Comte Olivier d'Athos de la Fere

Athos whispers Porthos’ name as the kiss envelops him, and whines just slightly as Aramis begins to extricate himself. “Look what you have done,” he murmurs against Porthos’ lips, though his intentions are playful enough. Already, their skin is wrinkled from time in the water, and already, they are longing for something a bath cannot provide, however fine. Giving Porthos a final fierce kiss, he follow Aramis’ lead, carefully pushing himself to his feet with the help of the tub’s edge.