Aramis gives a shameless whine, but he peels himself away from Porthos, tossing the blanket across the couch well before he's disappeared through the bedroom door. He showers quickly, running his fingers over the new bruises Porthos' fingertips have made, and is sure to select one of his shorter sweaters to pull on with a pair of soft pajama pants. It will certainly ride up and show them off.

"Now then," he says, returning to the kitchen with a stretch. "Where do you want me?"