du_vallon | (no subject)

(no subject)

Wearing the scarf that had been purchased for him last year, Porthos has managed to recreate his outfit as best as he could. It's not exact and it's hardly the same (honestly, he doesn't remember much about the night beyond the scarf, the food, and Aramis bending down on one knee while the land passed by). It's all those things he's glad to recreate as he settles onto their table on the boat, fidgeting as if he's expecting yet another proposal.

Like an eager child at a party, Porthos' eyes are casting about everywhere they can, desperate to find the waiter for champagne, though he remembers to check in with Aramis, because being at sea (even so limited) can't be enjoyable for him. "Are you okay?" he murmurs quietly. "Should I get you something stronger to get your mind off the water?"

He's practically bouncing from eagerness, so happy to be back as he is.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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."

Unprompted, without meaning to, Porthos exhales a sharp puff of breath for the name spoken in his ear like that. "I'm starting to think you carry around our wedding photos with you, that full book," he teases with a wry smirk. "Not that I mind. You were the handsomest thing I've ever seen in your suit that day, with Athos only a remote second." He runs his thumb slowly over the curve of Aramis' collarbone, now, eager as he is to touch him. "I'm already wooed, dear. You managed that years ago."

"That is no reason to stop," Aramis replies, shivering for the touch, Porthos' sweet words still sounding in his ears. He kisses Porthos' shoulder, and then his throat, wishing for a moment that they were far from public eyes. "I mean to woo you every day of our lives, cariño."

Porthos swallows hard, feeling a touch like he won't be able to last much longer if Aramis keeps kissing him like that. "How about I do a little bit of the wooing?" he asks, a touch breathless as he widens his eyes and gestures with his chin towards the bathroom. "Hmm? I know a year ago, we couldn't, but what about tonight?"

Aramis follows Porthos' gaze and his heartrate spikes, heat pooling in his groin in sense memory for the last time they had visited one together. "I'm not certain spending the night in jail will count as wooing," he whispers, nervous.

"Not if we close the door behind us," is whispered back, with a near-frantic, manic, determined look in his eyes that insists that they can do it and get away with it, but also insists that it's something they need. "Aramis," he begs. "We'll make it a game. I go to my knees and you keep quiet."

"Another tale for the children, hmm?" asks Aramis, and it is such a tempting thought, but Aramis cannot quell his nerves. "If we are caught they will not let us have any," he reminds Porthos, voice tight with desire and trepidation.

Porthos lets out a soft exhalation, but it's a whine that's giving in to Aramis, nodding in consent because he doesn't want to get into trouble now. He does huff out a laugh, kissing Aramis' neck. "I can't believe you're actively easing us away from mischief. I hardly recognize your words."

"I am becoming responsible in my old age," says Aramis with a breathy laugh, shuddering bodily as Porthos kisses him. "Sangdieu, how long is this bloody boat ride?" he wonders aloud, laughing again as the shore passes slowly by, so near and yet impossible to get to.

Porthos grins even wider as he eases back, taking hold of both of Aramis' hands to tug him along towards the table again. "C'mon, let's go have some cake and I can stare at chocolate on your lips," he encourages. "And think about smearing it on other parts of you later."

Aramis follows with both disappointment and relief, a little weak kneed when he sinks into his seat at the table. "Oh, you will be the death of me," he says, chuckling faintly. He reaches for the cake as it if might bite him, for it takes very little from Porthos to push Aramis into reckless acts, be they prurient or dangerous, and he lifts a bite with trembling fingers.

"Only if it's decades and decades from now, I hope," is his delighted reply, laughing warmly as he slides into his seat and steals a fork so he can start to poke and prod at the cake, more eager to watch Aramis enjoy it, a besotted look in his eyes.

"Good?"

Aramis cannot stave off a moan as the chocolate bursts on his tongue, and he casts a startled look at Porthos, as if expecting to see the man's clothes already somehow gone for the noise.

"Very," he manages, offering the next forkful to Porthos.

Porthos stares at Aramis, eyes wide as if he's been smacked in the face by someone's fist. The moan has made other parts of him strain even harder and he lets out a whine, but suppresses it with a bite of his lip, breathing in as he stares at Aramis, leaning in to nibble off the cake from the fork.

Closing his eyes, he takes his time appreciating it, whole visage softening with pleasure for the sweetness burst on his tongue.

"You see?" asks Aramis, sounded a bit strangled, "It's quite heavenly." He tears his eyes from Porthos' blissful expression to stare at the chocolate still clinging to the fork. "What a pity we cannot bring it back with us to the hotel room."

Porthos bites his lip as he opens his eyes, licking off the sweetness from the corner that's stained there. "I recall last year, they let me purchase one from the counter," he remembers. "It would definitely be something that would be put to good use. Don't you think?"

"We'll certainly need it," Aramis agrees, looking at the wall the counter resides behind as if he could see straight through it. "One or more, I think, in case our appetite shifts from deviant to real."

Porthos grins as he peers over the edge of the boat, leaning back to catch sight of the water and how far the dock is. "I'd say about five or seven minutes," he says, leaning back in. "Until we reach our favourite stop. The one right outside our hotel," he says with a bright grin, having many fond memories of that hotel.

"Thank God in all his mercy for that," says Aramis fervently, watching the distant port that will deliver them from this glorious boat to an even more glorious hotel suite. "Now leave me be, if I am to walk to the hotel, I need to make more room in my trousers."

Porthos laughs as he gives Aramis a playful pout, unable to help himself as he leans back in the chair, draping his arms out to his sides. "What? Am I distracting you or something?" he asks with a smirk.