suzie_shooter (suzie_shooter) wrote,

Fic - Before Dawn (The Musketeers)

Title: Before Dawn
Pairings: Athos/Porthos (established relationship)
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 2,652
Summary: Set after The Return. Basically, Athos needs a good seeing-to. (Filth. Breath-play. Angsty!Athos. Perfect-boyfriend!Porthos (TM). I regret nothing.)


Leaving Pinon behind, they rode for the rest of the day and through most of the night, arriving back at the garrison in the hour before dawn, weary and travel-stained.

Hanging up the last of his tack, Porthos glanced out the door of the stable in time to see Athos trudging across the yard towards the accommodation block. Belatedly, he remembered them rifling through Athos' correspondence for a clue as to his whereabouts, and strongly suspected they hadn't returned the letters to their original place.

Porthos hurried after him. Now he came to think about it, he wasn't convinced they'd shut the door behind them either. Not that anyone was going to be daft enough to steal from Athos - there was nothing much in there to take, for one thing - but Athos was almost certainly going to be pissed off at the intrusion.

He ran down the steps and turned in at Athos' door. Athos had closed the shutters and lit a brace of candles, and was standing with one of the letters in his hand, lost in thought.

Seeing the papers they'd left strewn across the table, Porthos winced.

"Sorry. That was us," he said quietly, in case Athos should think after all that he'd been burgled. "We were trying to figure out where you'd gone."

Athos half-turned at the sound of his voice. He nodded slightly, accepting the explanation with a lot less irritation than Porthos had been expecting. Encouraged, he came right in and closed the door behind him.

"Why didn't you tell us where you were going?" Porthos asked hesitantly. "We'd have come with you, you know we would."

Athos looked up at him properly then, looking strangely startled, eyes searching his face. Then a smile tugged at his lips, and he dropped the letter he was holding back with the rest.

"I wasn't exactly given a choice." He shook the bottles on the table until he found one with wine in it, and poured some for both of them.

"What do you mean?" Porthos automatically took the cup he was offered and put it straight down again, frowning at Athos.

"I was kidnapped," Athos said with a hint of dry amusement. "The villagers abducted me and returned me to Pinon against my will, in their quest for a champion." He smirked. "They'd perhaps have done better to take you."

Porthos didn't laugh. "What are you talking about?"

Athos shrugged. "Just what I say. They drugged me - I think I was out for a whole day. I certainly remember nothing of the journey. I woke up there, bound to a chair."

At this, Porthos took the wine out of Athos' grasp and set it aside, before drawing off the leather gauntlets he was still wearing. Unprotesting, Athos let him, and Porthos turned his hands palm upwards, examining Athos' reddened and abused wrists.

"I thought this was just from where Renard strung you up," Porthos said in a low, dangerous voice. "Are you telling me the villagers did this?"

Another shrug. "They certainly didn't help matters."

"And yet you still gave them your land?" he asked, incredulous.

"I'm well rid of it."

"Why didn't you say something?" All this time, he'd been assuming Athos had disappeared of his own accord, in response to the villagers' written pleas.

Athos gestured helplessly. "We were rather busy. Besides I rather assumed you knew. I thought that's why you were there, that you'd somehow found out I'd been taken and come to rescue me."

"We were just worried when you went missing without a word. We wanted to be sure you were alright." Porthos frowned. "How did a bunch of scrawny bastards like that manage to abduct you in the first place?"

Athos looked embarrassed. "Yes, well, I wasn't at my best," he murmured.

"Drunk," Porthos sighed.

"Quite." Athos looked away, picking up his wine and then setting it down again with a sigh. "You know, I can feel your disapproval, even when I'm not looking at you?"

"Guilty conscience, they call that."

Porthos laid his hands on Athos' shoulders and gave him a brief squeeze. "You need to see to those blisters, or they'll get infected," he said in a gentler tone. "Aramis'll have something, I won't be a minute." He made a move towards the door but Athos grabbed a handful of his shirt and stopped him.

"Don't go?"

Surprised, Porthos turned back to him and instinctively folded Athos into his arms.

Athos kissed him then, urgent and needy and Porthos hugged him tighter, returning his kisses with an equal fervour. When they finally relinquished each others' mouths, Athos stayed in his arms, his breath fluttering shakily against Porthos' throat.

"I need you," Athos said, his voice barely audible as if he was ashamed to say it out loud.

"I'm yours." Porthos kissed him again, fiercely, and they stumbled across to the bed, still locked together. Porthos bore Athos down to the mattress, sprawling on top of him and pinning him down, feeling Athos pushing against him, already desperate.

"How do you want it?"

Athos blinked up at him, and Porthos smirked. "Slow and gentle? Hard and rough?" he elaborated, and even in the low light he could see Athos' blush.

"The latter. And - with your arm around me."

Porthos knew what that meant, and he paused in his kisses for a second, looking down at Athos in mild concern. "You alright?"

Athos nodded. "I will be," he said hoarsely, and Porthos laughed.

"Fair enough." He stood up just long enough to shed his cloak and unfasten his breeches, then knelt over Athos, unbuckling and unlacing him with practiced fingers. He pulled Athos up, turning him bodily before sending him sprawling forward across the bed again, face down with his breeches and linen around his ankles.

Athos groaned, fingers clawing into the bedclothes in anticipation, as Porthos settled against his legs and spread him with none too gentle hands. With Athos pinned, Porthos felt around under the bed, groping blindly with one hand amongst the empty wine bottles.

"It's by the leg," Athos said, his voice muffled by the rough blanket, and Porthos slapped him across the arse in jubilation as his fingers closed around the small jar of oil.

It had been a while, since they'd last fucked. Since Milady had appeared back on the scene, Athos had either not been in the mood or been too drunk to get it up. He'd been grateful enough to spend the nights he made it back lying in Porthos' arms, but weeks had gone by since they'd last had sex, and Porthos was more than ready for this.

He dipped two fingers into the little pot and trailed them over Athos' hole, laughing at the impatient yowl that his light touch prompted.

"Someone let a cat in here?" he wondered aloud, and smirked at the half-heard filthy retort Athos mumbled into the bedding. He rubbed a little more firmly, turned on by Athos' impatient desperation as much as his own desires.

Athos wriggled against him and Porthos seized him by the waist, leaning forward over his back and pressing his cock between Athos' buttocks. "Behave, or I'll take you without the oil," he growled, grinning widely at the moan this produced. "Maybe you'd like that," he continued, more conversationally.

"Maybe I should tie you up while I'm at it. Maybe those villagers had the right idea." He trapped Athos between his thighs and poured some of the oil into his palm, slicking his cock thoroughly and setting the jar aside. He returned his attentions to Athos' arse, this time sliding a wet finger inside him with more care than his words suggested.

"Like that, don't you?" Porthos added, as Athos appeared to have given up on words entirely and was now simply making noises somewhere between frustration and pleasure.

Porthos had three fingers inside him now, stretching him open with as much patience as he could muster. He didn't think either of them was going to last long, and as soon as he figured Athos could take him without too much discomfort, he shifted his position and shoved Athos further up the bed, until he was lying on it rather than bending over it.

"You might want to bite down on something," Porthos declared with a smirk, and promptly pushed halfway inside Athos without waiting for him to brace himself.

Athos gave an involuntary cry that had enough actual pain in it that Porthos stopped and held himself steady for a second.


"Don't fucking stop, damn you."

Porthos chuckled, gripping Athos round the hips and shunting the rest of the way in, albeit a shade more gently this time. When his balls were touching skin, he leaned forward and kissed Athos on his bare shoulder where his shirt was gaping open.

"Ready? You sure you want this?"

Athos gave a jerky nod, and Porthos slid his arm around Athos' throat, until he was caught snugly in the crook of his elbow. When he'd asked for Porthos' arm around him, Athos hadn't been asking for a cuddle.

Satisfied with their position and his choke-hold, Porthos began thrusting into him, starting slow, giving Athos a chance to get used to it. Gradually he built up pace and force, spurred on by the keening noises issuing from Athos' throat, until he was fucking him with a contained violence that shook the bed.

His pressure on Athos' throat wasn't so great that he couldn't breathe, Porthos careful to give pleasure rather than pain. They'd figured out what worked best between them, Athos gradually confessing what he wanted as over time he came to slowly place utter trust in Porthos. The trouble in Porthos' mind was that he'd noticed Athos only asked for this when he was feeling particularly low, as if he needed the additional trauma to take him out of himself.

After a couple of punishing minutes, Porthos felt fingers seize and then pat quickly at his arm, and he released his grip immediately, slowing the rolling thrusts of his hips as Athos coughed and sucked in heaving breaths.

"Enough?" Porthos murmured, but Athos shook his head and wordlessly pushed Porthos' arm back towards his throat.

Porthos obligingly took up the tension again, pulling Athos back up against his chest and this time slipping his other arm round Athos' waist. His searching hand found Athos' cock, wet and hard against his belly, and started stroking him with fast, firm jerks of his fist.

Athos was shaking against him, utterly lost in the triple assault on his senses, and Porthos knew it wouldn't be long before they both surrendered to what promised to be an earth shattering climax.

Twice more, they went though the routine of release and restraint - pat, breathe, check, grip - until there were tears of exertion tracking down Athos' face and his whole world was narrowed to one of pure physical sensation and utter surrender.

"Porthos." His voice was wrecked, low and urgent, and Porthos knew what he wanted, knew Athos was on the brink. He tightened his hold, for several long seconds restricting air as well as blood, and thrust into Athos twice as hard.

Athos came without a sound, his cock pulsing in Porthos' hand as he spent his release into the bedclothes, his body spasming and clenching with a shuddering intensity. The moment he'd started to come Porthos had released the hold on his throat and he was gasping in air like a landed fish, dragging in great heaving breaths that seemed to prolong his orgasm even further.

Somewhere along the way Porthos gave in himself, spilling hotly into Athos' body with a groan of completion, and for a few seconds it felt like it would never end, both of them locked together in the perfect moment of ecstasy.

Slowly, they disentangled themselves. With a presence of mind that was in many ways entirely too late, Porthos heaved himself up and went to bolt the door, shedding the rest of his clothing as he stumbled back to the bed. He helped Athos out of the rest of his, and lay back down beside him, rolling Athos into his arms and pulling the blanket over them both.

Athos was quiet, lying passively against his chest, his breathing still shaky. Porthos stroked his hair and held him close, and kissed him on the forehead.


Athos nodded, and Porthos thought he wasn't going to speak, but then he looked up.

"Thank you."

Porthos smiled, and kissed him. "Any time."

Athos managed an answering smile at that, and Porthos sought out his hand under the covers, drawing it up and kissing Athos' knuckles.

"We should clean you up," Porthos murmured. "See to those rope burns. Not to mention give you a bath."

Athos snorted. "You can talk. You smell of horse."

"You smell of the whole farmyard," Porthos retorted. "A sweaty farmyard. I think we might have to burn that shirt."

"I can't afford to buy another," protested Athos sleepily. "Especially now."

"Thinking you shouldn't have been so hasty?" Porthos jibed. He was only teasing, but Athos looked up at him a little anxiously. It had been preying on his mind, what Porthos must have made of his ridiculous gesture.

"Are you angry with me?" he asked quietly.

Porthos looked surprised. "When am I ever angry with you?"

"That's not an answer."

"What you did, for those people? It was amazing. There's not one other man in a million who would have done that. It was incredibly generous." Porthos laughed. "Probably also insane, but who's counting?"

Athos shook his head. "It's easy enough to give away something you don't want. Don't build me up into something I'm not." He was quiet for a second. "There are few enough things in my life I would fight to keep."

Athos looked up to find Porthos watching him with a quiet fondness, and smiled. "You're one of them, by the way."

"Good to know." Porthos kissed him. "Because there's no way in hell I'd ever let you go."

"Did you really think I'd just gone off without telling you?" Athos asked after a second, wondering what Porthos must have thought of him - what they all had.

Porthos hugged him closer. "No. That's how we knew something was wrong." He stroked Athos' back reassuringly. Now they were both actually naked, he'd seen for the first time that Athos' ribs and stomach were covered in black bruises, and wondered exactly what he'd been through before they'd shown up. Wished they hadn't wasted so much time before going to look for him.

"We found your coat by the way," Porthos added, suddenly remembering. "D'Artagnan's got it." They'd found it in the fourth tavern they'd searched, Athos' uniform leathers hung behind the bar, the innkeeper looking after it in the hope Athos would pay more for its safe return than he'd get for its sale. That, too, had been an indication all was not well. However drunk, Athos generally managed to return home with his clothing intact.

"Oh. Thank you." Athos' face actually lit up a little, and Porthos grinned. Athos could give away his birthright without a second thought, but his identity as a Musketeer? That was as precious to him as it was to Porthos, and Porthos loved him for it.

"So do you want to wash first, or sleep first?" Porthos asked, already knowing the answer.

"Sleep," Athos murmured, ducking his head to press lazy kisses to Porthos' chest. "Stay with me?"


Porthos leaned over to blow out the candles, then settled back in the narrow bed, Athos tucked firmly against him. The first light of dawn was just gleaming through the chinks in the shutters, but neither of them heeded it. They kissed each other, slowly and softly, until first Athos, and then Porthos fell sound asleep.

Tags: fic, the musketeers
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