du_vallon | (no subject)

(no subject)

When Porthos had started to learn English, he'd used books and the people around town to improve his knowledge. He hadn't been awful to start with, but there had been a lot to be desired. This time, he's got Aramis and it's only Spanish, so it's not like he absolutely needs to learn it, but it's important for Aramis and it's something that he wouldn't mind surprising him with now and again.

Still, as he sits cross-legged staring at Aramis, he's starting to get a little frustrated with the way you have to speak differently, and how it sounds so entirely strange to his ear.

"Why do my R's have to sound like that?" he demands, because they're not like that in French. And he's defaulted back to French, which he's been doing all lessons even though he knows he's supposed to be learning by speaking more in Spanish than French or English. It's only that the other languages are so much easier by now. Letting out a growl of frustration, he drags a pillow into his lap to lean his elbows on it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Propped up on his elbow, Aramis gives an elegant shrug. "They don't have to," he allows, "But you will never sound right speaking Spanish with your Rs as they are now." He grins, as committed to Porthos speaking properly as he is to Porthos speaking with a fetching accent. "The accent would be terribly cute."

Porthos grins as he takes the pillow and swats Aramis in the face with it lightly and with a playful glimmer in his eyes. "You look too fetching like that," he accuses, wiggling his way back so his back is supported by the headboard. He's also just a little further from Aramis.

"I don't think anyone's called me cute in a decade," he marvels. "You're the first."

"I continue to marvel at the blindness of your peers," says Aramis, hooking a foot over Porthos' ankle lest he wriggle entirely out of reach. "Now, tell me how you say, The women drink water with us. And roll your Rs, darling."

"I'm not cute," he insists, trying to look as dangerous as a man possibly can when he's defending himself. He grins for the touch to his foot, curling his toes and twisting his foot to push at Aramis' foot in turn. "I'm handsome. Dangerous."

He wrinkles up his nose (in a way far from cute, he'll protest) as he thinks about how you would say that, stumbling when he does start (and only barely rolling an R). "Las mujeres beben agua con nosotros?" he tries.

"Perfecto," Aramis praises, dragging his toes against Porthos' ankle. "Even the R has improved. Can you say it in reverse, my handsome, dangerous husband?" he asks, leaning his cheek on his hand as he regards him. "We drink water with the women?"

Porthos twitches at the touch and how it makes him a touch ticklish, almost flinching for the sudden touch of it. "Tenemos agua potable con las mujeres?" Only this time, he knows that something's wrong in there, only he doesn't know what.

"Why are you teaching me things I'm never going to use?" he complains.

Aramis hums. "Close," he says, "And an interesting take, but you have said 'We have drinking water with the women,' not, 'We drink water.' Bebemos agua con las mujeres."

He pokes Porthos with his toe. "One must always be ready to drink any manner of things at a beautiful woman's demand."

Edited 2015-11-20 01:44 (UTC)

Porthos leans forward and swiftly catches Aramis' toe before he can be poked again. "You're married," he warns, a dangerous growl in his words. "And Athos wouldn't be pleased to hear that you're teaching me how to ask beautiful women to drink with us." He adjusts his pillow and tugs his knee to his chest, letting it shake back and forth.

"Teach me how to say 'I'll take you out for dinner'," he suggests.

"That's a bit advanced," Aramis tells him. "To say that you will do something is a different tense than saying you are doing something. Te llevaré a cenar, I will take you to dinner, Te llevo a cenar, I'm taking you to dinner."

He grabs for a pillow and stuffs it beneath his head. "What's the harm in getting beautiful women to drink with us?"

"And cope with Athos' frown at us for flirting with women?" he challenges, letting go of Aramis' toe and shifting so he's lying on his stomach with the pillow under his chin, staring up at Aramis like the lovesick idiot he's become. "What about 'I made you dinner'," he suggests. "I think I'll need that one a lot."

"Again with a new tense," Aramis laughs. "Hice la cena para ti, mi magnífico marido. And Athos will frown at us no matter what we do," he muses. "We may as well enjoy the act that gets us into trouble."

Porthos murmurs the words back, saying them out loud. "Hice la cena para ti, mi magnífico marido," and then realizes. "Wait," he says. "You added something. Marido, that's you," he says, narrowing his eyes. "What else have you forced me to say?" he accuses, poking at Aramis' stomach.

"And which beautiful women do you have in mind to seduce, hmm?"

"Not seduce," Aramis replies, "Enjoy a drink with. I like the sight of you surrounded by beautiful women." He grins and motions over himself. "You have merely paid me a compliment," Aramis tells him. "Can't you guess what it is?"

"Shouldn't the sight of me surrounded by beautiful women worry you that I might be lured away by one of them?" Porthos wonders, but he grins in return for Aramis' gesture. Crawling to his knees, he looms above Aramis and sinks down as he thinks about it, matching the Spanish to the French in his mind.

"My magnificent husband," he realizes. "Not shy of ego, are we?"

"Do you not agree?" asks Aramis shamelessly. He lifts up on his elbows, well aware of the picture he makes, and seeks Porthos' mouth with his own. "If a beautiful woman lures you away, I will simply follow," he promises with a deviant smile.

Porthos eases off to keep the kiss chaste, stubbornly devoted to actually seeing this lesson through and they've got learning to go before he can become distracted. "The only group of women I want to think about being lured into is one where it's you and Athos and you're both beautiful women." It's one of the fantasies that lurks in his head and refuses to shake out, given how delighted he'd be to tote them both around.

He leans in for a sharp peck. "Usted hace una mujer muy hermosa," he stumbles over the words.

"Verdad," agrees Aramis, whining faintly when all he gets is a peck. "I could fetch the corset if you get a craving before this place sees fit to make us women again."

He lies back against the pillow, one arm pushed beneath his head. "Yo te daré placer."

"If it makes you a woman again, I'm going to make you wear that thing and a pair of heels with the panties and nothing else," he says matter-of-factly, as if he's just discussing their dinner plans and not one of his fantasies. He's distracted when Aramis next speaks, and between that and some new words, he ends up staring blankly at aramis, shaking his head. "I don't understand that," he says. "Just that there's a you and a me in there."

"That's usually a promising combination, is it not?" asks Aramis, grinning again. "Aramis. Porthos. Un corsé. Una cama."

He rolls back onto his side. "Do you really think about me in heels and panties?" he asks with interest. "Well, her me."

This is torture to stare at Aramis like this, splayed out for his enjoyment, apparently, and torturing him, besides. "Of course I do," he replies. "Both of you," he admits. He understands 'bed' of what Aramis has said and can guess at 'corset'. "I mean, you were gorgeous and I loved you in nothing at all, but the thought of you in heels and the things I bought you?" He shivers slightly and drags his pillow back to cover his growing hardness.

He defiantly stares at the book in his lap instead of Aramis' wild hair that he wants to tug or the shirt he wants to dismiss. "As if you don't have your own fantasies," he accuses, cheeks flushing red.

"Did I sound as if I disapproved, cariño?" asks Aramis, but he relents, gazing at Porthos' studious face with fondness. It is rare that the man has patience for anything other than yoga or cooking, and Aramis means to indulge him.

"What are some particular phrases you wish to learn?" he prompts, wishing he could caress Porthos' red cheeks. "Or subjects."

"I want to know how to carry on conversations with you," Porthos says, trying to shake the image of Aramis' female form from his mind, all tousle-haired and wild and gorgeous. It's a hard thing to shake, as is the reminder of Aramis in his regular form wearing that corset. "So we can talk idly around the house."

"We will have to teach Athos," Aramis muses, "Lest he grow jealous or feel left out. But I would like that, too," he says. "Particularly when Ana arrives. She will learn to speak three languages by the time she can ride one of their delightful little bicycles."

He beams at Porthos, charmed by the thought. "Tienes hambre. Are you hungry? Estoy cansado, I am tired. ¿Hay café? Is there coffee?" Aramis laughs. "You will hear that rather a lot."

Edited 2015-11-20 04:25 (UTC)

Porthos grins as he idly reaches out his hand, rubbing circles with his thumb along Aramis' calf absently as he thinks of those phrases and repeats them one by one, feeling like they're all simpler than the other ones he's been learning. "Athos will probably pick it up with ease. He's much cleverer than me when it comes to things like languages."

He taps his thumb against Aramis' leg. "What about 'you look beautiful'."

"To me?" asks Aramis with a bat of his dark lashes. "Estás bello. And you are just as clever as Athos." He pushes his calf against Porthos' fingers, eager for any touch, even the smallest ones. "Tú eres el más guapo de la ciudad, mi marido," he murmurs.