Round 1

Feb. 8th, 2014 10:08 pm
[personal profile] bbcmusketeerskink
Welcome to the BBC The Musketeers kink meme

The lowdown: You post your prompt, anon or not. Someone else will hopefully fill it (also anon or not). Not for profit, just for fun. And in this case, for king and country.

Anon is on, IP logging is off.

No wank
No kink-shaming
Be respectful to everyone
The mod is not your babysitter
Use the warnings

Mandatory trigger warnings/warnings for both prompts and fills:
abuse (physical and mental)
issues such as racism, sexism, homo-/trans-/-bi-/ace-phobia etc
character death
eating disorders
extreme physical or mental illness
substance abuse (alcohol, drugs, medication)
gore and horror

If this list misses anything, do let me know, though please understand that if absolutely everything is added this list will never end.

You are encouraged and advised to add additional warnings at your own discretion.

Please make use of the subject line.

If your prompt alludes to the book or any of the other adaptations, please let us know which one.

Lastly, prompt freezes (which I have to say I’m really not fond of) etc will be at the mod’s discretion. I will decide on a prompt cut-off point for prompt posts once I know how fast the meme moves.

Rule addition: No more discussions on the prompt post. If you want to discuss something, we have a discussion post. If you want to wank about a prompt, that's not what the discussion post is for. That's what your scroll bar and that little red x in the top corner of your browser is for.


Discussion post:

Official fill post (I strongly suggest you use it for better visibility of your fills):
From: (Anonymous)
Sorry, this short fill isn't probably quite what you were looking for OP, but hopefully it will do until someone else writes something more fitting.

WARNING for elements of dub-con. I hope it comes across that Aramis isn't being threatened or forcibly coerced here. He isn't actively seeking this particular encounter, but given another time and another place, he has and he would. I hope that makes sense?


Marsac watched closely as Aramis produced a cord to bind his hands. He waited until Aramis had crouched down to carry out the task, then he seized Aramis' wrist; Aramis froze. Marsac nudged up the other man's sleeve and rubbed a gloved thumb over the exposed pulse point. He smiled triumphantly at the shudder that passed through his friend's frame.

"This is a bad idea," said Aramis, without looking up.

Marsac leaned forward to whisper. "Tell me you don't want to." Aramis' sharp inhale told him all he needed to know. "Take me out."

"Marsac." It came out as part warning, part plea.

Marsac ignored him. He released Aramis' wrist and placed a hand on his shoulder, gouging his fingers into the muscle. "Do it," he instructed.

"Let me at least lock the door."

"Be quick."

After turning the key, Aramis returned to kneel at Marsac's feet. Marsac smiled coolly and with a flick of his wrist knocked Aramis' hat to the floor. He ran his gloved fingers roughly through the flattened curls. "I always liked you better without it. You can begin."

Aramis worked in silence to free Marsac's cock. He didn't waste time on preliminaries; he kept one hand curled around the base and took the remaining length into his mouth. Marsac made an approving sound and tightened his grip on Aramis' hair. He allowed Aramis to control the pace until he was fully erect then he took over, savouring the feel of his friend's throat muscles constricting around the head of his cock.

Marsac found it reassuring that even in a world gone mad, this one delightful facet of Aramis' character remained unchanged. He wondered if the others had any idea what their charming, confident friend truly craved. His fingers tightened in anger. Then he relaxed as he realised that it was unlikely. He had seen the way Aramis had looked at them. Aramis wanted their approval, their respect, he would never have allowed this secret to slip. It was only through good fortune that Marsac had himself only found out. It had worked for them both - Aramis wanted to be given orders and he liked to give them - what could be more perfect. Of course, it didn't hurt that Aramis was blessed with the face of an angel and a mouth like a Parisian whore.

He had never understood it when his friend had once tried to explain. It was freeing, Aramis had told him, to be able to give up all thoughts, all desires, to only follow the wants and wishes of another. He had likened it to being in a battle, when one only had time to act, not think. Marsac had always resented having to follow orders - to be told where to march and when to sleep. If fate had marked a different path for him, he would have been the one giving orders, not taking them. However, here and now his birth, his rank, none of it mattered. He was the one in control, the master of his fate, and of the man kneeling at his feet.

Marsac's tongue poked the cut on his lip from where Aramis had struck him; along with his other scrapes, it made him disinclined to be gentle. He fell into a satisfying rhythm, but it had been too long and his body wouldn't wait. "I'm close. Be ready." It wasn't so much a courtesy to Aramis as it was a reminder of what was expected of him. Marsac eased back and thrust more shallowly; he didn't want to spill his seed down Aramis' throat, he wanted the other man to taste him.

He groaned, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as Aramis struggled not to let anything escape. It had been a while since he had felt any inclination to pleasure himself, let alone seek release with another. He felt a burst of satisfaction at seeing Aramis work so hard to take it all. When he was done he tapped Aramis on the cheek. The air felt cool after the wet heat of Aramis' mouth. However, before his friend could move away Marsac took hold of his chin. "Remember?"

Marsac pressed harder until the glint of defiance faded and Aramis obediently lowered his gaze and opened his mouth. Seeing it was empty, Marsac released him. "Good, boy. Don't want you spitting it out. That'd just be rude."

Aramis stayed silent, but Marsac felt the shift in the air as the musketeer retrieved the cord from where it had fallen on the floor. Just like that, their roles were reversed, and he found himself once again at the mercy of his old friend.



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