Summary: It's not easy to maintain your composure whilst being forced to listen to someone having very loud sex...and Athos and Porthos are stuck there for the duration.
AN: Contains a mild spoiler for the beginning of episode 3, 'Commodities'.
From behind the closed door of the chamber, loud and obscene noises were plainly audible, as Bonnaire and his wife supposedly said their goodbyes. Outside on the landing Athos and Porthos exchanged a glance, amusement laced with an edge of something else.
They were ninety nine percent sure Bonnaire was faking, and downstairs D'Artagnan and Aramis were covertly watching both the front and rear of the inn in case he made a break for it. Despite this, the noises issuing from within somehow managed to bypass that sense of reason, acting with an awkward effectiveness on their imaginations instead.
Porthos paced tightly to and fro in front of the door. The groans and moans and squeaking of bed springs were making him hard and he repeatedly adjusted himself, not bothering to hide what he was doing from Athos.
Eventually he came to lean next to Athos on the banister. Athos concealed a smile as after a few seconds Porthos' hand brushed against his own. It was brief and seemingly accidental, but the simple touch of his lover's skin was enough to send a shiver down Athos' spine. He let his fingers slide sideways to cover Porthos' hand, all the time staring steadfastly at the opposite wall.
Behind the door Bonnaire's show of conjugal endeavour got louder and more lurid and they both fidgeted, starting to sneak covert glances at each other.
Their hands were still touching, by now almost curled together. Athos stroked a finger across the inside of Porthos' palm and he growled in frustrated arousal.
"Athos." Porthos seized his hand and tried to draw Athos back into the shadows, away from the stairs. He raised his eyebrows in silent invitation, but Athos shook his head in protest.
"Porthos!" he said in an undertone, all the while letting Porthos pull him closer. "We can't!"
"We're supposed to be on guard, in case you'd forgotten."
Porthos laughed silently and seized Athos around the waist, shoving him roughly against the wall and holding him there with his body. "En guard," he breathed mockingly.
Athos sighed, but he didn't push Porthos away. He was fairly sure that wasn't Porthos' sword that was digging into his leg, either.
When Athos made no further objection Porthos buried a hand in his hair and kissed him, hard and demanding. Athos gave in, grasping the back of Porthos' neck and kissing him back just as fiercely.
"I want you," Porthos said in a low voice strained with lust.
"This is hardly the time," Athos reminded him breathlessly.
"Later then," Porthos insisted.
Athos pulled him into another kiss. "If all goes according to plan we should be back in Paris by nightfall," he murmured. "As soon as we've handed over Bonnaire, you can do what you like."
"I'll hold you to that," Porthos promised. They kissed again, heated and increasingly frantic, until the noises from inside the bed chamber abruptly stopped.
They froze, still pressed against each other, but now listening intently.
A few seconds later a low whistle sounded from downstairs and Athos broke away to look over the railing. Below, Aramis gave him a meaningful nod before hurrying towards the rear of the inn.
"Bonnaire's on the move," Athos said, grabbing his hat from the balustrade. "Come on."
Porthos was already ahead of him, taking the steps two at a time and drawing his pistol as he went, immediately professional and focussed.
Athos followed him at a run.