Aramis ducks his head, nose tucked behind Athos' ear to breath him in. This moment has grown closer to reality in fits and starts, moving in increments and then in leaps, and it is difficult to believe that it is really here. Aramis closes his eyes and breathes again, smelling wine and faint shampoo and the scent of Athos' skin beneath.

Reaching his arms around him, Aramis begins undoing the buttons of Athos' shirt, knuckles scraping the warmth of Porthos' chest as he works. "This is only part of it," he agrees, spreading a palm beneath Athos' ribs when the shirt is open, fingers dipping the barest inch beneath the hem of his trousers. "We want everything."