Work Text:
The holiday music coming from the living room is only loud enough for that room. There are some notes and melodies that escape down the hall to Aramis’s ears in the back room. It’s maddening because he can only hear just enough to recognize the song, never to sing along. He hummed along once but then realized the song had changed and felt foolish.
Kneeling over the package on the floor, Aramis pushes the wrapping paper down, and then quickly runs his fingers to create a crease before folding up and around the bottom of the box. He reaches for the tape with one hand while the other holds the paper, but it’s not there. He left it right there.
He shifts the box a little in both directions trying to find where the tape dispenser ran off to, but can’t. It’s ridiculous that he seems to “misplace” the tape every other box. He’s always so sure he leaves it in the same spot.
He brings the box closer between his legs and it hits something. Aramis reaches behind the box underneath him and pulls out the tape.
“Every time,” he mutters. Shaking his head, he finishes wrapping the present.
He leans up and sits on his heels, his back stretching after being hunched over too long. A nice sized pile sits to the side and he can gladly say that all the gifts have been wrapped.
Aramis hears a bang from the kitchen and some low curses.
Then he hears Porthos call out “where are all the extension cords?”
“Where you left them yesterday,” Athos shouts back sounding bored, followed by another clang of metal on metal.
He smiles, sits on the floor and grabs some ribbon. This year Athos assigned everyone “jobs” and it’s no secret how much he loathes wrapping. Athos insisted Aramis was the best for the job because he was particular about how things looked.
Aramis is sure that was an insult wrapped in a compliment.
Still, it’s not as though the other jobs are perfect. He could be Porthos stuck putting lights on the tree. He shudders just thinking about it. He is still working past his mortification from last year and how he needed Athos to rescue him because he literally was tangled in the lights. The lights were blinking and with each blink it seemed Athos’s smile grew.
Kind of like the Grinch’s growing heart.
Unfortunately there is a picture to commemorate the event because Aramis had to stand there and wait for help since the lights were snagged on his hair. Athos has threatened to put it on the mantle place as a part of making their home festive. He’s positive it would be out of place between Mr and Mrs Clause and Jack Skellington. Aramis already has the punishment planned if that actually happens.
After working methodically, he checks over the bow he’s created. Perfect. He attaches it to a box and carries it to the kitchen.
He leans against the doorway and watches Athos work. He’s dressed in a very worn navy sweatshirt which Aramis assumes is Porthos’s as it shows a great deal of shoulder. It’s one of Aramis’s favorites to steal as well as it’s soft and always smells like Porthos.
The music is louder here and is filled with drums and cymbals accompanying the noise Athos makes as he bakes. He seems tense or annoyed and he only has himself to blame since he assigned himself Baker of Cookies this year.
For the past three years the tasks get accomplished, but in a frantic kind of chaos that drives Athos crazy. This year Athos sat them down and handed out a task list. And schedule. Aramis isn’t sure which he likes better but if it gets them through the season without Athos being morose and drunk the day before Christmas Eve, he’ll take it.
Aramis sees cookies on the counter and can’t help himself. They are on display begging to be eaten as they sit racks or sit in a huge pile. One or two won’t be missed. He slowly sneaks into the room, leaves the box on the counter and reaches to grab a cookie.
“I wouldn’t do that.” Athos says. His back is still to Aramis. Unbelievable.
“I don’t know how you do that.”
Athos looks over his shoulder. “Magic,” and wiggles his eyebrows. Aramis is so surprised that he barks out a laugh.
He hugs Athos from behind and looks over his shoulder into the mixing bowl. “Have you been drinking?”
Athos shrugs. “Maybe a little.” He pops the bowl from the mixer and covers it with plastic wrap. “No more baking today; this needs to chill overnight. Perhaps I’m just happy to be finished.”
Aramis moves to the left so it’s easier to kiss him. “Or you’ve been sipping scotch while playing Betty Crocker. It explains the amount of banging in the last half hour; you’re not normally so clumsy.”
“We don’t want blinkin’ lights, right?” Porthos yells from the next room and then adds. “After last year?” And Aramis can hear the smile. Damn him.
Aramis yells, “No blinking!”
Athos chuckles as he pulls away and puts the bowl in the refrigerator, then leans against it. Aramis isn’t sure what to make of the the twinkle in his eyes.
He crosses the kitchen and rests his hands on Athos’s hips and leans into him. “What’s on your mind?”
Athos grabs Aramis’s ass and pulls him in tightly. He brings his face close to Aramis’s so their noses are almost touching.
In a low voice Athos says, “I thought we could reward Porthos once he’s finished with the tree.” Athos moves his face slowly, coming in for a kiss but then backing away before they touch. He runs his nose down Aramis’s jaw line, then away; back again for the lightest touch against his lips. It’s maddening.
“You had something in mind?”
Athos surges forward and crashes their lips together. His hands squeeze Athos’s hips in surprise and he moans as Athos catches his bottom lip with his teeth.
“I may have something in mind.” With a quick peck of a kiss Athos moves away.
Aramis is confused trying to keep up with Athos’s extremes but he so likes a playful Athos. He turns to find Athos holding the box, squinting at it as though it’s offended him.
“Who’s this for?” Athos says holding up the package.
“You.”
“Why is the bow in the shape of a cock?”
Aramis beams, very pleased his creation is a true representation. “Seemed fitting for the Dictator… of tasks.”
Athos raises his eyebrow, unimpressed. He shakes the box, nothing moves inside. “Do I want to know what’s inside?”
Aramis shrugs.
Athos nods and puts it back on the counter. “Later. But…” He pulls on the bow and it folds apart gently.
“Hey!” Aramis protests.
Athos looks over his shoulder, and turns with a small smile grabbing Aramis’s jeans by the waist and draws him near. “I think this ribbon can be put to better use.” He thumbs the button of the jeans open and lowers the zipper.
Aramis swallows. “Where…”
“You aren’t that innocent, you know where.” Athos interrupts as the zipper reaches the end of the line and pushes his hand down the back of Aramis’s underwear.
“Ah… there’s wire in that. And it’s a bit scratchier than regular ribbon.”
Athos squeezes his ass and pulls him impossibly closer to growl in his ear. “You shouldn’t have made a cock out of it if you didn’t want me to associate it with yours.”
Aramis shivers, he can’t help it. He melts as soon as Athos takes quick control like this. Something Athos continually takes advantage of.
“We need to be naked.” Athos says.
“Let’s get into the room, then get naked.” Aramis counters.
Athos pushes down Aramis’s jeans and briefs before pushing his own toward his feet. “You won’t be naked. You’ll have this on,” and waves the blasted ribbon in his face.
“Athos, this is …”
“Why must you always argue when you know this is something you like.”
Aramis shrugs and grins. “Part of my charm.” Athos snorts as he pulls his shirt over his head and drops it to the floor.
“Come now Prince Charming, let’s get you on display.”
Aramis quickly tugs his shirts off and toes his way out of his pants and socks. His cock is half hard and when he meets Athos’s eyes they are filled with triumph and a distinctive “I told you so” look.
He rolls his eyes. “Whatever, you know all. Let’s get this moving.” Part of Aramis still feels silly standing in the kitchen sans clothes while Athos wraps the ribbon around his dick and under his balls. It’s not tied so it’s not too tight, just wraps it a couple of times so that it stays in place.
Once Athos is pleased with the presentation he kisses his way up Aramis’s chest until he licks his way into his mouth and kisses him so hard and deep that he’s gasping when Athos pulls back.
“Let’s go set up Porthos’s reward.” Athos says and takes Aramis’s hand. He’s still breathing hard as they enter the living room.
Athos puts his finger to his lips to signal silence. Porthos is on the floor partially under the tree towards the back. The tree is bright and looks beautiful, even more so because Porthos’s shirt has ridden up and is showing skin. The muscles flex as he wrestles the cords into submission. Boxes of decorations and empty light containers litter the floor and someone had lit the fire in the hearth.
Athos leads him to their oversized couch. Aramis picked it out and insisted that all three of them go to the store to look at it and test it out. Its cushions are twice as deep as a standard couch so it allows them to lie together. It’s very bed-like and Aramis loves it because two of them can lie snuggled together and no one is in danger of falling off. And if they really put their minds to it, all three of them can nestle down. Aramis searched for months to find something that allowed cuddling.
He turns when he feels a tug on his hand and stares at Athos who is sitting, leaning against the arm, one leg spread wide, the other planted on the floor. He’s on display and Aramis licks his lips and leans over to kiss him. The kiss is cut off when Athos pulls back and gestures for Aramis to sit between his legs.
As Aramis settles against Athos, his erection pushes into his lower back. Aramis hooks his ankle over Athos’s as his right leg lays on top of Athos’s. Aramis leaves his left leg straight out. He feels both warm and cold, his heartbeat picks up as he imagines what he must look like.
Athos must sense his unease as he runs one hand through his hair and the other down his chest. Then both hands then make continuous strokes up and down. Blunt nails run down his chest, sometimes over his nipples. And soft fingers press strongly as they are dragged up and then into his hair.
Aramis feels himself relaxing into Athos. He closes his eyes and listens to Porthos muttering; and the crackling of the fire. He can feel the warmth along the side of his body and Athos warms his back. He feels as though he’s floating, no longer anxious about what Athos wants. He would give both of these men anything.
Athos murmurs in his ear, “Perfect. Just enjoy. Be quiet, so that when Porthos turns around he’s surprised by your… present.” Athos kisses his ear and licks down his neck. Aramis sighs. His cock is hard and with every scratch it pulses, with every press he shivers.
He doesn’t know how long the petting lasts. It’s many things at once: slow, tender, sensual, hot. He wants to come, wants Athos to touch his dick, but the touches seem to go everywhere but there. Athos takes his time as he alternately scratches, pulls, presses, licks and Aramis just feels. The sounds of music and Porthos shuffling fade. So he’s taken by surprise when Athos grips his left thigh and pulls it up so that it’s hanging over Athos’s own leg.
Aramis gasps as the cool air drifts between his spread legs and then moans lowly when he imagines what he must look like. He pants and presses back against Athos.
“It’s fine. You’re beautiful like this.” Athos whispers and tilts his head to the side and Aramis can’t help the sigh that escapes.
He hears movement and a long groan coming from Christmas tree, Aramis assumes Porthos is stretching his back.
“All finished! Come and…” Porthos trails off. Aramis opens his eyes only slightly and can see Porthos staring at them. He watches as Porthos licks his lips while his eyes rove over their bodies.
“What’s this?” Porthos asks, voice sounding husky.
“Your reward for stringing the lights.” Athos states as though it should be obvious.
Porthos walks toward them. Aramis breathes faster, his cock twitches and leaks. The ribbon rubs gently against his skin, it’s scratchy but it feels good. The contrasting sensations keep him from lifting his hips and pleading for someone to touch him.
“Didn’t realize there was a reward,” Porthos drawls and drags his shirt off. He watches as Porthos slowly pushes his jeans down and moans when he realizes Porthos isn’t wearing underwear. His cock is already hard and bobs against his stomach as he kicks the jeans away.
Aramis watches as Porthos climbs on the couch between their spread legs. Porthos drags his hands up Aramis’s legs and he pushes up into the feeling. He closes his eyes, moans as Porthos rests his hands at the top of his thigh so that his thumbs are pressing just beneath his balls. The ribbon shifts as his hands move under it.
“This for me?” Porthos asks and tugs gently on the ribbon.
Aramis opens his eyes and gasps loudly. “Yes.”
Porthos runs a finger from Aramis’s belly button to his neck; he shudders and arches his neck. “How longs he been like this?”
Aramis’s head is gently pulled to the side so that it’s resting on Athos’s shoulder. “A bit. You took longer than expected.” Athos says slowly. He feels Athos swipe his tongue across his neck and suck the skin right behind his ear. His hips strain against Porthos’s hands but go nowhere and he bites his lip in frustration.
“None of that,” Porthos says and then Aramis is being kissed softly; light presses of lips, the wetness of a tongue. He opens his mouth and Porthos takes the invitation and runs his tongue along Aramis’s and he draws in a breath. A large hand curves around his face as Porthos’s tongue thrusts in and out of his mouth. Aramis chases the tongue into Porthos’s mouth and Porthos sucks on it, pulling it slowly into his own mouth. Chills run down Aramis’s spine, his right hand clenches on Athos’s thigh; Athos’s hips jerk in answer. Aramis can hear Athos’s breathing get louder.
Porthos pulls back with a chuckle. “Let’s end this then.” He runs his hands down Aramis’s chest; one hand stops on top of Aramis’s and the other brushes down the crease in his thigh and continues until it’s pressing into him.
Aramis’s mouth opens but no sound escapes. He opens his leg wider and tilts his hips up to encourage Porthos. He feels a slick finger at his entrance, not caring where the lube came from, he just wants to come. Aramis feels like he’s been teetering on the edge for hours, his whole body is tense waiting for it.
Athos puts a hand in his hair and pulls; Aramis whimpers and pants.
“Ready?” asks Porthos distantly. Aramis answers with a breathless yes.
As though planned, Athos tugs his hair and squeezes a nipple while Porthos pushes into him. He isn’t sure which sensation makes him cry out. His heart is pounding in his chest and he feels like he’s burning up. He frantically moves his hips, trying to get Porthos in faster, but the large hands hold him steady.
Finally Porthos stills, fully inside of him. Athos continues to alternately scratch his head or pull his hair while he gently nips up and down his neck. So many sensations keep him centered while at the same time make him feel as though it’s tearing him apart.
He feels Porthos leaning into and over him and opens his eyes. He watches as Porthos and Athos share a dirty kiss made mostly of tongues over his shoulder. He gets his own kisses as Porthos pulls back.
Aramis watches as Porthos shifts to settle himself before pulling his hips back and then slowly thrusting back in. Aramis huffs out a breath and lifts a hand to rest on Porthos’s chest on the withdrawal. Porthos pushes in again. Out. In.
“Faster.” Aramis demands.
“It’s my present.” Porthos says before thrusting forward again. “I should be able to open it however.” Thrust. “I like.” Thrust.
Aramis curls his fingers and scratches down Porthos’s chest. “Waited long enough. Faster.” He can feel Porthos’s chuckle through the hand on his chest but he obeys. It’s still not enough.
His head arches back and Athos holds it there with his hand. His neck so stretched it almost hurts. Aramis whines and digs his fingers deeper into Athos’s thigh and pushes his other hand against Porthos’s chest. “Harder. Please.” Aramis begs.
Porthos steadies himself before plunging into him again. Aramis feels it at the base of his spine and each thrust sends a jolt of pleasure through his body. He rubs against Athos each time Porthos pushes forward and can feel the slickness on his back. Athos squeezes his head and holds it still; biting his neck. Aramis cries out and Porthos pushes faster.
Aramis feels Athos shudder under him. Feels the come cover his back; feels the wet panting breath on his neck. He’s so close to the edge, he just wants to come.
He opens his eyes when Porthos slows and sees wickedness reflected back at him. Porthos starts pushing forward again but as he picks up speed he pulls on the ribbon. It drags across his cock, pulling at his hair there. Each scrape and tug takes his breath away, his cock is leaking constantly and it rubs against the wetness on his stomach.
As the ribbon pulls away entirely Aramis feels Athos’s hand clamp around his cock just as Porthos thrusts forward twice as hard. He sobs as his body clenches in orgasm, it takes his breath away in that first moment. His fingers squeeze the thigh he’s still holding and his body jerks as he comes.
Athos is lazily licking his neck as his hand continues to squeeze his dick until he’s shuddering violently; Porthos is breathing heavily in his ear, quivering still as he finishes. Aramis sucks in air, trying to get himself under control. Porthos places gentle kisses down his face, and then he can hear Athos and Porthos kissing as well.
Aramis can hear the music again and the occasionally pop of the fire. It’s all overshadowed by the heavy breathing as they recover. Aramis brings his leg straight so that it’s out in front of him and Porthos wedges himself so he fits against the back of the couch while he’s lying half on top of Aramis.
He’s not sure how long they lay there although he suspects they each fall asleep. Aramis is chilly now, the fire not giving off enough heat to warm him anymore, plus the come is dry and itchy. He doesn’t want this to end so he waits a little while longer and enjoys the weightless feeling as he’s sandwiched between them.
No one seems to have the desire to move, and while Aramis loves cuddling, he is quite messy and his leg is starting to cramp. He jostles his leg, shoving Porthos a little.
“Let me up. I need a shower.”
“I’m good right here.”
Aramis scoffs. “That’s because you aren’t covered in come.” He kicks Porthos’s leg this time. “Up.”
“Yes your highness.” Porthos replies with a smirk.
He squints at him, but says nothing. He rolls off the couch and makes his way to the bathroom. He starts the shower and looks in the mirror. His hair is going in every direction imaginable, but it’s his neck that draws his attention. It seems like Athos was gnawing on it; the mark is substantial and only slightly under his ear.
He pushes on it and enjoys the tingle through his body. “Geezus Athos.” He mutters to himself, then louder. “What the hell? I have the work party tomorrow!”
“And you will look divine in that red turtleneck,” drifts back.
Aramis smiles, they have both made statements about how nice he looks in it. And it’s a small price to pay for being relegated to wrapping duty.
“Aramis! Why is this box empty?” Athos yells.
He chuckles to himself and gets in the shower. There should always be some sort of mystery in a relationship. The empty box will gnaw at Athos though, trying to read into it - when there was nothing ever to read into. An empty box decorated with a cock-shaped bow. Just because.