Comte Olivier d'Athos de la Fere

Athos trembles between them, clinging to Aramis’ shoulders, feeling the hot press of Porthos behind him, his arms tightly encircling him. Their chests rise and fall together, their hearts beat as one rapid staccato, and he doesn’t care that they are already growing sticky. He cannot think of anywhere he would rather be than pressed between the two of them.

“Oh…” he stutters, unable to manage anything more.