"Porthos," Aramis exhales, winded even before Porthos begins his instructions, "The way he looks at me." Athos' blue eyed gaze is unwavering, as soft as Aramis has yet seen, and still so focused. Aramis feels color rise to his own cheeks, and he struggles against the urge to cast his eyes downward lest he be swept away. Reaching up, he cradles Athos' face in his hands, lifting his head to press another kiss to his mouth. "He is right," he tells Athos, for his craving for touches deep enough to mark him is without end, "But I will like anything you do. I believe I could spend if you only stared at me long enough," he says in a breathless laugh.