FIC: Mine
Well hello there. This war originally written for the musketeers kink meme but since sorrow_angel asked so nicely, I shall be posting it here as well. Enjoy!
Title: Mine
Author: Zuzivlas
Pairing: Aramis/D´Artagnan
Rating: NC-17 in the second half
Notes: Written based on this request "Aramis doesn´t like it when someone shows too much interest in D´Artagnan"
Warnings: second half includes graphic sex (hence the rating :P)
Summary: Porthos had always known Aramis could be a bit mental but even he couldn´t have anticipated just how possessive of the young musketeer he could be
It wasn’t exactly a well guarded secret that their lives were rather eventful. After all, they were the king’s musketeers, his elite force, his secret spies and go-to men for just about any mission that was needed to ensure the safety of the king, queen and France. Combine that with their constant rivalry with the cardinal’s guards as well as cardinal’s own plotting, mix in the danger other countries posed and what you’ll get is a very exciting albeit dangerous life. Hardly ever a week went by without something or other happening that didn’t involve fighting, injuries, political intrigue, assassinations or war. But, even with this particular life style, Porthos had to admit that ever since D’Artagnan and Constance split up followed by their youngest getting far too friendly with their second youngest, their lives got so much more interesting and fun. At least Porthos was enjoying himself while observing the antics of his 2 dear friends and brothers.
It was fascinating how they changed the other within the short time that they had become involved. D’Artagnan was now much more interested in studies and learning the subtleties of the court while Aramis turned into a force of nature when it came to the lad. He had always moved and fought a bit like a cat but now he all but rubbed himself against D’Artagnan to mark him as his territory. It was hilarious to watch him fume when Planchet complimented D’Artagnan on how well he looked in his new robes one day. It was known that while their former priest was calm and collected most of the time, he had a nasty streak a mile wide when somebody managed to piss him off. And oh but did Planchet manage to do exactly that. Porthos didn’t think he’d ever seen their humble abode and stables that shining clean as after Aramis finished yelling at their poor servant. The whole place was spotless, their clothes cleaner and better smelling than ever and the food they were served had been the single most delicious thing. Porthos also noticed that Planchet was much more careful about complimenting the lad after that.
For a few days, their lives went back to normal until the next brush with the cardinal’s guards. While no fighting was involved, they had met in a tavern and as usual, plenty of jabs and insults were exchanged. However, the guard’s downfall came when they began whistling every time D’Artagnan walked by to get them more wine. The stupid idiots couldn’t keep their mouth shut and appraised the lad for his girlish cute looks, making lewd offers. The lad mostly ignored it or retorted with plenty of his own remarks but Porthos was much more interested in Aramis who was watching the whole ordeal right next to him. While considerably bigger and physically stronger, even Porthos wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of the deadly stare his best friend was giving the guards. It was clear that he was memorizing their faces and that once they walked out of the tavern, they would be fair game. There might as well have been a big red target drawn on their coats with a note saying “Stab here”. Porthos had no doubts that Aramis’ sword or knife would hit bull’s eye.
A week after the guards disappeared without a trace, even Athos came to him and announced that Aramis was acting like a possessive bitch. Nodding in agreement, Porthos was glad that his friend knew of the potential threat and made sure not to aggravate the man in question. For all his intellect and cleverness, Richelieu wasn’t as wise. He indulged in one of his favourite pastimes and did everything within his power to mock them before the king, but the moment he remarked that some of the musketeers clearly didn’t look manly enough was his undoing. He implied that some of them would be much more suited for a different position, the sexual undertone in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by the musketeers, nor did his less than subtle glimpse D’Artagnan’s way as he was talking. 4 sets of shoulders tensed up, 1 in rage over a hurt ego, 1 in sheer lust for vengeance for mocking what was considered personal property and 2 in worry of what the second pair might do. Thankfully the cardinal hadn’t been assassinated during the night which would make their lives more difficult in the long run. However, he woke up to the news that the sick and poor of Paris called his name in gratitude as a substantial amount of his money ended up in their pockets as gifts. After all, the Lord was teaching us to share and help the poor so the cardinal only did his holy duty by donating to the less fortunate. He had been in a sour mood for weeks as he was unable to successfully trace the culprit though he made a point not to verbally attack the musketeers again.
The cherry on top of a month full of Aramis either assassinating or screwing people over that gave D’Artagnan slightly more attention than was appropriate came when they ran into Buckingham again. The man was furious after what they had done to his beloved war machine and seeking revenge, captured the quartet. Things were looking dire until the moment Buckingham decided to mock D’Artagnan by mentioning how much fun they had the last time the boy was within his grasp and how much he was looking forward to continuing where they left off. The change in Aramis was immediate and the 15 armed to teeth guards stood no chance against his deadly precision. The other musketeers hurried to free themselves, not because they were worried about Aramis getting injured or killed while facing such odds, but because they needed to stop him before he murdered Buckingham, thus causing an international incident. It took all 3 of them to hold him back until he calmed down at least somewhat and Buckingham should count his lucky stars that the only thing that happened to him was a spanking on his naked buttocks after they tied him down. The humiliation of his solders finding him in that position was nothing compared to what Aramis would have done to him had he not been stopped.
However, the most interesting situation happened a few weeks later when they were invited to the banquet the king was holding. As required, they mingled with the crowd, chatting with the rich of France until it happened. Porthos only saw it from the corner of his eye but immediately paid full attention excusing himself from his current companions. It had become fairly known not to try anything on their youngest unless you wished to pay a far too costly price but there was still one oblivious person who hadn’t realized that hell hath no fury like Aramis in possessive mode. The one was no other than D’Artagnan himself. Although he had broken it off with Constance months ago, the lad couldn’t help but come onto her a bit for old time’s sake. Thankfully Constance wasn’t stupid and didn’t flirt back or she’d be in big trouble later on. Like this it was manageable for Porthos and Athos to keep the other guests from noticing as Aramis practically dragged D’Artagnan away, presumably home. They just hoped that D’Artagnan would still be in one piece in the morning.
*****
D’Artagnan protested, he fought against the iron hold on his wrist but to no avail. In that moment, Aramis was stronger than a horse as he dragged him all the way back to their house. Not one word had left the musketeer’s mouth no matter how much D’Artagnan shouted, demanding an explanation. Entering the house, they almost ran Planchet over as Aramis marched them to their bedroom, closing the door behind them by throwing D’Artagnan against it. Before the younger man caught his breath, Aramis had plastered himself to him, effectively immobilizing the youth.
“You’re playing a dangerous game boy. Perhaps I should explain the rules and what happens to those who break them.”
D’Artagnan could have sworn that sparks were flying out of Aramis’ eyes.
“You’re mine boy, mine, and that means that the only person you should pay that sort of attention to is me. I told you when we started, I do not share what is mine.”
The last few words were practically growled and while D’Artagnan should have probably felt worried about what would happen next, all he could feel was arousal at the blatant display of possession. Before he could apologize, he was grabbed roughly and silenced with a demanding kiss. Aramis only let his head go when all air had been sucked from his lungs and his head was spinning. The former priest wasn’t holding back as he practically ripped D’Artagnan’s fancy coat and shirt off of him and threw him onto their bed. His head still reeling, D’Artagnan simply lay there with eyes wide open as Aramis stalked to the bed. He should have been menacing the way he stood over him with those burning eyes but D’Artagnan thought it was the most erotic his lover had ever looked. He could hear the word “mine” in his head as Aramis threw his own coat and shirt away and lay down on him. Baring his throat in submission, D’Artagnan was rewarded with more possessive kisses rained down on him. It was difficult to keep track of Aramis’ mouth as it kissed his mouth, nibbled on his neck until he could feel a love bite forming, then lower to suck on his pulse point, than back to the mouth, attacking at random but with lethal precision.
Soon the younger musketeer was begging, begging for forgiveness, begging for more, begging to be shown who he belonged to. Aramis had no desire to refuse and kissing his way down the pale hairless chest, undressed them with a bit of help from his lover. Before he reached the place D’Artagnan wanted him to, he sat back up and finished undressing them. Once they were fully naked, he forced D’Artagnan back onto the bed and kneeled by his head. Grabbing his lover’s hair with one hand, he guided his cock to those soft pink lips with the other.
“Suck.”
D’Artagnan didn’t need any more instructions and immediately opened his mouth, relaxing his throat as Aramis shoved his cock deep inside. He was trapped with no chance of escaping as Aramis practically fucked his mouth and loved every second of it. To know that he unleashed the beast in the otherwise collected man was a powerful aphrodisiac and D’Artagnan let it fill his body with heat, licking and sucking until Aramis was moaning in pleasure. It would have been satisfying to let the boy suck him to completion but he wanted to mark him completely and forced himself to back away before it was too late. Without preamble he turned the boy over, shoving a pillow underneath his pelvis to lift him up slightly and wet three fingers.
“Who do you belong to boy?”
“You, I belong to you Aramis.”
He rewarded the boy by circling his opening with the moist fingers and pushed one of them inside. D’Artagnan wanted it so badly he was absolutely relaxed and the finger went inside without any problems. Soon, a second finger joined it and the younger musketeer moaned as Aramis stretched him, preparing him for the fucking that would undoubtedly be rough.
“Aramis...”
His name was moaned in such a sweetly submissive voice, he pushed a third finger inside making sure to jab that special place inside the boy. He loved watching as D’Artagnan jumped a little, pleasure coursing through his body with every caress over that bundle of nerves. He pleasured him, he tortured him until the boy turned into a gasping mess.
“Ask for it.”
The voice was cold but it sent wonderful shivers down D’Artagnan’s spine.
“Please please, Aramis... please, fuck me... please, I belong to you so FUCK ME!”
The fingers were pulled out in a hurry and before he could mourn the loss of contact, D’Artagnan felt something bigger entering him in one swift push. He moaned loudly as he felt Aramis leaning against his back, breathing down his neck, forcing himself to hold back and not grudge fuck the boy wildly. The whispered “yours” was all the encouragement he needed to start moving, kissing and biting the smooth shoulders before him with every thrust. D’Artagnan was in heaven, surrounded, pounded into, dominated... he couldn’t focus, didn’t want to. He just let the feelings run through him and held on as best as he could for the ride.
They were both far too gone for it to last long and soon Aramis jerked D’Artagnan off a few times, triggering his release that he himself soon followed. The last thing D’Artagnan noticed before he passed out was Aramis turning them onto their sides and holding him firmly to his chest as he whispered one last time.
“You’re mine”.
Title: Mine
Author: Zuzivlas
Pairing: Aramis/D´Artagnan
Rating: NC-17 in the second half
Notes: Written based on this request "Aramis doesn´t like it when someone shows too much interest in D´Artagnan"
Warnings: second half includes graphic sex (hence the rating :P)
Summary: Porthos had always known Aramis could be a bit mental but even he couldn´t have anticipated just how possessive of the young musketeer he could be
It wasn’t exactly a well guarded secret that their lives were rather eventful. After all, they were the king’s musketeers, his elite force, his secret spies and go-to men for just about any mission that was needed to ensure the safety of the king, queen and France. Combine that with their constant rivalry with the cardinal’s guards as well as cardinal’s own plotting, mix in the danger other countries posed and what you’ll get is a very exciting albeit dangerous life. Hardly ever a week went by without something or other happening that didn’t involve fighting, injuries, political intrigue, assassinations or war. But, even with this particular life style, Porthos had to admit that ever since D’Artagnan and Constance split up followed by their youngest getting far too friendly with their second youngest, their lives got so much more interesting and fun. At least Porthos was enjoying himself while observing the antics of his 2 dear friends and brothers.
It was fascinating how they changed the other within the short time that they had become involved. D’Artagnan was now much more interested in studies and learning the subtleties of the court while Aramis turned into a force of nature when it came to the lad. He had always moved and fought a bit like a cat but now he all but rubbed himself against D’Artagnan to mark him as his territory. It was hilarious to watch him fume when Planchet complimented D’Artagnan on how well he looked in his new robes one day. It was known that while their former priest was calm and collected most of the time, he had a nasty streak a mile wide when somebody managed to piss him off. And oh but did Planchet manage to do exactly that. Porthos didn’t think he’d ever seen their humble abode and stables that shining clean as after Aramis finished yelling at their poor servant. The whole place was spotless, their clothes cleaner and better smelling than ever and the food they were served had been the single most delicious thing. Porthos also noticed that Planchet was much more careful about complimenting the lad after that.
For a few days, their lives went back to normal until the next brush with the cardinal’s guards. While no fighting was involved, they had met in a tavern and as usual, plenty of jabs and insults were exchanged. However, the guard’s downfall came when they began whistling every time D’Artagnan walked by to get them more wine. The stupid idiots couldn’t keep their mouth shut and appraised the lad for his girlish cute looks, making lewd offers. The lad mostly ignored it or retorted with plenty of his own remarks but Porthos was much more interested in Aramis who was watching the whole ordeal right next to him. While considerably bigger and physically stronger, even Porthos wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of the deadly stare his best friend was giving the guards. It was clear that he was memorizing their faces and that once they walked out of the tavern, they would be fair game. There might as well have been a big red target drawn on their coats with a note saying “Stab here”. Porthos had no doubts that Aramis’ sword or knife would hit bull’s eye.
A week after the guards disappeared without a trace, even Athos came to him and announced that Aramis was acting like a possessive bitch. Nodding in agreement, Porthos was glad that his friend knew of the potential threat and made sure not to aggravate the man in question. For all his intellect and cleverness, Richelieu wasn’t as wise. He indulged in one of his favourite pastimes and did everything within his power to mock them before the king, but the moment he remarked that some of the musketeers clearly didn’t look manly enough was his undoing. He implied that some of them would be much more suited for a different position, the sexual undertone in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by the musketeers, nor did his less than subtle glimpse D’Artagnan’s way as he was talking. 4 sets of shoulders tensed up, 1 in rage over a hurt ego, 1 in sheer lust for vengeance for mocking what was considered personal property and 2 in worry of what the second pair might do. Thankfully the cardinal hadn’t been assassinated during the night which would make their lives more difficult in the long run. However, he woke up to the news that the sick and poor of Paris called his name in gratitude as a substantial amount of his money ended up in their pockets as gifts. After all, the Lord was teaching us to share and help the poor so the cardinal only did his holy duty by donating to the less fortunate. He had been in a sour mood for weeks as he was unable to successfully trace the culprit though he made a point not to verbally attack the musketeers again.
The cherry on top of a month full of Aramis either assassinating or screwing people over that gave D’Artagnan slightly more attention than was appropriate came when they ran into Buckingham again. The man was furious after what they had done to his beloved war machine and seeking revenge, captured the quartet. Things were looking dire until the moment Buckingham decided to mock D’Artagnan by mentioning how much fun they had the last time the boy was within his grasp and how much he was looking forward to continuing where they left off. The change in Aramis was immediate and the 15 armed to teeth guards stood no chance against his deadly precision. The other musketeers hurried to free themselves, not because they were worried about Aramis getting injured or killed while facing such odds, but because they needed to stop him before he murdered Buckingham, thus causing an international incident. It took all 3 of them to hold him back until he calmed down at least somewhat and Buckingham should count his lucky stars that the only thing that happened to him was a spanking on his naked buttocks after they tied him down. The humiliation of his solders finding him in that position was nothing compared to what Aramis would have done to him had he not been stopped.
However, the most interesting situation happened a few weeks later when they were invited to the banquet the king was holding. As required, they mingled with the crowd, chatting with the rich of France until it happened. Porthos only saw it from the corner of his eye but immediately paid full attention excusing himself from his current companions. It had become fairly known not to try anything on their youngest unless you wished to pay a far too costly price but there was still one oblivious person who hadn’t realized that hell hath no fury like Aramis in possessive mode. The one was no other than D’Artagnan himself. Although he had broken it off with Constance months ago, the lad couldn’t help but come onto her a bit for old time’s sake. Thankfully Constance wasn’t stupid and didn’t flirt back or she’d be in big trouble later on. Like this it was manageable for Porthos and Athos to keep the other guests from noticing as Aramis practically dragged D’Artagnan away, presumably home. They just hoped that D’Artagnan would still be in one piece in the morning.
*****
D’Artagnan protested, he fought against the iron hold on his wrist but to no avail. In that moment, Aramis was stronger than a horse as he dragged him all the way back to their house. Not one word had left the musketeer’s mouth no matter how much D’Artagnan shouted, demanding an explanation. Entering the house, they almost ran Planchet over as Aramis marched them to their bedroom, closing the door behind them by throwing D’Artagnan against it. Before the younger man caught his breath, Aramis had plastered himself to him, effectively immobilizing the youth.
“You’re playing a dangerous game boy. Perhaps I should explain the rules and what happens to those who break them.”
D’Artagnan could have sworn that sparks were flying out of Aramis’ eyes.
“You’re mine boy, mine, and that means that the only person you should pay that sort of attention to is me. I told you when we started, I do not share what is mine.”
The last few words were practically growled and while D’Artagnan should have probably felt worried about what would happen next, all he could feel was arousal at the blatant display of possession. Before he could apologize, he was grabbed roughly and silenced with a demanding kiss. Aramis only let his head go when all air had been sucked from his lungs and his head was spinning. The former priest wasn’t holding back as he practically ripped D’Artagnan’s fancy coat and shirt off of him and threw him onto their bed. His head still reeling, D’Artagnan simply lay there with eyes wide open as Aramis stalked to the bed. He should have been menacing the way he stood over him with those burning eyes but D’Artagnan thought it was the most erotic his lover had ever looked. He could hear the word “mine” in his head as Aramis threw his own coat and shirt away and lay down on him. Baring his throat in submission, D’Artagnan was rewarded with more possessive kisses rained down on him. It was difficult to keep track of Aramis’ mouth as it kissed his mouth, nibbled on his neck until he could feel a love bite forming, then lower to suck on his pulse point, than back to the mouth, attacking at random but with lethal precision.
Soon the younger musketeer was begging, begging for forgiveness, begging for more, begging to be shown who he belonged to. Aramis had no desire to refuse and kissing his way down the pale hairless chest, undressed them with a bit of help from his lover. Before he reached the place D’Artagnan wanted him to, he sat back up and finished undressing them. Once they were fully naked, he forced D’Artagnan back onto the bed and kneeled by his head. Grabbing his lover’s hair with one hand, he guided his cock to those soft pink lips with the other.
“Suck.”
D’Artagnan didn’t need any more instructions and immediately opened his mouth, relaxing his throat as Aramis shoved his cock deep inside. He was trapped with no chance of escaping as Aramis practically fucked his mouth and loved every second of it. To know that he unleashed the beast in the otherwise collected man was a powerful aphrodisiac and D’Artagnan let it fill his body with heat, licking and sucking until Aramis was moaning in pleasure. It would have been satisfying to let the boy suck him to completion but he wanted to mark him completely and forced himself to back away before it was too late. Without preamble he turned the boy over, shoving a pillow underneath his pelvis to lift him up slightly and wet three fingers.
“Who do you belong to boy?”
“You, I belong to you Aramis.”
He rewarded the boy by circling his opening with the moist fingers and pushed one of them inside. D’Artagnan wanted it so badly he was absolutely relaxed and the finger went inside without any problems. Soon, a second finger joined it and the younger musketeer moaned as Aramis stretched him, preparing him for the fucking that would undoubtedly be rough.
“Aramis...”
His name was moaned in such a sweetly submissive voice, he pushed a third finger inside making sure to jab that special place inside the boy. He loved watching as D’Artagnan jumped a little, pleasure coursing through his body with every caress over that bundle of nerves. He pleasured him, he tortured him until the boy turned into a gasping mess.
“Ask for it.”
The voice was cold but it sent wonderful shivers down D’Artagnan’s spine.
“Please please, Aramis... please, fuck me... please, I belong to you so FUCK ME!”
The fingers were pulled out in a hurry and before he could mourn the loss of contact, D’Artagnan felt something bigger entering him in one swift push. He moaned loudly as he felt Aramis leaning against his back, breathing down his neck, forcing himself to hold back and not grudge fuck the boy wildly. The whispered “yours” was all the encouragement he needed to start moving, kissing and biting the smooth shoulders before him with every thrust. D’Artagnan was in heaven, surrounded, pounded into, dominated... he couldn’t focus, didn’t want to. He just let the feelings run through him and held on as best as he could for the ride.
They were both far too gone for it to last long and soon Aramis jerked D’Artagnan off a few times, triggering his release that he himself soon followed. The last thing D’Artagnan noticed before he passed out was Aramis turning them onto their sides and holding him firmly to his chest as he whispered one last time.
“You’re mine”.