afineseamstress | (no subject)

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porthos

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Aramis is no longer in the mood to celebrate Halloween. After the trials of the strange, gray nightmare world he and those he loves dearest had found themselves in, after watching the people he loves hurt again and again, it's not for the purpose of celebration that Aramis outfits himself into costume.

The motorcycle is newly purchased, the license newer still, and Aramis swings a leg over it, leathers creaking as he settles. He rides quickly across town to where Porthos will be waiting for him, and as the wind whips through his hair, he lets Aramis fall away.

He doesn't have to be that man for a few hours. He doesn't have to wonder if the city that has given him so much will try to hurt him again, hurt Athos or Porthos, or their future family. He doesn't have to pretend that he's been sleeping when he has not, or that everything is alright when it certainly isn't. Just for an evening, he doesn't have to be himself, worrying incessantly about the things he can't control.

Pulling up in front of the shelter, he lets the motorcycle engine roar once before he sets the engine to idle. He breathes deep, exhaling with an almost bored sound as he waits for his charge.

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"Yes," Rene admits with another, throatier whine, letting his head fall back to rest on Isaac's broad shoulder. "You have doomed me - I will think of it every time I ride my bike now."

"I hope so," Isaac agrees. "If I'm only to be in town for the next three days, I need to make sure that you're remembering me plenty well while I'm having desperately wet and sticky dreams about you a country or three away."

"Such a life you lead, Monsieur," Rene says in a breathless voice. "From one adventure to the next. My security work is varied and exciting, but it can't compare to leaping out of planes."

He twists his head so he can gaze at him. "Will you touch yourself?" he asks, licking his lips. "When you think of me an ocean away?"

"Only if you give me something to touch myself for," is his wry reply, grinning as he leans in to slowly lay a trail of kisses over Rene's neck, wrapping up his arms around his hips and bearing down on him to sweetly ease them into a tight embrace.

"I believe I can," Rene tells him, eyes slipped closed to savor the trace of Isaac's lips on him. He feels hot all over again, but safe, too, capable of ignoring the throb of his now hard cock if he chose. "I could be content to lie forever in your arms," he confesses, "But I am ready to take you now, Isaac."

"Shame we've only got the few nights," is his lament in reply, but he knows it's necessary to keep up his career. He grins and settles himself on many blankets and soft pillows as he bears his arse in the air for Rene. "You keep going until you fill me up."

Rene smooths his hand over Isaac's backside, enjoying the soft flesh stretched over firm muscle. He squeezes once and smiles, for the picture he makes looks nearly as wonderful as he will surely feel. "Have you prepared yourself when I was not looking, Monsieur?" he asks.

Porthos is not bruised on his arse. That's the small, thankful beauty of the fight he'd had with Oliver (or Hood, really). "I'm afraid to say that I have," Isaac confesses. "Though I didn't know it was going to be you. Usually when I'm new to a place, I go out and seek whatever I can. Whoever I can," he clarifies.

"How wonderfully deviant of you," says Rene with a surprised chuckle, "Though I must say, it is convenient." Standing from the bed, Rene pushes the pooled trousers from his ankles, crawling back to frame Isaac's body with his own.

"You must let me know if you feel discomfort," he says quietly in Isaac's ear, arranging himself as gingerly as he can atop his body. "Causing you pain will quite ruin it for me."

"Promise," Isaac exhales the word, burying his face in the cushion that his arms provide as he gets comfortable nestling his cheek in against his forearms. He gives Rene a soft look from where he lies, arching his arse out as he gets on his knees. "Better for you this way?"

"No," says Rene, helping Isaac back down again. He still thinks taking him on his side would be best, but on his knees he'd have to grab at him for leverage, and that would surely strike his bruises.

With his knee, Rene nudges Isaac's knees wider, bending one against the sheets to spread him even further. "Are you ready?" he asks, kissing the tip of Isaac's ear as he takes himself in hand.

Isaac gives a soft sound of wanting, pleased that Rene is ready to take him and position him as he sees fit. "Yes," he breathes out fondly, giving him a nod of encouragement, starting to grow eager. "Yes, for you, I'm always ready," he vows, half himself and half Isaac, needing the connection now more than ever.

Aramis hopes that Porthos has been diligent, but when he presses forward Porthos parts for him easily, body tight but accepting as he joins them. Breathing out, Rene kisses Isaac's shoulder, soothing him through the first deep stroke. "Tight," he breathes in Isaac's ear. "You feel incredible."

He doesn't even realize how badly he'd needed this until Aramis is pressing into him. The choked sob he releases is all him, a desperate plea for more. "Rene," he chokes out, barely remembering to use the right name until the very last minute. "I want you in me, as far as you can go."

Rene shushes him, pressing in carefully until their bodies are flush and he can go no further. "We will do this slowly," he tells Isaac, pulling back inch by inch and sinking in just as deeply. Rene kisses Isaac's throat, nuzzling the curls at the nape of his neck. "How is it, my darling?"

It's hard for him to play patient, even when they're doing it like this, but he does his very best to recline and let Rene take over rather than wanting to stay in charge himself. "Good," he promises, soft and blissful when Rene pushes into him. "It's good," he promises, still amazed at how he's taken to this when he hadn't expected to be able to enjoy something this much.

"Yes," Rene sighs as Isaac takes him deep again, his body hot and wrapped sweet like velvet around him. He stays curled over Isaac carefully, mindful of his bruises with every thrust, for he wants Isaac to feel only pleasure, but Isaac's body opens for him as if made for this. "Have you had many lovers, Monsieur?"

"If I say one for every city, would you think poorly of me?" he wonders, and it isn't far from the truth but there haven't actually been they many cities. "And you? What number am I?"

"I will think poorly of myself if you do not count me the best of them," Rene counters, shifting Isaac's knee higher so he can sink even further within him. He keeps a steady rhythm, slow and deep, measuring his thrusts in the breaths he feels Isaac take beneath him. "I don't know how many," he admits. "I stop counting after March lest I become forced to examine my life choices."

Isaac lets out strangled cries of pleasure with every additional thrust, body shoved happily into the mattress as he grips at the pillow and buries his face in it to hide the cries. "And how am I to remember you so fondly if I'm awash in a sea of men?"

"I would hope from the pleasure I am giving you right now," Rene tells him, "But perhaps I am not doing so good a job." He nudges his chin against Porthos' cheek. "Buried in that pillow, I can scarcely hear your cries."

Isaac eases back and moves the pillow, knowing that without being face to face, he can't let Rene know how good he feels, but he's going to do his best, now, to try. Writhing, he pushes back against Rene's cock, allowing him in deeper. "So close," he pants. "How about you make me remember this?"

He is almost frustrated by all the things he cannot do without bearing down on Isaac's bruises, but Rene attempts to deliver, twisting his lower half now as he fucks into Isaac, aiming to tease his prostate on one stroke, press firmly onto it the next, all while moving Isaac's cock trapped beneath him against the sheets.

Isaac lets out a muffled moan of a cry, a whine no better than a little gasp, and when he does come, it's not Rene's name, but Aramis' sobbed out, craning his neck as he stares up at him in this awkward position, a plea in his gaze for Aramis to finish, for him to just bear down and hold him, so he can protect the man in turn and they can forget the dark city.

It is a shock to hear his name after so long, but the sounds of Porthos in the throes of bliss work as they always do, propelling Aramis swiftly towards completion. He buries himself within Porthos, working into him in short, swift thrusts, and then he, too, is spending with a shudder. He buries his face against Porthos' nape, remembering only at the last to pull himself up and off of his abraded skin.