open || all for one and one for all

[epeiste]

For such modern surroundings (for the most part), there is something quite out of time patrolling the streets of Itinere. One might first hear the clip-clop of hooves on pavement as two large steeds walk over the pavement. Atop each steed is a man in seventeenth century garb. Thick leathers, large hats tall boots,, blue capes, enough weaponry for their own comfort and, if one is keen enough to notice it, a pauldron on one shoulder bearing the symbol of the French monarchy, the fleur de lis. They look very much out of place, and yet at ease with that dislocation.

A part of the reason for that ease is that they have discovered a building from their home, the Musketeer's Garrison, has been brought here along with them. There is much to be said for the comforts of home, no matter what that comfort might be, large or small. Another reason for their current ease is that this is not the first strange place they have encountered together. In the last they had been told it was the end of the world. This, most certainly, is not the end of the world. Imagine their relief.

In any case, the Musketeers will be all over the city looking things over. And of course, they will be at the Garrison, their home from Paris.

Comments

[averygoodshot]

"If it is, well, ever more the reason for making the most of it."

Aramis tosses his hat (and they will be able to tend to their clothing here! What good news) onto the bed and his cloak follows. He'll take a weapon with them just in case, but his doublet stays. Suddenly, with the prospect of bathing, his skin nearly itches with the need to be clean.

He gives Porthos a come-hither look as he starts to retrace their steps back downstairs. Even if it's cold water, he will glory in it.

[epeiste]

Following Aramis's lead, because that seems to be the easiest course at the moment, Porthos discards his own hat and cloak as well. He keeps his weapons belts about his waist though, because he can't bring himself to feel safe without them at the moment. Then he's following Aramis down the stairs.

How could he not follow the look Aramis gives him? It's like an invisible tether keeps him there, just a few feet behind him as they move back downstairs toward the washrooms.

In the washrooms, Porthos finds that there is the modern showers and baths that Aramis has wished here while they were in Teleios. They're so different from the rest of the complex, sleek and shining, the rest of the Garrison out of date in comparison that they stand out.

Porthos shrugs and looks to Aramis. "Looks like you got your wish." He's looking for Aramis's pleasure, for surely his friend is pleased with the turn of events.

[averygoodshot]

Oh, Aramis is. His smile shows it, even his posture.

Oh, what a long shower they shall have.

He turns on the water, watching with a kind of glee at the water coming down. It's warm, too, and he laughs aloud.

In this way, he is a simple man. He wants pleasure - he is a libertine - and he will revel in it.

Turning to Porthos, he makes short work of peeling away their stinking clothes, and he pulls his friend and lover into the water, under the shower. He tilts his face up, hands braced on Porthos's hips as he closes his eyes.

"We rarely showered together before we left Teleios," he observes. "Something we will now remedy.

[epeiste]

Porthos can't help but glean a little of that gladness from Aramis. He's almost always happy when Aramis is happy. And he has to admit that the idea of getting clean, really clean, sounds so very good. It feels as if it's been too long since he's been clean.

Their clothes are easily discarded. In this moment there is a comfort here, in being in what seems like the Garrison save for this new, modern, addition to it. There is a comfort in being here with Aramis, his one constant in life.

Watching Aramis enjoy the spray of water is even more of a pleasure than his own enjoyment of it. The water is warm and comfortable. But Porthos cannot and does not remove his gaze from Aramis as the water spills over him.

"You'd think it was the second comin'." He teases Aramis.

[averygoodshot]

Ah, what a play on words: Aramis opens his eyes, grinning - it could almost be said he's grinning lasciviously - at Porthos. Second coming indeed. And third and fourth, really.

"Come under the water," he urges, fingers tightening on Porthos's hips to urge him close. That way, their his can press together and Porthos can feel Aramis's inevitable reaction to his nearness. A sizzle of pleasure runs through Aramis's body, landing in the cradle of his hips, and he takes a deep, content breath even as he leans his face closer. "Will you help make it the second coming, Porthos?" he asks, words brushed over Porthos's mouth.

[epeiste]

It's so easy for Aramis to guide Porthos closer to him. Porthos is willingly clay in Aramis's hands to be molded more often than not. Just that touch and tug at his hips has Porthos's cock twitching to life. Then they're pressed together and it's done. Porthos exhales a heavy breath he hasn't realized he'd been holding.

Their lips glide gently over one another and Porthos steals a quick, gentle nip of a kiss. The kiss deepens with that question, one of Porthos's large hands cupping the back of Aramis's neck while the other rests gently against his arm.

Something about those words from Aramis's mouth, the double entendre of them, arouses Porthos above and beyond. He is a wicked, despicable soul, isn't he? "For an eternity, Aramis."

[averygoodshot]

Aramis smiles into Porthos's mouth, arms looping around his neck. He too is already hard, already wanting, content in this moment, simply to kiss in their familiar settings, with the promise of food and a comfortable bed and so much more.

"I will hold you to your word," he promises, running his teeth along Porthos's lips, teasing a bit. He traces down along Porthos's spine with his fingertips, feeling the muscle and bone, the strength. "How is it that I want you so much," he marvels aloud, cupping Porthos's buttocks, keeping him close. "And tonight, we shall be clean." Even better.

[epeiste]

Feeling that smile against his lips rather than seeing it makes it feel like something even more. In his mind's eye, he can see Aramis's smile plain as day, how it presses to his own lips that can't help but tug their way into a small grin as well.

Aramis's touch is Porthos's heaven. Always. He reaches down to grip either side of Aramis's hips and pull him roughly in, grinding them against one another with a heavy groan that reverberates into Aramis's mouth when he kisses him.

He starts to rock his hips in, just getting off on the touch, the grind, the slick of the water between them, Aramis himself. "You sounds most pleased with yourself and your circumstance, my friend."

[averygoodshot]

"Have I not proven easy to please?" Aramis asks, amused at the question and at his own simplicity in that way. "I cannot help but think that I am an open book to you, Porthos." The words come out grittier, but no less satisfied as the friction plays havoc with his reactions, with his desire, making him want Porthos more.

"I am a simple man," he says, mocking himself lightly. "I want you, a good wine, sustenance and a comfortable bed. That is all."

It isn't, of course, but for intents and purposes, he can say it is, right?

[epeiste]

The joke of it is, at least from Porthos's end, that the simplicity of pleasing Aramis has not always been so simplistic. Because of his reservations about being with his best friend in that way, not to mention another man in general, had made for some complications to begin with. Yes, being with Aramis is so easy. It's also, at times, a frightening thing.

He doesn't want to lose Aramis, not because of Aramis possibly having one foot out the door if things get difficult, but also because of his own brute-ish stupidity.

Aramis is, perhaps, more of an open book than he wishes to be. For Porthos knows that there is much more to his best friend than most could ever know. He is a complicated man, intricate and unique. There is nothing simple about him as much as he'd like others to think it. Porthos sees Aramis beneath the superficial though. He sees him. And the look he gives Aramis says that.

"Simple." He smirks. Porthos reaches between them to grip both of them in one large hand and tug a few times. "You're a bloody spider web of complications, Aramis. But I'm glad you've caught me in your web."

[averygoodshot]

That sounds like a a statement that should be discussed, but Aramis hasn't the wits to debate it at the moment. Instead, he cants his hips forward and lets his eyes flutter nearly-closed, feeling his body - muscles he didn't know he had flexing with want.

"If I have you in my web," he notes breathlessly, "then I can bend you to my will and make you do what I wish."

And right now, he wants nothing more than the love that they have found between themselves, primal and physical. He pulls himself from that grip and lowers himself to his knees, moving his hands to grip Porthos's hips as he nuzzles his lover's erection. He is Porthos's slut, willing to do his bidding.

[epeiste]

What those words do to him should be positively illegal. And yet, the words seem to touch him somewhere deep inside, an intimate caress where no one can see. There's also the truth behind those words. Yes, Aramis could make Porthos do very near any and every thing he might be able to think of.

Porthos steals a quick kiss from Aramis and then the other is dipping down to his knees and Porthos isn't sure that Aramis's face so close to his own large cock isn't the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Of course, lately Aramis has been beautiful in all things as far as Porthos is concerned.

A heavy breath escapes him and Porthos leans his shoulders back against the wall of the shower. Fingers find Aramis's hair, combing it back out of his face.

"Of course, were I the savvy sort of captive, 'tis I who could command you." He says. "Do you want a taste, Aramis?" Of him, he means.

[averygoodshot]

"I do," Aramis says, so quietly as to nearly be illegible under the pounding of the water. His fingers tighten in Porthos's hips as he exercises patience. Good things, he has found in situations such as this, come to those who wait.

He cants his head back to gaze up at Porthos, his cheeks flushed, dotted with water, his hair slicked back. "May I?"

[epeiste]

Porthos barely hears that answer. But the look that Aramis gives him when he looks up, the way it seems to ask for permission without any words, leaves him momentarily speechless. There's something beautiful about Aramis being patient and asking permission. There's something about having the power to say no and making Aramis wait for a good thing that makes him hard as a rock.

He'll have to examine why that is later. Right now all he wants is Aramis's beautiful lips on his cock.

"Yeah. Taste me, Aramis." He says, grubby, calloused fingers gliding over Aramis's jaw.

[averygoodshot]

Feeling as much as seeing Porthos's cock twitch like this has its own sense of power. Combine that with the permission that has been granted, Aramis feels a wave of peace and want.

He's been told he can, so Aramis leans forward letting his cheek brush along the thick length of Porthos's cock. That way, he can taste and smell what is to come. This is his way of waiting just that little bit more so that when he finally flicks his tongue along the damp slit.

The taste causes a shudder to run over his skin. Just that little taste makes it impossible for him to hold back. He takes in what he can as he feels Porthos's cock on his tongue, along the top of his mouth and back. His eyes fall shut with how good just this is.

[epeiste]

Oh how Porthos loves the drawing it out, the way Aramis still takes his time. To Porthos, nothing between him and Aramis has ever just been about sex. There's the teasing and the admiration, taking their time, foreplay, flirtation. It all adds up to his want growing more and more intense.

By the time Aramis's mouth is on him, Porthos has to fight not to rut against him like a wild animal in heat. He has to fight to stay still and allow Aramis time to do as he wishes.

A hand rests in his hair at the back of Aramis's head and he feels that shudder race through him. It's a beautiful thing and the tremble seems to seep through to his own body as he feels his self shudder as well. "Ohhh your mouth, Aramis. Was made for such debauchery."

[averygoodshot]

It was, wasn't it? Aramis smiles - internally - at the thought. His mouth has gotten him in his own share of trouble, both welcome and unwelcome, good and bad.

In answer, though, he flicks his gaze up to Porthos, letting his lover see how dark his eyes are, how his cheeks are flushed with want. Aramis knows he makes quite the sight and he's not above using that to increase the pleasure, to enhance the mood, because yes, this is about so much more than just physical intimacy.

Aramis finds that he very much enjoys making Porthos want him. Him and him alone. So, he will do all he can. He has learned to use his tongue, even the light scrape of his teeth, opening wide enough to let the head of Porthos's cock butt against the back of his throat, even fighting that urge to gag that is entirely new to just them.

He does all of that, his own groin tight to being nearly painful with desire. But he will be good. He will be good for Porthos.

[epeiste]

Good doesn't seem the right word for how Aramis's mouth feels on Porthos's skin. Whether it's at his lips or his neck, his chest or his groin, it's perfection, it's ecstasy, it feels like it's his and just his. Aramis, who has always been with everyone else, is now his. Unlike those from Aramis's past, Porthos doesn't intend to let go of him.

What Aramis is to him is so much more. Were he a better wordsmith, he might could tell him so.

What Aramis does with his mouth only seems to get better and better the longer they're together like this.

The water is warm against his skin, warm without fire, unnaturally warm. But this, the most natural thing in the world, counters the strange heat of the water and evens it out. His fingers comb through Aramis's wet hair. He has to work very hard not to fuck Aramis's mouth like this. But eventually, he has to. He has to grip those silken strands and buck his hips, pushing into Aramis's mouth.

"Aramis. I cannot." He wants to fuck other parts of Aramis. "Stand with me."

[averygoodshot]

With flushed cheeks, a sore jaw, tender knees, and an aching erection, Aramis leans back, to gaze up at Porthos even if he has to blink against the spray of water.

Ah, that he can inspire such a look of want. There is a most base sense of satisfaction at that. His hands still on Porthos's hips, he levers himself to his feet, leaning close for a kiss. God, he needs to taste Porthos's mouth, let Porthos taste his own pre on Aramis's tongue.

"Do with me what you will," he whispers, the words nearly lost in the raining down of water. There is nothing Porthos would do that Aramis would not welcome.