All for One (29 page)

Nearly mindless in his release, it took several long moments before enough of Benoît’s consciousness returned for him to notice Aristide’s cock still prodding his belly insistently. He pushed up on one shaky elbow. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to be so selfish. Can I… can I touch you?”

“Don’t move.” Aristide’s hand caught Benoît’s hip when he began to pull away, allowing just enough space for Benoît’s hand to slip between them. “Like this—while I can still feel you inside me.”

Benoît nodded and began stroking Aristide’s cock, its weight familiar now after the heady days spent together at the inn in Rambouillet. His lips sought Aristide’s, wanting every possible connection to his lover.

It took only a few glides of Benoît’s palm over his swollen shaft before Aristide’s climax tore through him, the rapture that shook him all the more powerful for the cock still filling him. Benoît’s mouth swallowed his deep groan as his release pulsed between them, each spasm leaving him clenching around the softening shaft and wringing an answering tremor from Benoît. Only when the last shudders faded did he tear his mouth from his lover’s, pulling in lungs full of air while his pulse slowly steadied.

Benoît lay atop Aristide, breathing heavily, not even trying to move. He wouldn’t have been able to even if he’d wanted to, every muscle in his body limp with satiation. He inhaled their combined scents, sweat and musk, their release sticky between them on their stomachs.

Aristide’s hand coasted up the strong muscles of Benoît’s back, the simple touch an affirmation of the bond that had made them one. His other hand eased back the damp hair from Benoît’s brow. “Are you well?” he asked, echoing his lover’s query with a soft smile on his lips.

“I think I should be asking you that question,” Benoît replied with an equally tender look. “After all, I’m not the one with a cock up his arse.” Chuckling, he kissed Aristide gently. “But yes, I am well. Better than I have been in a very long time.”

“As am I,” Aristide averred, tucking his ankles around Benoît’s calves to hold him even closer. “I had forgotten the particular pleasures of loving this way—and yes, there are pleasures for both,” he insisted at Benoît’s skeptical expression. He nestled into the pillow, the hand in Benoît’s hair urging the smith to rest his head on Aristide’s uninjured shoulder. “When you are sure you are ready, I will be more than happy to demonstrate them to you.”

“I… I hope that time will come,” Benoît said after a moment’s reflection, for in truth, Aristide did seem content, and he had certainly seemed to enjoy their coming together. Benoît surely had and would gladly repeat it often.

“Rest now,” Aristide murmured, weary enough from the day’s—and night’s—exertions to find his eyelids growing heavy. While he too hoped in time Benoît would trust enough to allow Aristide inside him, the musketeer would scarcely be suffering until then. He flexed his newly tried muscle and smiled. In truth, he hoped to enjoy that particular pleasure again before morning!

I
N CHARITY
with the world having spent the night fucking Léandre and the morning being fucked by him, all to the accompaniment of equally passionate cries from the room above, Perrin whistled as he prepared breakfast the next morning, wondering how long it would take Aristide and Benoît to make their appearance. “So what shall we bet Benoît is walking funny this morning?” he joked as Léandre joined him in the kitchen.

“You’d never find anyone to take that bet.” Léandre grinned, stretching his legs and watching in appreciation as Perrin bent to stir the fire to greater heat, the play of muscles beneath his undertunic and breeches stirring an answering fire in Léandre’s groin. Before he could do more than think longingly of laying Perrin across the sturdy kitchen table, the noise of footsteps sounded on the stairs to the upper room. “He’ll be lucky if Aristide isn’t having to carry him down.”

“Okay, then what shall we bet Aristide has to help him walk?” Perrin shot back, glancing over his shoulder with an incendiary look. “If Aristide’s helping him walk, I’ll bottom for the rest of the month. But if Benoît can walk on his own, I get to top.”

“I suspect Benoît has too much pride to appear weak before us, no matter how sore Aristide’s left him.” Léandre had barely finished speaking when Benoît and Aristide strode into the kitchen, neither of them seeming to walk with unusual care, nor to note the interest with which Perrin and Léandre watched them. They clearly had eyes only for each other; in fact, Benoît bumped into the table before he let go of Aristide’s hand to pull out a chair, his cheeks flushed.

“I trust we did not disturb you overmuch?” Aristide asked blandly as he levered himself into his own seat.

“On the contrary,” Perrin replied smoothly, his grin broadening as he remembered the husky moans and cries that had accompanied his and Léandre’s lovemaking. “We rather enjoyed the sound of you plowing Benoît’s sweet, virgin arse.”

Blushing again, arse clenching even as his cock surged at the memories of the night—and morning—Benoît arched an eyebrow at the dark-haired musketeer. “And what makes you so sure he was the one doing the plowing?”

Perrin’s eyes grew wide as he spluttered in surprise, not even able to form coherent words in the realization of what had actually passed between the two men. He turned to look at Aristide for confirmation.

Looking up from the wedge of bread he was buttering, Aristide grinned. “Benoît asked me to teach him. I would be remiss in my role as tutor did I not show him all the pleasures to be had between two lovers.” That he had not yet instructed his pupil in both sides of that particular configuration was a detail he kept to himself.

“But,” Perrin said, not quite sure what he was protesting, “but you
never
bottom!”

Aristide looked down at the table, his expression the model of demure innocence. “I was saving myself for the man I love,” he answered coyly, though his hand caught Benoît’s, threading their fingers together, as he spoke.

Perrin and Léandre both snorted at that answer, but Perrin thought perhaps he understood. He didn’t regret the time he and Léandre and Aristide had spent as lovers, but if he could take back the rest of his alley-catting, he would, so that he could say he’d only given himself to the one he loved and his best friend.

Raising Benoît’s hand to his lips, Aristide smiled warmly at his lover, glad to see that despite his blush he was taking the inevitable teasing well. “I fear we will have no secrets from this pair,” he said, his thumb rubbing against Benoît’s in a loving caress. “Especially since talking about it is the closest either of them will get to our bed henceforth.”

“I can live with that,” Benoît replied, his own smile filled with affection, “as long as they understand they’re not likely to have secrets from us either.” He turned a piercing gaze on the couple across the table. “Or was I mistaken when I heard Perrin begging Léandre to take him like a real man this morning?”

Perrin flushed hotly. “I’m quite sure you were mistaken.”

“Mistaken?” Léandre purred, respecting the blacksmith all the more for giving Perrin back a taste of his own medicine. “I’d be happy to refresh your memory, have you forgotten already.”

“Whose side are you on?” Perrin asked helplessly, looking back and forth between his lover and the pair across the table who were doubled over with laughter.

“On top of you, of course,” Léandre chuckled, slapping Perrin’s still-tender backside with a wide grin.

Throwing his hands up in defeat, Perrin slunk down in his chair, his lower lip sticking out in a pout. “Fine. See where you sleep tonight!”

Taking pity on his harassed lover, Léandre threw an arm around Perrin’s shoulder and pulled him into a kiss. “Under you, if you’ll have me,” he murmured into the flustered brunet’s ear.

Returning the kiss, soothed by the embrace and the words, Perrin nuzzled Léandre’s jaw. “Always.”

Glancing across the table to see Aristide and his blacksmith similarly occupied, Léandre gave Perrin a final quick kiss and pushed with reluctance from the table. “Much as we’d all like to continue this invigorating conversation, we need to report for duty. Benoît, are you with us?”

“Where Aristide goes, so do I,” Benoît replied simply. “Well, assuming I can find a way to fit in.”

“That’s easy,” Léandre said, clapping Benoît on the shoulder as he stood to swing on his tunic. “You’ll become a musketeer, like us.”

Perrin snorted inelegantly, though he grinned to soften his reaction. “Have you seen him with a sword?”

Aristide scowled at Perrin, though his eyes were sparkling as he donned his own black tabard. “He can learn, and besides, he has other skills to offer.”

“You’ve already made it clear we won’t be benefiting from those other skills,” Perrin retorted, eying Benoît lasciviously.

It was Léandre’s turn to scowl at Perrin, snatching the brunet’s tunic and holding it behind his back. “I thought we were beyond sharing with anyone else?” he growled, his green eyes flashing.

“I can still tease them, can’t I?” Perrin asked apologetically. He kissed Léandre quickly, adding in a soft voice, “But if you really don’t want me to, I won’t.”

Léandre tugged the uniform over Perrin’s head, ruffling the dark locks before dropping an equally quick kiss on his partner’s lips. “I wouldn’t want you to change beyond all recognition. But it goes no further than teasing from now on.”

“I meant smithing, at any rate,” Aristide laughed, holding the door to allow Benoît to precede him. “
M.
Maurisset is always complaining he needs more help at the forge.”

“
M.
Maurisset is always complaining about everything.” Perrin grinned. “So a blacksmith you’ll stay, then, eh, Benoît?”

Benoît shrugged. “It’s what I am.”

“No,” Aristide corrected as they started down the street toward
l’hotel de
M.
de Tréville. “Now, you’re one of us.”

Chapter 27

M
.
DE
T
RÉVILLE
looked up as his missing musketeer came in, accompanied as always by Perrin and Léandre. The blacksmith joined them as well. “So, you’re returned to us safely, Aristide,” he observed with a smile. “Are you fit for duty?”

“Aye, though I confess I will be glad to do so in our own true colors,” Aristide admitted. “A few days working with the recruits will have me set to rights.”

“They’ve missed your firm hand, though they would never admit it,”
M.
de Tréville observed. “And what about you, Benoît? Now that the mystery is solved, have you thought about your plans?”

“Aristide has convinced me to stay here in Paris,” Benoît replied, hoping he was more successful hiding his blush with the older man than with his lover and the other two musketeers.

“Then we shall have to find you a means of making a living,”
M.
de Tréville declared magnanimously. “Do you have other skills besides smithing?”

A muffled snort had Benoît twisting his head to stare at the other two musketeers. Léandre merely winked at him, but the corners of Perrin’s mouth were twitching, white teeth biting the full lower lip to hold back another inappropriate expression of mirth before his captain.

“Benoît has shown himself well-skilled,” Léandre interjected as Aristide leveled a repressive glare at his incorrigible former lover. “His help was invaluable in gaining entry to the Queen Mother’s estate, and in caring for Aristide once we made our escape. Once he becomes more adept at handling a sword, he is more than worthy of joining the musketeers.”

“Then we shall have to make sure he learns,”
M.
de Tréville agreed, eyes twinkling merrily as he interpreted the exchanged glances between the four men, “for we can always use
skilled
men in our company.”

“’Twill be my honor to instruct Benoît in everything he has yet to learn,” Aristide replied, his eyes warming as he held the smith’s gaze for an instant before returning to his superior. “Thus far he has proved a most apt pupil.”

That was more than Perrin could stand. Excusing himself, he stepped outside into the antechamber, his laughter exploding from him as he doubled over.

“Is Perrin well?”
M.
de Tréville asked in concern.

“It must have been something he ate,” Léandre replied with studied blandness.

“Perhaps we should go check on him,” Benoît interrupted. The joking camaraderie was hard enough to get used to with just his lover and his friends. Adding their captain to the mix made him distinctly uncomfortable.

“Go ahead,”
M.
de Tréville allowed. “And welcome home, Aristide.”

“It is good to be home,
mon capitaine
,” Aristide answered with a bow of gratitude for the acceptance implicit in the older man’s words. “I shall escort Benoît to
M.
Maurisset and then see how much the recruits have managed to forget in the past week.”

“And you will let me know when our blacksmith is ready to don the tabard,”
M.
de Tréville added as the three men left.

“Will he really let me join the musketeers?” Benoît asked in awe as they joined Perrin in the antechamber.

“You’ll earn it,” Perrin insisted, still trying to bring his amusement under control, “or you’ll never wear the tabard, no matter where you sleep, but we’ll make sure you’re ready.”

“Really?” Benoît’s eyes widened with surprise. “But why? You don’t even like me.”

Perrin shrugged. “All for one.”

“And one for all,” Léandre and Aristide finished.

“
A
NOTHER
round!” Léandre called to the harried tavern keeper, dropping his empty mug onto the tabletop. The taproom was crowded with black tunics; seemingly every musketeer who was not on duty had gathered to welcome Aristide back and to try and glean some hint of the mystery that none doubted had led to his injury. None of the four men involved would say more than that it was an unfortunate accident, and speculation as to what the true cause might be grew increasingly scurrilous with each pitcher of wine drained.

“Will they never cease to gossip about you?” Benoît asked Aristide softly as he heard yet another wild story spring up to explain Aristide’s injury and everyone’s absence.

“Better they think I was wounded in a duel over a lover with a jealous rival than any hint of the true cause become known,” Aristide said, unperturbed by the rumors and ribald comments addressed to him. “’Tis no worse than Perrin and Léandre’s jests. Does it trouble you?” he asked, accepting that Benoît would need time to become accustomed to the easy camaraderie among the musketeers.

“Only in that it trivializes you and your deeds,” Benoît replied honestly. “I know the truth, so I’m hardly likely to listen to their rumors. They make you out to be some kind of tart when in fact you nearly died protecting the King.”

“But any one of us would give our life to protect the King,” Aristide answered, a smile warming his eyes. “A reputation as a lover is a much harder accolade to win.” His hand covered Benoît’s beneath the table’s concealment, fingers intertwining for a brief instant before returning to curl once again around his mug of wine. “Though there is only one whose opinion matters to me any longer in that regard.”

“Then you have nothing to be concerned about,” Benoît replied softly, the tender caress easing his concerns. If Aristide was not bothered, then he would not be either. After all, it was Aristide’s reputation, not his own, in question. “I am more than satisfied with your skills.”

“I have yet to demonstrate all my skills to you.” Aristide’s voice was husked, his stormy blue eyes darkening with promise when a new group of men entering the tavern caught his attention.

“Benoît! Aristide!” Esteban greeted them, navigating his way through the knots of black-clad revelers, followed by the ambassador and his bodyguard. Teodoro’s wary gaze darted around the room, assessing any potential threats before joining the others at the small table, seating himself facing the door.

“Esteban!” Benoît replied with a smile. “And Christian and Teodoro as well. Well met! I’m glad you could make it tonight.”

“We couldn’t very well miss the opportunity to welcome Aristide back to Paris,” Christian replied with a smile. “We have few enough friends here as it is.”

“You will always have friends among the musketeers,” Aristide assured the Englishman and his companions. No one could foretell whether the current peace between their countries would endure—though he placed far more confidence in Christian’s efforts on that behalf than the previous English ambassador’s—but he owed his life, in part, to these men’s assistance, and that was a debt he would never forget.

Glancing at the near-empty pitcher of wine and then at the harried tavern-keeper, he rose to his feet. “I fear we will never attract a server’s notice in this mob. I’ll fetch us more wine and some glasses from the bar.”

“Allow me to assist you,” Teodoro offered, the unspoken message in Christian’s eyes signaling that he would welcome the chance to speak with Benoît alone. “It would be a shame were you to be jostled in this crowd and spill our wine.”

“Is all well between you?” Christian asked Benoît softly when Aristide and Teodoro had risen and left the table.

Benoît nodded. “Although the bed in the servants’ quarters was not intended for two, I think.”

Christian chuckled. “I wouldn’t think you would complain about holding him close.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Benoît replied quickly, “but we’ll be seeking new lodgings as quick as may be.”

Christian smiled. “I saw a notice a few days ago of a place near our lodgings that might be suitable, but for tonight at least, you are welcome to stay with Teodoro and me. We have plenty of guest rooms that would surely be more comfortable than a servant’s cot.”

“And you needn’t worry about any noise, either,” Esteban added cheekily. “The guest rooms are well removed from the ambassador’s quarters.”

“And just whose noise are you worried about?” Christian asked tartly. “Ours? Or theirs?”

Benoît blushed furiously. Apparently Perrin and Léandre were not the only ones who would be privy to his secrets.

“We are used to your noises,” Esteban answered, undaunted. “When we were looking for lodgings, the chief requirement was that the rooms be well soundproofed,” he confided to Benoît. “At the request of Javier and myself! You need not fear disturbing us.”

Christian cuffed the back of Esteban’s head sharply. “Just because you’re jealous that Teo has found someone is no reason to go telling tales,” he scolded with a wink for Benoît. “When you find a lovely lass to fill your life, your room won’t be so quiet either! And then ’twill be Teodoro and I seeking relief from
your
noise.”

Benoît laughed outright finally. “’Tis a kind offer, and one I’m sure Aristide can be persuaded to accept. For my part, I’ll come gladly.”

“You mean to tell me you haven’t already?”

The burst of laughter from their table turned Aristide’s and Teodoro’s heads from where they waited for the tavern-keeper to make his way to their end of the bar. “You have made progress with your blacksmith?” Teodoro asked, observing Benoît’s smile despite the color tingeing his cheeks.

“I am happier than I ever hoped to be,” Aristide answered, his voice soft enough amid the noise surrounding them that only the Spaniard could hear.

“I am glad to hear it.” Teodoro paused as Aristide shouted his order for more wine and glasses to the tavern keeper as soon as the flustered man moved within earshot. “If I may suggest, it will benefit your peace of mind to ensure he can take care of himself as speedily as you can.”

“Benoît would not appreciate the suggestion that he cannot care for himself,” Aristide said with a wry smile. “But I take your meaning. You may be sure he will be improving his skill with a sword.”

“He will have a most able teacher. If I may also suggest,” Teodoro added with a twitch of his own lips, “speaking from experience with one I deem very like your smith, you would be well served to allow him to take the lead on occasion.”

“That is a lesson I have already learned!” The tavern keeper slapped a brimming pitcher and a cluster of mugs on the stained bar in front of them, the pair’s hearty laughter winning a smile from his normally dour face. The big musketeer’s return had certainly been good for business!

“Perhaps you would be willing to continue to spar with me when time permits?” Aristide asked as they worked their slow path back to the table. “I have seldom had the pleasure to face off against so challenging a partner.”

“You fight like a gentleman,” Teodoro commented, setting the mugs onto the table and taking his place at Christian’s side. “There are times when one must forget decorum and use whatever tools give the advantage.”

“Brawl like a street fighter, he means,” Christian interjected. “I owe my life more than once to Teodoro’s ingenuity in a fight.”

“I’m all for anything that will keep Aristide alive,” Benoît interjected, resisting the temptation to reach for his lover’s hand, just to assure himself that Aristide was really there. “Christian has offered us a room in his lodgings until we find a place of our own,” he added quietly. “I think he felt sorry for us, trying to share my tiny room.”

“And there’s the apartment I saw that you should look at when you have time,” Christian reminded Benoît. “It’s near our lodgings, but I don’t know anything else about it,” he added, turning to Aristide. “At least you know it would be convenient, though.”

“We can look at it in the morning, before we report for duty.” Aristide filled mugs around the table and raised his to their new host. “Until then, we will accept your hospitality with gratitude.” Glancing to the nearby table where Perrin and Léandre sat with another group of musketeers, he shifted his leg to rest against Benoît’s under the table. “Our current lodgings were not meant for four.”

Benoît’s eyes widened slightly. “Or at least not for two and two,” he replied softly. Turning back to Christian, he tipped his glass in the foreigners’ direction. “Thank you. It’s a blessing to have friends again.”

“You may always count on our friendship,” Christian echoed Aristide’s earlier words before sipping from his own mug. “Friends are too rare a blessing not to treasure once found.”

A boisterous laugh drew the attention of everyone in the room, forestalling any more private conversation for the moment.

Recognizing the braying sound, Perrin slumped a little lower in his seat, hoping not to draw the man’s attention to himself. He’d spent an enjoyable night with the now-drunk man some months before, but his circumstances had changed since then, his promises to Léandre making him hope to avoid a confrontation that would surely turn ugly fast.

Perrin’s uncharacteristic posture caught Léandre’s eye, his gaze soon shifting to the burly figure his lover was trying to avoid. “What are you doing here, Hugues?” Léandre challenged, having enough drinks under his belt to feel jealousy pricking at him. No one got to look at Perrin with that expression in his eyes but him! “This is a musketeers’ celebration.”