“Pardieu…” Athos groans, even his skin feeling electrified with pleasure, tingling at the touch of Aramis’ hot mouth. He allows need to take him over, thrusting desperately when it becomes clear that Aramis is as eager as he for the frantic way their bodies move together. “Porthos, he is perfect,” he stutters, for he had promised to say something, and he doubts that he will be capable of speech for much longer. But more than he wants to reach the brink himself, he wishes to see Aramis come like this, to see his body arch and shudder. Unsteady as he may be, he grips Aramis’ cock, unforgiving as he strokes him.