All for One (28 page)

His sense of duty insisted he report at once to his captain, but where Aristide would not have considered doing otherwise, Emile was willing to allow himself to be persuaded. He could add nothing new to what Léandre and Perrin had already passed along concerning Marie’s perfidy, and though he was careful not to let Benoît perceive it, the ride had tired him more than he cared to admit. He had other plans for what strength he had left. “Very well; I suppose Paris can survive one more night before I return to duty.”

“If there is something of such import that it can’t wait, surely Perrin or Léandre will know of it,” Benoît added persuasively. “We can ask them what they think when we reach the townhouse.”

Reining Orphée to a stop, Aristide waited until Benoît halted beside him. “You will not mind lodging with Léandre and Perrin, at least for a few days longer? We can begin searching for another set of rooms tomorrow, but until we find something, I would not have you uncomfortable with them.”

“As long as they are sleeping in their bed and you are sleeping in mine, I can spend a few more days beneath their roof,” Benoît assured him, appreciative of Aristide’s concern. “They’ll be glad of the chance to see for themselves that you are truly recovering and happy.”

“We may be a bit cramped in the servants’ chamber, but I will not object if you do not.” Aristide’s smile widened as he nudged his heels to start Orphée walking again. “Perhaps we will give them cause to complain about night-time noises for a change.”

Benoît flushed brightly, but he could hardly deny the likelihood of that assertion. “As long as they wait until morning to complain about them, they can say whatever they like.”

“And will,” Aristide agreed, knowing all too well the comments his former lovers were likely to make. Still, though he would no longer share their bed, Léandre and Perrin were his closest friends, and the relationship he was building with Benoît would not change that. “So long as you know that, beneath their jests, they will be truly happy for us.”

“Now that I have you, I think their jests will not bother me nearly as much as they once did,” Benoît admitted. “’Twas jealousy as much as shock that made me act the way I did toward them.”

Given the flush still fading from his lover’s cheeks, Aristide wasn’t sure the smith was as ready for Perrin and Léandre’s ribaldry as he claimed, but he forbore to press the point further. “Let’s go home,” he said, urging his mount to a faster gait. “I find the prospect of bed becoming all the more desirable.”

Feeling his cheeks flame again, Benoît simply followed Aristide toward their lodgings, knowing anything he said would only add to his embarrassment. They reached the townhouse, settling Sagace and Orphée in the small stables attached, though Orphée made it clear he was not happy with the smaller-than-usual accommodations. “We’ll take you home tomorrow,” Benoît promised, stroking the stallion’s nose, “after Aristide’s had a chance to rest a little.”

They climbed the steps into the house and the sitting room, finding Perrin and Léandre just about to have dinner. “Is there enough for two more?” Benoît asked, trying to set aside the uneasiness of the past.

“Aristide!” Both musketeers leapt to their feet, Perrin reaching Aristide first to draw him into a fierce embrace. Léandre clapped Benoît on the shoulder in greeting, enfolding Aristide as soon as Perrin stepped back, the younger musketeer offering the blacksmith a restrained nod.

“There’s plenty of
cassoulet
, though since Perrin made it, I can’t guarantee how edible you’ll find it.” Léandre reached to the cupboard for two more bowls while Benoît and Aristide settled at the table. Perrin scowled at the blond’s slur against his cooking before turning his gaze to study Aristide closely.

“You look better than the last time we saw you,” Perrin said after a moment’s perusal. “It seems the blacksmith’s attention agrees with you.”

“He has a name, Perrin,” Aristide said with a warning glance. “And if you would retain my friendship, I suggest you use it.”

“It’s all right, Emile,” Benoît said soothingly, deliberately using his lover’s real name to highlight his place in the musketeer’s life. “They have no reason to trust me after everything I put you through.”

Hoping to defuse the anger he could see simmering in Aristide’s eyes, Léandre jumped in before Perrin could make matters worse. “Benoît seems a likeable enough sort,” he said, smiling warmly, “especially now that he’s gotten his head out of his arse about you.”

“Don’t you mean now that he’s gotten Aristide’s cock up his arse?” Perrin retorted, though his expression lightened. “That’s what you said the other night.”

Benoît blushed furiously once again, but he did not contradict their statement. He hadn’t actually had Aristide’s cock up his arse, as the dark-haired musketeer so crudely put it, but there wasn’t much else they hadn’t done, and it had definitely improved his temper where these two were concerned. Aristide could correct their assumption if he wanted, but Benoît was content to let it lie.

“I suspect it is more a matter of my cock no longer up your arses,” Aristide retorted, aware that Benoît would find the crude statement vulgar, but needing to leave Léandre and especially Perrin in no doubt about the change in their relationship.

“That’s not something he’ll need to worry about anymore,” Perrin declared, a possessive arm around Léandre’s waist. “The only cock getting anywhere near Léandre’s arse from now on is mine.”

His gaze darting from Perrin to Léandre and back again, Aristide noted Léandre’s silent nod before addressing Perrin again. “So you have found there is something more as well?” he asked softly, his hand reaching for Benoît’s at the reminder of how much more he had found in the blacksmith’s love.

“Once I opened my eyes to look for it, I realized it had been there waiting for me all along,” Perrin agreed. Then, uncomfortable with admitting his emotions so openly, he grinned. “I had to do something to stop Léandre from moping around without you.”

“And by moping, he means having to fuck him every time we returned from duty because the rooms were too quiet with you gone,” Léandre retorted, his eyes sparkling. “Though I suspect he will not be making that complaint tonight.”

“Probably not,” Benoît broke in, determined to be a part of every aspect of his lover’s life, even this banter with the musketeers. “Aristide’s quite noisy when I make him come.”

Three heads turned to stare at Benoît in shock until Aristide’s laughter broke the stunned silence. The three musketeers laughed until even Benoît joined in, the infectious mirth healing any remaining awkwardness between them.

“We’ll have to do our best to drown you out, then,” Léandre announced, rising to clear the emptied bowls from the table. “What say you, Perrin, are you up to the challenge?”

“Of making you howl with delight?” Perrin verified. “That’s not even a challenge, Léandre. All I have to do is stick my tongue in you, and you scream loud enough to be heard in England.”

“We’ll see who’s howling first when my cock is reaming your arse,” Léandre promised. “Perhaps I should gag you so your pleading doesn’t keep poor Benoît awake all night.”

“I think that pleasant task shall fall to me,” Aristide interjected, rising and offering Benoît his other hand. “Come,
mon cœur
, let’s leave these children to their quarrel.”

“What if I want to be the one to keep you awake all night?” Benoît asked as they climbed the stairs, amused at Perrin’s and Léandre’s quips—and more than a little fascinated by the idea Perrin had planted in his head. He doubted he was ready to try it yet, but the image was seductive nonetheless.

“The two are not mutually exclusive.” Aristide kicked the door to the tiny room closed behind them, stripping the garments that hid his lover’s toned body from his gaze and touch with all possible haste. Eyeing the narrow bed while he helped Benoît strip him of his own garments, he settled onto the mattress and drew Benoît down atop him, humming at the seductive press of his lover’s weight. “I’m sure we will find ways to keep each other awake.”

Benoît smiled, lowering his lips to Aristide’s neck. “I’m sure we will,” he agreed, thoughts racing as he wondered if tonight would be the night. Aristide had been considerate enough not to press him, only occasionally tantalizing him with light caresses across his rear entrance, but if he hadn’t known it before, Perrin’s and Léandre’s comments tonight were enough to make it clear that Aristide would surely want to fuck him at some point.

Aristide shifted his legs to let Benoît settle between them as the smith’s kisses wandered over his throat. Urging Benoît to raise up onto his elbows, he ran his hands appreciatively down the defined muscles of the smith’s chest before lifting his head to nip at the broad nipples, his hand sliding between them to circle his lover’s hard cock.

Benoît arched into the contact, loving the feel of Aristide’s hands on his body, but a nagging thought wouldn’t leave him alone as the musketeer urged him upward, clearly intending to take him in his mouth. “Emile?” he asked hesitantly.

Stilling at the uneasy tone in his lover’s voice, though he had not touched him in any way they had not loved before, Aristide met Benoît’s gaze in the dim light filtering in from the small window. “Yes,
mon amour?
”

“Why…?” Benoît hesitated again, trying to figure out how to word his question. “Why haven’t you had your cock up my arse?”

Chapter 26

A
RISTIDE’S
eyes lifted from the prize they were about to claim to gaze up the chiseled planes of his lover’s body, pausing at the silver cross Benoît wore on a chain around his neck, swinging in the air between them. He had never noted it overmuch before, presuming it a gift from the smith’s wife, but he did not look higher now than the arc it defined with Benoît’s breathing. “I was not sure it was something you wished for,” he answered softly, his eyes raising at last to meet his lover’s. “Is it?”

Benoît considered the question, for although he was very aware of the absence of that particular intimacy between them, he was also aware of his own fears holding him back. He remembered how it had felt the first time he had made love to Pauline, the amazing sense of connection that came from a joining so complete, so profound, that nothing short of death could separate them. The thought of never knowing that connection with Aristide pained him, but at the same time, his arse clenched against the thought of the rather sizeable cock pressed against his stomach going into it. “I don’t know,” he replied after a moment. “But I think you could talk me into anything when you touch me the way you do, and I know you had it regularly with Perrin and Léandre. They can’t imagine that you haven’t already taken me that way. Do you… do you not desire me like that?”

The mere thought of sliding to Benoît’s tight heat was enough to make Aristide’s cock jump against the muscular abdomen. “Is that answer enough for you?” he murmured, his hands on Benoît’s hips urging him down to settle atop him again. “I desire you in every way and any way there is to love, but only when you desire it as much as I do, not because you feel it I expect it.”

“And yet how can I know if I desire what I have never experienced?” Benoît asked sincerely. “Everything you have done to me, everything I have done to you, has been outside my imaginings, yet I have enjoyed it all. You told me you would teach me. I need you to do so now.”

“You will know when the need is as insistent as the need to draw breath; when body and soul demand to unite with the one you love.” Aristide threaded a hand into the dark hair at his lover’s temples, drawing him down for a long, slow kiss. “If I am to teach you this, we will need some oil,” he murmured when their lips parted. He could not help but smile when Benoît’s expression changed from puzzlement to a blush he could see even in the dim light from the chamber’s tiny window. He nudged his hips upward after claiming another quick kiss. “You must let me up; despite what you may think, I do not keep oil in every room.”

Benoît flushed. “Certainly no reason for you to have had it up here,” he said with an embarrassed laugh, “when your lovers were downstairs. Perhaps you should make a habit of keeping some in our room from now on, though. Should I go get it instead? I’m not sure I want you going back in their bedroom to get some.”

“I doubt they would notice,” Aristide countered wryly, but neither was he was of a mind to endure his friends’ bawdy jests at the moment. “I will find something to serve in the kitchen.” Slipping from the bed when Benoît rolled to one side, he bent down to kiss him again, begrudging even a momentary parting, before making his way down the creaking stairs. His lips twitched at the lustful sounds emanating from his former bedchamber while he found a flagon of cooking oil, wishing his friends as much joy as he had found in Benoît’s love.

Benoît lay on his narrow cot, regretting the comfortable bed in the inn, though he was glad to be back in the rooms he was coming to consider home and in a place where no one would question Aristide’s presence in his bed. His stomach churned with a mix of nerves and desire as he considered what the night would bring. He wanted Aristide, desperately, but he was still not sure he could welcome Aristide into his body. Experimentally, he reached between his legs, pressing a finger against his entrance. It resisted, but he continued, pressing until it popped in to the first knuckle, the skin catching dryly on his finger, stinging uncomfortably. Pulling his hand away guiltily, he stared up at the ceiling, wondering if he had made a mistake in bringing up the issue.

Returning to the tiny servant’s chamber, Aristide for the first time regretted the luxuries he had abjured when he turned his back on his rank and title. He would shower Benoît with every extravagance, were it still in his power; but he also believed in his soul that if he could offer Benoît the Louvre itself, they would find no more bliss than in this cramped room beneath the rafters of a simple Paris townhouse.

Something in Benoît’s bearing as he lay stiffly on his back made Aristide suspect his lover had been indulging in second thoughts in the brief moments he was gone. Returning to the bed, he set the oil on the bedside table and slid beneath the sheet, gathering Benoît into his arms. “We do not need to do this,” he reassured. “We can wait until you are sure ’tis what you want.”

“I want to,” Benoît protested, “but I fear it will hurt. I look at you and…. It can’t possibly fit!”

“Will you trust me to teach you this?” Aristide asked, his lips tracing the line of Benoît’s beard along his jaw. At his lover’s hesitant nod, he continued, “There will be some discomfort, at first, but the oil will ease the way, and afterwards it will be only pleasure.” Or so he hoped; he would show Benoît every skill he had learned to ensure it. Rolling onto his back, he spread his legs as best he could on the narrow cot. “Dip your fingers into the oil,” he instructed.

Benoît’s eyes grew wide as he stared down at Aristide’s recumbent form. This was not at all what he expected. “What…? But… you want me to….”

“You will need to prepare me first, to make it easier for me to accept you,” Aristide explained, his cock throbbing with the anticipation his words conjured. It had been long years since he had let another take him this way, since he had learned of his first lover’s betrayal. He would not have Benoît’s first experience marred by believing he was causing Aristide any pain. Nor would he wish it for himself! But already he could feel the spark of desire kindling inside him, waiting only for his lover’s touch to fan it to flame. “Wet them well—your first two fingers, at least.”

Benoît shook his head, sure he was dreaming, but the vision before him did not fade. Blinking once more, he reached for the bottle of oil, spilling it over his hand, so badly was he trembling. Carefully, he coated his first two fingers as Aristide had instructed, looking back to his lover for direction.

“Rub them together; be sure the oil coats them well. Now touch me,” Aristide urged, his voice husked with need.

Benoît did as he was told, rubbing his fingers together until they were slippery; then he moved tentatively between his lover’s legs, finding the tight pucker of flesh. Not sure exactly what to do, he ran his fingers back and forth over the hot skin, watching Aristide’s eyes close with bliss and his hips push up, seeking a firmer touch.

His nerves jumping at even such undemanding contact, Aristide breathed in deeply, relaxing his muscles with the slow exhale. “That’s good,” he rasped, opening his eyes again to focus on Benoît’s rapt face. “Let the tip of your finger start to press inside, slowly.”

Following Aristide’s instructions, Benoît pressed more deliberately against Aristide’s hole, watching in fascination as the tight entrance relaxed and stretched around his finger. His lover’s gasp startled him, his eyes flying back to Aristide’s face, but only passion colored his features. “Like this?” he asked, stopping at the first knuckle, wanting to make sure he was not hurting the other man in any way.

“Feels good,” Aristide assured him a bit breathlessly. He could feel himself clenching instinctively around the blunt digit, longing for more. “Move it around; stretch me so you can work it in deeper. You won’t hurt me,” he promised at Benoît’s doubtful expression.

“Tell me if I do,” Benoît insisted, not completely convinced, but he began moving his finger, from side to side at first, then picking up an in-and-out rhythm that mimicked what he could not quite believe his cock would soon be doing. Slowly, the constriction around his finger eased, allowing him to move more easily, giving him hope this would perhaps work after all.

The gentle friction against the walls of Aristide’s passage awoke memories long buried of how good this could feel, how much he had once hungered for it—and, he realized, how much he wanted it now, with Benoît. “Now two fingers,” Aristide directed. “Pull almost out. Then slide them in together.”

Benoît did, two fingers stretching the pink hole, his breath catching in his throat as the passage expanded to welcome him. His cock throbbed frantically as he imagined being surrounded by that tight heat. He gripped the base of his cock, trying to hold onto his control a little longer, as his fingers picked back up their rhythm.

As Benoît’s movements grew more confident, Aristide’s hips rocked to meet them, wordlessly urging his lover to press deeper. “Twist them—spread them,” he panted, his untouched cock leaking against his belly. His instincts were screaming to tell Benoît to just fuck him already, and he fought for the control to continue instructing his virgin lover. “Open me enough to take you.”

Benoît groaned, the image evoked by Aristide’s words enough to have him bending double in the effort not to simply thrust into the tight heat. He wouldn’t hurt Aristide, though. He refused, twisting and spreading his fingers instead as Aristide had said. A muffled shout escaped Aristide’s lips as the tip of Benoît’s fingers found a spongy bump inside the slick passage, making Benoît freeze.

“Don’t stop!” Aristide growled, his knees falling open and heels pressing against the thin mattress to seek more of the enflaming contact. Later he’d explain to Benoît what that spot meant and how to find it again; he’d demonstrate so Benoît could feel it for himself, but for now, the power of extended speech was fast deserting him. “Three fingers,” he gasped, knowing it would burn but eager now to feel Benoît’s cock brush against those same nerves.

Aristide’s sharp order, followed by more instructions, broke Benoît out of his fear-induced trance. Whatever he had done, his lover obviously liked it, so he set out to do it again, pulling his hand back so he could add another finger, then working his way back inside, deliberately seeking that little bump. He found it again after a few moments’ fumbling, the sight of Aristide arching up into him enough to have him panting for release. “I… don’t know… how much longer… I can wait,” he gasped brokenly, his entire body aching for release.

“Nor I,” Aristide agreed in a ragged voice. “Use the oil on your cock. Wet it well, so it will slide in easily.” He dared not reach out to prepare his lover himself—he feared feeling the heavy cock in his hand would be enough to send him over the edge. He could only pray he would have enough control not to spurt the moment Benoît entered him.

Nodding to show he understood, Benoît ran his slick hand over his cock, biting his lip to stifle his groan. He didn’t linger, not sure he would be able to control himself if he did. Putting a steadying hand on the pillow by Aristide’s head, he lowered himself toward his lover, guiding the tip of his erection to the glistening portal. It resisted his ingress at first, and he hesitated to push any harder.

Bearing down on his heels, Aristide canted his hips upward, pressing against the blunt crown of Benoît’s cock. Reaching for his lover’s hip, he drew him forward, fighting the primal need to clench against the intrusion. “Go on,” he rasped as the muscle began to yield to the thick shaft. “
Dieu
, don’t stop—”

Benoît didn’t think he could have stopped even if Aristide had asked. Fortunately, it seemed they wanted the same thing. Moving slowly into the tight tunnel, he pushed until he was fully seated. “Are you well?” he husked.

Aristide nodded, chest heaving. It burned, but the ache was already fading into a voluptuous fullness. It was nothing like he remembered, the connection that had been missing from his earliest lovemaking, even from his many nights with Léandre and Perrin, sanctifying what had before this been no more to him than a joining of bodies. He could feel Benoît trembling against him, inside him. Lifting a hand to Benoît’s chest, he pressed it over his love’s heart, his words a vow. “
Je t’aime
,” he pledged, “now and always….”

The words shattered Benoît’s feeble control, his hips moving without his own volition, driving his cock in and out of the welcoming sheath. “
Je t’aime aussi
,” he gasped as conscious thought deserted him, only the physical reality of joining with Aristide still in his awareness. In seconds, it seemed, he was coming, his release spurting out of him to anoint Aristide’s passage, a hoarse shout escaping his lips as he threw his head back, every muscle in his body taut as his climax went on and on and on.

Aristide’s breath caught as Benoît froze above him, glad he was not so lost in his own pleasure to have missed this vision of passion fulfilled. His hands moved over Benoît’s chest and abdomen, fingertips following the trail of hair that led to where they were joined, prolonging his lover’s bliss until the arm holding the younger man up buckled and Benoît sagged against him.