Athos opens his mouth under Aramis’ insistent kiss, nearly gasping as he pulls away. Of course, he is given no time to recover; these days, he is more prepared than he once was for Porthos to sweep him up, but still he splutters at the indignity of being carried and dumped like a sack of potatoes. “God only knows what you would have done in revenge,” he counters, unbuttoning his shirt as he stretches out on the bed.