Porthos braces himself, his nose wrinkling up after the kiss before he closes his eyes and surrenders to the tickling touch, gasping and giggling with ridiculous, unmasculine gasping laughs, twitching and only pinned down by Aramis holding him. He swats at his hands eventually when it becomes too much, huffing.

"You'd better not abuse it the way he does," he says. "He only found out by accident, too, thinking I was liking it," he accuses of Aramis.