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No Commendation More Important

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“What if you just didn’t go?” Haruchefant asks. He’s making a rather compelling argument, all things considered, standing in the middle of Aymeric’s office, completely nude, pouring wine into a glass.

“You know I can’t do that,” Aymeric responds, still trying to look anywhere but at Haurchefant’s beautiful body, presently on display for him. He, on the other hand, is fully dressed in his armor as he is expected to receive some latest commendation.

When Haurchefant holds out the glass for him to take, Aymeric is of course forced between being polite and continuing to avert his eyes, but he manages to take it by just focusing on Haurchefant’s hand and the glance and then, quickly, back up to his face. At least the glass gives him something to look at that isn’t just the wallpaper.

“I, for one, vote for staying,” Estinien’s voice is followed by the sound of the door locking and then the sound of armor being shed, clanging as it hits the floor. Aymeric’s eyes look over just in time to catch Estinien stripping in kind, and for a moment he thinks perhaps he has actually died and been welcomed into Halone’s Halls.

“Please don’t encourage him,” Aymeric groans, an obvious attempt to keep his voice steady. He has to set the glass down on the table to avoid shaking from the anticipation of having not one but two beautiful men around him.

Perhaps, instead, this is a test. Halone is asking him to be strong, which, he is finding, he is not at all. This he learns as he lets them strip him of plate and cloth, gentle encouraging hands bidding him to let go and give up on just this one meeting, just this one time.

“Terrible influences,” Aymeric says, fond, “Both of you. But perhaps...if we’re quick enough…” He worries at his lower lip, even as Haurchefant’s fingers hook into his smallclothes.

“Quit whining,” Estinien is gruff as ever, slotting himself behind Aymeric, “the meeting isn’t for at least another bell. We’ll have you taken care of by then.”

“Yeah, we’ll have you taken care of—wait, Estinien, wasn’t that my line?” Haurchefant asks, frowning up at the other Elezen, “you delivered it all wrong. Try again.”

“Please,” Aymeric interrupts, though whether he’s pleading to get on with it for the sake of time or for the sake of his cock, now very much exposed to the cool air of the room, is unclear.

“Yes, yes, of course, my friend!” Haurchefant was, at least, easy enough to get back on track, for all he might have been easily distracted. “What do you desire, Lord Commander? We celebrate you and your many accomplishments, too long to list now at this time, and so, on this eve of your success, we commend you and give you one free pass to decide how it should go. There is, of course, the ever popular position of sucking on one and taking another, or perhaps we should put our dragoon’s skills to test and see—”

“No testing of skills,” Estinien growls, “just let him pick.”

Aymeric, meanwhile, is blushing so hard he looks like he might just exit his body, a red warmth that moves from his face down his neck and even colors his chest. “I…”

“See? No tests. And you made him embarrassed,” Estinien continues, “you should’ve just let him decide what he wanted.”

“Says the one not letting him talk!” Only Haurchefant could manage to make it sound good-natured, especially in response to Estinien’s angry demeanor. But Haurchefant does it all the same.

“If I may…” Aymeric cuts in, “I am perfectly capable of deciding for myself. And, yes, I would like that.”

“Like what?” Estinien asks, a slight upturn of his lips suggesting he knows exactly what Aymeric means. But it’s only slight, a plausible deniability still there for him to insist otherwise—of course he didn’t mean to embarrass him, of course he didn’t intend to make Aymeric say such dirty things.

Aymeric clears his throat awkwardly and then, fixes his stare on Estinien, meeting his gaze like this was naught but a challenge to be won, “I will take your cock in my mouth, if you’ll please, and Haurchefant may fuck me as he likes.”

Estinien glares back, hiding his own obvious embarrassment and arousal—or trying to and failing, anyway. Haurchefant gives a cheer.

Then it is the usual shuffling of bodies and preparation. Aymeric clings tight to Estinien as Haurchefant starts to ready him. He puts his arms around his shoulders and rests his head against him, keening against his battleworn skin. Estinien combs his fingers through Aymeric’s hair gently, but mostly just watches the way Haurchefant so lovingly prepares him, every touch patient but full of intent. It’s almost captivating for Estinien to watch. They’d learned long ago that Estinien would not be the person to prepare anyone, his lack of patience quickly becoming a problem. And although all of them could take the insistent, inartful way that Estinien fingered them, it was much easier when they didn’t.

Aymeric was too careful. He went too slowly and asked too many questions and had on more than one occasion ended up with Estinien’s fingers beside his own, telling him if he wasn’t going to do it fast enough then he’d just have to do it himself.

But Haurchefant was perfect. He moved with tender, thoughtful care, and yet always worked towards the goal, every touch meant to open the other up. Just as now, working Aymeric open and sliding in a second finger with graceful ease as Estinien observes, marveling at little at how beautiful Aymeric’s ass looks, taking Haurchefant’s fingers. He knows well it’ll be even better when he’s taking Haurchefant’s cock.

Once Aymeric is prepared—panting and whining against Estinien’s skin as he is, easily reduced from Lord Commander to their wanting lover—Haurchefant takes him with his cock, pulling him back towards him. He kisses his shoulder and his neck and bites his ear, returning Aymeric’s attention to him, at least for a little while.

And just when Aymeric’s attention leaves Estinien entirely, just when he’s focused only on Haurchefant, quiet moans of pleasure falling from his lips against his better judgment as he seeks to find Haurchefant’s lips and trap him, Estinien reaches over and grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls.

Haurchefant and Estinien work together to help get Aymeric into perfect place between them. Aymeric’s hands grip at Estinien’s sides to hold himself steady, the bend at his hips and in his back a strain but a pleasant one, nothing they haven’t done before. And Estinien’s grip is sure as it ever is, holding him steady in kind so that he can work on taking his cock. But where Haurchefant had been kind, Estinien is rough. He shoves his cock into Aymeric’s wanting mouth, bottoming out against his throat.

“Take it,” he rasps, heady lust affecting him as he speaks, “be good for me.”

With little more warning than that, Estinien rocks his hips into Aymeric’s mouth to push deeper. Aymeric swallows around him and relaxes his jaw, staring up at him with watering eyes from the strain, but never once protesting, only trying to do his best. Estinien always thinks he looks incredible like this, and it sends a shiver down his spine to watch him so eagerly swallow his cock whole. Even Estinien has to bite back a moan from watching him.

“So good,” Haurchefant reassures him, rubbing his hip, “Absolutely perfect.”

They give him a moment to settle into this position, to settle in to how deep they breach him, how full they fill him, and then, together, they start to really fuck him. Aymeric relishes their thrusts, the slap of skin on skin, the perfect feeling of having someone else know all the deepest, most secret parts of him. Both of them, together, bring him pleasure beyond words, sating every need and every dark desire he could never share with any other. For who else could he tell that he, a holy man, wished to take two men at once? That he could take a cock in his throat; that he relished the bruises left on his ass?

Yet with Haurchefant and Estinien, he could have all that and more, and they indulged him in his every unspeakable desire, without question, without judgment. He knows with them he is truly blessed, that every time they find release together they can feel the love and desire and intimacy they all share. And, he thinks, feeling that over and over may indeed be worth being a few seconds late to receive a commendation that will never compare.