"Do you think I intend to be idle?" asks Aramis with a laugh, settling behind Athos. He leans in to kiss his nape, mouthing down the nobs of his spine. The lubricant is warm now, his fingers slippery with it when he coaxes his hand between Athos' legs, rubbing them against his hole. "Just enough this time," he says, half to himself as he begins a cursory stretch. "I think you'd like to feel him for days."