Aramis' laugh turns into a moan as Porthos continues to work at his neck, stinging and soothing in equal measure with his tongue. "He could drive himself to aneurysm all on his own," Aramis notes, sobering a little. "We must tell him." As much as he'd like to bask in this moment forever, their joy undiminished and still unspoiled by the many realities that will come with raising a child, it's not a secret to be kept. "How, Porthos?"