Notes:

EMGs! Just to be clear, since we're hedging bets on Athos being Deimos' navigator, I swapped his name for Phobos... I'm so sorry if that gets confusing; hopefully I didn't mistake him for Porthos anywhere in the story.

I took Claude and Jeremy from A2MOM's Walk With Me, which is absolutely amazing.

"Okay," Phobos said, finger tracing the lines as he read them. "You put the chain cuff around your neck, and then you put that leather strap in your mouth, like a bit."

Porthos held the collection of thin chains and bright, glittered tubes at arm's length, frowning at the mass with obvious hesitation. "Are you sure that's right?"

"Yes!" Phobos snapped. "The directions say so. I just need to figure out…" He turned the sheet of paper sideways, squinting, then turned it the other way. "Um, so- Okay. So you tie the red glitter-bands around your nipples."

Porthos raised his eyebrows. "My nipples? Riiight. I don't think so."

"This is so stupid! Who wrote this crap?"

Porthos shrugged, bored. "Do we really need a toy? I'm sitting here naked, you know, just waiting."

"Yes, we do." Phobos sniffed, doing his best to sound refined. "We need to improve our, uh, spiciness."

Porthos looked down between his legs, then slowly back up. "There's nothing to improve."

"Shut up," Phobos hissed, rolling his eyes. "You have no creativity at all."

"What is this really about?" Porthos asked.

Phobos crumbled the directions up and threw them across the room, scowling without meeting his friend's eyes. "I just thought it would be fun."

"Is that it?"

"Yes."

Porthos watched him for a while, light blue eyes patient and knowing. "Jeremy."

Phobos looked up quickly when he heard his name, expression softening. He blushed under Porthos' stare, fidgeting where he sat. "That's it."

"But it's not."

Phobos took a breath, kept the air tightly in his chest. "I just-" He exhaled, shrugging one shoulder. "I want you to have fun. I don't want you to get bored," he murmured, turning up his nose slightly like none of it was important.

"With you?"

Phobos smirked, but it was half-hearted, and he looked past his friend.

"Jer," said Porthos quietly, scooting over until his hip touched Phobos'. He ran fingers through Phobos' hair, massaging his scalp, quietly watching as his friend finally relaxed, sighed, leaned into Porthos' shoulder. "Talk to me."

Phobos was quiet for a while, closing his eyes against the pleasant feeling of Porthos' hands through his hair, on his skin. "Nothing to talk about," he said at last, and when he turned, he realized Porthos had lowered his face, and their lips exchanged shy breath.

Phobos sighed, leaning in for a kiss like it was all he needed. Their mouths clashed and danced, promised and teased, and Phobos moaned softly because Porthos was strong and gentle and gorgeous and right. He was a memory just like he was the present, and as Phobos pulled his friend of seven years back to lay on top of him, he forgot about task names, and he forgot about pretenses.

"Claude," he whispered, voice trailing off into another breathy moan as Porthos rubbed a hand against Phobos' briefs.

Porthos nuzzled his friend's neck, sucking on the skin, leaving a path of pink and red marks. "Hm?"

But Phobos didn't really have anything to say, so he just closed his eyes, enjoyed the way Porthos' hands moved to take his own, the way Porthos' mouth ventured to the hollow of his throat.

But suddenly, Porthos seized his wrists, pulling Phobos' hands over his head in a stern, unyielding grip. Phobos' eyes shot open, and he bucked his hips, but Porthos' weight held him down. "A game?" he asked, trying to sound amused, but he could hear the hesitation in his own voice, and he was sure Porthos could too.

"No," Porthos said, watching him closely.

Phobos took a deep breath and turned his head to the side, looking away as his chest rose and fell. "What then? You're done?"

"Jeremy."

"What?"

"Look at me."

Phobos ignored him for a moment, tried to pretend he wasn't concerned. "What?" he repeated again, quietly this time, eyes finally seeking his friend's.

"You don't have to try so hard. You don't have to impress me."

Phobos snorted. "What makes you think-"

"You do try," Porthos interrupted smoothly, leaning forward so that they were eye to eye. "But you don't have to. I don't 'keep you around' because of any stupid expectations. I like you, you idiot, even if you can't get that."

Phobos did his best to shrug. "I thought you were the one-liner sidekick, Claude?" When Porthos glared, Phobos just looked away awkwardly, still pinned to the mattress. "So… what?" he asked.

"So, what would you like?"

"I don't- I don't really get what you mean," Phobos admitted.

"I mean," Porthos started, giving a slow lick up Phobos' cheek, making him shudder, "stop worrying about what you can do for me, and tell me what you'd like for me to do for you."

Phobos blinked and ran his teeth across his lower lip as he watched Porthos, surprised but intrigued. "Really?"

"Mhm," Porthos voiced, leaving kisses.

Phobos tugged once at Porthos' grip and found that his wrists came away easily. He propped himself up on his elbows, turning his head to meet Porthos' lips with his own as he took a moment to think. "Could you…"

"Yeah?"

"Could you just- go down on me?"

Porthos gave him a small, amused smile before nodding. He nudged Phobos to sit against the pillows at the end of the narrow bed, following on his knees before bending over to tease the waistband of Phobos' briefs. When Phobos looked at him uncertainly, Porthos smoothly tugged his underwear down and tossed the white garment over his shoulder. He took Phobos' cock in one hand and spread his thighs with the other, running warm fingers over cool skin. He pumped Phobos a few times, slowly and almost lazily, but his grip flexed as he worked his hand, only pausing to rub circles over the head with his thumb.

Phobos let out a content hum, letting himself relax as he watched. A pleasant heat began to spread between his legs, and he thought to himself how he really wanted this, how this was so simple and nice and good.

Porthos slid his hand down, and then he put his lips to the tip of Phobos' cock, alternating between pressing feathery kisses and toying the slit with his tongue. He tilted his head and licked along the shaft while his fingers continued to lightly pump.

Phobos closed his eyes briefly, flexing his ankles as he tried to keep from rolling his hips. Without quite meaning to, he made an impatient noise in the back of his throat, and he was rewarded with Porthos' best smirk before the man wrapped his lips around Phobos' cock and swallowed his length.

Phobos moaned, leaning his head back but careful to watch those full, perfect lips and the way that blonde mohawk bobbed up and down; the motion of Porthos' naked chest and shoulders bunching and loosening as he moved; how his blue eyes stayed so clear and focused.

Porthos gave a hard suck before going down again, cheeks flattening as he worked. He pulled away to very lightly graze his teeth on the underside of Phobos' cock, one hand moving to massage the neglected scrotum. Satisfied with the sheen of saliva he had left behind and the pearly drops of pre-cum gathering, he licked his lips and sucked on the head again. Then, pausing only to take even breaths through his nose, he lowered his head and began to hum.

"Ah, Claude! Yeah," Phobos whimpered, unable to keep from thrusting into Porthos' mouth.

Porthos brought a hand down in a slap on Phobos' thigh, reprimanding him with a throaty, "Mm mm" as he held his friend in place. Phobos only moaned loudly, and when Porthos began to hum again, Phobos squeezed his eyes shut.

"Is that- that our alma mater?" he breathed, hands gripping the sheets.

Porthos chuckled, lips still wrapped around the shaft of Phobos' cock, fingers of his right hand still playing with the perineum. He brought his mouth up with a little wet pop before taking Phobos once more, establishing a rhythm of deliberate speed and hot pressure.

It wasn't long before Phobos began to whimper, stomach tensing as he tried to fight that white hot edge. "Claude," he warned. "Claude, soon."

"Good," Porthos murmured, and he sounded so pleased, so proud, so confident; then he squeezed with those lips, and Phobos lost it, coming with a cry he didn't think to stifle. Porthos kept his mouth on his cock, swallowing calmly as he continued to work his mouth up and down. Phobos watched with heavy, fluttering eyelids, feeling the flush behind his cheeks and thighs.

After a moment accented by sighs, Porthos sat up and leaned his chest against Phobos', half-straddling his lap as he kissed him, lips swollen and pink. When he moved to the side, the two of them shoulder to shoulder, Phobos looked over with a hesitant smile. "Well, that was…"

Porthos nodded, and he didn't protest when, sometime in the following silence, Phobos took his hand.

"What about you?" Phobos asked, looking him up and down.

Porthos shrugged. "In a minute. I want you to sit first. And I could really go for a cigarette."

Phobos blinked, resting his weight on his hip so he could face his friend. "What? Why sit? And- you smoke? Since when?"

"Since last week, I guess."

"Oh." He wrinkled his nose. "I guess I hadn't noticed."

Porthos nodded, unbothered.

"But sit?" Phobos asked confusedly.

"Yeah. You need that. Need to just… take time for yourself. Enjoy what happened. Don't rush headlong into the next thing."

"But I want to. Don't you?"

"You want to out of a sense of obligation," Porthos pointed out calmly.

"I do not," said Phobos, a bit defensive.

Porthos shrugged again, noticing that Phobos still had hold of his hand. "What would you like to do?"

Phobos opened his mouth to reply, but he made no comment. Frowning, he looked away, then mirrored Porthos' shrug. "Why're you trying to make this complicated? It's simple. It's supposed to be simple."

Porthos smiled. "Simple like those directions you threw away?"

Phobos scoffed, rolling his eyes before glaring across the room toward the crumpled sheet of paper. "Stupid."

"Yeah."

"You're stupid," Phobos clarified.

"Yeah."

"Ugh, just-" He put his head on Porthos' shoulder and let out a sharp breath. "Claude?"

"Jeremy?"

A short silence. "Nothing, I guess."

"Okay."