There is much to be done before they can leave St Martin--bodies must be disposed of and buildings scrubbed clean of blood--but with a dozen Musketeers now here to help with the clear up it doesn't take long.
Once all is put to right, the nuns, reassured that they are now safe, return to look after their charges the only way they know how. At times, during his three decades on earth, Athos has felt a distinct loss of grip on reality, but his experiences here give him a new found appreciation of sanity and a definite desire to cling on to it at all costs.
When work is completed and dusk has fallen, it's finally time to return home. Treville mounts up and offers Athos a hand. He takes it gladly and comes to rest behind the captain, an arm circled loosely about his waist. There are spare horses in the grounds, but Athos is bone tired and shattered enough after today's events that he needs the comfort of human contact.
Following Aramis and Porthos along the road that leads into the heart of Paris they complete the journey in silence. Athos is lost to his thoughts and taken by surprise when they cross Pont Neuf and arrive at the livery yard so soon, hooves clattering across the cobbles as they hand the horses over to the grooms to stable.
"Not up for a night of drinking then?" says Porthos, smiling affectionately as Athos's eyes shutter with exhaustion.
"Maybe tomorrow," he replies with a weary smile. "Thank you, my friends. For everything." He's blinded by a sting of salt as Aramis and Porthos surround him once again, enfolding him into a protective huddle. The truth has apparently not put them off him as he was certain it would, but he is still ashamed of himself.
"Will you come back to my rooms?" says Treville, once the other two men have taken their leave. "You have wounds that may need tending to and we have things to discuss."
Athos shakes his head. "Not this evening, Captain. I'm suffering from no more than aches and pains and I need to let Mme Bonacieux know that I am well." Besides which something is bothering him, tugging at the back of his mind as it claws its way to the surface. If he could just get a little sleep then maybe he could make sense of things.
"Good night then," says Treville stiffly as they leave the yard, heading in different directions along the street.
Every step is a marathon and Athos is disproportionately relieved when he reaches the Bonacieux house, opening the newly mended door and entering the premises with heavy tread.
"Athos!" Constance rushes to greet him, wiping her hands on her apron. "You're well?" she asks with an appraising look.
"I'm fine and justice has been served," says Athos in as cheerful a manner as he can muster. "All I need now is a year's worth of sleep and the world will be set to right."
"Some food first?" says Constance.
"M Athos requires rest alone," says Bonacieux from his favourite fireside chair. "Did you not hear him?"
Normally the man's abrupt manner towards his wife is a matter of the utmost irritation to Athos, but tonight he is grateful for it and grabs the opportunity to slope off to bed.
A bottle or two of wine sends him into a dreamless sleep and he wakes, rested but thick-headed, still fully clothed in his uniform. The usual medicine of a bucket of cold water revives him enough to feel almost human and after a splashdown wash and a change of underthings he makes his way, with determined spirit, to that insalubrious boarding house in Rue Allent.
Treville is already seated at his desk in the outer chamber, reading through the day's orders from Cardinal Richelieu and when Athos approaches he glances up, a look of wary pleasure in his eyes. "You seem rested."
"I feel better," says Athos.
Immediately the captain gets to his feet, pushing the shutters closed as he passes by. Examining Athos's bruised cheekbone for sign of breakage he then inspects the rest of him carefully, relief evident on his face when he sees no obvious damage. With fingers threaded into his hair he draws him in until they're near enough each other to be sharing breath.
Athos wants this; the hammering of his heart tells him so, as does the steady pump of blood that causes him to fill with excitement. He wants this so much. For weeks he's thought of nothing but the feel of Treville’s body against his, flushing away all the pain and hurt and impurities that lurk inside him. So why can't he overlook this one thing?
"What is it?" asks Treville in consternation as Athos backs off; it’s just a half step, but it could be a league for all the difference it makes.
"Tell me honestly, Captain, did you sleep with Vallion?" says Athos. Is it betrayal of a different kind that fueled the man's desperate desire for vengeance?
Treville's eyes widen in shock. "No, of course I didn't,” he answers. “Although, with the benefit of hindsight, I believe he may have wanted me to." He reaches out to Athos, resting a palm on his shoulder. "Vallion was my lieutenant and, at the time, I trusted him almost as much as I trust you, but being captain of this regiment is a responsibility which I do not take lightly. I have never and thought for certain I would never take advantage of one of my men, but Athos, you are dear to me in such a way I cannot ignore my feelings."
"As you are to me," breathes Athos.
Words are words and, as lovely as they are to hear, they cannot replace actions. The gap between them is bridged with a kiss that’s hard and biting then soft and searching and alternates with such frequency that Athos grows dizzy with need. Worrying at the fastenings of Treville's damn tunic he groans in frustration, desperate to feel skin against skin.
"Bed," says Treville, slamming and locking the outer door then leading Athos through into his private chamber which is also blessed with a window that opens onto the street. Closing the shutters he undresses down to breeches and shirt, turning then to Athos and carefully undoing his doublet with fingers that tremble slightly, betraying his urgency. "Tell me what will be safe for you," he says.
The care taken with him melts away any residual fears Athos may have had. “Anything. Everything,” he says honestly.
They kiss again, tongue sliding soft against tongue in a never ending dance, and when Treville's beard begins to chafe, burning hot against his skin, it only serves to excite Athos more. Grabbing at the linen undershirt he bunches it in his hands and then slides his fingers upwards to touch the skin beneath. Gasping with need he licks kisses onto Treville's neck and along his collarbone, biting softly into the muscled shoulder until this causes a roar of excitement and he is swiftly rolled onto his back.
"I'm sorry," says Treville, his voice wound tight from want, his fingers wandering restlessly over the buttons of Athos's breeches.
"Don't be." Athos looks up at him, vulnerable and open. "I trust you."
Hitching in a breath Treville undresses Athos fully until he is spread naked on the narrow bed. Carefully he kisses each bruise, running the tip of his tongue around the abraded skin and tracking lower until he licks a wet path along Athos's hipbone, coming to rest a fraction of an inch away from Athos's cock which is slick with pleasure.
"Can I put my mouth on you?" Treville asks, once again handing over control.
Athos arches up from the bed, flooded with ever increasing desire. "Please," he begs, his body a hot mess of need. He'll not last, not like this. Not when Treville takes him between his lips and sucks him with such intensity. "I can't," he moans helplessly, his fingers biting deep into Treville's skin. "I can't."
Treville looks up for a moment, his eyes dark and clouded with lust. "Let it go," he says. "We've all the time in the world." He dips down again, fastening his mouth and fingers around Athos's cock then licking, stroking, sucking him until he's crying out and coming with something close to a sob. It's been so long.
Athos is falling, never hitting the ground, floating on a cloud of blissed out happiness. When finally he regains his senses and remembers he's not alone he turns to Treville and undresses him, lavishing each newly exposed part with the attention it's due. Face to face they lie together, Athos's hand gripped around Treville's cock, watching every change of expression as the man grows ever closer to orgasm.
Biting into his lower lip Treville's eyes widen and, gasping out his need, he spends hot over Athos's fingers and his own belly. "I've truly taken advantage of you now," he says, pulling a face as Athos wipes away the mess using the sheets as a cloth. "A line has been crossed."
"I'm hoping it’ll be crossed many times over," says Athos, licking his way along Treville's jaw until he reaches his lips where he dives in for a kiss. It's strange tasting himself on Treville's tongue, unusual rather than unpleasant, and the flavour ignites a fire in him. He hopes they'll have enough time this morning for more exploration as he has a fancy to suck Treville off until he comes in his mouth.
"What are you thinking about?" asks Treville, chucking him under the chin with a crooked finger. "Not brooding I hope?"
"Actually I’m wondering what you taste like," says Athos with a grin and it feels awkward on his face, overstretched and underused.
"I haven't seen that smile before," says Treville, reaching out to trace the curved outline of his lips with the tip of a finger. "It's lovely." He kisses Athos again and again then folds him into his arms and kisses him some more.
"Enough or everyone in the regiment will know what we've been up to from the stubble burn alone." Athos smirks then rests his head on Treville's shoulder, finally comfortable enough to voice that innermost fear which has been plaguing him relentlessly. "Do you see me as anything less than I was?"
"No." Treville's fingers glide possessively over Athos's belly. "As something much more, if that's at all possible."
"Because of what happened, I mean."
Treville sighs. "Because of what happened when precisely? In bed just now? At St Martin?"
"You know when." Athos feels no different from that sullen youth who'd forever been a disappointment to his parents. If they were alive today they’d be more disappointed than ever to discover that he’s just bedded a man.
"Athos, if I could turn back the clock and stop that day from happening I would, but as that's impossible all you can do is learn to live with it." Treville brushes the hair away from Athos's forehead. "Please believe me when I say that no one will ever judge you over such a matter."
"Aramis and Porthos know," continues Athos in a monotone, reality and its consequences striking him hard from out of the blue.
"They always did," says Treville gently. "A part of the story at least. You can't hope to hide something so dreadful from those that love you. You can only pretend to yourself that it’s hidden." He brushes his mouth softly over Athos's lips. "Just be prepared for us to look after you a little more than we would have done in the past. For a while at least."
"I'm not certain I like that idea," says Athos, his mood brightening in contrast to his words.
"You'll cope." Curving up against him Treville closes his eyes, fast asleep within minutes, and Athos soon follows him there, as content as he could ever hope to be with his current lot in life.
Fill: By Design 9/10 TW rape, pissing, violence
Once all is put to right, the nuns, reassured that they are now safe, return to look after their charges the only way they know how. At times, during his three decades on earth, Athos has felt a distinct loss of grip on reality, but his experiences here give him a new found appreciation of sanity and a definite desire to cling on to it at all costs.
When work is completed and dusk has fallen, it's finally time to return home. Treville mounts up and offers Athos a hand. He takes it gladly and comes to rest behind the captain, an arm circled loosely about his waist. There are spare horses in the grounds, but Athos is bone tired and shattered enough after today's events that he needs the comfort of human contact.
Following Aramis and Porthos along the road that leads into the heart of Paris they complete the journey in silence. Athos is lost to his thoughts and taken by surprise when they cross Pont Neuf and arrive at the livery yard so soon, hooves clattering across the cobbles as they hand the horses over to the grooms to stable.
"Not up for a night of drinking then?" says Porthos, smiling affectionately as Athos's eyes shutter with exhaustion.
"Maybe tomorrow," he replies with a weary smile. "Thank you, my friends. For everything." He's blinded by a sting of salt as Aramis and Porthos surround him once again, enfolding him into a protective huddle. The truth has apparently not put them off him as he was certain it would, but he is still ashamed of himself.
"Will you come back to my rooms?" says Treville, once the other two men have taken their leave. "You have wounds that may need tending to and we have things to discuss."
Athos shakes his head. "Not this evening, Captain. I'm suffering from no more than aches and pains and I need to let Mme Bonacieux know that I am well." Besides which something is bothering him, tugging at the back of his mind as it claws its way to the surface. If he could just get a little sleep then maybe he could make sense of things.
"Good night then," says Treville stiffly as they leave the yard, heading in different directions along the street.
Every step is a marathon and Athos is disproportionately relieved when he reaches the Bonacieux house, opening the newly mended door and entering the premises with heavy tread.
"Athos!" Constance rushes to greet him, wiping her hands on her apron. "You're well?" she asks with an appraising look.
"I'm fine and justice has been served," says Athos in as cheerful a manner as he can muster. "All I need now is a year's worth of sleep and the world will be set to right."
"Some food first?" says Constance.
"M Athos requires rest alone," says Bonacieux from his favourite fireside chair. "Did you not hear him?"
Normally the man's abrupt manner towards his wife is a matter of the utmost irritation to Athos, but tonight he is grateful for it and grabs the opportunity to slope off to bed.
A bottle or two of wine sends him into a dreamless sleep and he wakes, rested but thick-headed, still fully clothed in his uniform. The usual medicine of a bucket of cold water revives him enough to feel almost human and after a splashdown wash and a change of underthings he makes his way, with determined spirit, to that insalubrious boarding house in Rue Allent.
Treville is already seated at his desk in the outer chamber, reading through the day's orders from Cardinal Richelieu and when Athos approaches he glances up, a look of wary pleasure in his eyes. "You seem rested."
"I feel better," says Athos.
Immediately the captain gets to his feet, pushing the shutters closed as he passes by. Examining Athos's bruised cheekbone for sign of breakage he then inspects the rest of him carefully, relief evident on his face when he sees no obvious damage. With fingers threaded into his hair he draws him in until they're near enough each other to be sharing breath.
Athos wants this; the hammering of his heart tells him so, as does the steady pump of blood that causes him to fill with excitement. He wants this so much. For weeks he's thought of nothing but the feel of Treville’s body against his, flushing away all the pain and hurt and impurities that lurk inside him. So why can't he overlook this one thing?
"What is it?" asks Treville in consternation as Athos backs off; it’s just a half step, but it could be a league for all the difference it makes.
"Tell me honestly, Captain, did you sleep with Vallion?" says Athos. Is it betrayal of a different kind that fueled the man's desperate desire for vengeance?
Treville's eyes widen in shock. "No, of course I didn't,” he answers. “Although, with the benefit of hindsight, I believe he may have wanted me to." He reaches out to Athos, resting a palm on his shoulder. "Vallion was my lieutenant and, at the time, I trusted him almost as much as I trust you, but being captain of this regiment is a responsibility which I do not take lightly. I have never and thought for certain I would never take advantage of one of my men, but Athos, you are dear to me in such a way I cannot ignore my feelings."
"As you are to me," breathes Athos.
Words are words and, as lovely as they are to hear, they cannot replace actions. The gap between them is bridged with a kiss that’s hard and biting then soft and searching and alternates with such frequency that Athos grows dizzy with need. Worrying at the fastenings of Treville's damn tunic he groans in frustration, desperate to feel skin against skin.
"Bed," says Treville, slamming and locking the outer door then leading Athos through into his private chamber which is also blessed with a window that opens onto the street. Closing the shutters he undresses down to breeches and shirt, turning then to Athos and carefully undoing his doublet with fingers that tremble slightly, betraying his urgency. "Tell me what will be safe for you," he says.
The care taken with him melts away any residual fears Athos may have had. “Anything. Everything,” he says honestly.
They kiss again, tongue sliding soft against tongue in a never ending dance, and when Treville's beard begins to chafe, burning hot against his skin, it only serves to excite Athos more. Grabbing at the linen undershirt he bunches it in his hands and then slides his fingers upwards to touch the skin beneath. Gasping with need he licks kisses onto Treville's neck and along his collarbone, biting softly into the muscled shoulder until this causes a roar of excitement and he is swiftly rolled onto his back.
"I'm sorry," says Treville, his voice wound tight from want, his fingers wandering restlessly over the buttons of Athos's breeches.
"Don't be." Athos looks up at him, vulnerable and open. "I trust you."
Hitching in a breath Treville undresses Athos fully until he is spread naked on the narrow bed. Carefully he kisses each bruise, running the tip of his tongue around the abraded skin and tracking lower until he licks a wet path along Athos's hipbone, coming to rest a fraction of an inch away from Athos's cock which is slick with pleasure.
"Can I put my mouth on you?" Treville asks, once again handing over control.
Athos arches up from the bed, flooded with ever increasing desire. "Please," he begs, his body a hot mess of need. He'll not last, not like this. Not when Treville takes him between his lips and sucks him with such intensity. "I can't," he moans helplessly, his fingers biting deep into Treville's skin. "I can't."
Treville looks up for a moment, his eyes dark and clouded with lust. "Let it go," he says. "We've all the time in the world." He dips down again, fastening his mouth and fingers around Athos's cock then licking, stroking, sucking him until he's crying out and coming with something close to a sob. It's been so long.
Athos is falling, never hitting the ground, floating on a cloud of blissed out happiness. When finally he regains his senses and remembers he's not alone he turns to Treville and undresses him, lavishing each newly exposed part with the attention it's due. Face to face they lie together, Athos's hand gripped around Treville's cock, watching every change of expression as the man grows ever closer to orgasm.
Biting into his lower lip Treville's eyes widen and, gasping out his need, he spends hot over Athos's fingers and his own belly. "I've truly taken advantage of you now," he says, pulling a face as Athos wipes away the mess using the sheets as a cloth. "A line has been crossed."
"I'm hoping it’ll be crossed many times over," says Athos, licking his way along Treville's jaw until he reaches his lips where he dives in for a kiss. It's strange tasting himself on Treville's tongue, unusual rather than unpleasant, and the flavour ignites a fire in him. He hopes they'll have enough time this morning for more exploration as he has a fancy to suck Treville off until he comes in his mouth.
"What are you thinking about?" asks Treville, chucking him under the chin with a crooked finger. "Not brooding I hope?"
"Actually I’m wondering what you taste like," says Athos with a grin and it feels awkward on his face, overstretched and underused.
"I haven't seen that smile before," says Treville, reaching out to trace the curved outline of his lips with the tip of a finger. "It's lovely." He kisses Athos again and again then folds him into his arms and kisses him some more.
"Enough or everyone in the regiment will know what we've been up to from the stubble burn alone." Athos smirks then rests his head on Treville's shoulder, finally comfortable enough to voice that innermost fear which has been plaguing him relentlessly. "Do you see me as anything less than I was?"
"No." Treville's fingers glide possessively over Athos's belly. "As something much more, if that's at all possible."
"Because of what happened, I mean."
Treville sighs. "Because of what happened when precisely? In bed just now? At St Martin?"
"You know when." Athos feels no different from that sullen youth who'd forever been a disappointment to his parents. If they were alive today they’d be more disappointed than ever to discover that he’s just bedded a man.
"Athos, if I could turn back the clock and stop that day from happening I would, but as that's impossible all you can do is learn to live with it." Treville brushes the hair away from Athos's forehead. "Please believe me when I say that no one will ever judge you over such a matter."
"Aramis and Porthos know," continues Athos in a monotone, reality and its consequences striking him hard from out of the blue.
"They always did," says Treville gently. "A part of the story at least. You can't hope to hide something so dreadful from those that love you. You can only pretend to yourself that it’s hidden." He brushes his mouth softly over Athos's lips. "Just be prepared for us to look after you a little more than we would have done in the past. For a while at least."
"I'm not certain I like that idea," says Athos, his mood brightening in contrast to his words.
"You'll cope." Curving up against him Treville closes his eyes, fast asleep within minutes, and Athos soon follows him there, as content as he could ever hope to be with his current lot in life.
tbc