A/N: This is the MATURE chapter of the story. Adults only from here on out. Kiddies, kindly avert your eyes and find something else to read. This chapter includes sexual content and SLASH, hence the rating. Mind the warning and there won't be any surprises. For the adults, if this happens to be your cup of tea, proceed and enjoy.

Athos cracked the door to his son's nursery on his way out. Raoul had gone down without a fuss and barely any acknowledgement at all other than a little sniffle and repositioning. Every day, Athos thought to himself. Every day he could feel the effects that child was having on him. Even the simple act of laying the blanket that Raoul's mother finished for him, in her last days, over his small body struck him as something profound. He couldn't help leaning over the crib with his warm hand on his son's steadily rising and falling back. He couldn't help but ignore the soreness creeping into his own back at the awkward angle. And he couldn't help but smile, knowing no one was looking at him.

Today's miserable start was ending with a quiet beauty.

In friendship.

In fatherhood.

All and more to come in love.

This must be what it feels like to know true wealth, he thought to himself.

Athos gazed at his son for what felt like hours. And when he could finally tear himself away he gave the child one last look before crossing the short distance to his own room. He peeked inside, finding the room warm with a big fire in the fireplace. There were small candles lit on either end table against the wall. Athos looked around for D'Artagnan but initially found the room empty. He edged further into the room, finding naught else out of place or added to what items usually littered their bedroom, until his eyes fell on a bowl in the middle of the bed.

A bowl?-

"Don't turn around."

Despite the gentle warning Athos started to turn his head and felt a hand stop his progress, and curl into his loose hair.

"Don't or you'll ruin the surprise."

Athos exhaled in amusement and didn't bother to hide his eager smirk. Behind him, D'Artagnan closed the door with a soft click. Athos heard his lover approach, thanks to the creaky floorboards he intended to replace with their earnings from the first major harvest, and didn't hear the heaviness of boots. So, barefoot. Just as eager as he was if his mind could stay focused long enough to pause and take his own off. But taking off his boots meant taking focus away from what his hands were truly itching to touch.

"Ruin the surprise," Athos echoed in question. "I'd say I already discovered it."

There was warmth against his back, and the teasing ghost of breath on the back of his neck. "One of them perhaps," his lover whispered. "You should know better than to think less of me."

Suddenly, a scarf came out of nowhere and was secured over his eyes and tied snug at the back of his head. "Afraid I'll uncover more of your secrets," Athos asked.

"Only too soon."

Athos could feel the D'Artagnan's hands linger on his neck and shoulders, and then Athos felt him move his hair to the side and kiss the back of his neck.

"Will you trust me," D'Artagnan asked. A hand was at his back, curling around the side to his hip and continuing on to the front of his lower chest.

Athos caught that hand and held fast, massaging it in place of snatching and pulling so he could get both of his hands on his lover properly. "It's not my trust you have to worry about," Athos replied. "Only my patience."

"This I know very well."

D'Artagnan gently pushed at Athos hips, urging him towards the bed. He crossed the room, at a snail's pace just to irk the boy, but D'Artagnan said nothing and followed closely. When he told Athos to stop, Athos did. D'Artagnan told him to sit on the bed. Athos obeyed. Then he felt his boots being taken off, and his thick winter socks followed. Shuffling. The creaking of a floorboard-those damned floorboards-then warmth on both of his knees, fingers rubbing teasing circles through his trousers, inching higher up then dipping back down from where they started.

"Lie down."

Athos did.

The bed creaked.

A weight to his right, then to his left, centering right over top of him.

Settling down.

Right on his hips.

A smile pulled at Athos lips as he reached to touch.

But his hands were caught and trapped in both of D'Artagnan's, pinned against the bed, above his head. He could feel the boy lean down, brush noses with his, and ghost his lips down the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, his jaw, and then so close to his lips he tried to kiss the boy himself. But D'Artagnan teased him for a moment longer, chuckling as he went around Athos' face to take his earlobe in between his lips. And what that boy couldn't do to work him up into a frenzy! For all the times Athos had found and exploited those secret spots on his lover's body, D'Artagnan had matched him in his search and taken as much pleasure as Athos had in their loving torture. Athos couldn't help but groan out loud, biting back a few curses as he tried to keep the rest of his writhing body still.

"You remember, don't you," D'Artagnan whispered into his ear. "Our first night?"

"You mean when you nearly undid me," Athos said, his voice unsteady and coming out between soft moans as he leaned toward the sinful sensations. "Like this?"

D'Artagnan sucked on the earlobe again, a little harder than before and easing off into gentle nipping. "Yes. You've gotten much better, love."

Athos clenched his hands into fists, but loosened them when D'Artagnan threaded his fingers between his. "Only because you rarely grant me any mercy."

"Well," D'Artagnan said, smiling. "I'm sure you know the feeling yourself."

"That I do. And if you were not smart enough to hold me down, you would remember very quickly how much I know of you."

Lips trailed down the side of his neck, then around to the front hollow of his throat where they paused to kiss, and trail more chaste kisses all the way back up to Athos' waiting mouth. Athos could feel the barest hint of their lips touching. He wanted to take those lips to his own, but the boy was pressing himself down on Athos so perfectly he couldn't think straight. He answered the bodily pressure by sneaking a leg around the back of D'Artagnan's and rolling his hips upward, quick and firm in wanting. As they rubbed against each other, finding a familiar slow and steady rhythm, Athos couldn't help but think something felt different.

Freer, almost.

More accessible.

And less restrictive.

Then it struck him. And he gasped. The realization must have shown on his face, for he could hear D'Artagnan chuckling again. Something had been pestering Athos at the edge of his passion-hazed mind since the start of this, and until now he hadn't known what it was or why it was so persistent. Something had felt different. And as obvious as it was to him now, through his still clothed body, he couldn't help but want to kick himself for not noticing before.

D'Artagnan had been naked since Athos entered the room.

"You devil," he said.

"Surprise," his lover whispered, letting go of Athos' hands as he spoke.

Athos grabbed at D'Artagnan's body to confirm the realization, rubbing and massaging bare skin and intimate flesh wherever he could get his hands from memory. "You think you're smart."

"Am I to pay for it now? Truth be told, I'm surprised it took you that long-"

He grabbed hold of D'Artagnan's face and pulled him down for a heated kiss. The sweet taste of icing from his birthday cake earlier in the evening sent his tongue wild, making him lick hungrily at every crevice, top to bottom, of his lover's mouth. Between the sugar, the soft needy noises D'Artagnan was making, and Athos' own frustrated growls, they soon descended into kisses that were more suited for passionate dueling than gentle lovemaking. He wound both hands into that thick soft dark hair and barely had the will pull them away to seek more bare pleasure below. As D'Artagnan unbuttoned Athos' outer jacket, Athos refused to separate their lips. D'Artagnan let out a growl of his own at Athos' additional refusal to sit up and allow him to undress him further. Rather than fight it, D'Artagnan ignored the jacket, broke their kissing with harsh panting for air, after much resistance, and focused his attentions on the buttons of Athos' shirt.

Perhaps it was the dizzying colorful dots that danced in front of Athos' blindfolded eyes that immobilized him while D'Artagnan was…where was the boy-on his chest…why on his…oh. Athos reached for his lover, but when he did he felt D'Artagnan already finished with unbuttoning his shirt. With his mouth, of all things. What things couldn't that boy do with his mouth? The memories alone of the challenges D'Artagnan surpassed with that God-given piece of his body, or one of them, were making him mad with want yet again.

D'Artagnan pulled the shirt free of Athos trousers, and paused. "Shall we continue?"

In response, Athos shrugged off his jacket and shirt and tossed both somewhere over the bed behind him. D'Artagnan laid a soft kiss on his navel and made quick work of the ties to Athos' trousers. Athos soundly ignored how D'Artagnan had done it and only gave consideration to the beautiful warmth he felt through that fabric, making his arousal grow painfully alert. Once his trousers were gone Athos could feel those eyes roving over him. He could feel the hot breath-hear it-on his manhood. And feeling, simply feeling his lover's lust for him instead of seeing it gave Athos new eyes.

And a newfound need for more.

D'Artagnan leaned in and kissed him. Him. Not his lips. Just him. And Athos sighed, fisting bunches of sheets in his hands, clenching them tighter and tighter the closer D'Artagnan kissed to the top of him. And just when there was nothing but the tip left to kiss-D'Artagnan moved away. "Boy," he warned.

"Be patient-"

"I am no saint," Athos protested.

"Neither am I."

Athos gasped again.

Something cold fell on his chest.

And it was…dripping, slower than liquid and thicker than water. Then something warm and slick was dragging across his chest along the same cold path, erasing its slight chill and replacing its thickness with a keener and wider expanse of chilled skin.

A tongue.

A mouth.

Warm breath and ghosting impressions of lips.

Athos had an idea of what was happening, but between the sweet smell and the sensations dropping down to his lower chest, and then to the curve of his hips, he kept silent, listening to the stirring sounds of his lover licking against his skin, sucking, and kissing, tracing the edge of his hairline.

And then a pause.

Athos sighed, both in annoyance and impatience. "Need I beg for it?"

D'Artagnan laughed. "Considering that it's your birthday, no. I'll grant you whatever you want." The boy cupped the mass of flesh beneath his erection and squeezed them as his voice dropped down to a whisper. "You need only say what you want."

Athos huffed and propped himself up on his elbows, still firmly grasping the sheets in his fists. "Your mouth. On me. Now."

And true to his word, D'Artagnan obliged. Athos let his head fall back and groaned in appreciation. A delicious mouth, torturous, slow, and savoring that was begging to be snatched up and devoured was the only way Athos knew how to describe D'Artagnan with his mouth around him. It sent him into a hazy place of pleasure, devoid of thought, concern, or logic. To prolong the experience, and also as soon as he was able to get his wits about him, he tugged on D'Artagnan's hair with a raspy whisper.

"Kiss me."

D'Artagnan obeyed, parting Athos' lips with ease and slipping the taste of them both and a sweetness inside. Sugar. Sugar and hazelnut. Traces of chocolate as well. Icing from his birthday cake as he had suspected. Athos clasped the back of D'Artagnan's head and didn't let the boy go until he had all of that delicious sweetness to himself. Once he was done with D'Artagnan's mouth, the boy shifted his weight and whispered, "Open your mouth."

Athos did and felt his lover's finger coated with more icing touch his tongue. He closed his lips around the appendage and sucked, gently lapping up every ounce of icing there was. He could almost hear D'Artagnan's smirking through the blindfold, and in retaliation he took his time with the finger. And even after all the icing was gone, he teased and sucked on it as if it were something else. The boy's breathing grew more ragged, and when Athos could feel him growing restless above him, hips taking on a mind of their own, he let loose a smirk of his own when he finally released D'Artagnan's hand from the confines of his mouth.

"How much of that do we have," Athos asked.

"Enough," was all D'Artagnan had time to say before Athos took hold of him and flipped them, attacking his neck and the hollow just below the boy's ear.

"Enough for the whole night?"

"Maybe," D'Artagnan gasped.

"Mmmm, we'll need more then."

Athos reached down and spread D'Artagnan's legs, settling himself between them with the same familiarity he felt stepping foot in the comfort of his home after time spent away. This house always had an empty feeling of home about it, and for years Athos stoutly refused to even call it that, preferring instead to only think of their old apartments in Paris as such, even when he submitted his retirement and returned. This place was home for only one reason, because D'Artagnan had made it one for them both.

"I've got other ideas," D'Artagnan protested, trying to switch positions.

But Athos was having none of it, reducing any further arguments from D'Artagnan to senseless moaning as he took hold of the boy's erection and massaged it-though there was no need to do much, for both of them were achingly close despite neither wanting to admit it. "And you've run out my patience. It's still my birthday til dawn brings us another day. And I plan on making use of every second."

The boy moaned again when Athos teased a finger at his entrance.

"Now, I know you weren't planning on using that icing for this, were you?"

With a desperate huff, and quick as a rabbit, D'Artagnan shot out from under Athos and reached towards the head of the bed, returning after only two seconds and shoving a well-used jar of scented oil into his hands. Athos chuckled and coated his fingers liberally before feeling his way back down to where D'Artagnan was practically begging for attention. To distract the boy from the pain, which Athos admitted he was getting better and better at hiding, he leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth as he'd done the first night they laid together. Up until this point they had both been trying to be quiet, testing each others limits, and refraining from simply foregoing the foreplay and taking each other with the primal need that was both burning inside of them. With the sharp cry that escaped the boy and the writhing of his body beneath him, never mind his own throbbing need, Athos knew the time for sweet torture was over.

As slow as it was, and no matter how much D'Artagnan begged for it, Athos made sure the boy was well-prepared before he felt his way towards that waiting opening. And before he entered him, Athos took off his blindfold, blinking at the light and finally settling his eyes on his sweaty needy mess of a lover. The sight would have made Athos smile, but instead he only looked on with severe hunger that had waited too long to be answered.

"No more games," Athos rasped.

D'Artagnan nodded, chest heaving and eyes pleading.

Then Athos slowly pushed himself inside.

D'Artagnan clasped a hand over his mouth, moaning into it, and grabbed at the sheets with his other hand. Athos had a hard time keeping quiet himself as he watched the effect ripple over them both. Suddenly, the little things spoke volumes to him. How D'Artagnan's eyes folded in on themselves at the corners when he clenched his eyes shut in pleasure, the color of blood and love rushing to his cheeks, how it sweated out and rolled down his forehead, down his neck and pooled in spots on his chest, and how that chest shuddered in spurts as Athos slowly inched in and out, matching the same rhythm with his hand on the boy's erection. It was all too much, too much building in him without any room to escape. And when D'Artagnan's head fell back, over the edge of the bed, just the sight of that beautiful dark hair spilling down the sheets and that Adam's apple jerking up and down as the boy gasped and moaned, trying to keep himself quiet, started Athos thrusting a little harder into that intimate depth than he normally would have.

"Athos," D'Artagnan pleaded. "Please-please!"

They were both lost sometime after that. Athos slipped his arms behind D'Artagnan's back and neck, supporting him as they both picked up their pacing. D'Artagnan wrapped both his legs around the small of Athos' back and held on tightly, both forgetting how to quiet themselves even next to each other's ears. Athos cradled the back of D'Artagnan's head as they both neared their peak. "Look at me," he rasped. D'Artagnan opened his eyes and the sight of pure need and want and love brought Athos to the very brink. And over it.

They both held each other's gaze, even as their undoings clouded the edge of their vision and ripped shouts and whimpers of never-ending mercy from their quivering lips. And afterwards, they panted and gasped together in one uniform search for breath. Athos couldn't remember who came first as he buried his face in D'Artagnan's neck. He thought it might have been him, but he couldn't be sure. What he was overly certain of was the feeling of D'Artagnan coming just as strongly as Athos did, and the evidence of it now between them. They stayed still, wrapped in each other's arms for a few more moments before Athos slipped out of D'Artagnan and pulled the boy backwards with him to lie on the bed among the pillows and beckoning covers. Still messy from their lovemaking, Athos gave the boy a long and slow kiss full of gratitude and affection. When they parted, D'Artagnan smiled against him and reached for a damp cloth on one of the bedside tables to clean them both up. He was slow and still a little uncoordinated by the aftereffects, but Athos drank in the sight regardless. When he finished, D'Artagnan was still breathless.

"I have something for you," D'Artagnan said.

Athos frowned. "Something more?"

Without another word, D'Artagnan reached behind Athos' head, under the pillows, and pulled out a small box. Athos looked at the small wooden box D'Artagnan pressed into his hands and by the weight and look determined it to be some type of jewelry container, as he had seen plenty of before in passing in the markets. But by D'Artagnan's standards and his penchants for surprises, Athos didn't put his full certainty behind the guess. Athos sat up alongside D'Artagnan and leant against the pillows, sending his lover questions with his eyes. And what exactly was that on D'Artagnan's normally brave face? Fear? Trepidation? It made Athos pause, even before D'Artagnan worked up enough courage to cover his hands with his own. "How long has it been, Athos? How many days have passed since that moment I ran into you and we first knew each other?"

"Nine years and six months," he answered without a second thought.

"Almost ten years," D'Artagnan whispered. "And I am ashamed to say in all that time that much of it was spent in ignorance on my part. Yet you and Aramis and Porthos aided me in ways my parents could no longer on a small farm in Gascony. Even when our paths split you stayed by my side, and when you had to quit Paris you kept me alive with pen and paper, yearning and hoping as a lovesick fool."

"Until we realized we had both been fools for too long," Athos added

D'Artagnan nodded with a beaming smile, and then he took a deep breath and said, "Open the box, Athos."

Athos complied with the request, turning the box towards the light of the fireplace and felt his lips part in surprise. He frowned and then turned to his lover with unsaid questions of why and how. D'Artagnan cleared his throat, sat up straighter, and explained. "The chain is my fathers, passed down to him from my grandfather. My father was not yet born when my grandfather wore that chain into the Battle of Saint-Denis against the Huguenots.* On that chain was a crucifix of Christ and it was lost that day because it saved my grandfather's life, but he didn't notice its absence until he saw the banner of victory and of his countrymen flying high above on the hill when the enemy was finally driven off."

"And the ring," Athos asked, softly and in wonder.

D'Artagnan turned serious and looked on Athos with those same passion-filled eyes he had seen so many times before, in private and in the public eye of battle in defense of his beliefs and duties. "I love you with everything that I am, and what I have isn't much, but for most this ring would be their world, their claim to their God given rights to love whom they choose. I know we cannot have the same, but you have my heart. And this band is the shape of it now because of you and Raoul. You've made it whole, when I had no reason to believe it ever would be again."

Athos laid the wooden box down on the sheets beside them and took D'Artagnan's face in both of his hands, bringing their foreheads and noses together, lips mere centimeters apart. He stared into his lover's eyes as he caressed the boy's cheeks with his fingers. "Would that I could give you what this truly means."

D'Artagnan rubbed Athos arms and felt his way up to Athos hands on the sides of his own face, covering them and then grasping them firmly. "Paper burns and turns to ash over time. And it could ruin us. What we have is enough, Athos. I only wanted you to know of what you will always have, even if every light goes out for the both of us."

"D'Artagnan, you and Raoul are my light. That I will never doubt for one second." Then Athos kissed him in his own fashion, silently telling the boy how much he meant to him, and that the gift he received would be a priceless treasure to him as D'Artagnan's body and heart have been. Athos eventually pulled away with a frown. "You're trembling."

D'Artagnan shook his head. "It's nothing but joy, I promise. And perhaps just a little more wanting."

Athos smirked, thinking of the icing still left in the bowl beside them. "Do me the honor, first?"

D'Artagnan reached down to the box and lifted the chain and the ring on it. He slipped it over Athos' head and smiled. Athos took the ring in his fingers and kissed the cool band, keeping level eyes with the boy. "You know there wasn't much hope I gave my own heart. But you've been unyieldingly stubborn."

"Guilty," D'Artagnan admitted with a smirk.

"Thank you," Athos said, leaning down to kiss him again. Then he put his lips to D'Artagnan's ear and whispered, "I love you more than all the treasures of the world, boy."

D'Artagnan turned to him as Athos expected. He'd never felt the need to speak those words aloud before, but just now they had come so naturally and freely that he didn't hesitate to let them go. Somewhat unexpectedly, D'Artagnan pounced on him and attacked his lips with a feverish rush. Athos laughed through his nose, the noise vibrating in his throat and chest under his lover's relentless reply. And, just as Athos had planned and promised, he had succeeded in stirring up D'Artagnan's passions and wants for another one. Athos grabbed hold of the boy and flipped them again, D'Artagnan's own laughter filling the room as Athos showed him just as ready as he could be, damned age difference aside.

Then they both stilled at the sound of a little wail.

Athos sighed and dropped his head down on D'Artagnan's chest, grumbling into it. "Whose bright idea was it to put the nursery directly across the hall?"

"Yours, my love" D'Artagnan answered with a quick peck on the head before he slipped out of bed to throw Athos' larger robe on.

It dwarfed his lover considerably, but Athos paid it no mind, having eyes only for what lay beneath. "Don't think I won't come and find you and drag you back here if you tarry," Athos warned.

D'Artagnan smirked in the doorway before going out. "Perhaps I should. You've been threatening to tie me to the bedposts for months now. I'm starting to think you're only saying it for sport."

Athos growled when D'Artagnan disappeared, and stewed in his own lust until the boy dared enter their bedroom again

A/N: It took me forever to write it, and although it was definitely a challenge, it's done. And for a while I wasn't sure it was coming out good at all, but I hope it did in the end. And before any more of their escapades come to light (then again who knows with these muses), I want to try and return to the main storyline of 'Bitter to Sweet' and finish that up first. Fingers crossed I eventually do. Long weekend. Long next couple of days. My day off on Wednesday just cannot come soon enough XP.

* The Battle of Saint-Denis was fought in 1567 in the French Wars of Religion between Catholics and Protestants. It was fought near Paris and was a victory for the Catholics despite a long battle and also losing their commander, Anne de Montmorency.