By the time I reached the garrison it was full night and most of the cadets had already retired to their beds. I stabled the horse myself, quickly seeing to its comfort before striding into the barracks and making directly for Porthos's room. I found him inside, undressed from his uniform and cleaning his pistols, but when I stormed inside and slammed the door shut, he flew to his feet and pointed the weapon at me. "We need to talk," I announced boldly, striding inside and ignoring the gun aimed at my head. Porthos gaped.
"Madeleine! I could have shot you!"
"You are cleaning them; they are not loaded. How do you expect to blow my head off with empty pistols?" Speaking even as I continued to stride at him, I planted my hands upon the table, making it jolt and everything upon it rattle as Porthos warily retreated a step, knocking against his chair which scraped against the stone floor. "I want answers, Porthos, and I shall not be leaving here until I have them."
"What are you…?" He faltered, so unnerved by the manner of my unannounced arrival that he seemed quite perplexed.
"Why did you kiss me?" If he was surprised before, it was nothing compared to the shock he now felt. His entire body froze, stiffening visibly as the pistol fell to his side, fingers barely grasping it. Not wanting it to fall, I deftly reached forwards and plucked it from him, laying it neatly upon the table to join the other. "Why did you kiss me, Porthos? I must know." Perhaps it was the warmth of the fire at the hearth, but I was confident I saw his face deepen with a flush and he began to scratch at the back of his neck. That was his tell, a sign to say that he was either embarrassed or did not want to say something. In this case, it seemed to be both.
"I…got caught up in the moment, that's all. I shouldn't have done it, Madeleine. I'm sorry." Once more he was not looking at me, fixing himself into a distant stare as not to look at my face. It created a burning fire in my chest, scorching at the inside until it seemed like everything would crumble into ash. Heart, lungs, everything.
"I do not believe you." Watching him closely, his eyes flickered slightly. "That is not the first time you have kissed me, and I have a feeling it will not be the last." Drawing myself back to allow him room to breathe, I folded my arms together and leaned into my hip, tapping a finger to the scar on my lip as I attempted to think, to puzzle the secrets Porthos was attempting to keep. He had shifted then, focus drawing a little closer to me. "You chose not to pursue an understanding with me, Porthos. You chose to reject my feelings. I expect you can understand why this is maddeningly confusing."
"It won't happen again, Madeleine." Speaking quietly, almost in a low warning, Porthos lowered his face but looked at me for a few moments from under his furrowed brow, a look of quiet anger I did not know how to justify. "You should leave now. You shouldn't be here."
"No, I have yet to receive a satisfactory answer and I have not asked all my questions. I am staying until we resolve this!" Growing incensed, I clicked my tongue in irritation as I began to pace, needing to move and do something before my body could burst from the coiling tension inside. "If you do not have feelings for me then why take such liberties? Why? If you do not love me, why kiss me? Tell me why Porthos!"
"I never said I didn't love you!" Against my own rising temper, Porthos matched me, however I blinked in surprise at the sharp ascendance as he seethed. Drawing in deep, ragged breaths, Porthos looked as if he were only moments away from losing control of himself. "Don't ever say that, that was never what I meant!"
"Then what did you mean, Porthos?" Growling in frustration, he refused to answer, telling me that I shouldn't ask him these things. "I will ask, I will ask until I make your ears bleed from the sound of my voice, so tell me. What did you mean when you refused me, after I had laid my heart open to you?" Shaking his head, Porthos turned away to face his back at me, fists shaking at his sides as they clenched together. "Tell me Porthos." He remained silent. "Tell me." I waited, another moment, a second, before all at once, everything burst free in a rush I could not contain. "Damn it, Porthos! Answer me!"
"Why? It won't do either of us any good!" Venting my fury by kicking at a chair, I then ran across the room to grasp Porthos by the arm and drag him around to face me, fisting my fingers into his soft shirt so that he had no choice but to look at me as I raged.
"Because another man kissed me today, and all I could think about was you!" Stunned silence ensued, where even my erratic breaths had time to quieten and ease along with the wild, quivering pulse of my blood and convulsing heart. Softening, I let go of Porthos, wincing with shame for losing my composure. I smoothed the wrinkles I had created, exhaling wearily as I found I had not the strength nor inclination to continue this ridiculous fanfare. "I am sorry," quietening myself, the stark contrast in sound was as distinguishable as night and day. "Whenever something concerns you, I cannot seem to withhold myself." Resting my hand against his chest over where his heart lay, I brought my gaze to meet his, and this time, he did not look away, only stared. "Please tell me, Porthos. Tell me why you are pushing me away but cannot seem to let me go." I did not think I could phrase it more simply than that.
This time I did not press him to answer, but waited as he gradually comprehended my words. It took him time, but eventually he blinked and it seemed to finally fall into place. "Who was it?" Scowling with irritation, I thumped a light fist against his chest.
"That is not the point here, Porthos." But it seemed to trouble him, and he looked so devastatingly wretched that I began to feel sorry for him and increasingly ashamed of how I had turned my anger upon him so harshly. "Porthos," speaking more softly, I brought my hands to his face to hold his attention, not allowing him to fall back or look away as I commanded his focus. "I cannot understand unless you tell me your reasons, and unless I can understand…then I can never let go. Please, for my sake. End my misery, just tell me why." Almost to the point of tears, the glassy sheen of my gaze seemed to be his undoing. Porthos still could not bear to see me cry.
"It…it was the only way, love." He started weakly as I continued to hold his face but now, he brought his own hands to settle against my wrists, holding them tenderly but not drawing my fingers away from him. "I thought, given time apart, you would forget like you had with Aramis. I thought you would move on, and that would be the end of it." An unbidden cry of tempered woe rose within, but I held it back, not allowing myself to interrupt him. I held it in, though the intensity of threat my tears made to overflow increased. "I told you I was going to war, I couldn't expect you to wait for me, not when there was a chance I wasn't coming back, and I also thought…I figured…I didn't want you to be judged for being with me." All at once, it seemed as if winter had breathed its frosty breath into his chamber and a frightful chill settled over me.
Enough so that I jerked my hands away from shock, staring gapingly as I staggered back a step, but Porthos naturally caught my arm, steadying me with a look of alarmed concern. My other hand grasped at the table, helping to maintain my balance as I felt as if the breath had been knocked from my lungs. "Explain," I gasped, struggling to place any strength in my words. "Explain yourself now." Dark eyes filled with grim expression, Porthos's voice was a low rumble in that otherwise quiet, sullen space.
"You know what I am, Madeleine. You might overlook it because we've known each other a long time, but others won't. I'm a mongrel, mixed blood. With your position in court, I couldn't let you put that at risk by forming an attachment to me. They'd whisper. Talk behind your back, and if we ever had a child…I was afraid that you would come to resent me, and the child, for how they would look at you." My palm itched with a powerful desire to slap him. A burst of outrage. Of fury. I stayed my hand, but the breath rushed into my lungs to fill me with renewed vigour.
"You thought…you dared…how could you ever think something so heinous?! Do you really have so low an opinion of me that you believe I would feel anything but undying love towards a child you fathered of me? Porthos!" Choking upon a sob, I fell against Porthos and grasped onto him, wanting to beat some sense into him but not having the strength or conviction to do so. Therefore instead, I dragged myself upright, still clinging to him, and blinked until my vision was cleared so that I could look upon him, unhindered. "Nothing would bring me more joy than to be the mother of your children. Anyone else can go hang! You imbecile. You sweet, darling, tender hearted, giant…fool!" Thrusting my hands against him, Porthos started back a step and fell into his chair.
Rather than my strength it was his surprise which made him stumble backwards, the chair happening to catch him so that he dropped upon it with a clatter as I swiftly followed. Before he could recover his senses, I pressed my knee to his leg, holding him in place as my hands swept forwards to capture him. I saw his eyes widen, dark and enticing, before I sealed my lips to his. I was still inexperienced in such matters of romance and intimacy, but I was so desperate to convey my feelings that my body seemed to know what to do without my mind's meddling.
I followed my instinct, bringing myself closer upon his lap so that I could reach him from an elevated position, trapping him before me as I commandeered his mouth to become my cavern of pleasure and expression. He responded instinctively, a low rumbling sound emanating from his throat as I felt his large hands grasp my waist. At first he indulged himself in my kiss, drawing me closer and uttering his low moan before his misguided honour snapped him back to his senses. "No," growling headily, he jerked his leg to remove me from his mouth, hand pushing against my shoulder to keep me away. "No, we can't Madeleine…"
"We can," I argued sweetly, brushing his hand away to return to him, kissing him tenderly as best I could to entice him, every brush of my lips tempting him a little further. "I will have no more of this stupidity. I love you, Porthos…" moving my lips to his ear, I kissed at the tender spot where his jaw met his neck, brushing my nose against the little earring he wore before I leaned closer to whisper against him, "…and I think you love me." A strained cry rose up, rippling from his chest as I kissed at his neck. "I love you, Porthos. I love you now more than ever. I cherish you. I adore you. I will love you for as long as my heart beats, and then the echoes will exist long after I am gone."
"Madeleine…" stroking at his hair as I kissed him wherever I could reach, the wanton pulse of my blood carried a searing heat through me. Tension and pressure began to build, desire flooding my mind as I allowed myself to follow some natural, innate instinct which had passed itself throughout history from the very first Adam and Eve to this day. My kisses grew increasingly fevered, heated, tongue glossing gingerly against him before growing bolder by the second. "Madeleine please, oh God please listen to me…we can't do this," he begged of me, and I found myself rather enjoying his desperate pleas.
Grasping the hem of his shirt I lifted it upwards with a commanding tug. Porthos raised his arms to allow me to pull the shirt over his head, exposing his glorious torso and shoulders to the air. Despite his protestations, he was returning my ardour. Grasping at me, pressing his mouth to mine and pulling the ribbon from my hair to uncoil it. With every rake of his hand, the tugging prickled my scalp but the sensation was a pleasant one, as if deepening the sinfulness of this forbidden temptation. "We can't…we must stop. There's no coming back after this, Madeleine. I…"
"Porthos," pressing my hand against his mouth to silence him through my ardent moan, I took several breaths to recover myself before looking down upon him, flushed and quivering, feeling sensations I had never contrived to exist before. "Unless you find a better occupation for that mouth, I will have to gag you." Blinking in astonishment, Porthos was effectively silenced of any further objections. Slowly drawing my hand down, tugging at his lower lip, I traced the shape of this feature, leaning over him as my eyes held his captive, so close our foreheads rested against one another. "If you do not desire me, then push me away now. I will go, and I will not come back. This is the final chance I am giving you, Porthos. Make your choice. Take me…or let me go." A fire lit itself within him.
Suddenly he was standing, hands snatching to pull my legs tight against his waist. A startled cry, a fierce stride, the sweep of his arm knocking his pistols aside, the clatter when they struck the floor, then the solid press of the table against my back before heat and tension overcame my senses. Porthos kissed me without restraint, practically devouring me as his hands began to roam possessively, sliding back my skirts, grasping my naked flesh. Starting with a gasp, my knees pressed against him tightly, my entire form hardening as I grasped at his wrists. "Wait!" Lifting his face from the valley of my breasts, an edge of fear crept against me. "Wait…the scars…please…I know you hate them. Try…try not to touch them…keep my clothes on, if you must…"
"What the hell did you just say?" Startled by the gravity of his tone, Porthos seized my wrists to pull me upright, perched upon the table with my legs still wrapped intimately around him. He was quivering with rage, I could sense it, causing a white hot friction in my chest of unimaginable magnitude. Without warning, Porthos grasped the front of my bodice and pulled, pulled until the laces burst which loosened the garment entirely. A soft whimper escaped me, the rough handling causing a panicked shudder until Porthos had bared my shoulders, exposing the uppermost wounds which had transformed into various assortments of scars.
I did not know what to expect next, uncertain of what to do or how to respond to the undulating rage Porthos bore, but then his grasp softened, and he lowered his head to kiss my shoulder, directly over a burn brand. As his mouth laboured over the malformation, his fingers twisted into my hair, running the long tresses through them as I quelled the initial panic and fell into a soft serenity, breathing with light gasps. "I could never hate anything that's a part of you, sweetheart," he murmured finally, and emotion lurched through me. "I just…I get angry when I see them, or remember what you looked like, because I should have protected you." Drawing in a final, deep breath, I brought my arms to curl around his neck, tugging at his hair before letting my hands frame against his face.
"Is that why you have barely looked at me all this time?" Amazed that this would be his reason, Porthos grimaced visibly.
"He did it on purpose," the sharp snarl hissed through his teeth, "he did it not just to hurt you, but to break us. Every wound, every bruise, every broken bone…he did it so we would know that we had failed you. That we let you down, darlin', that we…that we couldn't protect the one thing that mattered more than anything." Crooning softly, I began to understand Porthos and his actions a little better. The rage and anger were all borne out of shame, but none were directed towards me. Rather, they were aimed at himself.
"Hush, my love. That time is over, I do not want to think about it anymore." Stroking at his face, Porthos gradually eased himself into a lax state, letting go of the wrathful regret and vehement loathing he still bore towards a dead man. "In that case, if you are not opposed to seeing or touching them…I should very much like to show you." Gently moving him aside, I slipped from the table and hesitated a moment to blush, ridiculing myself for what I was about to do, but powered through my own conservative upbringing to remove my dress and smallclothes all at once. They dropped to the floor in a quiet flutter, leaving me bare and exposed in front of Porthos who had seemingly stopped breathing at the sight of me. I knew it was not a pretty view. They lay upon me like a scattered ruin of flesh, each one a different hurt, a distinct pain, all of them permanently sealed into my skin.
Drawing in my lips to bite down upon them, tingling and swollen as they were, I turned slowly in a circle, even drawing my hair over my shoulder to fully expose my back where the crisscrossed patchwork of lashes lay in faded ridges of pink and silver. I could feel his stare, sense the spike in his rage again, but Porthos held it in. He looked in silence as I had requested, taking all of me in as I placed myself in the most vulnerable position imaginable. My honour and reputation would be forfeit if we were discovered, but I did not care for such things anymore. The only thing that mattered was that Porthos saw me, recognised me, and when finally I succeeded in gathering the courage I needed, I raised my face and immediately found his gaze upon mine.
They were softer now. Warm, rich, like burning coals glinting in the dimming firelight. There was even a slight curl upon his mouth, his brow creased and raised whilst his chest rose and fell in slow, measured intakes. It startled me to realise that he was looking upon me with a sense of awe, of wonder. Dare I say, admiration? "God you're so strong, Madeleine…I'll never have the courage you have." His words struck me like a blow, but rather than a devastation, it felt more like a fierce embrace. One that almost doubled me over, for I had not realised how much I had yearned for someone to see me, see the past written upon my skin, and acknowledge my endurance.
A quiet weeping overcame me and Porthos moved swiftly, crossing the distance between us to bring me into his arms. I nestled neatly under his chin, feeling it lightly rest atop my head as his arms encircled me completely with his warmth. My bare skin pressed against his, and the daring intimacy was a thrill unlike any other. Were it not for the fact that I was in such desperate want of him, I would have pushed him away and hurriedly covered myself for embarrassment, but I felt no shame in this. This was purity incarnate, for this was the man I loved. Why should I not share my body with him? He had the only right to see me in this manner, the only man I would ever permit to look upon me unclothed, and the only man I would ever consent to give myself to.
As my emotions quelled and the tears dried, I raised my hands and naturally found the scars of his own body. I already knew where they were. I knew their history, their pain, I knew them intimately for most of them, I had treated. Each in turn I touched them even as Porthos gingerly loosened one arm to pull his fingertips across my back, following the trail of one set of lashes. I shivered, spine tingling as my voice rose in reverberation. His lips touched against my forehead, lightly for a moment before then more firmly. My fingers stroked at another of his scars, seeking them one by one as their memory emerged in my mind.
When he moved I naturally lifted my face, wanting to look upon him. Tenderness ached like a sweet moan within, drawing me closer until I had linked my arms around his neck and risen upon my toes to reach him. Our lips met to dance against one another, enticingly warm and inviting. Now his hands were roaming once again, brushing against the mottled array of my skin, leaving pleasant quivers in his wake. Starting with a step, I found myself willingly being guided backwards, giving command of my body to Porthos as he kissed and touched me, casting a spell of utter compliance by his touches.
Dimly, in the back of my mind, I knew where these ministrations were leading us. I was not naïve of what happened between a man and a woman who experienced intimacy, for Constance had spoken of it at length during one drunken discussion we had shared, and I had awoken scandalised the next morning. Yet I trusted Porthos. I trusted him with my life, my body, with every part of me. I heard his mellow crooning as I dwelled in bliss, arching myself into his touch until he lifted me down onto his bed and settled me upon the sheets.
I could sense that he was watching me, observing my reactions and monitoring my acceptance, but I was keen to share this with him, and any thought of propriety or honour was utterly absent from my conscience. My voice undulated in a near constant moan, rising with the increasing of pleasure when he found my most intimate areas. Never was he far from me, always touching, always there. His hands, his mouth, his taut stomach gliding over mine as we coiled ourselves together until I was utterly cloaked in his warmth, every sense flooded with him at their core.