Love's Musketeer --- Chapter Four
Porthos bid his thanks to the King's surgeon and closed the door. He stood there, leaning against the large wooden closure, his dark eyes witness to the beauty before him.
His lover was stretched out on a pallet, which had been placed close to the hearth, a single blanket covering the lower part of Aramis' body. His upper torso was bare, bronzed by the fire's glow, the perfection of his beauty marred by a swath of white cloth that covered his left chest wound.
Porthos seethed silently, his anger barely contained. That swine, Rochefort, had dared to hurt his lover. The large Musketeer's hands clenched and unclenched, the need to injure, to kill almost overwhelming him. That bastard would pay, Porthos promised himself and an evil smile appeared on his face as he envisioned Rochefort's murder. It would have to be a slow and painful torture, a bloody torment of anguish and abuse. Only then, when the mongrel was begging for mercy would Porthos consider allowing death to claim him.
His thoughts of revenge were halted by his lover's needy cry.
"Porthos?" The priestly Musketeer reached out a hand and beckoned to his dark lover. "My body is cold. Come warm me." Combing his fingers through his hair in an attempt to return it to its coiffed state of perfection, Aramis turned his face to the fire, his profile illuminated by the flame, the strands of his dark chestnut curls shimmering in the light.
Rochefort was completely forgotten as Porthos watched, his gaze completely mesmerized by his lover's beauty. The sight of Aramis' tongue snaking out to moisten his lips set Porthos' heart to pounding, its rhythm increasing when Aramis lifted his hand and placed it over his heart, his fingers idly playing with his nipple. Suddenly breathless, the older man haphazardly stripped out of his clothes, his movements hastened by the winter's chill. Settling in behind his lover, Porthos embraced Aramis and smiled when his lover instantly sought the warmth of his embrace, a tremulous sigh escaping his lips as he nuzzled Porthos' neck.
Porthos buried his face in the silky softness of Aramis' hair and inhaled its clean fragrance, the scent of pine mingling with that of Aramis' arousal. Tangling his hands in the dark strands, Porthos gently, guided his lover to face him. Eyes of deep hazel, their depths brilliant with love and desire, melted the heart of the large Musketeer. Porthos felt the heat of Aramis' gaze as it wandered over his naked body, ghosting a spirit touch of passion across his flesh. His body responded to that look, his nipples and cock hardening, reaching out for the reality of that exploration.
Porthos moaned as his mouth descended over Aramis', opening, tasting the fevered need. His tongue pushed inside, exploring the dark cavern and savoring his lover's unique flavor. Moments passed as Porthos drank deeply from the well of sweetness, feeding his desire with each sip.
A slow whispered plea slid out as the younger Musketeer opened his mouth wider, tangling his tongue with that of his lover's. Reaching up, Aramis clutched Porthos' shoulder, encouraging him to rest his weight against his smaller frame. He then wrapped his legs around Porthos' waist, and began to grind his pelvis against the hardness of his lover's large erection.
"Porthos. Please." Aramis licked along Porthos' jaw before biting down on his earlobe, a smile spreading across his face when he felt the larger man shudder. Wishing to push his Musketeer lover to the very edge, Aramis slid his tongue inside Porthos' ear, teasing the tip along the swirls of cartilage and leaving a path of heated moisture. After softly blowing upon the damp flesh, he whispered, "Make love to me. Sheath your dark sword in the heat of my scabbard."
Porthos moved, lifting his young lover, allowing his slenderness to straddle his lower body. His swollen manhood cried with its need, white drops of milky cream spilling out. He pulled Aramis close, his mouth capturing the man's uninjured nipple. Suckling the tender nub, Porthos lifted his fingers to his lover's hot mouth, wetting them thoroughly. He continued to feed at Aramis' breast as his damp fingers gathered additional lubrication, sliding into the seepage that trickled from his cock.
Porthos pressed his fingers into Aramis' hidden portal and slowly opened the small entrance. "I give you my love, my life. Do you accept this offering, my sweet priest? Do you wish to partake of my fleshy sacrament?"
"Yes. Fill me with your fire, my dark soldier. Make me burn with the heat of your sacrifice." Aramis threw his head back and moaned, the touch of Porthos' fingers making his body tremble helplessly. His wound completely forgotten, Aramis pushed Porthos into the softness of the mattress and, with slow and patient tenderness, lowered his body, impaling himself upon the large and needy cock that filled him so completely. He moaned as their bodies united and fused into one, his hips undulating in an ancient carnal rhythm, sensual notes of passion pouring forth from his throat. The heat of their desire burned hotter and Aramis' control slowly shattered, his eyes shuttering closed as his hands blindly sought those of his lover and directed them to his straining manhood.
Porthos sang husky words of encouragement to his young lover as his slender body began to sway wildly. The maelstrom of need soon engulfed them both and their passion exploded, both men surrendering to the inferno of their combined release, their screams echoing in the silence.
"My heavenly angel!" Porthos caught Aramis' limp body and kissed away the tears of happiness that stained his pale cheeks.
"My Warrior. My love." Aramis embraced his heart's hero and the two slipped into a satiated state of drowsiness.
His wounds bound securely, Athos limped upstairs and quietly opened the door, his only intent was that of checking on his comrades. A rare smile fluttered across his somber face as he beheld the tangled arms and legs of the sleeping men. Porthos snored loudly, his hands cradling Aramis' head to his chest; the younger man, even though sound asleep, suckled drowsily at the dark breast pressed against his mouth.
"Love long, my friends," Athos whispered as he carefully closed the door.
His large body, despite its injuries, moved gracefully down the hall before hesitating outside his own chambers. He settled against the wall and meditated on the past events. Rochefort had branded the evening with his evilness, leaving in its wake, three dead guards. Athos breathed deeply, willing his wrath to remain hidden deep within the darkness of his mind. There would come a time when he and that Cardinal's lead dog would do battle, a fight that would end only in death. And the heavens be damned, he would be the one standing victorious in the end.
Athos straightened as the door opened and the King's physician exited the room. Looking beyond the older gentleman, Athos could see D'Artagnan lying on the bed, his naked body being bathed by the innkeeper's elderly wife. Turning away, he escorted the physician downstairs, thanking him for his prompt arrival and care of his fallen comrades.
"That young lad needs to rest for the next few days. No strenuous activity. The wound needs time to heal. He is indeed very lucky, Monsieur. It could have been a very grave injury." The physician shook his head. "A few more inches to the right and his manhood would have been severed from his body." Wrapping his cape around his shoulders, he turned to leave. "I've left several herbal wraps and oils. You will need to clean and anoint the wound twice a day. Keep it clean, Musketeer and your friend has a healthy chance of remaining alive. I bid you goodnight, dear sir."
Athos hurried back upstairs, passing the innkeeper's wife in the hallway. She curtsied to him.
"Monsieur, before falling asleep, the young man asked for you."
Athos dug into his pouch of gold and rewarded the older woman with several coins. She smiled and left as the Musketeer entered the darkened room. Athos closed the door and bolted it shut. He then moved to the fireplace, stoking the flames as he lay on extra logs. With his hand resting on the mantle, Athos stared at the fire and opened his mind to the exploration of his wildly confused emotions, acquainting himself with the unfamiliar feelings he had come to have for the brave young Musketeer. He spared a glance at the sleeping youth, his naked young body now hidden under layers of heavy bedding.
Athos felt a tingling itch in his fingers, a need to touch, to feel the warmth of that innocent form. His lips parted and his teeth latched onto his bottom lip, tearing the fragile flesh. Despite the physician's instructions regarding D'Artagnan's recovery, Athos hungered greatly for a taste of the lad's lusciously sweet lips. Faint shudders racked his large body as he imagined that mouth exploring the swollen territory that lay between his legs. Unbidden, a moan of raw need was unleashed, its deep baritone awakening the sleeping youth.
Athos turned away from the hearth and looked into the drowsy heat of D'Artagnan's eyes. A gaze of fathomless blue darkened as the younger man became aware of Athos' sensual stare. Struggling out from under the covers, D'Artagnan peeled away the layers of quilts and sheets, revealing the gift of his nakedness.
Athos' heart threatened to stop beating as the young Gascon displayed his body. He moved to the bed and knelt at its side, his gloved hands helping to remove the last hindrance of cover. An angry hiss escaped him as he surveyed the damage done to D'Artagnan's body. Swollen, bruised flesh surrounded the bloodied bandage that covered the boy's injured groin. Unable to stop himself, Athos touched the wounded area, the sensitive tips of his fingers detecting the heat as blood rushed its healing properties to the injury.
"Athos." The older man was startled from his thoughts, the youth's worried voice instantly calming the rage in his heart and banking the fires of his insistent hunger.
D'Artagnan searched Athos' face briefly before dropping his gaze. "I… I'm sorry I failed you." His hand stabbed into the empty air. "I should have killed that bastard."
Moving to sit on the side of the bed, Athos removed his gloves and tangled his hands in the gloriously thick strands of dark mahogany, pushing away the curls in order to reveal the boy's tear-stained face. "Lad, you have never failed me. Your courage and strength of heart have proven your loyalty and bravery in all endeavors."
The older Musketeer pressed his lips against the youth's forehead. "I am honored that you came to my defense."
D'Artagnan turned his head to the side and nuzzled Athos' throat. "I couldn't let him kill you. I…."
Athos leaned into the boy's touch, his neck arching, exposing more skin to D'Artagnan's hot and hungry mouth. "You what?" Athos growled as D'Artagnan began to worry the swell of his Adam's apple with his teeth.
Agitated, D'Artagnan fought to unfasten the ties that held Athos' uniform tunic together, pushing the cloth away from the larger man's upper body. Finished with his task, D'Artagnan lowered his head and scattered tiny bites across Athos' smooth, hairless chest, his tongue soothing the small wounds with moist heat.
Athos struggled for breath, his body on fire. He eased away, distancing himself from the boy's starving mouth. He smiled at the look of dazed wildness on D'Artagnan's face.
"Why couldn't you let Rochefort kill me? Speak up, lad. I need to hear your answer."
D'Artagnan lifted his eyes and gazed at Athos a second before leaning forward and stealing several quick kisses. "I refused to allow that blackguard to kill you because…." He licked his tongue across Athos' lips, sweeping inside to capture a brief taste of mature passion. "Because… I find that I love you, Monsieur."
With a rare strength, D'Artagnan pulled on Athos until he was kneeling over his upper torso. His nervous fingers fumbled, loosening the tight breeches, exposing his lover's wet and swollen cock. Pulling the garment further down, his hands lovingly cradled the large furry sac that hung low, carefully rolling it between his fingers, tantalizing it with gentle tugs. Athos' bandaged thigh caught his attention and D'Artagnan paused to caress the wound of honor.
A whispered sigh directed D'Artagnan to the damp flesh tapping his cheek and, with a smile, he turned his head and fed his hunger, sucking hard on the leaking head of Athos' cock. The older Musketeer braced himself against the wall, slamming one hand against the ancient wood, splinters digging deep into his flesh. His other hand wound itself into the silken strands of riotous curls, guiding D'Artagnan's mouth with a gentle pressure. Athos trembled as he experienced the liquid heat of that young virginal mouth and he couldn't help but stroke D'Artagnan's head, encouraging him to maintain an easy rhythm.
D'Artagnan opened his mouth, saturating his tongue with the taste, the flavor of his lover's liquid essence. He buried his face in the groin of the larger man as he attempted to swallow the Musketeer's entire shaft, his nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of Athos' musky arousal.
Athos felt his control slowly unravel, full-fledged shudders racking his body mercilessly. He moaned as tempting fingers crept up his abdomen and across his chest, seeking the sensitive flesh of his nipples. His gasps shattered the silence as D'Artagnan began to twist and pull on the tight nubs and Athos instinctively curled his body around his young lover, seeking more, needing more. Soon, the raging heat of his desire exploded inside his mind and he cried out as an errant finger found and penetrated him, caressing his dark tight passage.
"Mon dieu! I… I cannot… I must release my seed. D'Artagnan!!"
The young Gascon tightened his mouth around Athos' cock, frantically swallowing the man's earthy cream. His free hand reached for his own erection, struggling to ease the overwhelming need for completion.
"NO!" Athos hissed, his teeth clenched as his release ripped through his body. "That virgin cock is MINE!"
Careful to fall away from his injured lover, Athos collapsed on the bed, his body trembling, the aftershocks of passion vibrating throughout his abused muscles. He carelessly removed the remainder of his clothes and pressed his naked flesh against D'Artagnan's slighter frame. Resting his head on his shoulder, Athos guarded the boy's erection with his large hand, taking several moments to regain his control.
Inhaling deeply, Athos began a sensual assault on D'Artagnan's body. His mouth, his lips, his tongue feasted on firm flesh, taut muscles, tanned skin. Fingers lazily slid through the soft pelt of hair covering the youth's chest, twirling aimless patterns in it. Kisses were sprinkled over tempting nipples, sharp brief bites teasing them into pointy little nubs. Hands drifted lower, sliding across quivering stomach muscles, investigating a ticklish navel.
Athos tilted his head, looking up, his gaze held hostage by a blueness of lust and passion. Their wildness darkened to a deeper shade of blue as Athos lowered his head and swallowed the boy's cock. Athos watched as the ministrations of his mouth drove the youth insane with desire. He tasted the velvet satin and liquid fire of his lover's innocent cock and nearly came again, himself, at the realization that no other had ever partaken of this earthly delight. The older Musketeer gripped his renewing erection and growled his satisfaction, his appreciation, for the virginal gift D'Artagnan was allowing him to partake of. With a vice of lips, teeth and tongue, he increased his efforts to bring his young lover to completion.
Seeking to end his sexual torture, D'Artagnan's strained upwards, his protesting movements gentled by Athos' powerful hands. "Athos. You must…." He pleaded for release as he tangled his hands in the short strands of his lover's hair. Tugging hard, he urged Athos to finish him, to take him to the hilt, to drink of his innocence until his thirst was satisfied.
Eyes glittering with inscrutable emotions, Athos memorized the husky cries and moans that signaled D'Artagnan's orgasmic fulfillment. He cherished every drop, his tongue bathing every inch of the youth's now flaccid manhood until the flesh was completely cleansed. He gently kissed around the bulky dressing that covered his lover's left groin, nurturing the bruised flesh, warming it with his loving breath.
Lying back on the bed, Athos embraced D'Artagnan and cradled his head against his wounded shoulder, its slight weight a welcome anchor to reality. With his hand resting over the boy's heart, he sighed and buried his face in D'Artagnan's long silken mane, the low timbre of his voice whispering into the silence, its huskiness betraying the depth of his emotions.
"My beloved. You are mine just as I am now yours. We stand together in love, in friendship, in honor." Athos leaned over and kissed D'Artagnan, a gentle mating of lips and tongues. "I will guard and protect you . . . always."
Athos smiled at the darkness, listening intently as D'Artagnan fell asleep, his soft snores sweet music to his ears. Rochefort's parting instructions rose to mind and shadows of revenge darkened his gaze and stripped away his smile. He would die first before allowing the Cardinal to taste of his lover's sweetness. Closing his eyes, the elder Musketeer embraced the blackness of his soul and spent the remainder of the night devising ways to defeat His Eminence.
End of Chapter 4
Cast of characters featured in this chapter: Athos-Jim, D'Artagnan-Blair, Porthos-Simon, Aramis-Rafe, Rochefort-Lee Brackett