du_vallon | (no subject)

"Bold," praises Aramis, "It is just what I would have done in your position. And of course, after you manhandled me and stripped me of my clothing, I squirmed a bit, pressing our bodies together in the hope of arousing yours."

"Oh, I like the idea of you squirming," Porthos growls, but knows he has to behave himself because they're in public. "You make the decision," he says. "We dance or eat, so which do we do first? Because if we don't get up or put something in our mouths, we're going to learn what the restroom looks like, after all."

Aramis hums, well able to see the virtue in all three of those options, but in the end he decides he'd like to press his body close to Porthos' on the dance floor.

And, as an added surprise, Aramis has taken a short series of lessons. If they play a slow number, Aramis will be able to lead Porthos well indeed.

"Better be dancing, then."

Porthos is a touch saddened that he'll have to wait for cake, but the thought of the press of Aramis' body against his isn't a terrible thing at all and he grins as he peers at Aramis, standing and offering his hand. "Can you believe it's been a year?" he marvels. "A year and a half since we got here. Sometimes, I barely remember life without being in your bed."

"I can," says Aramis, for those unwanted memories of home, of Anne and of their child are fresh in his mind, and he shakes his head as if to clear it. "I did not know how miserable I was. All those times I thought that I was happy were mere folly compared to this."

He takes Porthos' hand and leads them to the floor. "Not even I thought to hope for such luck."

Porthos sobers a touch when Aramis reminds him of those memories. He's been doing good about not feeling threatened by them, so he thinks that now he's able to talk about them a little and not feel like he might retreat. "Was there anything else that you wanted to share about what you remembered?" he asks curiously, following after Aramis as he unwinds his scarf for ease of dancing.

"Not tonight," says Aramis, for he does not wish to dwell on the life of that other poor wretch. "Though there are other tales to give you. Soon," he says, smiling for Porthos, "I will regale you with another of our mad adventures."

Porthos smiles fondly, to think that they're still running off like mad. "I wish I had a good story to tell you, but we spend all of our time together," he says, though something does occur to him. "I did take one of the photography contracts while you were healing, though," he admits, because it had been so quick that he hadn't even told Aramis because it had slipped his mind.

He grins and lets out a quiet huff. "Only you and Athos might recognize it, though."

"That only we would recognize?" asks Aramis, raising a brow. "How intriguing." He takes Porthos' waist in his other hand, beginning to guide him about the dance floor. "And why have you not shown us already?"

Porthos laughs and falls into the dance, a smirk on his face. "Because it wasn't for an advertisement or anything of the sort. It was for product packaging. The sort of thing they wrap around an item," he says, daring Aramis to guess with a sparkling look in his eyes. "Go on," he encourages. "Let's see if you can't figure out what part of me will be gracing the department stores in the next few months."

Aramis considers that only a moment before he nearly falters a step. "Please tell me you are the model for a very form fitting pair of briefs," he says, and even as the words leave his mouth, Aramis begins to laugh, picturing Porthos' body standing tall with hands on hips, groin pushed out for all to see.

Porthos bursts out with laughter, because Aramis has it right in the first go. He's blushing, flushed with it, but he hides his face in Aramis' neck. "All they cared about was a picture of me from shoulder to waist, enough to show the logo of their briefs," he admits. "You can't tell that it's me unless you know the curve of my hips and what my torso looks like."

Apparently, the brand had been the important thing, not how they even fit.

"None of your magnificent cock?" asks Aramis, disappointed, and he cards his fingers through Porthos' hair while he is near. "I suppose that's for the best. I might get jealous and purchase every pair in the city."

"I'm sure the pictures have my cock straining the fabric of the things, but those aren't coming to me for another week from the printers," is his reply, grinning as he lets out a needy moan for the touch of Aramis' fingers in his hair. "The briefs are at department stores in the next little while. I don't get commission for every additional pair you buy, though," he admits, with some disappointment.

Aramis looks around for that moan, but the other dancers seem to be enthralled by their romance rather than afraid they might soon tear each other's clothes off, and he continues to dance, peeling away from Porthos so that he can guide him into a quick twirl. "I'd like to see those as soon as they arrive."

Porthos almost stumbles when Aramis leads him away, but as soon as he's meant to reply, another thought comes to mind and he holds onto it stubbornly. "You do know that you can see it anytime," he says. "They gave me some free samples," he boasts, as if proud of such a meagre thing.

"You're better at dancing," he accuses, now that he's tracked the thought back.

"Am I?" asks Aramis with a sunny smile, and though he feigns innocence, he does not have to feign his delight that Porthos has noticed. He draws Porthos close again with a hand against his back, turning them both together this time for a brief view of the sunset. "The benefits of a handsome partner to dance with me, no doubt."

Porthos leans back into the hand, laughing because he's quickly realized that he's not leading and he doesn't mind at all. In truth, he's just happy to be held and to remember how they danced last time. "You're going to get whatever you want if you keep calling me handsome," he praises fondly. "Where did you learn?" he asks. "Did Athos go with you?"

"A small place near the park," Aramis admits, "And no." He looks disappointed. "I did not consider that he would agree, but I should have. He must have learned a number of dances growing up."

Porthos is still selfishly happy to benefit from these lessons, an eager look in his eyes. "You going to dip me, then?" he asks, having seen other couples doing that and being impressed by what it took to get them into such positions. He thinks they can probably corral Athos into some dancing later, given that he'd seemed good at it, at the wedding.

"Just the once," says Aramis, laughing for the thought of it. "You are not as petite as my practice partners." He moves Porthos around the floor, and after another twirl that should look ridiculous between two large men and yet somehow does not, Aramis braces himself, guiding Porthos down into a dip to kiss him.

He's pleased for the dip, delighted as a matter of fact, but when he's back on two feet and done being kissed (which always takes him a second to cope with), he gives Aramis a slightly narrow-eyed look. "And exactly how many partners were you practicing with?" is what he has to ask.

"Three or four, all told," replies Aramis with the hint of a smirk. "They were all so beautiful, I was too dazzled to tell them apart. Particularly Madame Rothchild, there to learn to dance for her sixtieth anniversary. Eighty years old, and what a firecracker."

There's genuine jealousy for a moment as he praises this woman so very much, of his being dazzled, but that slips away when the truth reveals itself. Shooting Aramis a dubious look, he wrinkles his nose. "And here I'd thought maybe you were actually out charming young women and making them fall in love with you. Now I find it's just the older ones. She'll go to her grave madly passionate about Aramis d'Herblay du Vallon," he laments.

Aramis laughs, drawing Porthos in close so he can nuzzle at his cheek. "And Porthos d'Herblay du Vallon," he murmurs in his ear, "They were quite delighted to hear the reason for my lessons was to woo my handsome new husband. After I showed them our wedding photos I imagine thoughts of us warmed more than a few beds."