The groan tears itself from Aramis' throat, pushed from his mouth on a tide of pleasure so sharp he wonders if he is not bleeding, flayed open in an instant by the men he loves best in the world. He had not truly been jesting - Aramis feels he could spend beneath Athos' gaze, just as he feels he could vibrating with the rumble of Porthos' voice, and now he is pressed between both. Athos' fingers pull tight enough to bring tears to his eyes, and Aramis groans again for the fasten of that hot mouth to his throat, bottom lip still aching when he opens dazed eyes, staring at Porthos as if to confirm that this is not a dream.