Comte Olivier d'Athos de la Fere

Though the touch is light, that play of Aramis’ fingers across his hand is enough to send a shiver through Athos, all his nerves afire. He is growing hard, and is yet too focused to be ashamed of what Porthos’ cock between his lips is doing to him. He does as instructed, sliding his tongue along the length as he had done to Aramis’ fingers not long ago, and with a hum he again chances taking more into his mouth. His jaw aches, but surely nothing could be less important than that.