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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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.