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Morning came in dim upon the snowdrifts, clouds were dark and heavy with the prospect of more snow to come. Alphinaud was sound asleep; lying draped and languid across Estinien’s broad chest. There had been no fire in the room during the deep night, but now there was one banked low but billowing warmth from the glowing coals. The heat of the fire was what allowed the young man to be uncovered from the neck and down to his waist, the soft dip of his spine and gentle protrusions of his shoulder blades bare and streaked by the tresses of pale silver hair. Estinien was more than happy to keep his weary fingers tangled in the thin locks.
Some time ago, Ser Aymeric had come back to his room; for that was indeed who this room belonged to. Such finery and space was not for a soldier; nay, not even the Azure Dragoon. Alphinaud was blissfully unaware of the new pairs of eyes which were leveled on his slender back. The man was drinking one last glass of wine, the contents almost gone as he contemplated what Estinien had said.
“Do not think I have not seen your piqued interest whence sparring with words, Ser Aymeric.” The Dragoon whispers and Alphinaud does not even stir at the brush of breath against the crown of his head.
“I would gamble he has n-“
“Your gamble is wrong.”
Aymeric looks up sharply, licking his wine tinged lips as though he has already agreed.
“He’s a rather romantic boy, prone to babbling in the afterglow when prodded properly.”
The Lord Commander’s cheeks color at that suggestion and he has to set his glass aside for how terribly his hands had begun to shake. Aymeric briefly braces his hands between his head, elbows upon his knees.
“Come now, t’would be a pleasant surprise for him. Not to mention… present to you an opportunity to indulge yourself and relieve the stress I know you two possess. This I can swear to you.”
As though finally coming to a conclusion at Estinien’s reassurances; Aymeric stands, his hair is mused in a handsome fashion that showed he’d been tugging at it and ruffling it in his avid thoughts. Estinien would have crowed in delight if it were in his personality, Ser Aymeric had begun to undress; seemingly finally convinced that the Dragoon spoke true—furthered by his mounting desire for the blooming politician.
Estinien would never tire of seeing the soft rivets of muscle revealed when Aymeric pulled off the tight black under-armor shirt that protected his chest and shoulders from the plate metal of his armor. There was a sizeable bulge where his soft penis rested in the matching black of his undercloths. His clothes, what pieces of armor he did wear, the elegant cape—and even his bottom undercloths were draped over the chair he had been in. Aymeric was naked and always a sight to behold; planes of smooth muscles with ridged dips and edges. Broad shoulders with taut and long arms to help him hold the young scholar between their bodies. The sharp and prominent ‘V’ betwixt his hips that led to his penis and pointed down lean, powerful legs. Estinien nodded to the oil at the bedside, but not before gently sliding the sheet over Alphinaud’s smooth skin; slowly revealing the precious dimples above his buttocks, and then the supple flesh of his rear was revealed to Aymeric and the man almost hissed aloud. There was a curse on his lips, a prayer in his mouth, and oil on his fingers as he took his shaft in hand and began to stroke slow and firm to further convince the organ to erection. His thumb rubs and presses at the sensitive head as he holds himself and kneels carefully one knee upon the bed. His other hand reaches out carefully to trail a few fingers lightly down his spine. Alphinaud’s muscles seem to twitch gently beneath the feathery touch, and his lips part for a wisp of breath to escape. Goosebumps have risen along his arms and the back of his thighs, Aymeric delights in the sight—his hands pressing gently at the curve in the younger’s back and running over the plump rear. Touching the malleable flesh whilst handling his own penis did indeed make him harden; the glans maroon and the slit wet with pre—the rest of the shaft slippery and shining from the slick layer of oil massaged in.
Aymeric is very careful when he moves onto the bed and puts a leg over Alphinaud’s thighs. The position akin to straddling, but avoiding touch by hovering as still as possible over him. Estinien has been watching the hand which stroked the long shaft, licking his lips and glancing down at Alphinaud’s sleeping face; furrowed brows in his sleep from the touching.
Aymeric is gentle and somewhat nervous as he uses a hand to spread the boys’ buttocks to reveal the pink and slightly puffed ring of muscle. Somewhat still swollen from Estinien’s previous treatment no doubt. Unperturbed about sharing, Aymeric breaths deeply and lines the eager head of his curved cock to the sweet ring…
“Did you just…” Estinien almost laughs, a huff of breath coming out instead as he looks between Aymeric’s legs.
The man in question begins to stroke himself again, this time more steady and lightly to quickly tease himself back to full length and hardness. As soon as he’d pressed the tip to Alphinaud’s anus, he had softened and thus penetration would have been impossible.
“Be quiet.” Aymeric hisses under his breath, his cheeks lit by a brilliant flame.
But once again when Aymeric presses downwards, the organ softens but remains red and pulsing somewhat—still quite electric to his touch. He’s frustrated as he sits up, tipping his head back and running his hands back through his black locks.
“By the fury you are so excited and eager that you cannot even stay hard.”
Aymeric sends him a glare, but it’s full of frustration and his eyes glimmer with passion and desire.
“Yes, full eager am I to take him. My desire to embrace him and hear his wicked mouth call out my name with lust and yearning instead of schooled poise and careful calculations. I—...’ His hands then drag over his face, peeking through fingers at the lines of Alphinaud’s beautiful back. ‘Gods do I burn for him…”
His voice was deep and throaty in that way that only Aymeric could speak in, the sound that pricked your scalp and twisted your stomach and sent heat straight to your loins. As he had spoken, he had hardened again just thinking about the young man. Red faced, he put his eager hands upon him again, spreading the round cheeks that his cock head could slide down the smooth cleft of his bottom. Then he was pressing into the fleshy ring of muscle, and his shaft did not give way. Aymeric was sighing as the boys sleeping body remained relaxed long enough for the blunt head to be accepted with nary a struggle. The filling sensation penetrated Alphinaud’s dreams, for he lets out a hiccup of a sigh and his lashes flutter. His muscle beginning to tense in a vain attempt to repel the unknown intrusion. Estinien feels himself harden as he watches Aymeric gently ease himself deeper and deeper into the snug little body. He could feel the way Alphinaud’s body stretched out and shook atop him until with a groan the boy seemed to awaken. Attempting to lean up on his elbows, he stiffened and gave a surprised sweet moan when Aymeric suddenly bottomed out inside of him. Long shaft buried in deep enough that the boy could feel a smooth pair of balls pressed to him, a large hand on his hip. It was the most erotic thing Estinien had even seen; the sleepy confusion mixed with bliss on that sweet face with Aymeric pressing his hips against Alphinaud.
The younger is gasping for breath with every gentle nudge, rocking against Estinien whom he just noticed was still below him. Red cheeked, and embarrassed at the sounds he was making; he tried to turn around to see who it was; only for a chest to press against his back and make his elbows shake where they propped his body up at. He had tucked his knees out as though he would lift himself onto them, but now they merely dug into mattress and sheets and propped his bottom up and outwards.
“Aahn, wh-who..?”
He tries to whimper, turning his head to cast a bleary eyed look over one shoulder. There was Ser Aymeric, his handsome face so near to his own that he could feel his humid breath on his cheek. His beautiful blue eyes glimmered like chiseled sapphires, sharp and piercing—his lips parted with soft breaths as he continued to rub and grind himself down onto the boy.
“O-ooh G-gods, y-you, it’s, guh-haaa.. Ser--!”
Alphinaud’s head tipped forward as Aymeric’s hips began to withdraw so that his glans now stroked along the tight insides. His insides clenching as the ridge of the head pressed into his walls and rubbed over his prostate in a tingling, white-light sort of pleasure. Slow, steady, Aymeric rocked him against Estinien whose thick organ was hard and pressed flat to his slim belly.
“Alphinaud…”
Ser Aymeric whispered in his ear, the boy giving a shudder to hear his name called thus. Knuckles brushed his hair away from his pale neck, and Aymeric began to kiss and drag his teeth over the skin here. Tongue dragging down to the juncture between his neck and shoulder for a soft passion-bite; Alphinaud moans aloud at the dull sting, and the ache in his groin doubled as Aymeric sucked and lapped at him.
“Yes… Oh Aymeric..”
Alphinaud whimpered, sweet breaths and sighs for Aymeric’s red tipped ears. The man took his time with the younger that seemed not to mind. Arching his back when a hand ran up and down the curve of his spine, writhing in his spot when that hand gripped his side and ran up and down there before stopping at his thin hips to hold securely and pull him back. Aymeric steadily pulling out more and more and pulling Alphinaud back onto him until Alphinaud seemed to gently bounce against Aymeric’s forward thrusts. White hair sliding over Estinien’s chest as the boy throws back his head, or it lolls to the side in his ecstasy. Great gasps from between his plump lips, and loud, ecstatic moans tumbling constantly from his mouth.
Reaching back with a hand, he buries trembling fingers in Aymeric’s wavy black hair; and the man leans closer to him and buries his face into the crook of his neck. Kissing lightly as his hips slap steady and muted against Alphinaud’s bottom.
“Mmmh yes, Aymeric—that’s good. So very good. Line him closer.”
Ser Aymeric grunts as Estinien praises him, and praises Alphinaud; he wants to comply with Estinien’s desires. Knowing full well what it was he will do, he slowly slides a hand upwards against Alphinaud’s hot side. The young man gives a tremulous moan, sighing as Aymeric takes hold of his shoulder firmly (but not rough at all) and pulls back in a way that pulls Alphinaud languidly upright. His head rolls back against Aymeric’s shoulder, lips are fluttering over the side of his face, his red tipped ears, along his neck and jaw; and the affection was warm and made Alphinaud’s loins tighten and burn even more.
“Oh, aah, yes. Mmh, oh Aymeric I like that—aaah!”
Every smooth roll Of Aymeric’s hips against Alphinaud made the young man moan out, mouth sagging open with harsh breaths. Aymeric put an arm around the svelte forms’ chest, the other keeping steady hold on his hips and push down slightly. With his knees slid further apart and all but resting completely against Estinien’s hips, he was just about doing the splits, with Aymeric sitting sedately on Estinien’s coiled thighs. Thick and wet, Estinien takes hold of his penis and lines it with Alphinaud’s oozing prick; his hand encompassing the boy sliding theirs together in tandem. Alphinaud trembles and turns to jelly in their hands, huffing with great heaves of breath, chest fluttering and heart hammering loud in his ears. His body rolled with such a sensual, gentle undulation that slid his prick up and down against Estinien’s, sent him rocking back onto Aymeric who tightens his hold with such possession it chokes Alphinaud’s breath in his breast.
“I… I—it feels too good..I cannot…”
Estinien grins roguishly, and Aymeric can only groan at the implications in that stuttering gasp. Speeding Alphinaud along; by tightening his hold, by turning languid strokes to quicker and hard jerks—they truly have Alphinaud seeing stars. Estinien adores the sight so much of the lordling so undone that he allows himself to let go and climax as Alphinaud does. There is a dainty, tightly gripping hand buried in Aymeric’s hair and pulling at the curls, another is but a claw on Estinien’s wrist as his body jerks and writhes on Aymeric’s manhood with vigor in his powerful orgasm. Estinien’s delighted groan is almost muted by the youngers ecstatic outcry.
Cum has slicked Estinien’s fingers, warm and viscous. First he drags his tongue up his middle finger; Alphinaud watches with hazy and half lidded eyes. They follow the hand and seem to cloud even more when Ser Aymeric sets his chin on Alphinaud’s shoulder, craning his neck forward and licks a trail off it off the forefinger with delight. And then… Estinien’s thumb has found his own lips, pressing gently against the bottom tier so that his lips part and a soft moan tumble out. Alphinaud’s head is still somewhat turned towards Aymeric’s, he can see the man’s face as the thumb slides unobstructed into his mouth and presses over his tongue. When those pink lips seal tightly around the digit and suck with gently hallowed cheeks; Alphinaud can see the dilation of Aymeric’s pupils before the gaze is hidden in his nape and Aymeric is groaning, ‘Fury, oh fury take me.’ But then, he has lifted his face and instead went to claim Alphinaud’s mouth. Estinien’s thumb ‘pops’ out and Aymeric’s mouth seals with that sinfully pink mouth in its place. His shaft no longer pulls out long and even, but steadily thrusts against slim hips, never withdrawing more than an inch or two. The grinding is deep and filling within Alphinaud, who is jolted forward somewhat with each inwards jerk. And then, their mouths are swallowing each other’s moans and groans, and Alphinaud feels it. The warmth that is slowly blossoming inside of him makes his chest arch outward and his eyes squeeze tightly shut. Thick and warm, Aymeric spills steadily within him; his hips roll slow and gently and Alphinaud has instinctually clamped snug around him to help milk him relaxingly along.
Aymeric’s kiss grows more tender and affectionate as he nears the end of his throes. Holding Alphinaud’s body snug against his own, he keeps the young man upright, twitching, trembling as poor Alphinaud is in the waves of the aftermath. Dimly he realizes that Aymeric has all but made love to him, so intense, but taking his time, being so very gentle.
There are warm and loving lips against his temple, and Alphinaud opens his mouth to speak but he is gently quieted.
“Nay… Do not speak, Alphinaud--for not all silences must needs be filled.”
Instead of feeling chastised, he feels more reassured. Aymeric is slow and gentle withdrawing; he takes his time and lets Alphinaud adjust to the sensation until with time he is finally empty and feels no shock from the absence. Carefully he is laid down onto the bed at Estinien’s side, almost reverently it seems like. They clean him with damp rags that Aymeric has gone and fetched from his private wash quarters. Aymeric washes the sweat from Alphinaud’s brow, his neck, and wipes gently along his chest and belly—the cool cloth welcome on his still warm skin. Estinien mops up the mess between his thighs and buttocks and he does nothing more than that and simply cleaning his privates. The soft, cleaning fondling is strange, but he’s able to bear it and hide his face against Aymeric’s chest, and when Estinien is done there is warmth all along his back and an all-encompassing warm embrace. Were he not so thoroughly worn out and exhausted, he might have thought to question them—but Aymeric had practically bid him not think overlong upon the course, and so Alphinaud did not.