somepoorsoul | (no subject)

The night is damp and chilly for May, but that has not stopped the university’s young revelers from stumbling about in drunken celebration, even past midnight. Athos only ever comes this far north to visit the stables, and it is strange to be here so late at night, amongst the older, more scattered houses, stuffed full of students nine months out of the year. Outside the university, neighborhoods fall away to countryside fairly quickly; it is no surprise that so many could so easily go missing.

Athos has spoken little during their late-night trek to the edge of campus, thoughts focused, as best he can, on the task at hand. Is he glad that Porthos agreed to come along, or nervous? He still trusts Porthos with his life, and always will, but he fears that the man has been guilted or coerced into this venture. Believing what he does (knowing what he does), why would he follow Athos anywhere?

But they are here now. Athos leans against a lamppost that leaves him half-illuminated. Celebrants are now stumbling home in ones and twos, and fewer of them seem out and about. If the vampires intend to strike tonight, it will likely be soon, now that most students have gone home, leaving the more foolish (and the more drunk) to venture into the darkness alone and vulnerable. He glances at Aramis, their "bait" for the night, and then, briefly, meets Porthos' gaze. “Still up for this?" he asks them both.

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"Yes, sir, Captain, sir," is a throaty growl that he gives with a wink in Aramis' direction, waiting expectantly for the kiss that's about to come as he lazily thrusts upwards, inclined to drag this out as long as he can and as long as he wants to, because this isn't something to be rushed.

Turning away from the tantalizing sight of Athos spent and still riding Porthos' cock, Aramis lays himself next to Porthos and curls in to kiss him, his mouth falling open when his own neglected cock brushes the firm skin of Porthos' side. He closes his eyes, losing himself for a moment to the act of sharing Athos' taste.

Athos has adored seeing Aramis and Porthos tangled together since their early days as lovers. Now, though spent and hypersensitive after his climax, he still relishes the way they kiss. He can see the tremble of need go through Aramis as he presses against Porthos’ body, and he smirks breathlessly. His voice is still breathless and raw, but he manages to keep it steady. “Touch him,” he tells Porthos, and he has not missed the desire in the man’s eyes when he tells him what to do like this.

Porthos shivers for the order, his eyes widening at the command as he nods and turns towards Aramis, shifting up as he still seeks out his climax, one hand clinging hard to Athos' hip while the other seeks out Aramis, his palm sliding over his neck and through his hair, kissing him like he's been aching for it, hips still snapping up lazily.

"Hey, trouble," he murmurs, soft and loving, right into that kiss as he gives Aramis, eyes half-lidded as if drugged with pleasure.

Aramis smiles for the moniker, moaning as Porthos touches him everywhere but where he most needs it. He catches his wrist and drags his hand down to wrap it around his cock, hips arching the moment he manages to close that hot, calloused hand around himself. Aramis pulls his mouth away and looks down, his eyes locked on where Porthos disappears into Athos' body. Groaning, Aramis closes his eyes and thinks that the three of them should not be legal.

With a self-satisfied twinkle in his eyes, Athos grinds on Porthos’ cock, watching the pleasure of the other two mount. “That’s it,” he murmurs, smirking with approval when Aramis finally forces Porthos to take him in hand. He thinks he could watch them all day, moving and gasping together in joy, and he believes he may have found the perfect vantage from which to do so.

"Not hesitant at all," Porthos says appreciatively, rocking upwards into Athos' tight heat and then stripping Aramis' cock with his palm, moaning at the heat all around him. He's sweating and his eyes must look a touch wild, unable to control himself, not even now.

"God," he gets out, strangled. "I'm so close."

Aramis whines against Porthos' skin, too far behind him to join him at the edge, and he shifts into Porthos' grip, eyes peeled open to watch Athos as he grinds down. The man is smirking, spent and damp and smirking as he works Porthos' cock, and Aramis whines again. This is proving to be a delightful new venue for Athos' more lordly airs.

Athos finds himself smiling even more as both men writhe with need, and he tips his head back, moving with renewed speed and vigor. He has power over them both in this moment, and yes, he delights in it - more, admittedly, than he expected. “Do not hold back,” he murmurs, wanting very much to see Porthos fall apart.

Porthos knows that he's being allowed to break, but there's a part of him that keeps writhing and is so utterly desperate that his whole body aches with wanting this release. "Aramis," he gets out, gasping. "Athos," he moans, hips snapping up as he comes harder than he has in so very long.

Porthos seizes up, spending into Athos with a guttural moan. Glad as he is to witness it, Aramis pulls out of his suddenly lax grip and takes himself in hand, driving himself to his own climax now that the others have found their own.

Even Athos groans as Porthos comes, the trembles of the other man’s orgasm coursing through him. Exhaustion hits him all at once; he continues to rock until Porthos is entirely spent, and then with a sigh, sinks shakily to Porthos’ side. Breathing hard, Athos buries his face in Porthos’ shoulder, murmuring against his skin. “That’s it,” he whispers, “yes… I love you…"

Porthos curls his hand around Athos' waist while the other seeks out Aramis as desperately as he can, trying to yank him in towards the pile. "C'mere," he says, muffled and a touch whiny. "You're too far from us."

"Oh, am I still here?" Aramis huffs through his teeth, stroking himself until he spends with a muted sigh. Eyes closed, he allows himself to drift, safe for a time from the aches of the long day before in the warm embrace of afterglow.

Athos grins softly and lifts his head, peering over Porthos’ bulk to watch Aramis. His own trembling subsiding, he looks on both men tenderly, sated, and exhausted, and more at peace than he has been in some weeks. “Thank you,” he says quietly when the comfortable silence has stretched a little longer. “Both of you."

Porthos gives Aramis an eyeroll, but it's chased with his hand wrapping around Aramis' neck to yank him in for a heated kiss, daring him to feel left out after Porthos spends a good minute trying to crawl down his throat, followed by another good bit of time trying to suck a mark into his neck while Athos speaks.

"Love you both," he murmurs.