All for One (26 page)

Gasping into the kiss, Aristide couldn’t prevent his hips from arching into the touch of Benoît’s hand to his cock. His fingers spread against Benoît’s skin, trying to focus on the muscles moving beneath his palm rather than the heat flaring from Benoît’s touch. He didn’t care if he came like the greenest lad at his first kiss—he simply didn’t want this moment, his first time nearly as much as it was Benoît’s, to end.

Slowly, wonderingly, Benoît varied his strokes, faster, slower, harder, gentler, studying Aristide’s reactions diligently so he could know how best to please his lover. The slow, firm strokes won the deepest groans from the musketeer’s throat, so Benoît settled in with those, the fingers of his other hand occasionally clenching in the hard muscle of Aristide’s arse. Their kisses slowed, then stopped as their attention turned more and more to Aristide’s cock in Benoît’s hand.

Aristide’s head fell back against the pillows, all his focus now on holding back as long as he could while Benoît grew comfortable touching him. Not used to so passive a role, a part of his mind protested simply lying there, inactive, but he reminded himself this was as much about Benoît coming to terms with his body as it was about his own pleasure. A twist of his lover’s hand brought a callused thumb in contact with the sensitive head of his cock, wringing a groan from him. “Feels good,” he murmured when Benoît’s stroke faltered. “You make me feel so good.”

Emboldened by Aristide’s obvious approval, Benoît repeated the caress, more deliberately, his thumb following the path of the weeping slit and sliding the foreskin back to reveal the slick head. When that gesture won another long, low groan, he did it again, then again, until his fingers were wet with fluid and Aristide was rocking against him eagerly.

Panting, Aristide thrust up into the increasingly intimate touch, telling himself it would bolster Benoît’s confidence to see his reaction, though the truth was he couldn’t have stopped had the King himself commanded it. Fire was searing through his veins, his control reduced to cinders, his body demanding the release that only a lover’s touch could ignite. “Benoît,” he rasped, chest heaving with the effort to spare enough breath to speak.

Still unsure of himself enough to second-guess his actions, Benoît looked up in surprise at the sound of his name, his hand stilling as he searched Aristide’s face for an explanation.

“
Dieu
, don’t stop!” Though Aristide knew he should warn Benoît before he climaxed, he couldn’t risk shocking the smith into stopping again. Instead, he pulled him down into a kiss, Benoît’s mouth opening instinctively to him all he needed to spark his release. His body shuddering with the power of his orgasm, Aristide poured all his love into their long, tender kiss.

The burst of hot liquid over his hand caught Benoît off guard, but once the initial shock passed, he realized he was grinning into the continuing kiss. However ineptly, for the hot velvet of Aristide’s cock still felt slightly awkward in his hand, he had brought his lover joy.

Forced to break their kiss finally by the need to breathe, Aristide was relieved by the self-satisfied smile on Benoît’s face. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he teased, still shivering through the aftershocks of his climax.

“I don’t know,” Benoît teased back. “Parts of it were quite hard indeed.”

“As are you, still.” Aristide stirred in their embrace, his sated cock slipping against Benoît’s still-rigid length.

Benoît shrugged diffidently. “I’m fine.” He didn’t pull away, but the tension that had eased with the pleasure of loving Aristide returned now.

The renewed tenseness did not go unnoted, but Aristide let himself bask for some moments in the lethargy following their lovemaking, running a soothing hand up and down Benoît’s back. He had every intention of returning the same bliss his lover had bestowed on him, but he was content to wait until Benoît showed himself ready for more.

Eventually, the undemanding caresses eased Benoît’s nerves, and he relaxed again into Aristide’s embrace. His erection softened slightly as the desire simmering in his veins lost its urgency in the tenderness of his lover’s stroking hand.

By the time his pulse had returned to its normal pace, Aristide realized that Benoît wasn’t going to make the next move. Whether he didn’t know what to do next, or was too bashful to ask for what he wanted, Aristide wasn’t sure; but as wonderful as holding Benoît in his arms felt, he was going to see his lover come undone in his embrace before letting sleep claim them both.

Tipping Benoît’s head up, Aristide kissed him again, his lips wandering this time over the thin moustache and bearded cheek, across the broad forehead and dark brows, pressing a soft kiss over each lustrous eye. As Benoît’s cock began to swell against him, he nuzzled the side of the long, slender throat, from the lobe of an ear to the winged arc of a collarbone, anointing each patch of skin with his loving kiss.

“Emile?” Benoît asked softly, his voice hesitant despite his body’s unequivocal approval of Aristide’s actions.

“Yes, love?”

“What… what are you going to do?”

“Nothing you don’t want me to,” Aristide promised. “I only want to kiss you, to taste as much of you as I can. Do you want that?” He would stop, if Benoît told him to, though he hoped as aroused as Benoît was, he wouldn’t deny both of them that pleasure.

The cursed flush sprang to Benoît’s face again at the picture Aristide’s words painted in his mind. His body certainly had no hesitation, his cock twitching against his belly at the thought of being enclosed in the musketeer’s hot, wet mouth. “Yes,” he whispered, so softly he could barely hear his own voice.

“Come here, then.” Aristide’s voice was nearly as quiet as he slid the covering sheets down with his good hand. He paused, drinking in the first sight of his lover wholly unclad, the smith’s body as perfect as Aristide’s imagination had painted it in his fantasies. But no fantasy matched the reality of Benoît beside him, real and warm and asking for his touch. With a rueful glance at his bandaged arm, he added, “I’m not as free to move as I would like yet—I must ask you to come to me.” His hand sliding to Benoît’s hip, he urged him upward in the bed. “Come kneel with your legs on either side of me.”

Benoît moved as directed, stifling his first, embarrassed refusal. The position left him feeling incredibly exposed and vulnerable, open to anything Aristide wanted to do to him. The musketeer had assured him repeatedly that a single word would stop him. Benoît clung to that reassurance as he stared down at the man beneath him.

“So beautiful.” Pushing himself up enough to lean back against the headboard, Aristide’s hand moved to Benoît’s chest, coasting lightly over the defined musculature that affirmed his trade as a blacksmith. “So perfect.”

Immediately, Benoît shook his head, eyes drifting over as much of his lover as he could see in his current position: broad shoulders, well-honed muscles, classically handsome face. He could not see the rest, given how he was sitting, but he’d caught a glimpse—and more—while bathing Aristide, so he knew the rest was just as attractive. “Not me. You’re the one who’s beautiful.”

Knowing they would never agree, Aristide outlined a large, flat nipple with his thumb, watching the tip curl into a tight bud at his touch. “And so responsive.” Wishing he had the use of both hands, he repeated the caress to the other side of Benoît’s chest. When both nipples were drawn into hard peaks, he leaned forward, soothing the taut flesh with tender laps of his tongue.

The gasp that escaped Benoît’s throat could easily have been confused with a whimper. His eyes closed, and he braced his hands on the headboard behind Aristide’s shoulders, needing that support to keep from falling over. His body arched into the caress, seeking more of the wet heat, the tickling caress of his lover’s tongue and moustache.

Benoît’s gasp the tacit acceptance he needed, Aristide let himself explore the hard planes of the smith’s pectorals with lips and tongue. His hand roamed across Benoît’s back, dipping lower with each pass. When his wandering met with no protest, he dared more, the lengthening sweep of his hand dropping beyond the small of Benoît’s back, following the curve of flesh until he was stroking the globes of his lover’s buttocks.

Head dropping forward between his outstretched arms, Benoît hung there, suspended by the desire that held him prisoner. Even with his eyes closed, he didn’t try to pretend it was someone else loving him. The brush of Aristide’s moustache was a constant reminder of his lover’s identity, but it only served to arouse him more, and when the musketeer’s hand slid across his backside, he shivered at the intimacy but did not pull away.

Cupping the firm muscle in his palm, Aristide pushed, urging the other man forward. “Come closer,” he whispered against the indentation of Benoît’s navel, the quivering abdomen as far as he could reach unless Benoît moved nearer. The smith’s slender cock twitched at his words, making Aristide’s mouth water to taste the pearl of fluid that trembled at its tip.

Eyes still closed, completely unsure he could handle the sight of his cock nearing Aristide’s lips, Benoît shuffled forward, letting the pressure of his lover’s hand guide him to where the musketeer wanted him. Knuckles white, he gripped the headboard frantically in an effort to keep from coming on the spot when he felt the first swipe of that hot tongue across the head of his cock. “Please,” he begged, not knowing whether he wanted Aristide to stop or continue, only that he had never felt anything so divine.

“Do you want me to stop?” Certain he knew the answer, Aristide would still do nothing to risk trespassing further than his love was ready for him to go. Wetting his lips to savor the salty-sweetness of that first taste, he willed Benoît to open his eyes, needing the surety of their approval before he would continue.

Benoît hesitated a moment longer, his body warring with his upbringing, but eventually, his battered conscience gave up the fight, accepting what heart and flesh both proclaimed: that Aristide was his other half, his lover and his love, and nothing they did together could be anything but blessed. “No, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop loving me.”

“Open your eyes,” Aristide pleaded. Benoît’s lashes flickered, the dark orbs meeting Aristide’s paler ones, the connection forged in that moment surpassing any physical touch. “I will never stop loving you,” Aristide vowed. Pressing a reverent kiss to the inside of Benoît’s hip, his lips followed the path of soft hair to the base of the smith’s cock, opening around the silken skin. His mouth slid up the hard length until he reached the swollen head, tongue teasing beneath the foreskin before he took the shaft into his mouth.

A sob escaped as Benoît watched his cock slowly disappearing into Aristide’s mouth, his lover’s tongue anointing his full length as he took it in. He felt the tip nudge the back of Aristide’s throat and started to pull back, but the hand on his hips stopped him, the musketeer’s mouth sliding even farther down his shaft until his cock was entirely engulfed in wet heat, the head squeezed by the tightness of Aristide’s throat.

Nothing had ever felt as good, tasted as good, filled his heart as completely as Benoît trembling with pleasure at his actions. Aristide let the hard length slide through his lips, his tongue massaging the vein throbbing just below the skin, until the ridge defining the head bumped his palate. Tightening his lips, he moved down again, sucking and licking until he was breathing in the musky perfume of Benoît’s dusky curls. When he found the cadence that seemed to please Benoît best, he slid his hand behind the slick shaft, weighing the heavy sac in his palm. Judging from the increasingly incoherent sounds issuing from the smith’s throat that his lover could not stand much more, Aristide dragged his thumb over the smooth skin leading to Benoît’s cleft. He did not try to press inside, doing nothing more than rest the pad of his thumb over the quavering portal.

It was enough.

That touch, so completely foreign, so totally unexpected, made Benoît clench up totally, the reaction sending him over the edge. If he’d thought about it, he’d have tried to shout a warning for Aristide, but only a strangled sob escaped him as his cock twitched and disgorged spurt after spurt of cream down his lover’s throat. He collapsed forward, his forehead landing on the backs of his hands, still braced against the headboard. His entire body was trembling with his release, to the point that he had trouble staying upright even with the support of the bed.

Cleaning Benoît with a tenderness none of his other lovers had ever inspired, Aristide reached for the downcast head, barely able to brush a flushed cheek. “Lie down beside me,” he murmured, the silence making him wonder if he had gone too far for Benoît’s comfort after all. When the smith eased himself to the mattress, burying his face in Aristide’s sound shoulder, the musketeer hesitated to kiss him, not sure Benoît was ready for the taste of his own seed on Aristide’s lips.

Benoît stuttered, not sure how to put his conflicting feelings into words. “I don’t… I’ve never….” He clutched at Aristide’s chest, keeping him close so his lover wouldn’t misunderstand like he’d done the last time Benoît felt too overwhelmed for words. Things were different this time, though. This time, he could say the one thing he knew he felt. “I love you.”

Chapter 24

E
STEBAN
rode back into Paris, slowing his furious pace as he wended his way through the congested streets toward
M.
de Tréville’s
hôtel particulier
. He was not sure if he would find Perrin and Léandre there or at their home, but he decided to start at their headquarters. He could leave word for
M.
de Tréville even if he had to seek the musketeers elsewhere.

His hail brought calls throughout the building for Perrin and Léandre, but only
M.
de Tréville appeared. Esteban passed on the news of Aristide’s improving health, taking his leave as quickly as possible with the excuse of seeking Perrin and Léandre to inform them as well. Despite the company he regularly kept as Christian’s secretary, he was still not comfortable with such powerful men except at the ambassador’s side.

M.
de Tréville gave him his
congé
at once, much to Esteban’s relief. The Spaniard went to the musketeers’ townhouse next, rapping at the door firmly.

“Esteban!” Léandre embraced the young Spaniard warmly before stepping aside to let him enter. “Perrin, Esteban has returned,” he called over his shoulder toward the kitchen. “We’re about to dine; come, join us. I hope you bring good news about Aristide’s health?”

Esteban smiled at the effusive greeting. “Raúl promises he will make a full recovery,” he agreed, “though he refused to say how long he thought it would take. He sent me on with news since he was sure you would be worried, but he expects to follow in the morning or the day after at the latest, which should reassure you greatly, for he would not leave a patient who was in any danger.” Hanging his cloak on the hook by the door and joining the musketeers at table, he asked, “And what of the plot? How did the King react?”

“As one might expect upon discovery of such a threat,” Perrin replied. “He was most upset, threatening execution to such a traitor until he learned the identity. He can’t afford to have anyone know his own mother—or the de Medicis—were plotting against him, so he’ll quietly banish her to the country again, to Blois or Compiègne or one of his other country estates. She’ll stay there until she can convince him she was falsely accused or until he needs a favor again and life will go on. This time, though, we’ll know to be on our guard when next she comes to Paris.”

“You are more accepting than I would be,” Esteban admitted, sure he would not be so sanguine had the plot threatened Teodoro or Christian.

“He sounds that way now, doesn’t he?” Léandre grinned. “You should have heard him when he first learned that nothing could be done to punish the Queen Mother. He was all for riding back to Rambouillet and dealing with Marie personally at the point of his sword. It took
M.
de Tréville threatening to dismiss him from the guard to bring him to his senses.” That, and Léandre dragging him back home and fucking the worst of the anger and frustration out of him, but that was more than their new friend needed to know.

Perrin blushed as he remembered some of the things he had said in that first flush of anger. “Politics will be politics,” he said with a shrug. “That’s not a battle for such as us. If the King is content with the outcome, who am I to question it? Of course, if she comes back to Paris, she’ll find out just how seriously the musketeers take their duty.”

Esteban smiled at the gruff tone he’d come to associate with the dark-haired musketeer. “As much as I appreciate your offer of dinner, I should probably let Teodoro and Cristian know I’m back, and that Aristide is recovering,” he said, rising from the table. Léandre hadn’t said it, but the flush on Perrin’s face suggested more than just remembered anger to one used to two powerful men who dealt with politics. He suspected the two musketeers would appreciate the solitude.

“Give our thanks again to the ambassador and Teodoro.” Léandre rose, seeing Esteban to the door. “Once Aristide is back in Paris, perhaps we can set aside some time to spar again. He’ll be looking for all the practice he can get to bring himself back to full strength as fast as his body will cooperate.”

“I’ll pass the offer along,” Esteban promised with a final wave.

As soon as the door shut behind the Spaniard, Perrin leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I expect we’ve seen the last of Aristide in our bed,” he lamented. “It seems the blacksmith finally got his head out of his arse.”

“If he’s willing to remain once Raúl and his companion depart, it’s more likely he’ll wind up with Aristide’s cock there instead,” Léandre agreed, “as soon as Aristide’s strong enough to give it to him.” Reaching across the table, he rested a hand atop Perrin’s, the warmth that ran through him at the simple contact making him realize he was not as distressed by the defection of their third lover as he would once have been. “At least Aristide will be happy.”

Perrin nodded, sliding his stocking-clad foot beneath the table to find Léandre’s leg, working his way up until he came to the juncture of the blond’s thighs. He pressed lightly on the swelling at the apex, flexing his toes in an effort to increase his lover’s arousal. An idea flitted across the back of his mind, but he pushed it away for the moment. Léandre would be more receptive after they’d taken the edge off their passion.

“
Merde
,” Léandre groaned, his head falling back and eyes closing in bliss. His fingers tightened around Perrin’s hand, encouraging him to continue. While he might be surprised the younger man was taking Aristide’s loss with so little complaint, Léandre certainly wasn’t about to complain himself, not when Perrin was rousing him to aching hardness with the wanton contact.

Perrin grinned, adjusting himself in his chair so he could lift his other foot to join the one currently teasing his lover. The look on Léandre’s face was enough to have him reaching for his own cock, rubbing it through his breeches as he bracketed Léandre’s shaft between his feet, kneading repetitively with his toes until the blond was squirming eagerly. He could probably bring his lover off just from this, but he wanted more than that. Letting his feet fall to the floor again, he rose, pulling Léandre with him into the sitting room where the high-backed chairs provided a much more conducive setting for what he had in mind. Pushing Léandre down into one, he knelt between the blond’s thighs, drawing his cock out through the placket of his breeches.

Léandre felt positively decadent, his legs sliding out and falling open to welcome his lover between them. Perrin smiled up at him with a wicked gleam in his eyes before bending to lap at the head of Léandre’s cock, light teasing licks that only made Léandre ache all the more to feel his lover’s hot, wet mouth surrounding him. “
Putain
, don’t tease, Perrin,” he ground out.

“You don’t like that?” Perrin asked innocently, knowing full well how much Léandre liked it. “Maybe you’d like this better?” He lowered his head, lifting the hard cock out of the way so he could reach the pendant sac beneath, sucking it between his lips and rolling the balls with his tongue. He released them with a pop and looked up at Léandre expectantly. “So, which shall I suck, lover? Your hot, thick cock, or your full, heavy balls?”

“Either—both—just stop talking and start sucking!” Thrusting a hand into Perrin’s dark hair, Léandre pushed down roughly, his other hand tearing at the laces of Perrin’s shirt to seek the warm skin beneath.

Perrin chuckled, shrugging out of his shirt as he latched his mouth onto Léandre’s balls again. He licked and sucked and lavished attention on them for several long moments before Léandre pulled his head away, attacking his lips. Perrin returned the kiss eagerly as Léandre sucked his own flavor from Perrin’s tongue. Breaking the kiss but holding Léandre’s gaze, Perrin lowered his head to the weeping cock again, swallowing it all the way down, then pulling off slowly, coating his tongue in Léandre’s cream. Pushing up on his knees, he kissed his lover again, sharing the salty-sweet essence.

Léandre’s hands roamed over Perrin’s chest and back as they kissed before pausing to knead at the firm pectoral muscles. When his thumbs had coaxed Perrin’s nipples to pebbled hardness, he broke away from the kiss, leaning forward to drag his tongue over the tightened nubs. The hiss of breath this won from his lover spurring him on, he nipped at the dampened flesh, strong white teeth closing around a nipple and tugging until Perrin groaned in pleasure.

Bracing one hand on the arm of the chair, Perrin slid the other around Léandre’s cock, forming a tight channel for his lover to fuck. Léandre’s hips rocked into his hand in time with his bites on Perrin’s nipples, drawing a long, deep moan from Perrin’s mouth. Suddenly needing more, he rocked back onto his heels, pulling Léandre to his feet and spinning him around. He jerked down his breeches, but the smallclothes defeated him momentarily. In frustration, he grabbed the thin fabric and pulled, tearing it open to reveal the perfect curve of Léandre’s arse. Hands closing over the smooth globes, he parted the muscular cheeks and dove between them, his tongue finding the tightly furled hole unerringly.

Any protest Léandre might have made over the ruination of his underbreeches died in his throat when Perrin’s tongue speared into him. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned, fingers digging into the armchair’s padded back to hold himself upright. Craning his neck, he stared over his shoulder at the debauched sight of Perrin’s dark head bobbing between his pale cheeks, tongue stretching him with ardent fervor.

Desperate now for more of Léandre’s lusty cries, Perrin reached between the parted thighs, fist circling Léandre’s cock again. He worked it hard, with the same determined intensity he applied to his lover’s arse. His cock ached, but he’d had enough of his self-control giving out before Léandre came. This time would be different. This time, Léandre
would
come first.

The urgent pressure in his balls warned Léandre that he wouldn’t be able to hold out against Perrin’s erotic assault much longer. Too aware that he had received the lion’s share of pleasure until now, he forced his arms to push himself upright, the sudden movement catching Perrin by surprise. Taking advantage of the momentum, Léandre spun around and tore open his lover’s breeches, falling to his knees and swallowing the dripping shaft to the root.

All his resolve flying out the window, Perrin came with a hoarse shout as Léandre’s mouth engulfed him. He collapsed backward onto the floor, panting for breath. “
Putain
, Léandre, I wanted to make you come first!”

Swallowing the flood of seed filling his mouth, Léandre cleaned his lips with a lascivious swipe of his tongue before kneeling beside Perrin. “Do you have any idea how much of a man it makes me feel when you lose control that way? You make me feel like the most potent lover alive.” He tucked an errant strand of hair behind Perrin’s ear, the touch lingering for a moment before he rose to his feet, offering his hand. “Let’s take this to bed.”

Perrin’s only response was a growl as he tackled Léandre to the rug in front of the fireplace and pinned his hips. His lips closed around the still-hard cock, one finger spearing deep into the channel his tongue had started to prepare. He might not have managed to outlast Léandre, but that didn’t mean he’d leave his lover unsatisfied, even for the time it took to move to the bedroom.

Léandre’s knees fell open, hips canting to press deeper into Perrin’s hot mouth and plundering touch. Before he could ask, a second finger joined the first, twisting as Perrin worked his shaft until the head nudged the back of his throat. Perrin swallowed around the thick head just as his fingertip found the bump of nerves that triggered Léandre’s climax, the blond’s howl loud enough to be heard at the royal palace as he pulsed his release down Perrin’s throat.

Grinning smugly, Perrin took his time licking Léandre clean. When no trace of his release remained, Perrin rocked to his feet. “Now we can go to bed.”

“Good thing Benoît’s still with Aristide or we’d have given him reason to complain that time.” Léandre’s smile was broad as he stood, his legs still unsteady with the force of his climax. He kicked off the tangled remains of his clothing, leaving the tattered garments where they fell as he followed Perrin to their bedchamber.

“Somehow I doubt he’ll have quite so many of the same reservations by the time Aristide brings him back to Paris,” Perrin laughed. “Besides, I’d be willing to bet the majority of his complaint stemmed from the idea that Aristide was with us rather than that we were together.” Sprawling across the bed, waiting for Léandre to join him, he met his lover’s green eyes, trying to imbue his expression with all the emotion he had discovered in himself recently. “Aristide asked me once if I wanted more than what we shared, if I wanted someone just for myself. I gave him some flippant answer because I’d never really thought about it and because the idea of leaving you to find someone scared me.” He took a deep breath, searching Léandre’s gaze for some indication of his feelings. “But the last few weeks have made me realize something. I don’t need to go searching for someone I want for myself. You’re already right here with me.”