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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.

Comments

[du_vallon]

Porthos can't take being above him another moment, especially not when Athos looks at him the way he does. He goes crashing down to the floor, on his knees, and wraps his arm around Athos' back to haul him into his arms, kissing every last drop of himself from off Athos' skin before he turns his head to Aramis, a dazed and happy look on his face.

"Kiss me," he instructs. "And then pinch me because I swear, we're still on our honeymoon and I'm dreaming."

[afineseamstress]

Aramis lifts up on his knees, kissing Porthos tenderly. He is so beautiful when he is truly happy, and Aramis gives him an obliging pinch, soft rather than sharp. He turns to Athos after, kissing him just as tenderly, even as the taste of Porthos on his Athos' lips is enough to heat his blood. "All right?" he murmurs, turning Athos' head in his hands so he can kiss his tender jaw.

[somepoorsoul]

Athos sighs into the kisses, clinging to Porthos and Aramis in turn. The last hour or so seems to be catching up with him, leaving him overwhelmed, and elated, and exhausted in turn. And yet, by God, he still aches with want.

He manages a nod, swallowing a few times before he trusts himself to speak. “You?” he asks Porthos over Aramis’ shoulder, voice rasping a little.

[du_vallon]

Porthos growls at the sound of Athos' voice, hauling him up into his arms and throwing him onto the bed, cocking his brow up before he does the same to Aramis, lifting him up and hooking his elbows under Aramis' knees to carry him over to his side. "Athos, dear, you look like you still have a problem," he clucks his tongue with sympathy as he crawls over the both of them, giving Athos' cock a stroke.

"I'm more than good," he promises, assuring the both of them with a fond smile. "Beyond happy that this is the first days of our new life."

[afineseamstress]

Aramis curls into Porthos as much as he is able, both an instinct and a habit now. After a week of nothing but this man and their bodies twined together it feels strange to be far apart, even in inches, and he smiles at Athos as he nuzzles against Porthos' skin. Reaching, he slides a palm down Athos' side, fingers spreading high on his inner thigh.

"What do you need, Athos?" he asks. "Ask for anything, you will receive it, I promise you. We have long ago accepted our own unending need for one another."

[somepoorsoul]

“It’s all right,” Athos insists shakily, feeling his cheeks flush. He has taken so much already, he has laid bare one base desire after another, and surely he deserves no further pleasure.

And yet he arches needily at the touch, his body betraying what he cannot admit to wanting still.

[du_vallon]

Porthos presses a fond kiss to Aramis' shoulder, letting his lips rest there as he watches Athos with a private smile, tangling up the sheets to cover them from any chill in the bedroom -- grateful for their silk sheets and the massive space. "I can think of so many things," he admits. "I'm a bit too shaky to ride you, but Aramis might feel inclined?" he suggests, eyes wide.

[afineseamstress]

"I am never not inclined," says Aramis without shame, and he pulls Athos towards himself and Porthos, tugging their hips flush so Athos can feel that he, too, is hard again. "We asked you to share our bed, Athos, and I know you did not expect that to mean mostly sleeping." He leans in, mouthing hot and wet along Athos' throat, indulging himself with a shift of his arse back against Porthos. "How shall we make you feel good?"

[somepoorsoul]

Athos whines as their bodies press together and Aramis latches his mouth onto his throat. Porthos’ suggestion is tempting, but too much for him to grasp onto without fear; he feels as though he is falling down a well, trying to cling to slippery walls with no success, and even knowing that all that waits below is a warm embrace, terror still grips him. His heart is just too full for much more boldness.

He ducks his head away from Aramis’ mouth, burying his face against the other man’s shoulder where it meets his neck so that he might hide his flush of shame. Surely, he will disappoint them now. “Just touch me,” he says to both of them, voice gruff.

[du_vallon]

Porthos smiles as if privately, nudging his nose against Aramis' bare shoulder and nipping for the rocking motion back against him. He thinks of one of their first times together and thinks of how Aramis had placed his mouth somewhere all-together unexpected, but also how a hand could do the same. He squeezes Aramis' arse as he clambers over the both of them to position himself behind Athos, able to wrap his arms around the both of them and hold tight.

He strokes with his open palm, up and down Athos' side to smirk at Aramis. "See? I was right naming the cat what I did. They do share the uncanny desire for touch."

[afineseamstress]

"A theory I am pleased to see proven at last," says Aramis, stroking Athos' hair before he takes it in a gentle grip, pulling his head back so he can kiss him until that flush springs from something sweeter than shame.

He drags his fingers down Athos' other side, watching with pleasure as Athos' pale skin is covered by their own. "Say the word and we will never stop touching you," he promises, reaching below to take them both in hand, sighing happily as he begins to stroke. "Would that I had a larger hand," he says with a significant look over Athos' shoulder. "This would be even better."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos snorts at them both, a tiny grin pulling at his lips. Their shared embrace and steady smiles settle him - or at least settle him enough that he might be again unsettled in a sweeter way. Athos still waits in fear for the moment when they say, 'no, you were not what we thought you would be,' but miraculously, it does not yet come. He sighs shakily at the touch, and lifts an eyebrow at Aramis.

“Were that the case, you would never do anything else."

[du_vallon]

Porthos shakes his head wryly and huffs out a soft laugh as he reaches forward to replace Aramis' hand with his own larger one, able to take the both of them in hand to stroke lazily with no real rush to finish them off. "Aramis complains sometimes about this," he informs Athos softly. "Thinks he looks small with my hand on him."

[afineseamstress]

"I don't complain," says Aramis, eyes drifting shut when Porthos' hand closes around them both, huge and warm. It is a loose grip, and the movement slow, but Aramis' body is too attuned to Porthos' to feel anything but a rush of pleasure. His whole body hums with it, and to feel Athos' hardness against his own is enough to push an eager whimper from his throat. "I merely observe," he says, stroking fingers that tremble over Athos' chest and shoulders, smoothing the beard that adorns his proud jaw until he can draw him into a kiss. "His girlish fingers made for a better visual," he confesses on a whisper.

[somepoorsoul]

“Only a fool would complain.” Athos smirks, and his breath catches as the touch and the nearness of them both fills him with pleasure. Even when he cocks a skeptical brow at Aramis’ last comment, he cannot bring himself to voice any disapproval when they are like this. His fingers ghost over Aramis’ hair, settling and tightening at the nape of his neck as they kiss, but Porthos is the whispered name on Athos’ lips, thinking not only of his hand on him now, but the taste of him minutes before.

[du_vallon]

Porthos smirks, knowing the jibe against him is light-hearted and besides, it had painted a whole new delightful picture when he'd been a woman. For Aramis' comment (and Athos'), he tightens his grip on the both of them, picking up his pace while he moves his other hand to rub circles at Athos' shoulderblades, as if he can somehow undo the tension.

"I know you love my hands," he informs Aramis. "No matter what size they come in. You make the prettiest noises when I touch you, s'how I know."

[afineseamstress]

Aramis makes no denial, nor will he ever when it comes to Porthos' effect on him. "One day, we must try gagging me," he says, eyes still closed to revel in the three of them together. "Even I don't know what I'd do." He smiles, fingers curling loosely around Porthos' wrist as he strokes. "Still so many firsts."

[somepoorsoul]

Growing unfocused from the building pleasure, Athos leans back into Porthos’ hold, even as his hips jerk forward, betraying his greed for more. Everything is still so new, and he can only let himself be swept up in it all. He rests his head back against Porthos’ shoulder and tips his face against his neck, breathing in the scent of him, and then looking across at Aramis with an unsteady, breathless smile, carried by the tide. They have so many firsts ahead of them, and it’s as though his heart is full with every single one.

[du_vallon]

Porthos has never wanted to gag Aramis mainly because he's selfish and grows delighted with every passing little sound he makes. He can't imagine not hearing them, but he supposes it could render him eager for more in other ways. Now, though, he tangles his free hand in Athos' hair, leaning forward to press them together and kiss Aramis from over Athos' shoulder, parting his lips to deepen it as he tries to coax them forward, knowing that with nothing more than the friction of their bodies, he won't need more than a sharp tug when they're done to come, too.

And there's something amazing and powerful to the idea that they might come, all at once, three hearts synced in one beat.

[afineseamstress]

It's a small smile, but that soft, undone look in Athos' blue eyes remains printed on the backs of Aramis' lids when Porthos kisses him, and Aramis groans, licking deeper into Porthos' mouth as he bends forward, tightening the tangle of their bodies on the sheets. "You are both so much," he pants when he must pull away to breathe, "So much." There are more intimate ways to bind them all together, but this is the one that Aramis will cherish, their first breathless tumble of seeking hands and mouths and hot, slick skin. Smiling back, Aramis buries his face in the crook of Athos' shoulder, keening openly with the need to come.

[somepoorsoul]

Oh, but Athos wants to hold off his moment of release, wants to stay in this beautiful, desperate moment of sweat, and skin, flesh, and love. It’s as though their entire acquaintance has been rising to now, and he, too, will remember it forever. “Yes,” he whispers, for they are so much, too much, and then, for all he tries to hold back, he is spilling into Porthos’ hand.

[du_vallon]

Porthos bows his forehead down against Athos' shoulder, shuddering as he moans, coming and making a mess of Athos and their sheets. He's going to have to buy a whole lot of sheets, Porthos feels. "Aramis," he breathes out and moans. "Your turn. Aramis, please," he begs.

[afineseamstress]

Aramis needs no coaxing, not when Porthos' grip goes slippery with Athos' release, when Athos' breaths are desperate huffs against his hair, drowned only by Porthos' rumbling pleasure. Aramis opens his mouth against Athos' shoulder and lets his orgasm shake him loose, leaving him stunned and clutching at them both.

[somepoorsoul]

Athos trembles between them, clinging to Aramis’ shoulders, feeling the hot press of Porthos behind him, his arms tightly encircling him. Their chests rise and fall together, their hearts beat as one rapid staccato, and he doesn’t care that they are already growing sticky. He cannot think of anywhere he would rather be than pressed between the two of them.

“Oh…” he stutters, unable to manage anything more.

[du_vallon]

Normally, Aramis would go find cloths and water to clean them up, but Porthos tightens his hold on the both of them, stubbornly trying to avoid that because he doesn't want anyone to leave this perfect, warm, longed-for embrace. "You know," he rumbles, voice low and filled with joyful content, "I don't think this is what Paris had in mind when they called us Inseparable, but I can't find it in me to mind."