Athos sighs into the kisses, clinging to Porthos and Aramis in turn. The last hour or so seems to be catching up with him, leaving him overwhelmed, and elated, and exhausted in turn. And yet, by God, he still aches with want.

He manages a nod, swallowing a few times before he trusts himself to speak. “You?” he asks Porthos over Aramis’ shoulder, voice rasping a little.