You are many things. [ His arm settles around him, shielding him, holding him. He doesn't mind the closeness or the way d'Artagnan's skin is warm against his own or his breath is light and teasing when he exhales. He doesn't pull away nor does he have the desire to. There is nothing inside of him that pricks at any part of this. ]

There are parts of you I haven't even discovered yet, d'Artagnan. Anyone who thinks they could understand you is a fool. [ He shifts to bury his face in the other man's hair, his own breathing easy and slow. ]

I'd like to discover all the bits I do not know. If you'll allow it.