D'Artagnan was driven back through the rumpled mess his blankets had become with every thrust of Athos' hips. His skin was hot and sticky with sweat they'd worked up between them and he had long ago turned his head to muffle his unconscious moans into his own pillow, but that gave Athos the perfect opportunity to reach his ear, and he took awful, wonderful advantage of it.
“You're beautiful like this,” Athos murmured into his ear, breath warm and moist as his steady rhythm pushed d'Artagnan forward into the grip he had on his hips. “You're locked about me as though...you can think of nothing so good as this...is that it, d'Artagnan? Would you give over everything for this...my cock?”
D'Artagnan choked out something into the pillow that may have been curse or plea as he nodded, tightening his thighs about Athos' hips even as their motions pushed them high and wider. The faint burn of the stretch had long eased as pleasure overwhelmed all other sensation. D'Artagnan's jaw tightened as Athos' voice wove its spell, but then his hips slowed.
“Was that a yes, d'Artagnan?” Athos asked, breath coming harder now. “What do you want more than anything right now? If it's mine to give, I will see to it...”
D'Artagnan sobbed into the pillow, hand tightening in Athos' hair. “Don't stop, Athos, please, just this, I want nothing else but you.”
Athos breath sighed over his ear and hips resumed their previous pace. “I would have this all the time, if I could,” he murmured. “Have you ever way we could manage, everywhere we could make space. You wouldn't be able to move but feel the proof of us dripping down your legs.”
D'Artagnan's groan was far too loud and he knew it, knew he was risking them and couldn't help it. Athos quickly slid a hand over his mouth to help stifle the sounds as they moved together, only breathing in d'Artagnan's ear for a long moment while he held one of d'Artagnan's thighs high enough to support the angle of his thrusts. “So good for me, d'Artagnan...so greedy...I feel your eyes on me, wanting what? My attention, my time, my body?”
d'Artagnan nodded into the pillow, barely moving under Athos' hand, willing to admit all of the little things he'd thought he'd hidden now that they were here and Athos' cock was sliding into him so well, oiled as they both were and achingly well stretched as he'd been.
Athos hitched his grip higher, his fingers sliding in the sweat they had built between them. “You should know you have me...I am your creature,” he continued. “Leave my seed as proof of my mark, I shall never leave your side.”
D'Artagnan couldn't take it anymore, hands sliding from Athos' back to tug back the hand covering his mouth and pulling Athos down, knocking him from the rhythm but pulling him even deeper than he had been thrusting as he moaned out, “yes, yes, I am yours, Athos, please,” and feeling the shock of it pass through Athos in shudders as heat spilled into him.
Athos' heart was thunder d'Artagnan could feel where their chests rested against each other and his hips twitched for several moments after. d'Artagnan's need was held hostage by the weight of his body and the oddly sweet feeling of being filled with the proof of Athos' mark, as he'd said, and yet feeling also that he was likewise leaving his own mark upon the great man above him.
After a short period, Athos recalled himself to push up on one arm and work the other between them. His eyes were a hot, sharp blue that cut straight through d'Artagnan. “Here, now d'Artagnan...show me how much you love this. I want to see.”
There was a raw honesty in his tone then, still as rough and velvety as port wine to d'Artagnan's ears but different enough that it slipped through his defenses and combined with the rub of sword-callused fingers around the head of his cock to rob him of words and all sense.
When he came back to himself, Athos had dropped his head to d'Artagnan's shoulder and was dragging open-mouthed kisses over the skin there, murmuring beautiful, so good, love you so much, d'Artagnan. Words he knew, from experience, Athos probably didn't realize he was saying and wouldn't thank him for acknowledging. Instead, he dragged his hands – gone heavy with lethargy – up Athos' back to cup his neck. “I am yours, Athos,” he whispered, heart slowing in his chest even as he stroked his fingers through Athos' sweat-damp hair. “Never doubt how much of me you own.”
Athos stilled for a moment, then kissed d'Artagnan's throat, the soft skin beneath his jaw, his mouth, each press gentle but certain. “I won't.”
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timeasmymeasure
[fill] Our Name in Tongues We Do Not Speak; Athos/d'Artagnan
Date: 2014-10-02 03:45 am (UTC)D'Artagnan was driven back through the rumpled mess his blankets had become with every thrust of Athos' hips. His skin was hot and sticky with sweat they'd worked up between them and he had long ago turned his head to muffle his unconscious moans into his own pillow, but that gave Athos the perfect opportunity to reach his ear, and he took awful, wonderful advantage of it.
“You're beautiful like this,” Athos murmured into his ear, breath warm and moist as his steady rhythm pushed d'Artagnan forward into the grip he had on his hips. “You're locked about me as though...you can think of nothing so good as this...is that it, d'Artagnan? Would you give over everything for this...my cock?”
D'Artagnan choked out something into the pillow that may have been curse or plea as he nodded, tightening his thighs about Athos' hips even as their motions pushed them high and wider. The faint burn of the stretch had long eased as pleasure overwhelmed all other sensation. D'Artagnan's jaw tightened as Athos' voice wove its spell, but then his hips slowed.
“Was that a yes, d'Artagnan?” Athos asked, breath coming harder now. “What do you want more than anything right now? If it's mine to give, I will see to it...”
D'Artagnan sobbed into the pillow, hand tightening in Athos' hair. “Don't stop, Athos, please, just this, I want nothing else but you.”
Athos breath sighed over his ear and hips resumed their previous pace. “I would have this all the time, if I could,” he murmured. “Have you ever way we could manage, everywhere we could make space. You wouldn't be able to move but feel the proof of us dripping down your legs.”
D'Artagnan's groan was far too loud and he knew it, knew he was risking them and couldn't help it. Athos quickly slid a hand over his mouth to help stifle the sounds as they moved together, only breathing in d'Artagnan's ear for a long moment while he held one of d'Artagnan's thighs high enough to support the angle of his thrusts. “So good for me, d'Artagnan...so greedy...I feel your eyes on me, wanting what? My attention, my time, my body?”
d'Artagnan nodded into the pillow, barely moving under Athos' hand, willing to admit all of the little things he'd thought he'd hidden now that they were here and Athos' cock was sliding into him so well, oiled as they both were and achingly well stretched as he'd been.
Athos hitched his grip higher, his fingers sliding in the sweat they had built between them. “You should know you have me...I am your creature,” he continued. “Leave my seed as proof of my mark, I shall never leave your side.”
D'Artagnan couldn't take it anymore, hands sliding from Athos' back to tug back the hand covering his mouth and pulling Athos down, knocking him from the rhythm but pulling him even deeper than he had been thrusting as he moaned out, “yes, yes, I am yours, Athos, please,” and feeling the shock of it pass through Athos in shudders as heat spilled into him.
Athos' heart was thunder d'Artagnan could feel where their chests rested against each other and his hips twitched for several moments after. d'Artagnan's need was held hostage by the weight of his body and the oddly sweet feeling of being filled with the proof of Athos' mark, as he'd said, and yet feeling also that he was likewise leaving his own mark upon the great man above him.
After a short period, Athos recalled himself to push up on one arm and work the other between them. His eyes were a hot, sharp blue that cut straight through d'Artagnan. “Here, now d'Artagnan...show me how much you love this. I want to see.”
There was a raw honesty in his tone then, still as rough and velvety as port wine to d'Artagnan's ears but different enough that it slipped through his defenses and combined with the rub of sword-callused fingers around the head of his cock to rob him of words and all sense.
When he came back to himself, Athos had dropped his head to d'Artagnan's shoulder and was dragging open-mouthed kisses over the skin there, murmuring beautiful, so good, love you so much, d'Artagnan. Words he knew, from experience, Athos probably didn't realize he was saying and wouldn't thank him for acknowledging. Instead, he dragged his hands – gone heavy with lethargy – up Athos' back to cup his neck. “I am yours, Athos,” he whispered, heart slowing in his chest even as he stroked his fingers through Athos' sweat-damp hair. “Never doubt how much of me you own.”
Athos stilled for a moment, then kissed d'Artagnan's throat, the soft skin beneath his jaw, his mouth, each press gentle but certain. “I won't.”