Aramis shivers himself as Athos' lips part. He has seen that mouth in so many forms over the years, smirking, scowling, chastising, the rare grin, but never like this. Already his lips are thin and stretched, and Aramis' own give a phantom pang, having been where his are now so many times before. "He tastes sweet," he murmurs, almost to himself. "That was my very first thought upon tasting him."