bakerstreet | hold me close

[ He can feel himself falling into this. Fear and tension are giving way to something easier, something that seems like it must have been there all along. His legs stretch out and he leans in. Feeling Athos' lips part, his tongue licks inside to fill the space.

The first touch of Athos' tongue is electric, sending a spark of anticipation and need through him. Then he's responding to that impulse, pressing his tongue against his friend's and drawing it in. A sound follows that sensation, a sound like a gentle murmur in the back of his throat. He realises that he's clutching Athos tightly and his hands become gentler now, careful and caressing instead of urgent. Because there is no urgency. This doesn't feel wrong to him, it feels perfect. He feels perfect, just for a while. ]

[ They kiss for what seems like hours and in fact is only scant minutes before he pulls away to breathe, breath fogging the cool air. The rain is lessened now but it still pelts down the sides of the tree and Athos lets out a shaking laugh. ]

You couldn't have come to this conclusion somewhere warm? [ But no. All life affirming moments must always come from dismal situations, apparently. ]

[ The kiss ends, and d'Artagnan feels as though it's drawn the breath from his lungs. His hands are holding Athos so tightly, as though they're afraid to let go.

He's never really heard Athos laugh before. Realising that makes him laugh as well, but then he leans in against his friend. He brings his lips back to the edge of his jaw, moves them down onto his neck. It's strange, feeling the roughness of a beard beneath his lips, but it's not unpleasant. If anything, it just makes him press closer. ]

I feel warmer now. I think I picked exactly the right time. And place.

[ He glances up now. ] After all, when do we ever get this kind of privacy?

Privacy. [ He rolls his eyes at that but once more he finds himself leaning in to chase the smile of d'Artagan's lips with his own. It's quick and sweet and teasing, like he can't help himself. ] I haven't had privacy in five years.

It's a foreign concept by now. [ His hands settle on his shoulders but unlike when he often touches d'Artagnan, his thumb moves in restless circles. ] I'm surprised they haven't sensed it and burst in through the foliage.

[ God, their friends are idiots. ]

[ D'Artagnan's laughter is easy and light now, like he's forgotten all his troubles. He's leaning into every touch as if it's not new to him at all. It feels new, it feels odd, but it also feels good. His hand slips down, over Athos' chest and to his waist. He kisses at his lips, and then drops his mouth to tease at his neck again. This time his tongue flicks out, tasting Athos' skin right where his beard disappears, and then d'Artagnan's lips press against that spot. ]

I'd push them back into it again if they did. There's something to be said for privacy. Enough for this, anyway.

[ He raises his head, mischief in his eyes. ] I'm sure I can find some for us. It can't be impossible.

[ Unbidden his hand lifts to curl in d'Artagnan's damp hair, a soft sound escaping from his throat. It's been so very long since anyone has paid him such kind attention, longer still since he'd wanted it. And want it he does. Athos cannot help but feel like his head his spinning, d'Artagnan's lips at his neck and his words teasing as he pulls away. ]

I trust that you could. [ He tilts his head to once side and then shifts to press a little firmer against him, knee against d'Artagnan's own and a smile on his face. It makes him look younger, almost, when he smiles. ]

And here I thought Aramis was the great romancer. [ He cups his friend's face in his palms, skin rough as he leans in to kiss him once more. This time he's bolder, licking his way between his lips, teasing him with his tongue. There are just some things that you don't exactly need practise for, and he used to be such a great lover of love. ]

[ Athos has an irresistible smile. D'Artagnan has always looked to see it before, always noticed it, because of how rarely he sees it. Now it makes his heart stutter, and he finds himself wondering how it was that he didn't know this was what he wanted. How had he overlooked it? He feels as he ever did, and now he doesn't understand himself.

He dimples at the feeling of that hand in his hair. He raises his own hand, touching at Athos' smile before he's pulled closer and they're kissing again.

Athos is growing in confidence, he can feel it in every kiss. His tongue brushes against his friend's, wanting to encourage that, and then he draws Athos' lower lip into his mouth. His tongue runs across it, and then his teeth graze it so briefly as he leans back, just enough to take a breath. ]

He is. Aramis would've planned this. I didn't. [ His eyes lift to meet Athos'. ] I wish I had.

[ Then he slides his hands around Athos' waist, slipping them around and one his back. They pull his friend against him, and he turns slightly, shifting his knees so that they can overlap with Athos'. ]

I'm glad you didn't. [ That this is spontaneous makes him feel much better for it. D'Artagnan is not a great liar, his expression often mirrors exactly what he's feeling. That he's as surprised and taken aback as he is soothes him.

Milady had a great mask on her face, he could never find it in him to be fooled by that again. ]

I'm glad it happened like this. [ He presses his palm against his cheek and traces the outline of his lips gently. ] It might still be the worst decision you've made [ -- teasing. ] But I'd like to find out with you.

[ He couldn't maintain a mask in front of Athos. Not in front of any of his friends, but particularly not in front of Athos. They know each other too well.

But then there's a hand on his cheek, and he kisses the thumb tracing his lips. His head ducks and he kisses Athos' palm, too, and his own hands move gently on his friend's back. Careful fingers start exploring, tracing over the line of his spine and spreading out towards his side. ]

That's what I want. [ He looks up at him, dark eyes meeting Athos' blue ones. ] And I don't think it's a bad decision. I don't think you're a bad decision. You couldn't be.

I'd tell you that you can't know that, but you'd simply argue with me. I don't think I want to, just now.

[ The kiss to his palm makes him smile. D'Artagnan's touch is gentle and he feels charmed by it, by how his friend is treating him now. Often when he is flirted with he feels simply like a puppet, strings pulled tight to how he should be seen. Anne would have found it funny, but he never did.

With d'Artagnan it's different. He has seen all the sharp edges of Athos and had kissed him regardless. ]

I didn't think you'd be so charming. [ A pause, a light to his eyes. ] I didn't think myself so easily charmed.

[ D'Artagnan lifts his head, surprise lighting his eyes. A laugh breaks through his smile. ]

Am I? I don't feel charming. [ He feels...insatiable, almost. Reaching for one kiss after another, moving from one touch to the next, trying always to find new skin to kiss. Even now, he's nuzzling back in against Athos' neck, kissing him there again and relishing in the taste that teases his tongue. ]

I feel like I can't get enough. And that I'm a fool, because I should have known I felt this way and I didn't.

[ But he glances up again, his smile returning. ]

I like it when you look like that. You look so happy, Athos.

[ He hums when his lips find his throat again. He wonders if it's possible to become drunk on such affection, tilting slightly to allow d'Artagnan to gain access to his skin. His head is too light, his fingers twitching where they settle at his sides, skate upwards to his ribs over the fabric of his shirt. His friend feels warm wherever Athos lays his hands and he wants to turn to it like the sun.

But then he's being addressed, eyes a little wider, lips parted before he speaks. ] Do I? It's been so long I'd almost forgotten ... [ Athos' voice is soft, almost wondering. His stomach is in knots but it's not from dread, his pulse pounding from something other than fear. Happiness is a strange emotion and one that is doing its best to blossom in the burnt out fields of his heart. ]

Perhaps you bring out the best in me.

[ This is...

This is more than he could have imagined, even if he'd allowed his mind to wander along these lines. He feels hands skirting along his sides, touching him so gently that the intimacy of it can't be ignored. His lips part, and he stretches into that touch, into those hands. He wants them, he wants all of this. He'll never be unaware of this need again. ]

You do. You're smiling. Such a smile...

[ Then he's closing that gap again, pressing his lips to Athos', letting his tongue brush over his lower lip and then beyond it to search for Athos' tongue. He teases it so lightly, and then sucks against it while his hands bring their exploration to his friend's sides. His fingers flex at the edge of Athos' shirt. It's so wet that there's barely material between them anyway, but his fingers graze the very edge of the skin beneath and he makes the gentlest of sounds. He barely even knows what he's doing, but he's already addicted to it. ]

[ He's never had someone so charmed by his smile. Anne had liked it but not as well, then she'd known him before his humours had changed to such dark ones. He makes him huff a slow laugh against his friend's mouth before his tongue is being captured and teased.

His breath hitches, a fluttering delicate thing being loosened inside of his chest. ]

D'artagnan. [ His name comes on a sigh like a religious whisper before Athos is tangling his hands in his hair and kissing along his jaw like the other man had done to him. ]

[ A smile blooms on d'Artagan's face and he briefly allows his eyes to close. His head tilts, letting Athos get at his jaw and neck. D'Artagnan is affectionate, gentle yet eager. In his mind he doesn't know what to do, but his instincts understand. His body knows what it wants. ]

Yes. [ A whispered sound, but there's something of a whine in it - a murmuring, born from how much he wants Athos to keep kissing him. ] I'm a little busy just now.

[ He takes a breath, and his hand comes around over Athos' chest. It has more purpose this time. It moves up to where his shirt opens to his chest, and d'Artagnan's fingers flit against his skin. Curling chest hair grazes against calloused fingertips, and somehow, that only makes him want this more. He turns his head, a little out of breath now. ]

Athos.

[ His kiss this time is urgent. He tilts his head and his tongue grazes at his friend's lips before sliding past them and finding its partner again. ]

[ He doesn't think to pull away, his thoughts too far from the noose that d'Artagnan's fingers are trailing perilously close to. He simply allows himself to be kissed as though there is nothing more important in the world than that.

He's tangled up in him, his teeth, his tongue tracing the delicate bow of d'Artagnan's lips. His fingers run through his hair and over his skull before his palm settles heavy at the back of his neck.

He wants to keep him close. He wants not to let go. ]

[ He gasps, feeling Athos' tongue on his lips. It's like he's broken through a seal. Athos had been so hesitant, so careful, but now he's more than reactive. His hands are strong on d'Artagnan, keeping him near, preventing him from pulling back or slowing down.

Which is lucky, because pulling back is the last thing he wants to do. His hand moves over what skin is exposed. Then, barely even thinking about it, he moves to open more buttons, to open Athos' sodden shirt and slide his hands over his chest. Feeling where that chest tapers to his waist, feeling how taut muscles rest against each line. He leans into it, and his lips press in against Athos' before his teeth lightly capture his lower lip. His tongue runs across it, teasing, and then he's moving onto his neck again. Kissing, still kissing so softly. His hand rests against Athos' waist and he lets his own body slide forward, closing the distance between them. ]

[ It feels at once both new and familiar to Athos. He may come across as though Cupid has never seen fit to make him a lover, but in reality he's receptive to it. With d'Artagnan's hands upon him and his warm mouth against shivering skin, he feels it come light and effortless. His own fingers bunch in the back of his friend's shirt, knuckles pressed against his spine as though he's half concerned with the other man vanishing. Hips lips are parted and his breathing hitches slightly when lips touch at his fluttering pulse, a noise buried underneath each inhale. ]

You're impossible. [ It sounds like a compliment. Probably because it is. Athos doesn't let people surprise him. That's not in him. But here he is, surprised. Those fingers uncurl and it feels simple and natural to tug a little, allow his hand access to the smooth of d'Artagnan's back. Athos' palm splays against naked skin, fingertips shifting to spread across the delicate small at his waist. ] Impossible.

[ Athos is holding him so tightly now. His smile still hasn’t gone away, which seems like an incredible thing. In fact, all of this is an incredible thing. He rests with his body against Athos, with his hand tracing the curvature of his body. It’s smooth, and lean but strong, and he swallows as he realises just how much that appeals to him.

Then he feels a hand pulling at his shirt in turn, and then touching his back to make him whine, and press forward with a need he barely even knows. It’s like lighting touch paper. His eyes flick up to Athos, full of want. ]

Of course I am. [ It’s not the first time he’s heard it. ] Impossible. Reckless. Difficult. All those things. [ His other hand moves, coming to Athos’ jaw. ] Be reckless with me.There's always so much you won't let me see.

[ He’s not even sure what he’s saying. But he knows that this is what attracts him, this is what pulls him inexorably towards Athos. There’s always so much bubbling under the surface. He’s so much more than his manners, and his propriety, and his control. He’s loyalty, and vulnerability, and he’s so, so caring. And that’s the thing he guards the most, even though he guards all the rest as well.

It’s like he pretends not to feel the emotions other people do. But d’Artagnan knows better. His fingers drag down, coursing over Athos’ jaw and his beard and onto his neck. D’Artagnan’s lips have moved down now, over the base of his throat, the rise of his clavicle, and onto his chest. His kisses are peppering everywhere, as exploratory as his hands. He’ll touch everywhere if he can, though as every moment passes, he’s afraid it will be the last. ]

As if I could be reckless. [ It comes out almost playful because they both know the truth. Athos is just like the rest of them, eager to throw himself into any situation for the right causes. He's just much better at keeping up appearances, covering himself up with the cool and aloof nature that fits him so well and keeps the real him apart from everything.

D'Artagnan is asking to see beneath that. It at once terrifies him and excites him.

He moans a little as d'Artagnan's mouth continues its exploration of his skin, a wrecked sound that shivers as though it is the breeze in the trees. His nails scratch lightly at the other man's spine before he's surging forward again to try and wrest back control, both hands pressed wide against d'Artagnan's back under his shirt, his mouth nipping light kisses against his already swollen lips. His friend's shirt is bunched up around his waist and Athos makes an impatient noise, not willing to do away with it entirely simply because they're still out in the freezing woods. ]

We really must work on your strategy.

[ That statement draws out a laugh, a breathless one that creates dimples on d'Artagnan's cheeks and makes him lean back, heady with energy. It's like a fuse has been lit, a spark generated by scratching fingers and hands that move over his back. ]

My strategy? What's yours, to tease me all the way there?

[ He reaches up, and tugs his own shirt over his head. What worry does he have about the cold now? His body feels flushed, if anything. He casts the shirt aside and then he's back on Athos. He pulls the rest of his friend's buttons open, pushing his shirt aside so that it hangs by his sides, and then d'Artagnan's moving on him, skin against skin. It makes him warmer still, and makes him draw a sharp breath before he's kissing Athos' lips again. Swollen lips now, for both of them. Tilting his head, d'Artagnan nips at Athos' lower lip with his teeth, worrying at it and then catching it to suck lightly. His hands move up, pushing Athos' shirt off his shoulders and then down his arms, and a moment later he's casting that aside as well. ]

[ He should have known d'Artagnan would have no patience for this when he has little of it anywhere else. It startles a low laugh out of Athos, the sound turning into a gasp when teeth pull at his lip. He's usually so silent and that's twice this day that laughter has been teased from him, and countless other noises too. It makes his head spin even as steady hands cup his friend's neck and then travel down over his chest. ]

Now when they find our frozen bodies it really will be a bawdy tale. [ Fingers slide delicately over soft skin at his side before Athos leans in to press a kiss to his lips, then his jaw, his throat, his shoulder. When he looks up the night is reflected in blue eyes and a softer smile is spread across his mouth. ] I suppose we shall have to make it worth their while.

[ His palms run again, lightly to curve of his ribs, his knee pressed hard against d'Artagnan's as though space has offended him by getting between them. His lips find their own path, dancing across his collarbone with a confidence he hadn't known was in him. Once bitten, and he'd been ready enough to renounce affection entirely but d'Artagnan --?

He catches at it, Athos finds it hard to deny him anything the other man deserves. ]

[ It’s like a game they’re playing, back and forth. D’Artagnan has been drawing Athos into it with him, and now their movements seem easy. They seem unified. Far from flinching at his bared skin, Athos is leaning into it, kissing at him, even exploring him.

The feeling of those hands on his ribs, on his chest and stomach, sends a shiver through his body. It has nothing to do with the cold, not now. It’s a shiver that comes from desire, and he knows it, because it’s so familiar and the last time he felt it he’d been in far more feminine arms.

That jolts him. Because he had thought, after losing Constance, that he wouldn’t feel this again – at least not for a good long while. He hadn’t felt even a shadow of that need for Milady, not even in a physical sense. But now it’s different. Now it’s strong, and it’s both physical and something more. Something deeper, because Athos is his best friend in the world, and there’s a yearning there. A desire to make his friend happy, because that’s what he deserves.

Maybe they both do. And maybe, happiness isn’t as far away as he’d thought.

He moves instinctively, his knee sliding over to rest gently between Athos’ legs. His hands skirt up along his waist, along his chest, and his kisses turn slow and deep. His tongue flicks into his mouth, testing and teasing. ]

It’ll be a true tale. [ Those words are murmured, said against Athos’ lips when he separates their mouths to draw breath. ] Only, tell me if you want to stop. Because I don’t, and I don’t think I’ll want to at all.

[ His dark eyes flicker with something honest, and he doesn’t keep his yearning out of them. Instead he tilts his head, attaching his kisses to Athos’ neck again instead. His back arches, and he’s aware of leaning mostly over his friend now. Almost on top, save for a few spare inches where he’s taking his weight on his own hip. But his hands move over Athos, and his body presses in and he knows with more certainty than he’d said that he doesn’t want to stop. He will, if Athos wants it. But only then. ]

[ The world tilts on his axis with d'Artagnan above him. It feels new and terrifying and full of promise and it would be so easy for him to say no, to retreat, to hide away behind his carefully constructed walls. He would be safe there and they could go back to their lives like they'd been just this morning. But then he would not know how d'Artagnan's skin tastes when flushed, he would not know the sound he makes when Athos touches him where he wants and that not knowing yawns in front of him like a black expanse.

He could say no, but he doesn't want to. So instead he simply lifts a hand, curls it around the nape of his neck and leans up until they are scant inches from each other, until he can see the light of the night's sky reflected in his friend's eyes and witness the swollen marks of his mouth that Athos has left with his teeth.

He wants to be undone with this. ]

I don't want you to stop. Whatever it is you're asking of me, I want to give it.

[ ooc: Time-skipped by...however long it takes them to finish. ]

IC:

[ Afterwards, they're a tangle of limbs, buried beneath a pile of discarded clothes. The blanket is somewhere, too, but most of d'Artagnan's warmth is coming from the fact that he's lying against Athos. He's tired, but in a satisfied way; like his limbs have all been stretched out, and his muscles are starting to recover.

His arm is around Athos' waist, his hand resting gently on his chest. Every now and again it moves, smoothing at his skin and his hair. He doesn't speak for a little while, but stays quiet and content.

And then, at length, he stirs a little, a sigh leaving his lips. ]

I wonder how it took so long for that to happen. I feel like I've been waiting for it, all this time.

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TIME GAP