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fredbassett) wrote2020-05-30 10:53 am
fredbassett) wrote2020-05-30 10:53 am
Entry tags:
Fic, A Dangerous Contract, Part 3 of 8, Athos/Treville, 18
Title : A Dangerous Contract, Part 3 of 8
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : The Musketeers
Rating : 18
Characters : Athos/Treville, Gallagher, Aramis, Porthos and others
Disclaimer : Not mine (apart from some OCs), no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count : 25,500, split into approximately equal parts.
Summary : Athos learns an assassination contract has been taken out on Treville’s life.
A/N : Written for luthorchickv2 on AO3 who kindly commented on all my Dangerous Liaison stories.
“Much of the structure remains sound,” Treville pronounced, staring at the blackened façade with interest.
Athos smiled. He’d hoped the verdict would be favourable, but he did not have Treville’s experience with stone and fortifications. “The fire burned hot and fast, but I think the rain quenched it before too much of the mortar cracked.”
“Where was the stone quarried?”
“On our own estate. I used to play in the quarry as a boy, much to the chagrin of my tutors. There is still good stone to be had there. Not enough to sell commercially, but enough to restore Pinon to its former glory, perhaps.”
“Then save as much of your coin as you can and employ a master builder when you retire. If the house no longer makes you want to drink yourself into oblivion and spew your guts before starting over again, this can be made into a home again. The rents from the village would cover what you need.”
“I have not been entirely honest about my circumstances,” Athos said, staring at the blackened timbers that had once held up the roof. He shot a quick sideways to see how the statement had been received
The familiar mix of exasperation and amusement settled on his commander’s lined face. “Athos, you have not been entirely honest about your circumstances since the day we met, and I have not held that against you.”
“My family have long held other estates, as well. Bragellone near Blois still produces a healthy income that has done nothing more than gather dust in equally dusty coffers. I have drawn on no more than my soldier’s pay since joining the Regiment, leaving more than adequate funds to restore Pinon if I so choose.”
“It is fortunate you do not have Porthos’ gambling habits.” Treville sounded more amused than exasperated now, and Athos dared to turn fully towards him, the smile on his captain’s face driving away the anxiety that had settled on his stomach during their conversation by the river. When Athos had finally divulged his story to his comrades, he had omitted all mention of the estate near Blois and, afterwards, had not even been sure why. Maybe it was just that for so long he’d succeeded in putting his old life behind him, and as a soldier, his needs were modest – apart from his drinking, and that would not be improved by ready access to more silver.
After two years in the Regiment, he had finally sent his steward at Blois the address of his Paris lodgings, and instructed the man to continue to manage the estate as he had always done. His father had always sworn by the man’s honesty, and a firm of bankers of repute in Blois sent a independent yearly account to verify the funds. Athos had long known that if he survived to retire from the musketeers, he would be able to live more than comfortably at Bragelonne, even without the revenue from the tenants in Pinon.
“I employed commendable restraint not having the contents of my father’s cellars shipped to Paris.” Athos led Treville back to the still serviceable kitchen and unlocked a sturdy oak door hidden behind a large wooden dresser. A lit candle served to guide their feet down a set of steep stone stairs to an extensive series of brick-lined cellars. One side led to the family vaults that held the tombs of his brother and his ancestors, along with a small armoury that his father had maintained should the estate need to raise a militia. On the other side of a central corridor lay the wine cellars, with racks lining the walls, filled with dusty bottles.
Treville drew a bottle from one rack and examined the label. “Your father had good taste and good suppliers, if what we drank last night was a fair sample.”
“Last night’s wine was from the lower end of the scale. Tonight, we will dine on venison pie and eat good cheese and fresh bread and I will choose something more fitting for that. There is also brandy that will be to your taste, rather than the muck you usually foist on me when I am in a foul mood.”
“When you’re in a foul mood, all you deserve is the muck. I buy it especially for accommodating your excesses.”
Athos chose the bottles carefully. The afternoon spent by the river had left him in a mood so mellow that he had surprised even himself. He had not expected the question that Treville had let slip and the answer had not been one he thought he’d ever have been able to give. Another burden had finally lifted from his heart.
His short visits to Pinon after its destruction had forced him to confront the raw truth of his own feelings for the woman he had once called his wife. He’d left the estate with his youthful idealism in tatters. Five years as a soldier had schooled him in a very different reality. With Treville’s help, he had risen quickly, turning his salon-taught sword skills into something altogether more deadly. War had tempered both mind and body and drink had dulled his sensibilities when needed. Now, he drank more for pleasure and companionship, no longer chasing oblivion like a hound in pursuit of a deer.
In the kitchen, Treville busied himself lighting a fire with the kindling and dry logs he’d brought in from one of the barns, while Athos found plates and glasses and set out some of the food he had brought from the village. The first time he had returned after the fire the simple welcome and acceptance from the villagers had touched his heart, especially once they understood that he would not be seeking five years’ worth of back rent. In those brief visits he had experienced an unexpected peace and it was that peace he had found himself wanting to share with Treville, although he hadn’t imagined circumstances under which he would ever be able to fulfil that wish.
They ate at the table before retiring to two carved wooden chairs in front of the fire. On one of his earlier visits, Athos had salvaged some rugs from the more undamaged portion of the house, one of while he had spread on the floor in front of the fire. Only this area of the servants’ quarters remained habitable. The rest of the building would require gutting, and after Treville’s words on the subject, he was seriously considering commissioning the necessary work.
He went to his knees to throw another log on the fire, then poured more wine into Treville’s glass, settling down comfortably on the rug at his feet. Treville carded his fingers absently through his hair, a gesture that Athos always found soothing.
“Are there any more revelations to come?” Treville enquired quietly.
Athos looked up at him conscious of the fact that there were times his captain could still make him feel like a raw recruit but on this occasion, there was nothing more than gentle enquiry in his eyes.
“I could no doubt bore you with matters of family history such that you would be begging for an assassin’s bullet within a day.”
“Athos, it’s a rare pleasure to hear you to talk about anything at length.”
Athos brought Treville’s hand to his lips and kissed the open palm. “That’s not what you told me last night, but on my word as a musketeer, there are no more revelations.” There were still words in his heart that had not yet been spoken, but that was another matter. For now, he hoped simple gestures would suffice.
Treville leaned forward and took Athos’ own hand in his, turning his palm upwards and returning the kiss, then sliding his lips down to caress the sensitive skin on the inside of his wrist. The sensation went straight to Athos’ cock. He reached up and took Treville’s other hand in his and leaned back, drawing Treville down onto the rug by the fire. They kissed, gently at first, then with growing heat. Athos pulled off his shirt then set to work unlacing Treville’s and tugging it over his head. Boots, breeches and undergarments followed, leaving them naked in front of the warm fire. Treville lay in a loose-limbed sprawl, seemingly content to let Athos take the lead again. When he shifted position onto his stomach, Athos resumed the slow examination of his lover’s body with mouth and hands, and this time there was no tension when he worked his way lower.
Breaking off for a moment, he quickly fetched the small bottle of fine oil he used for his rapier and pistol. Slicking one finger, he slid it along Treville’s cleft then pressed against the puckered hole. He was conscious of Treville drawing in a deep breath, but he could feel no intrusive panic. He probed gently, slipping his finger into his lover’s warm body, massaging in the oil, and opening him while peppering the strong back with light kisses.
When Treville pushed back against the intrusion, Athos slicked his own hard cock and covered his lover’s body, pressing himself gently home. Treville gasped and arched his head back. Athos took his weight on his elbows and set up a gentle movement, edging further in.
“I can take it,” Treville said, his war-roughened voice soft but urgent.
Athos nuzzled his neck. “I know you can, but we rarely get the chance to take this slowly. This is a rare chance to fuck you senseless and then sleep in the same bed with you again all night.”
He drew back until only the head of his cock remained sheathed in his lover’s body, then he drove in hard in one smooth movement, drawing a throaty gasp in response. He then proceeded to exploit to the full all the ways he’d learned to pleasure his lover in their brief trysts. He licked the salty sweat that formed on Treville’s skin and nipped lightly at the back of his neck, listening in delight to the small moans of pleasure he was able to draw out of a man who prided himself on his self-control.
Treville wasn’t the only one able to exercise self-control. Athos held himself in check as much as he could, concentrating on Treville’s pleasure rather than his own, finding the angle that drew breathy groans, the depth of thrust that made Treville push back, wanting more. Soon, he could soon tell from the quickness of his lover’s indrawn breaths that he was close, so very close. He lowered his head to nuzzle his neck again as he covered Treville warm body and increased the pace of his thrusts.
A sharp gasp told him all he needed to know and the reflexive spasm around his cock made the heat pool low in Athos’ belly as he hit his own climax hard, thrusting through the blaze of molten fire that coursed through his body. When the final tremors had passed through him, he rolled onto his side, pulling Treville over onto his back so that Athos could lose himself in a open-mouthed kiss before he drew back and drink in the sight of Treville’s face lit by the warm firelight, open, relaxed and vulnerable in a way that Athos knew only he was privileged to see.
He quirked his scarred lip into a smile and reached over to the hearth where he’d left the brandy to warm. Without bothering to find a glass, he lifted the bottle to his lips, taking a small sip and then letting it trickle from his lips into Treville’s open mouth. Their next kiss tasted of good brandy and shared warmth.
The fire was glowing red and neither of them were in a hurry to move. Athos pillowed his head on Treville’s chest, moving only to gain and share another mouthful of brandy. Treville stroked his hand over Athos’s shoulders and carded his fingers through his unruly hair. Neither of them spoke, but the silence was redolent with companionship. Athos allowed himself to contemplate what life could be like at a restored Pinon with Treville by his side. He knew it was no more than a fireside dream, there was no way that the captain of the Musketeers would leave the service of the king he had sworn to protect, and no way that Athos would ask him to. The life of a soldier suited them both and the bonds that bound Athos to Porthos and Aramis and now young d’Artagnan could not so easily be set aside, either.
“It does not have to be all or nothing,” Treville said, with his uncanny knack of being able to divine Athos’ thoughts. “As long as we remain discreet, Richelieu and his church will have no cause for censure.”
“The cardinal has the morals of a syphilitic stoat.”
“Not something I would dispute. Yet despite that he has what he sees as the good of France at heart, and it is that devotion that makes him dangerous.”
“Killing the Queen was for the good of France?”
“France needs an heir. But the price of that is not the life of the Queen. I don’t believe that is a game he will play again.”
“Do you genuinely believe he has no hand in this plot against you?”
“As I said before, he has no more reason to want me dead now than he has done in the past. To my knowledge he has never acted against me personally.”
“Then let us leave dark thoughts until daylight. The investigation is out of our hands for now.”
“And this excellent brandy should not be sullied by politics.”
Athos obliged by letting more trickle between Treville’s lips.
They lay together until the fire burned low, then retired to the small bedroom.
Sleep claimed them both quickly.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : The Musketeers
Rating : 18
Characters : Athos/Treville, Gallagher, Aramis, Porthos and others
Disclaimer : Not mine (apart from some OCs), no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count : 25,500, split into approximately equal parts.
Summary : Athos learns an assassination contract has been taken out on Treville’s life.
A/N : Written for luthorchickv2 on AO3 who kindly commented on all my Dangerous Liaison stories.
“Much of the structure remains sound,” Treville pronounced, staring at the blackened façade with interest.
Athos smiled. He’d hoped the verdict would be favourable, but he did not have Treville’s experience with stone and fortifications. “The fire burned hot and fast, but I think the rain quenched it before too much of the mortar cracked.”
“Where was the stone quarried?”
“On our own estate. I used to play in the quarry as a boy, much to the chagrin of my tutors. There is still good stone to be had there. Not enough to sell commercially, but enough to restore Pinon to its former glory, perhaps.”
“Then save as much of your coin as you can and employ a master builder when you retire. If the house no longer makes you want to drink yourself into oblivion and spew your guts before starting over again, this can be made into a home again. The rents from the village would cover what you need.”
“I have not been entirely honest about my circumstances,” Athos said, staring at the blackened timbers that had once held up the roof. He shot a quick sideways to see how the statement had been received
The familiar mix of exasperation and amusement settled on his commander’s lined face. “Athos, you have not been entirely honest about your circumstances since the day we met, and I have not held that against you.”
“My family have long held other estates, as well. Bragellone near Blois still produces a healthy income that has done nothing more than gather dust in equally dusty coffers. I have drawn on no more than my soldier’s pay since joining the Regiment, leaving more than adequate funds to restore Pinon if I so choose.”
“It is fortunate you do not have Porthos’ gambling habits.” Treville sounded more amused than exasperated now, and Athos dared to turn fully towards him, the smile on his captain’s face driving away the anxiety that had settled on his stomach during their conversation by the river. When Athos had finally divulged his story to his comrades, he had omitted all mention of the estate near Blois and, afterwards, had not even been sure why. Maybe it was just that for so long he’d succeeded in putting his old life behind him, and as a soldier, his needs were modest – apart from his drinking, and that would not be improved by ready access to more silver.
After two years in the Regiment, he had finally sent his steward at Blois the address of his Paris lodgings, and instructed the man to continue to manage the estate as he had always done. His father had always sworn by the man’s honesty, and a firm of bankers of repute in Blois sent a independent yearly account to verify the funds. Athos had long known that if he survived to retire from the musketeers, he would be able to live more than comfortably at Bragelonne, even without the revenue from the tenants in Pinon.
“I employed commendable restraint not having the contents of my father’s cellars shipped to Paris.” Athos led Treville back to the still serviceable kitchen and unlocked a sturdy oak door hidden behind a large wooden dresser. A lit candle served to guide their feet down a set of steep stone stairs to an extensive series of brick-lined cellars. One side led to the family vaults that held the tombs of his brother and his ancestors, along with a small armoury that his father had maintained should the estate need to raise a militia. On the other side of a central corridor lay the wine cellars, with racks lining the walls, filled with dusty bottles.
Treville drew a bottle from one rack and examined the label. “Your father had good taste and good suppliers, if what we drank last night was a fair sample.”
“Last night’s wine was from the lower end of the scale. Tonight, we will dine on venison pie and eat good cheese and fresh bread and I will choose something more fitting for that. There is also brandy that will be to your taste, rather than the muck you usually foist on me when I am in a foul mood.”
“When you’re in a foul mood, all you deserve is the muck. I buy it especially for accommodating your excesses.”
Athos chose the bottles carefully. The afternoon spent by the river had left him in a mood so mellow that he had surprised even himself. He had not expected the question that Treville had let slip and the answer had not been one he thought he’d ever have been able to give. Another burden had finally lifted from his heart.
His short visits to Pinon after its destruction had forced him to confront the raw truth of his own feelings for the woman he had once called his wife. He’d left the estate with his youthful idealism in tatters. Five years as a soldier had schooled him in a very different reality. With Treville’s help, he had risen quickly, turning his salon-taught sword skills into something altogether more deadly. War had tempered both mind and body and drink had dulled his sensibilities when needed. Now, he drank more for pleasure and companionship, no longer chasing oblivion like a hound in pursuit of a deer.
In the kitchen, Treville busied himself lighting a fire with the kindling and dry logs he’d brought in from one of the barns, while Athos found plates and glasses and set out some of the food he had brought from the village. The first time he had returned after the fire the simple welcome and acceptance from the villagers had touched his heart, especially once they understood that he would not be seeking five years’ worth of back rent. In those brief visits he had experienced an unexpected peace and it was that peace he had found himself wanting to share with Treville, although he hadn’t imagined circumstances under which he would ever be able to fulfil that wish.
They ate at the table before retiring to two carved wooden chairs in front of the fire. On one of his earlier visits, Athos had salvaged some rugs from the more undamaged portion of the house, one of while he had spread on the floor in front of the fire. Only this area of the servants’ quarters remained habitable. The rest of the building would require gutting, and after Treville’s words on the subject, he was seriously considering commissioning the necessary work.
He went to his knees to throw another log on the fire, then poured more wine into Treville’s glass, settling down comfortably on the rug at his feet. Treville carded his fingers absently through his hair, a gesture that Athos always found soothing.
“Are there any more revelations to come?” Treville enquired quietly.
Athos looked up at him conscious of the fact that there were times his captain could still make him feel like a raw recruit but on this occasion, there was nothing more than gentle enquiry in his eyes.
“I could no doubt bore you with matters of family history such that you would be begging for an assassin’s bullet within a day.”
“Athos, it’s a rare pleasure to hear you to talk about anything at length.”
Athos brought Treville’s hand to his lips and kissed the open palm. “That’s not what you told me last night, but on my word as a musketeer, there are no more revelations.” There were still words in his heart that had not yet been spoken, but that was another matter. For now, he hoped simple gestures would suffice.
Treville leaned forward and took Athos’ own hand in his, turning his palm upwards and returning the kiss, then sliding his lips down to caress the sensitive skin on the inside of his wrist. The sensation went straight to Athos’ cock. He reached up and took Treville’s other hand in his and leaned back, drawing Treville down onto the rug by the fire. They kissed, gently at first, then with growing heat. Athos pulled off his shirt then set to work unlacing Treville’s and tugging it over his head. Boots, breeches and undergarments followed, leaving them naked in front of the warm fire. Treville lay in a loose-limbed sprawl, seemingly content to let Athos take the lead again. When he shifted position onto his stomach, Athos resumed the slow examination of his lover’s body with mouth and hands, and this time there was no tension when he worked his way lower.
Breaking off for a moment, he quickly fetched the small bottle of fine oil he used for his rapier and pistol. Slicking one finger, he slid it along Treville’s cleft then pressed against the puckered hole. He was conscious of Treville drawing in a deep breath, but he could feel no intrusive panic. He probed gently, slipping his finger into his lover’s warm body, massaging in the oil, and opening him while peppering the strong back with light kisses.
When Treville pushed back against the intrusion, Athos slicked his own hard cock and covered his lover’s body, pressing himself gently home. Treville gasped and arched his head back. Athos took his weight on his elbows and set up a gentle movement, edging further in.
“I can take it,” Treville said, his war-roughened voice soft but urgent.
Athos nuzzled his neck. “I know you can, but we rarely get the chance to take this slowly. This is a rare chance to fuck you senseless and then sleep in the same bed with you again all night.”
He drew back until only the head of his cock remained sheathed in his lover’s body, then he drove in hard in one smooth movement, drawing a throaty gasp in response. He then proceeded to exploit to the full all the ways he’d learned to pleasure his lover in their brief trysts. He licked the salty sweat that formed on Treville’s skin and nipped lightly at the back of his neck, listening in delight to the small moans of pleasure he was able to draw out of a man who prided himself on his self-control.
Treville wasn’t the only one able to exercise self-control. Athos held himself in check as much as he could, concentrating on Treville’s pleasure rather than his own, finding the angle that drew breathy groans, the depth of thrust that made Treville push back, wanting more. Soon, he could soon tell from the quickness of his lover’s indrawn breaths that he was close, so very close. He lowered his head to nuzzle his neck again as he covered Treville warm body and increased the pace of his thrusts.
A sharp gasp told him all he needed to know and the reflexive spasm around his cock made the heat pool low in Athos’ belly as he hit his own climax hard, thrusting through the blaze of molten fire that coursed through his body. When the final tremors had passed through him, he rolled onto his side, pulling Treville over onto his back so that Athos could lose himself in a open-mouthed kiss before he drew back and drink in the sight of Treville’s face lit by the warm firelight, open, relaxed and vulnerable in a way that Athos knew only he was privileged to see.
He quirked his scarred lip into a smile and reached over to the hearth where he’d left the brandy to warm. Without bothering to find a glass, he lifted the bottle to his lips, taking a small sip and then letting it trickle from his lips into Treville’s open mouth. Their next kiss tasted of good brandy and shared warmth.
The fire was glowing red and neither of them were in a hurry to move. Athos pillowed his head on Treville’s chest, moving only to gain and share another mouthful of brandy. Treville stroked his hand over Athos’s shoulders and carded his fingers through his unruly hair. Neither of them spoke, but the silence was redolent with companionship. Athos allowed himself to contemplate what life could be like at a restored Pinon with Treville by his side. He knew it was no more than a fireside dream, there was no way that the captain of the Musketeers would leave the service of the king he had sworn to protect, and no way that Athos would ask him to. The life of a soldier suited them both and the bonds that bound Athos to Porthos and Aramis and now young d’Artagnan could not so easily be set aside, either.
“It does not have to be all or nothing,” Treville said, with his uncanny knack of being able to divine Athos’ thoughts. “As long as we remain discreet, Richelieu and his church will have no cause for censure.”
“The cardinal has the morals of a syphilitic stoat.”
“Not something I would dispute. Yet despite that he has what he sees as the good of France at heart, and it is that devotion that makes him dangerous.”
“Killing the Queen was for the good of France?”
“France needs an heir. But the price of that is not the life of the Queen. I don’t believe that is a game he will play again.”
“Do you genuinely believe he has no hand in this plot against you?”
“As I said before, he has no more reason to want me dead now than he has done in the past. To my knowledge he has never acted against me personally.”
“Then let us leave dark thoughts until daylight. The investigation is out of our hands for now.”
“And this excellent brandy should not be sullied by politics.”
Athos obliged by letting more trickle between Treville’s lips.
They lay together until the fire burned low, then retired to the small bedroom.
Sleep claimed them both quickly.
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The book canon worked out very usefully, in a lot of respects.
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It was fun writing sex scenes again. I've not done that for ages.
Edited to add, I seem to have replied to this comment twice! Oopps.
Posting second comment in here for completeness:
I could just see Athos totally ignoring Bragellone. It was never quite clear in the books whether it was always part of the estate or whether it was a later purchase, so I decided to go with the former.
I think this interlude has given the pair of them the space they needed to open up. They both have things in the past they've buried deep.
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Athos has kept his past to himself for so long, you can just feel him unwinding here in Treville's company.
Very delicious company!!
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And yes, Treville would be very delicious company indeed!