Athos, too, must resist the urge to look away from the intensity with which their eyes have locked, and the awe he finds in Aramis’ expression. It is nearly too much, nearly more than he can bear, but as is so often the case in moments of unsteadiness, he takes refuge in controlled calm. “One thing at a time,” he admonishes with a mildness that stands in sharp contrast to everything else about him, and when he kisses Aramis, he tugs at the man’s lower lip with his teeth. Then, sliding a brief look at Porthos, he follows the first of his suggestions, tangling his fingers in Aramis’ hair and pulling back hard, then pressing his mouth to the exposed skin of Aramis’ neck.