#avpol x reader

You can feel her heartbeat against you, fast and needy. You slide your hand through her hair, slow strokes that make her sigh. “Jean,” you whisper, but she just shakes her head and wraps her leg tighter around yours.

“No. Don’t say it like that.” She lifts her head just enough to look at you, blue eyes glassy and stubborn. “It’s not fair. We barely get you and then you’re gone again. I hate it. I hate waking up to an empty bed after this.”

Avdol sits propped against the headboard on your other side, quiet but watching everything. Her hand rests heavy on your thigh, thumb rubbing slow circles trying to memorize the feel of your skin. She looks at you with her deep eyes full of worry she tries to hide. “You do look exhausted,” she says softly. Her voice is calm, but you hear the undercurrent. “The places they send you… I wish I could go with you sometimes. Or at least know you are safe. Where are they sending you next? Do you even know yet?”

You shake your head and reach for her hand. She laces her fingers with yours immediately, squeezing once. She never has the time to tell you out loud the devotion she has for you, but you feel it in the way she looks at you, like you are something precious she can’t quite keep.

Jean sits up on her knees behind you, her hands already reaching for the brush on the nightstand. “Come on, let me fix your hair before bed,” she says, trying to sound brighter. “It always helps me feel better.” She starts working through the knots with careful strokes, every few passes her fingers linger, tracing the back of your neck or the line of your shoulder. “Remember last time? I braided it so nicely and you said it lasted the whole train ride.”

You lean back into her touch, eyes closed. The brush feels good, soothing after everything. “It did last,” you tell her. “I kept touching it on the way and thinking about you two.”

Avdol lights a cigarette and takes a slow drag before passing it to you. The smoke curls between you as you share it, fingers brushing each time. It tastes like comfort and the ache of goodbye all mixed together. “We both think about you constantly,” she says after a moment. “Jean talks about you every day. I try to stay practical, but it’s hard. This life you lead leaves us with scraps of time. I wish we could give you more than this room and these nights.”

Jean leans forward, pressing a kiss just behind your ear. “Yeah. Scraps. But they’re the best scraps.” Her voice drops, whiny again but softer. “Stay longer next time. Or take us with you on one mission. I can fight, you know that. Avdol too. We could be useful instead of just waiting here like this.”

You take another pull from the cigarette and hand it back to Avdol. “I wish it worked like that. But it’s not safe. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to either of you because of me.”

Avdol nods, but her hand tightens on your thigh. “We know. Still doesn’t make it easier.” She watches Jean brushing your hair, a small smile tugging at her lips even though her eyes stay sad. “Look at us. Clinging like this every time. You’d think we have all the time in the world.”

Jean finishes one side and starts on the other, humming a little tune under her breath. It’s the same one she always does when she is trying not to cry. “I traced your freckles again tonight,” you say quietly, glancing back at her. “I think I could do it blind next time.”

She laughs, soft and watery. “Hm, I’m adding more just to mess with you.” Her arms slip around your shoulders from behind, hugging you close. “I love you. Both of you. Even if we only get these stupid short visits. It’s enough. It has to be enough.”

The words hang there, heavy with everything unsaid. Avdol leans in and presses her forehead to yours for a moment, sharing the last of the cigarette. “We love you more than we say,” she adds. “More than we probably should, given how little time we have. But it’s true.”

You close your eyes and let them hold you, you always find yourself holding back tears. Jean’s fingers keep moving through your hair, Avdol’s hand stays warm on your skin. Morning will come soon enough, dragging you back to trains and missions and lonely hotel beds.

When you feel the tears filling your eyes, you yawn, trying to disguise your sadness with tiredness, Avdol sees it in your eyes and takes her own fingers to clean your tears. “We should sleep now,” 

Jean pouts, resting her chin on your shoulder, opening her mouth and closing it when she sees your tear stained cheeks. She nods then, freeing you from her embrace and letting you lay back in the pillows. Both of them hug you in their nakedness, pressing their bodies to be as close as possible to you. Jean hides in your neck while Avdol lets you snuggle between her breasts, keeping you warm. 

“Wake us up when you have to leave, okay?” She tells you before turning off the lights and kissing your lips one more time.

♡ Avdol and Polnareff bring out both the worst and the best in each other, and you muddle along with them through it - not as a voice of reason, exactly, but more as the devil on their shoulder. Avdol’s presence teaches Polnareff to think about things before he rushes in; Polnareff’s presence brings out a side of Avdol with a smirk and a flashing eye and laughter that ripples through you like velvet. And you are happy to help with both; joining in with their jokes, gently scolding Polnareff for not thinking things through - and sometimes, by convincing Avdol to be a little more carefree. Your favourite thing to be more carefree about, though, is absolutely in how flustered you can make your lovely French boyfriend. 

♡ Avdol likes doing that too. And Polnareff, for all of his knight-in-shining-armour complex and desire to be the hero, doesn’t seem to mind at all when the two of you decide that he’s your prey of choice for the evening; in fact, his pale skin flushes and he sighs prettily and murmurs both of your names, the light French accent that edges his words setting both of you aflame more than either of you would like to admit. 

♡ There are two of you, and that means double the possibility of teasing. Sometimes, the two of you will spend all day giving him lingering touches - brushing your lips across his jawline and earlobe, gently petting the column of his throat, ogling him with lust clear and palpable in your eyes - and never doing anything about it. It’s most satisfying when you can see the bulge in Polnareff’s pants and he starts to squirm, his pretty eyes tortured as he looks at both of you. When you’re playing this game, Polnareff doesn’t get any relief until he begs you.

♡ You and Avdol will often get him between you and spend a good hour playing with his chest. His pecs are firm and large; perfect for playing with. His nipples are sensitive, making him whine and flush and buck into your touch. The dual sensations of both your tongue on one side and Avdol’s tongue on the other have, in the past, been overwhelming enough that he’s come in his own pants without even needing to touch his cock. (That had been very sexy, honestly, and both of you had reassured him of that exact feeling when he’d become nervous and embarrassed about his own wanton behaviour). 

♡ Sharing any part of him usually gets him going, actually. You and Avdol also love both kneeling for him, two mouths working along his shaft, two tongues licking at him (and kissing with his cock in between your lips). He’s so cute when he’s looking down at you both like he doesn’t know how he ever got this lucky.

You find it sweet how they call it your home too even if you don’t have anything yours there. All your belongings are always traveling with you, the only thing in that apartment that’s yours is them. 

The walk to the place is full of overlapping voices and stolen touches. Jean holds your hand the whole way, swinging it a little. “We tried that new recipe you mentioned last time. The croissants are actually good. Avdol burned the first batch she attempted though.” Avdol chuckles low and bumps her shoulder against yours. “Only because someone kept distracting me.”

Inside the apartment the door clicks shut and it feels like the rest of the world drops away. Jean is on you again immediately, pushing you gently against the wall for a proper kiss. It starts soft, but deepens fast. Her mouth is warm and eager, hands pressing your hips. Avdol joins after a moment, turning your face to her so she can kiss you too. 

You get lost in their touches, forgetting about everything else. 

Jean tugs you toward the bedroom, Avdol following with a hand at the small of your back. “C’mon. We have two whole nights before anything else matters. I want to feel you.”

Clothes start coming off, Jean peels off her own top first, then reaches for yours. Avdol’s hands are already working on your belt, whispering how beautiful you look and how much they both need this.

But when Jean tugs your shirt up and over your head, you freeze. Your arms come down quickly, crossing over your chest on instinct. “Wait. No,” you say, voice distant even to your own ears. You step back a little, pulling the shirt back down fast. You panic at that moment, scared that they might have seen something.

Avdol stops too, eyes narrowing as she studies you closer. “Show us,” she says quietly. It’s not a demand, but you know that tone. You hesitate, then lift the hem of your shirt just enough. The bruises are ugly, a half-healed gash along your side still taped, smaller cuts and marks scattered over your torso and arms. Nothing life-threatening, but enough to tell the story of the last mission.

Jean’s breath catches. “Oh… oh no.” She reaches out but stops short, fingers trembling. “What happened? Why didn’t you say anything at the station?” Her eyes fill up fast and she presses closer anyway. “We were all over you. I’m so sorry.”

Avdol’s face tightens, she sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you down between them carefully, one hand resting on your knee. 

“You should have told us right away. We would have kept it soft.” Her thumb strokes slow circles, careful to avoid the worst spots. “Does it still hurt? Be honest.”

You feel bad, really bad, because you can see how much they wanted this. The way Jean had been buzzing with energy, how Avdol’s touches had grown hungry. They had been waiting for you, building up these nights in their heads and now here you are pulling away. 

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, looking down at your calloused hands. “I know you both wanted to… you know. Catch up properly. I wanted it too, but my body just… not tonight. Maybe not for a couple days. I didn’t want to ruin the reunion.”

Jean makes a sad noise and curls into your side anyway, careful this time, her head on your shoulder. “You didn’t ruin anything. You’re here, that’s what matters. I just hate seeing you like this. It makes me want to fight whoever did it.” Her fingers trace lightly around a bruise, not touching it. “Stay right here. We can just hold you. Whatever you need.”

Avdol nods and shifts closer on your other side, her arm sliding around your shoulders without pressing on the sore spots. “Jean is right. There is no rush. We have time this visit.” She kisses the top of your head, then rests her cheek against it. “Tell us what happened, if you can. Either way, we are not going anywhere. You don’t have to be strong for us right now.”

You let out a shaky breath and lean into them, the warmth of their bodies soothing even through the ache. You three end up cuddling in bed together. Jean starts humming the same little tune as she runs her fingers through your hair, untangling it gently. 

The devotion is still there, wrapping around you tighter because of the hurt. It’s sad in its own way, knowing they want more but choosing to give you this instead. You talk a little, sharing pieces of the mission and they listen without pushing. Kisses land soft on your temples and hands, full of love and the relief of being together again.

The room grows quieter as night settles in. Jean stays clingy, pressed close but mindful, while Avdol keeps playing with your hands and kissing your knuckles, whispering words about how they will take care of you these next few days. It’s not the reunion any of you pictured, but it’s them and it’s real.

It’s one of the things you both love about him so much, the unashamed nature in which he moans and begs for more pleasure, more kisses, more everything always enticing. It makes Avdol’s eyes warm like the touch of his hands on Polnareff’s body, his smile breaking for the part of his lips sucking his husband’s cock throat-deep. It makes you smile in his stead, affectionate and aroused, kissing all over Pol’s face and stroking your thumbs over his nipples while he whimpers, hips riding up towards the mouth swallowing him down. The sound of your husband’s moans and your other husband’s lips fused to throbbing flesh makes you happy, has you yearning.

You always know the moment when Avdol slips fingers slippery with lube inside Pol and curls them sweetly towards his prostate. In those moments his cries reach a higher pitch, signifying how much stronger his pleasure has become, and you knew his cock would’ve been visibly throbbing had Avdol’s soft lips not surrounded it. 

“It feels so good, doesn’t it, Jean? You love how good we make you feel?”

“I love you both,” is always his reply and always accompanied by hazy blue eyes brimming with blissful affection, darting back and forth between Avdol and yourself.

You can taste a hint of saltiness, a nod to Polnareff’s flavor when Avdol breaks suction to kiss you, your tongues gliding and savoring while Pol writhes on the fingers inside him. He doesn’t beg, waits and watches with a panting smile while his spouses kiss, thrilled by the mutual love that you all share. When you pull apart, after more kisses are pressed around to all residing on the bed, Avdol finally slides home inside Polnareff with a groan so deep it makes the place between your thighs throb with want. Avdol sweats and gasps, fucking your blushing husband slowly, thick length quickening to match the stroke of your hand above Pol’s plugged up hole, fisting his spit-slick cock. Avdol, fuck-drunk and beautiful, only encourages it when Polnareff drags your thighs around his head, wanting you to feel good too. His moans are soon muffled by the lave and kiss and suck of his mouth and you can only ride him with greedy abandon the way you know both your partners want you to.

In no time at all the three of you reach the edge, swiftly falling apart in a heap of writhing, sweat-slick bodies. Avdol pumps the condom full, seed sealed up beneath the barrier while Polnareff coats his own chest and your fingers with cum, the face beneath you made messy by the evidence of your own climax. It takes time, everyone moving with trembling limbs and breathless bodies, but the afterglow of it all leads to Polnareff grinning with unabashed glee as he wraps his arms around his loves. Avdol, settled to the right, looks at peace as his hand strokes the back of yours where you’d laid it upon Pol’s chest and you mirror those feelings completely. You love these two men and they love you as much as they love one another. 

“You guys really love to spoil me, don’t you?” Polnareff eventually asks, preening at all the care and attention. 

“Eh, can’t help it. You’re really cute when you get all whiny and needy.”

“I’m not whiny!”

“So he says while whining,” Avdol remarks, trying not to laugh and failing miserably.

“Let’s see how much you guys can keep from whining when the tables are turned then!”

Deft fingers dig into your side, dig into Avdol’s, tickling the both of you without mercy. You try to squirm away much the same way that Avdol does, but Polnareff is strong and relentless. Soon, everyone is breathless and sweaty from hysterical laughter rather than lust, without a complaint to be heard.