"You are," Aramis replies, "And now I have someone else to prove it." He kisses Porthos' cheek, refastening his mouth to the curve of his throat to feel his pulse raise against his own lips, a delicious but pale shadow of what Athos tastes below.

Aramis looks down at him, his red cheeks and his wide, determined eyes, and reaches, stroking his fingers over the veins in Athos' hand. "And you are still very beautiful. Let him slide along your tongue," he says, fingers moving back and forth across Athos' hand.