Chapter Text
Even now, Cyrano and Roxanne were finding new forms of intimacy. A bathtub was brought up for them, and while they started the long process of heating water and filling the tub, they also got ready their clothes for the ball and Cyrano's shaving tools. When the water was finally ready, they found themselves in the tub together, and Roxanne was quick to offer to shave him. It was certainly sweet, huddled together in the warm water, letting his wife's gentle hands guide his face as she ran the blade over his skin. He felt safe. She smiled as she met his gaze, stroking the newly-shaved skin and tipping his head to continue the ablutions, humming softly to herself.
Scrap, wipe, scrape, wipe. The ritual continued until his face was smooth. Then she set the razor aside and reached for her perfumed soaps, lathering up her skin and offering them to him. He took them and cleansed himself. Roxanne looked like a goddess rising of the steam, her hair loose and curly around her shoulders, her skin flushed with the heat of the water. Cyrano was transfixed as he watched her clean herself and rinse off the soap, then lay back against the wall of the tub, eyes crinkling with a smile as she caught him staring.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, reaching out under the water to rest his hands on her thighs. They nudged his sides playfully as her eyelashes fluttered. "Not even Aphrodite could hold a candle to you, my love."
"All this before I've even gotten ready for the ball. Shall you faint from my beauty tonight?" she teased, resting her head on the edge of the tub. She watched his eyes rake over her, following the water droplets as they slowly ran down her chest, feeling that familiar thrill he gave her from the attention.
"Faint? No. Rise, perhaps." Cyrano grinned, his meaning clear in the quirk of his brows, and Roxanne laughed.
"That could be awfully embarrassing for you, in the middle of all those people."
"I have been teased for worse things in this town."
She hummed, reaching underneath to press her hands over his and guide them higher up her thighs. "As complimentary as it would be, for my husband to be aroused by my beauty at a ball... I somehow don't think polite society would appreciate it."
"I know of no polite society in Bergerac," he chuckled, letting her guide his hands where she wanted them, slipping his fingers down to stroke the warmth between her legs. A thumb gently rubbing, a finger slipping inside, and Roxanne was already gasping, biting her lip and clutching the edges of the tub. "Oh, look at you, beautiful creature. I adore you..."
Roxanne was blushing, from both his fingers and his words, and her legs widened, eager for his touch. "Oh, Cyrano... you're wicked... wickedly wonderful..."
"Wicked, am I?" He leaned forward, balancing on his knees as he pressed kisses to her lips, his fingers slow and gentle and teasing the most exquisite sounds from her. Her soft hands cupped his face and met his kisses with an eagerness that promised much, much more, but the sound of horses and chatter outside broke them apart when they realised they still had much to do to get ready for the ball. They smiled at each other, and Cyrano whispered a promise to her to finish the job later, before they both rose from the water.
Roxanne donned her petticoats and corset and her best dress, her jewellery and powders and creams, a little rouge for her cheeks and lips. She never looked like the painted dolls of Paris, always keeping a light touch and enhancing her features perfectly. She would look like an angel tonight, compared to the other women of Bergerac. She curled her hair and pinned it up, exposing her pale neck, and Cyrano sat half-dressed, watching her with adoring eyes, scribbling on a spare piece of paper.
"Still writing poetry about me?" she questioned with a smile, leaning down to button his shirt for him, and he stirred from his stupor and turned the paper over, finishing getting ready.
"Yes, but leave it until it's finished."
She agreed, and helped him style his hair, gazing over him with an admiring eye. "You're very handsome, my love. Shall we dazzle them?"
"We shall."
* * * * * *
The dance hall where most events were held in Bergerac was lit up with bright, flickering candles, abuzz with ladies and gentlemen who chattered and drank and organised dance partners while the orchestra was setting up, testing their instruments. Cyrano and Roxanne wandered through the crowds of country folk gathered outside, nodding and smiling to all who caught their eyes, curious gazes following in their wake. Cyrano remembered avoiding these events like the plague in his youth. Large gatherings of people, all who loved to poke fun of his misfortune, missing out on dances because no ladies would take his request to dance seriously... it had been hell, and best missed.
Except for Roxanne. She had snuck out of a ball and joined him in a field under the stars, and had asked him to dance herself. "Gentlemen are supposed to ask ladies," he had protested, and she had just laughed, taking his hands and starting to dance around to the faint music that was coming from the hall. He had fallen even more in love with her that night, her hair falling out of it's pins, her dress hiked up to avoid tripping. She had always rebelled against every convention and it had been the thing he admired most about her.
Now she was holding her head high as she held his hand and wore his mother's ring, and her confidence inspired him. His anxiety about returning to the place that had treated him so abominably had all but gone. It didn't matter what anyone said. Roxanne was his wife, and she was his sun, moon and stars. She was all he needed to be happy.
The years in Paris had distance them both from their humble country beginnings, and for a little while the two wandered the perimeter of the hall, finding the punch and having a drink or two, before finally the first dance of the evening started and they gravitated to the dance floor with the rest of the couples. And then they were dancing, smiling, laughing as the jaunty tune made their spirits rise with everyone else's in the dance. Finally Cyrano was dancing with everyone else, like any other man, with a woman who wanted more than anything to be there with him. And he felt a piece of his soul heal, one he hadn't realised had been broken.
Round and round they went, dancing around the room, until the music was done and they were panting. Deciding to take a break, Cyrano offered to bring Roxanne a drink, and she gladly accepted, sitting down at the edge of the room to rest her sore feet.
"Well, well, if it isn't the grand, tiny man, returned home at last!" chuckled a man near the punchbowl, as Cyrano ladled the drink into their glasses. His face was red and he was already drunk, so Cyrano didn't bother to take offence. He vaguely recognised him as one of the farmers who lived outside town. "Rumor has it you married the beauty of Bergerac, Madeline Robin! Is there any truth to it?"
Cyrano had almost forgotten the name that Roxanne had left behind long ago. He grinned up at him, in a jovial mood. "It's true indeed! I have been blessed with her affections and have married her this past fortnight."
"Never have I heard anything more preposterous. And yet, here you are, a married man, having scored the most eligible woman you could find." The man raised a glass. "To your health, Monsieur Cyrano!"
"And to yours," he returned, raising his own glass.
A few other men wandered over then, emboldened by their friend, and all clapped Cyrano on the back and shook his hand, congratulating him on his great achievement of marrying Roxanne. He knew they would not be so shocked and celebratory if he were an ordinary man, but how could he feel slighted when he was suddenly the target of such positive reactions? He basked in the attention for a little while, before making excuses and heading back to find Roxanne, beaming as he carried their drinks back to her.
Roxanne had been drawn into her own circle of congratulatory friends and Cyrano stopped behind a table, his height a great advantage when it came to things like eavesdropping. They were admiring her ring and giggling together, and someone covered their mouth with a fan to whisper something into Roxanne's ear. His wife blushed and laughed. "Believe me, he is more than adequately accomplishing that task!"
"But his size... surely..." one of the ladies whispered, although not quietly enough for Cyrano to miss. "You can't expect us to believe..."
"Do not assume that his height is equal to his..." here Roxanne stopped, covering her mouth, her eyes sparkling with mirth. The ladies giggled around her. "My dears, I am very satisfied. That is all you need to know."
Cyrano's ears were burning, but he was grinning. It was quite the confidence boost to hear exactly what Roxanne thought of his performance in the bedroom. Was this what all newly married ladies spoke about? How interesting...
He stepped out from behind the table, looking as if he had been on his way the while time, and the ladies fell silent when he arrived and handed Roxanne her punch. "My love, shall we take a walk?"
"I would love some fresh air," Roxanne agreed, fanning herself slightly, her cheeks still pink.
Cyrano chatted with the ladies politely until they all dispersed and then the two of them left the hall, heading into the cool night air. "Have you been enjoying reconnecting with friends?" he asked as they stopped to look at the stars.
"Very much. I had forgotten how different society in the country is to society in Paris." She sipped her punch. "Have you?"
"I did not leave with many friends, but I seem to have gained some after returning. Perhaps it is true that absence makes the heart grow fonder." He glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. "I am glad to know that your friends will know how well I am satisfying you. Is it the norm for married ladies to receive such questions about their husbands?"
"Oh!" Roxanne covered her mouth. "You heard? How mortifying... yes, I suppose it is quite common..."
"Not at all, my love. In fact it was my proudest moment."
She laughed, running a hand through his hair, and leaned down to kiss him. Feeling playful, he ran a hand up her leg and squeezed her buttocks over her skirts, and she gasped, giggling. "Cyrano! Anyone could see!"
He grinned, stepping back and pulling her with him until his back was against the wall. Around the back of the hall, there were only fields of grass, illuminated by the candlelight shining through the windows. Here against the wall, not even anyone who looked out of them could see the two of them, unless they deliberately peered around. Now his hands were free to wander, grabbing her buttocks again, and she laughed, cupping his face. "You couldn't even behave yourself for one night..."
"How can I, when you are so beautiful?" He nuzzled into her touch, gazing up at her with adoration. "I wish there were not so many layers between us..."
"What would you do if there weren't?"
"I would finish what I began early this evening."
Her eyes sparkled, and maybe it was the punch, or maybe just the excitement, but something made her grab her skirts and start to pull them up. Cyrano watched, speechless, as she pulled up the layers of the front of her gown, bunching them around her hips. "And now?"
Such an invitation couldn't be ignored. Cyrano was already just the right height, in line with her hips, especially when she wore those heels. Reverently, he ran his hands up her thighs, until they disappeared under the bunching fabric, and then he too disappeared under it, ducking his head and pressing his lips to her core.
Roxanne moaned, covering her mouth with one hand and pressing another to the wall, and Cyrano wrapped his hands around her hips, pulling her flush against his mouth. He dipped his tongue between her lower lips and tasted just how ready she was for him, grinning against her pussy and starting to tease his tongue against her clit. He felt her buck against his face, grinding herself against his tongue, as he pleasured her under her dress, pressed against the wall outside the dance hall. It was so daring, so insane, so scandalous. Cyrano couldn't believe he was doing it. But if he had confessed to Roxanne long ago, perhaps they could have gotten into mischief like this all over Bergerac. Roxanne was wild and just crazy enough for it.
The music drifted out of the hall, and people laughed and chattered on the other side of the wall, so close to them yet with no idea of the passion going on nearby. Cyrano lavished all his affection on Roxanne, pleasuring her with his tongue until she was whimpering, trembling, gasping for air. He could feel her thighs clenching, her hips twitching, overwhelmed by the sensations one moment and desperate for them the next. He only wished he could see her, naked and exposed, her face contorting into all kinds of beautiful expressions. And then, blessed release. He felt her press hard against his face, her legs shaking, hearing her muffled moans of pleasure, tasting her sweetness as it dripped onto his tongue.
He cleaned her of the mess, and ducked out from under her gown. She was red-faced, sweating, bosoms heaving, but it didn't stop her from dropping to her knees and kissing him hard. Then she pulled out a handkerchief and cleaned his face, smiling. "You will be repaid handsomely for that tonight."
"I look forward to it." He helped her to her feet, grinning. "Now, do you think you can manage another dance, or have I weakened your legs too much?"
"Let us see!" She patted herself down, making sure she was presentable, before they headed inside again and joined the rest of the couples for the next dance. Their scandalous rendezvous had energised them and they danced all night, drank too much, and finally stumbled back to the inn early in the morning, extremely satisfied with the ball. There, Roxanne stripped off her fancy gown, let down her hair, practically tore Cyrano's trousers off and pushed him down onto the bed. And Cyrano let himself sink into bliss as she ran her tongue over the cock she had praised to her friends, the rest of the world melting into a puddle of nothing.