“A word, Captain,” Richelieu said, gesturing with one long finger for Treville to follow. Treville let himself roll his eyes, knowing it was what was expected of him and feeling no desire to humor the cardinal any more than absolutely necessary.
They walked in silence for some time, until the cardinal waved off his Red Guards and led Treville into an unused office. It wasn’t that uncommon for the two of them to need privacy to discuss business relating to the king’s safety, but Treville has known from the look on the cardinal’s face back in the hall that this wasn’t one of those times.
Surely enough, the cardinal’s wiry frame presses him against the wall, one arm across Treville’s chest while his other hand drifts down to cup Treville’s groin. Treville growls, but his hips arch forward into the touch. “For a man of the cloth, Cardinal, you are terribly fond of this.”
The cardinal’s grip tightens and Treville’s world goes sparkly for a moment. Warm breath on Treville’s ear, the cardinal speaks, low and gravelly. “The Bible says nothing of this.”
Treville gets his hand between them and returns the gesture to the cardinal. “You would know better than most.”
Richelieu’s grin is sharp and feral, the same look he gives Treville when he’s bested him in their ongoing game of protecting the king. Treville retaliates by nudging down the cardinal’s collar to dig his teeth into the soft flesh of his neck, just hard enough to leave a mark that won’t last more than a day.
Richelieu grunts and squeezes; Treville bites his lip to quiet a moan. He feels the cardinal’s body stiffen, shuddering slightly even as Treville follows, and then it’s over and Richelieu is stepping back, straightening his robes and tugging his collar upwards.
Treville keeps his back against the wall for several more seconds, letting himself catch his breath. The cardinal is a bastard and they’ll never be friends, but they’re reluctant allies in protecting the king and France. “Will that be all then, Cardinal?”
“Yes, Captain, I do believe our discussion is concluded.” He sweeps out of the room like he didn’t just pin the captain of the King’s Guards against the wall to give him a handjob, and Treville marvels for just a moment at the man’s utter calm. But he doesn’t give himself long; he has his own duties to attend to, and a plot of the cardinal’s to foil.