallon]

Porthos gapes at Athos for the suggestion, blinking at him with such stunned shock that for a moment, he isn't sure what he's supposed to say. Still, he's sure that, "Athos, are you sure? I'm not exactly small," is not what he should be saying, except he does. He should be begging, demanding yes please, but he's rife with concern about pushing him too far.

[afineseamstress]

"That is the truth," Aramis laughs, knees pressed to the sheets to lever himself upward. He curls his body around Athos', arms twined around his middle and chin hooked against his shoulder, just as it had been those weeks ago when he showed Athos how to do his tie. As with that day, Aramis feels awash in arousal and tenderness, and he gently pushes two of his fingers into Athos' mouth.

"Like this," he says, nosing at his cheek as he slides his fingers against Athos' tongue. "Show me how you would taste him." Gaze flicking over Athos' shoulder to Porthos, Aramis adds, "Show him what he'll be working with, hmm?"

[somepoorsoul]

“I appreciate your confidence in me,” Athos deadpans. Still, he flushes, and looks away, and wonders to himself what he was thinking to suggest such a thing when he hasn’t a blessed idea what he’s doing. But he isn’t a man to back down, and certainly will not allow nerves to get the best of him now.

Athos is startled by the bolt that goes through him when Aramis presses his fingers into his mouth. Inhaling carefully and closing his eyes, he runs his tongue experimentally along them, carefully but purposefully exploring. Heat coils in his belly at the mere thought that Porthos’ cock will be between his lips soon, his own desires startling him once again.

[du_vallon]

Porthos watches the both of them and slides to stand beside the bed, his gaze staring at Aramis' fingers inside of Athos' mouth, his moan transitioning into a happy sigh as he grasps the hem of his shirt to strip it off, settling his feet widely apart as he watches the both of them.

He tugs off his socks and then gets off his jeans, leaving him only in his boxers before he pulls them off, too, giving Athos a curious, expectant look. "Well, Aramis?" he muses. "Do you think he can take me?"

[afineseamstress]

Aramis hums in answer, watching the flush creep over Athos' cheeks as he adds a third finger, stretching his mouth wider. "You mustn't scrape him with your teeth," Aramis murmurs, lips close to Athos' ear. "Our Porthos has no taste for pain, as you well know."

He smirks at Porthos, pushing his fingers deeper into Athos' mouth. "Don't try to take him all the way, that's a thing that takes some practice. Listen to the sounds he makes, you'll know what he enjoys and what he doesn't. It will feel good to you, too."

Pulling his fingers free of Athos' mouth, Aramis grabs his head and kisses him deeply, grinning when they break apart. "He can take you," he calls to Porthos. "Sit and let him kneel between your legs."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos hums softly as Aramis’ fingers leave his mouth, and clings to him as they kiss, as though with the embrace Athos could absorb Aramis’ easy confidence. He swallows and looks at Porthos, seeking some shred of reassurance in his uncertain, expectant expression. Whether or not he finds it, he has come too far to change his mind now.

Taking a breath and nodding faintly, he moves across the bed once Porthos is seated, and catching his gaze for a moment, lowers himself to the floor. Running his hand up Porthos’ thighs, Athos looks up to meet his gaze with a faint smile. “If you will permit me."

[du_vallon]

Porthos laughs softly as he shakes his head, settling into where he's sitting on the bed, his palms running up and down his thighs as he studies Athos. He's still worried about Athos taking too much, too fast, but that part of his brain is quickly getting eclipsed by the part that wants this so badly, shivering with anticipation to think of Athos' mouth on his cock.

"God, please," he finally gives in and begs desperately and earnestly, a wild look in his eyes.

[afineseamstress]

Curling his body around Porthos now, it is his shoulder Aramis looks over, eyes keen on Athos where he kneels. "Now you are in my place," he whispers in Porthos' ear. "Those eyes of his." He noses at Porthos' stubbled cheek, arms wrapped around his middle.

"He's trembling," he tells Athos, mouth open against Porthos' throat. "He wants you so much."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos exhales softly, stomach tightening rather pleasantly as he first takes Porthos’ already hard cock in his hand and giving him a few firm strokes, watching his face all the while. He fears he will be a great disappointment - he knows that, at the very least, he cannot give as Aramis could - but Athos is determined to give Porthos what pleasure he can, even if it is less than he deserves. Still fighting nerves, but determined as ever, he runs his tongue experimentally along Porthos’ shaft, and then carefully takes him in his mouth.

[du_vallon]

Porthos is staring down at Athos like he's the most wondrous thing in the world. It's a look he's often given to Aramis -- besotted and boyish wonder -- and he slides his fingers into Athos' hair to curl softly, thumb brushing along his earlobe as he holds onto him, still shaking, still eager, and leaning his torso back against Aramis for the support. "I never imagined you on your knees in front of me," he gets the words out in a shaky rush, blinking rapidly as that wonder refuses to leave his eyes.

[afineseamstress]

Aramis shivers himself as Athos' lips part. He has seen that mouth in so many forms over the years, smirking, scowling, chastising, the rare grin, but never like this. Already his lips are thin and stretched, and Aramis' own give a phantom pang, having been where his are now so many times before. "He tastes sweet," he murmurs, almost to himself. "That was my very first thought upon tasting him."

[somepoorsoul]

Porthos’ response is enough to urge Athos on, push him past the discomfort of newness to the surprisingly blissful pleasure of the task. He remembers what Aramis had said, he responds to Porthos’ low moans and the needy tightening of his fingers in his hair. Athos pushes himself further, and then further still, and even when he starts to choke he pulls back only a little, desperate to give as much as he can manage, and already longing to give more.