With a smirk, Athos takes advantage of the rare opportunity to shove Porthos towards the bed, almost as if to prove that he is a youth no longer, and he should certainly not forget it. He turns round and takes a hold of Aramis’ collar, pressing his naked body against the other man’s as they kiss. He wants them both and he wants to forget, wants the quiet misery of the past two weeks chased out of him with taste, and touch, and pleasure.