Comte Olivier d'Athos de la Fere

Aramis curls a hand around Porthos' calf and watches, torn between the vision of Porthos in ecstasy, one of his favorite sights in the world, and one that is soon to join it. Dropping his eyes to the man on his knees before him, Aramis places his other hand low on Athos' back, rubbing slow circles while Porthos fills his mouth. They are both so beautiful, and Aramis twists his head against Porthos' grip, seeking a sting to distract him before his heart wells up and spills over, too.