Work Text:
“Grantaire, what the…what is this?”
Grantaire stopped in his tracks. He was standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen, fresh from running some errands for the apartment. He had his keys in his mouth as his arms were loaded up with reusable bags from the grocery store. He spit them into one of the bags, but still found himself unprepared to offer a defense. “Uh…”
Enjolras sighed, set the sketchbook he’d been holding aside, and helped Grantaire carry the groceries into the kitchen. Once that was accomplished he retrieved the sketchbook, opened to the drawing in question, and held it out to Grantaire. He had one of his brows arched and he was clearly confused by the drawing, but not necessarily upset. That was a start.
“It’s…really old,” Grantaire said lamely.
“I noticed. You did date it,” Enjolras said, gesturing to the R and the messy date scrawled in the corner. “I think that worries me more. You drew this shortly after we met, didn’t you?”
Grantaire tried to think back. He’d been well infatuated with Enjolras at the time, but his feelings hadn’t progressed to fanatically obsessive love yet. So yes, it had been early into their friendship. “Yeah, I think it was only a few weeks after Halloween.”
“Did…um, did Halloween have anything to do with you…drawing me like…like…”
Grantaire let out a sigh and snatched the old sketchbook away from Enjolras. “Honestly, I completely forgot about this thing. I was half-drunk at the time, and if I’d remembered it existed, I probably would have gotten rid of it.”
Because honestly, now that he was living with his beautiful slab of marble, why on earth would he keep a doodle of said epitome of human loveliness rendered in the style of a Gil Elvgren cheesecake pinup girl?
The picture showed a stylized Enjolras wearing black lingerie and a frilly red apron. The back of the apron was catching on a hat rack while he made that surprised and slightly scandalized pouty face that Elvgren had been so masterful at painting. The drawing’s lips were fuller than Enjolras’ and colored a bright red, and he had the thick eyelashes that went with a pinup girl as well. And then there were the drag-worthy stilettos...
Grantaire was sure his face was at least as red as the cartoon Enjolras’ apron, if not the tempting full lips. “Look, it’s an homage to one of my favorite twentieth century commercial artists. Plus I was drunk.”
“I was waiting for you to try to excuse it with that. Grantaire…I don’t actually mind that you did this. I just don’t, um…I don’t think I get it.”
“Get it?” Grantaire repeated, confused himself. “There’s nothing to get. I was drunk, bored, and looking through one of my art books and I decided to draw a pinup girl. And, well, I was crushing on you so I drew you instead.”
“Oh. So…um, never mind.” It was Enjolras’ turn for his face to go red. He turned away from Grantaire and went to start putting groceries away, but Grantaire grabbed his arm.
“Wait, what? What were you going to say?” Grantaire held on, waiting for his boyfriend to look at him.
Enjolras turned to face him, but he wouldn’t meet his eye. “You…wouldn’t want me to actually, er, wear anything like that in real life…right?”
Grantaire’s eyes widened. Of all the reactions he could have expected for Enjolras to have after finding that picture that one would never have occurred to him. He felt his throat go dry. “Would you?” he managed to rasp out.
“I…I wouldn’t be averse to trying it.” Enjolras looked up at him briefly, cheeks bright red, perfect white teeth biting at a nervous smile.
Grantaire pulled him into a hungry kiss. Enjolras tangled a hand in the curls at Grantaire’s nape and groaned his appreciation. Grantaire could feel a stupid smile on his face when he broke the kiss. “Yes, a thousand times yes. Let’s try it the fuck out.”
“Jehan, can I have a word?”
“Hm? Oh, of course.” Jehan smiled at his friend, then waved at his boyfriend. “Courfeyrac, darling, I’ll catch up with you in a bit, alright?”
Courfeyrac nodded, and he and Marius exited the Musain together. Jehan pulled his bag over his shoulder and followed Enjolras out of the closing café. They started walking aimlessly. It was a nice enough night for a stroll around the neighborhood, but it was also odd to be pulled aside by Enjolras like this. Jehan couldn’t help his curiosity. “What’s the matter, Enjolras?”
“Oh, nothing’s the matter. I was just hoping to recruit your assistance for a private matter.”
The last time Enjolras had said that, Jehan had found himself helping the uptight activist set up his bedroom for his deflowering at the hands of his devoted lover. It’s not that Jehan really minded helping Enjolras; really he was pleased his friend felt he could turn to him with a subject he found so uncomfortable discussing, but he’d also kind of hoped that his influence in his Enjolras bedroom matters would only extend to procuring candles and flowers.
All the same, Jehan nodded encouragingly at Enjolras. “What’s the private matter this time?”
Enjolras took a deep breath. “I found one of Grantaire’s old sketchbooks while I was putting away some of his things the other day and I…was made aware of one of his, er, fantasies. Regarding me. A sexual fantasy,” he added, as though Jehan couldn’t have pieced that together by himself.
“Okay.” Jehan waved his hand. “What’s the matter, dear? Was it something that made you uncomfortable?”
Enjolras shook his head. “Only in that I’m surprised by my interest in the thought of it. He, um, he drew me in the style of a…what did he call it? A cupcake girl?”
“Cupcake girl?” Jehan frowned. “I don’t think I’ve heard of that one.”
“Maybe it’s not cupcake then. I think it was a sweet of some kind though.”
Jehan thought for a moment. “Do you mean a cheesecake girl? Like a pinup?”
“Yes, that was it.”
“Ah. Grantaire’s got a few art books on pinup girls. I think he likes commercial art from that era. He’s also got a lot of Rockwell in his personal collection.”
“I’d just dismissed the pinup books as pornography. You think he really finds artistic merit in them?”
Jehan shrugged. “The stuff from that period was all hand painted, and you can’t deny the loveliness there. Plus you know how I feel about eroticism in the arts. I’d say there’s a fair bit of artistic merit in the work of pinup artists.”
“Interesting…”
“Enjolras?” Jehan prodded again. “I’d rather not walk circles around the Musain all night. Please continue your story, dear. So you found a picture Grantaire had made of you in the style of a pinup girl and now…” He knew where this was going, only a fool wouldn’t be able to tell, but for some reason he wanted his prudish friend to spell it out for him.
“I asked him if it was something he’d want to try out and he was, er, rather enthused with the idea. So now I need some help. Do you think you could help me dress up as a pinup girl?”
Jehan was a little curious as to why Enjolras thought he was the best choice as coconspirator here, but then he realized how vulnerable Enjolras was making himself by even contemplating this action. The boy’s relationship with his sexuality was an interesting one. He believed in everyone’s right to express their sexuality as they saw fit, without shame or societal pressures for conformity, but Enjolras personally felt uncomfortable doing so himself. So far Grantaire was the only person who’d gotten the beautiful but incredibly private young man to open up to that part of himself.
And Jehan was one of the only people Enjolras trusted to discuss such things and keep his secrets. Jehan felt touched by the show of faith.
“On a practical level I’m not sure how much help I can be, but I’ll certainly do my best. What did you have in mind?” Jehan asked.
Enjolras shrugged. “I’m not sure, exactly. The, er, drawing had, um, me in black lingerie and a red apron, so I thought that’d be a starting point. And, um, high heels.”
“Let me buy the shoes for you,” Jehan said. “You’ll need special shoes to support your weight.”
“Jehan, I don’t expect to be running laps in them or anything. I’m not even sure how long I’ll be standing when I wear them.” Enjolras was blushing furiously, and Jehan couldn’t help a nervous laugh at his little blunder.
“Right, sorry. When I think of men in heels I’m usually thinking of performers. Okay, so any heels big enough to fit should work. I’m sure we can get the outfit at a regular lingerie store. I don’t think your measurements are anything unconventional enough to worry about, and then after that you’ll probably just need a little makeup, right?”
“I guess. Um…Jehan, I suppose I don’t need to say this, but…your silence on this-”
Jehan clasped Enjolras’ hand and gave him a warm smile. “You were right the first time, dear. You don’t need to say anything at all.”
Enjolras returned the smile, and after making plans to visit the mall together the next afternoon they each went their separate ways to spend the remainder of the night with their boyfriends.
Friday, Enjolras decided, would be the night to do it. Grantaire was at school later than Enjolras, as he had a studio that ran until four thirty and Enjolras’ last class let out at two fifteen. Neither of them had pressing engagements for Saturday mornings, which made Friday nights particularly leisurely for the couple.
Enjolras rushed home as soon as his philosophy class let out, grabbed the shopping bags he’d hidden in his trunk after his and Jehan’s trip to the mall, and went upstairs to contemplate the contents of them.
He shut himself in the bathroom, put the bags on the counter, and carefully extracted the lace and mesh lingerie from its mountain of pink tissue paper. Enjolras held the delicate material up in front of his body and doubtfully glanced at his reflection in the full length mirror attached to the back of the bathroom door.
“Grantaire’s out of his mind. The last thing I’m going to look in this is erotic. I’m going to look ridiculous.”
He gave the lingerie one last dubious glance, then set it back on the tissue pile and began removing his clothing. Figuring out how to get the flimsy little garment on was more of a challenge than he expected-he almost ripped it a few times trying to tug it into place. Once he was reasonably sure he had it on right (he’d printed a picture from the store’s website to serve as a reference) he turned back to the mirror to study his reflection.
“Out of his mind,” Enjolras repeated.
He didn’t look anything like the sleek, curvy model from the picture, which was to be expected really, as the model was a woman and the garment was designed for a woman’s body. The model looked sensual and lithe, while he looked like a very uncomfortable man with disturbingly hairy legs. Enjolras had never really given much thought to his body hair before, as it was blond and didn’t show much, but when you stuck him in a teddy it really commanded attention.
He’d never realized how much body hair he had…
Enjolras ran a hand over his thigh, feeling pensive. Well, he’d come this far already. Might as well do the thing properly if they were going to do it at all.
Enjolras extracted himself from the lingerie, turned on the shower, and laid out his shaving cream and a razor.
Unofficially, Friday nights had become something of a date night for Enjolras and Grantaire. This wasn’t the case when they made plans with their friends to meet at the Musain or the Corinth, but when it was just the two of them they usually hung in and watched a movie together. Enjolras refrained from taking out his homework or ranting about his social activism, and Grantaire basked for a night in his lover’s undivided attention.
Fridays were becoming his favorite night of the week, though there was the slight side effect that he gave Courfeyrac or Combeferre death glares if they tried to make plans with Enjolras for the weekend. Grantaire realized that he was more of a mistress to Enjolras than a proper partner, as Enjolras’ one and true love would always be his pursuit of justice, and mostly he was okay with sharing Enjolras’ time (hell, he was still often in shock he got any of that attention and passion for himself at all). But he didn’t think it was that needy of him to get one regular date night a week.
Of course, he hadn’t made their date night official, but that was just a technicality. Courfeyrac and Combeferre should still somehow have been able to sense that they needed to back the fuck off with their petitions and protests on fucking Fridays.
After he got out of his studio class Grantaire swung by the Thai place and got some takeout for him and Enjolras. Then he got a ride over to Enjolras’ apartment from Bahorel in exchange for some veggie tempura, and he was home for a relaxing night in…
In the suspiciously empty apartment. Usually Enjolras was sitting on the couch with a book waiting for him. “Enjolras? Are you home?”
Grantaire heard a bang and some muffled swearing coming from down the hall. He kicked off his boots, threw his bag on the couch, and stalked off to investigate.
When he opened the bedroom door he had to try really hard to stifle a laugh.
Enjolras was sprawled on the floor with his legs akimbo. He was wearing one impressive stiletto heel, the other one had slid across the room when he’d fallen, and he’d torn a run in one of the fishnet stockings he was wearing.
His wide blue eyes fixed on Grantaire in horror. “You’re home early.”
“It’s quarter of six. I’m actually late because I grabbed us food. You’re…wearing a teddy.”
Enjolras’ cheeks went crimson, and between that and his makeup and the way his curls were falling messily into his face it really was one of the most beautiful things Grantaire had ever seen.
He probably didn’t realize it, but he was actually in an Elvgren pose after falling on the floor like that.
“Enjolras, you look amazing,” Grantaire said, hoping he conveyed even a shadow of how spellbound he felt looking at his lover glammed up like that.
“Really? I don’t look stupid? Because I feel somehow less than stunning like this.”
“Are you uncomfortable?” Grantaire asked, hoping the answer was no (well, other than having tripped on his heel and fallen over, anyway), because he was going to cry if he couldn’t be the one to take off Enjolras’ lingerie. It would be teasing beyond words to get to look at this living, breathing fantasy and then have to put it away and try never to think of it again.
Enjolras planted one of his hands on the ground and started struggling to his feet. Grantaire rushed forward and supported him with one hand on his arm and the other on his hip. Oh…touching that warm, soft skin with a layer of lace over it was nothing short of glorious.
“It’s not physically uncomfortable or anything. Actually, the material’s quite nice in some parts. But I can’t see how you’d find this sexually appealing.”
“Really? You can’t see how stiletto heels, black lace, and fucking bright red lipstick is…did you paint your nails?”
“So that’s what you noticed first,” Enjolras murmured with a sly grin. “Yes, I painted my nails.” He leaned against Grantaire, resting his weight on him as opposed to the lone heel he was wearing, and skimmed his hands under Grantaire’s t-shirt. “Notice anything else?”
The skin of Enjolras’ forearm rubbed against Grantaire’s back. He grabbed Enjolras’ wrist and held his arm up, then, eyes wide, gingerly felt along his chest through the flimsy fabric, and finally ran one of his hands over Enjolras’ thigh, making him shiver. “You shaved your…how much did you shave?”
“I looked ridiculous in the stupid thing at first, so I…er, why don’t we go to bed and you can answer that question for yourself, alright?”
Grantaire dazedly nodded. Bed sounded really good right then.
Enjolras’ half-hobble across the room was perhaps not the most erotic thing in the world, but there was an upside to his shot balance. Grantaire got to keep his hands on him all while they made their slow progress to the bed, and with how turned on he already was bodily contact with Enjolras was a top priority for him.
He helped Enjolras sit down on the edge of the mattress, reverently ran a hand down the side of his face, and then stepped back so he could take a look at him.
Enjolras’ eyes were on Grantaire in turn, watching him uncertainly from behind thick black lashes and expertly applied smoky makeup. His face, which usually hugged the line between handsome and pretty, was unabashedly pretty like this. He’d done something to his hair, Grantaire wasn’t sure what exactly, but whatever it was he approved. Enjolras’ curls were more like waves, hanging longer around his face, down his neck, and touching his sharp shoulders.
His neck looked longer, somehow. The entire effect made him more delicate, softer, without removing any of the strength Grantaire so loved and clung to. His body was still a magnificent work of art, just as lean and sculpted as ever, but now intensely intriguing with the air of femininity they’d invited into the bedroom.
Grantaire was seized with an urge to take pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. Because he would be drawing this later. He was going to lose his mind if he didn’t try to get this sight out of his head and onto paper. Of course, that was going to come later. At the moment Enjolras still looked shy and in need of some reassurance that he was…what? Mind bogglingly beautiful? Every sexual fantasy Grantaire had ever had captured in one spectacular package? He’d never seemed to really care about his beauty before.
It was much more likely Enjolras needed some reassurance that he was accomplishing his task. That he was bringing Grantaire pleasure.
That thought stopped him in his tracks. Once again, he had to wonder what he’d done right to make that perfect fucking man, who was well out of his league if it was even possible for anyone to be in Enjolras’ league to begin with, want him. Not only that, but to make Enjolras want him enough that he was willing to go to these lengths for a three year old whim.
Keeping his eyes on Enjolras, Grantaire sank to his knees, rested his hands on Enjolras’ ankle, and positioned the foot wearing the heel into his lap. He unstrapped the heel and removed it, then tossed it aside and gave Enjolras’ foot a slow rub, enjoying the slide of his skin over the fishnet stocking. He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on the side of Enjolras’ knee. “Better?” he asked, letting his breath ghost over the skin he’d just caressed with his lips.
“Um…y-yes. I guess. I mean, the shoes were less than…practical.” Enjolras was shifting uncomfortably on the bed, cheeks almost bright enough to match his lips and nails. Considering what he was wearing, ignoring his state of arousal was an impossibility. “C-couldn’t even walk in…in them.”
Grantaire grinned in a predatory sort of fashion. “Not that I’m surprised you like my head between your legs or anything…”
Enjolras hooked his leg around Grantaire’s back and used it to pull him forward. “Ah, that would have been a practical use for those damn heels. Whatever was I thinking?” Grantaire groaned, imagining how different that action would have felt if it had been a heel digging into his back instead of a soft and rounded heel. “You like that?” Again, Enjolras sounded confused.
“Yeah. I do,” Grantaire purred. He nuzzled his face against Enjolras’ thigh. He heard a sharp intake of breath, and then Enjolras went perfectly rigid. Grantaire had rather expected Enjolras to be touching him back by now, but so far he’d only fisted his hands in the blanket.
He was clearly turned on. That wasn’t the problem. Grantaire was pretty sure the problem was that Enjolras wasn’t comfortable being turned on by this.
Grantaire leaned back, reluctantly freeing himself from the impossibly long, gorgeous legs. He stood up, touched Enjolras’ shoulders with his hands, bent over, and kissed his forehead. “You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. You look so hot, Enjolras. And not just hot. You’re beautiful, and I love this. Love you. Everything about this, but mostly you.”
Enjolras smiled, looking coy, and hooked his thumb in one of Grantaire’s belt loops. He gave a tug, and getting the message, Grantaire joined him on the bed. He cupped Enjolras’ face in his hands and initiated a series of slow, thorough kisses. He could feel Enjolras’ mascara coated lashes brushing against his face as they moved against each other, and Enjolras’ red coated fingernails digging into his hips. Touching like this was good. It was familiar territory, though the smooth slide of satiny material over Enjolras’ perfectly toned body added exponentially to the make out session.
Grantaire pulled back and was treated to the sight of Enjolras’ bright red lipstick smeared off to one side. Enjolras gasped and gazed at Grantaire from lust dazed eyes. He ran his fingers over Grantaire’s lower lip. “You’re wearing my lipstick,” he murmured. “It does look hot.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. I like it a lot.”
Grantaire tucked that one away for future reference. Enjolras didn’t always give him a lot to work with for their bedroom activities. Or at the least, he didn’t usually spell it out for him like that.
Though it seemed really bratty of him to think something like that when the guy was lying next to him in black lace lingerie and fishnet stockings. Enjolras was trying, and Grantaire definitely appreciated it.
For the next few minutes his hands were simply everywhere on Enjolras’ body. Enjolras fell back against the mattress, pulled Grantaire down on top of him, and bucked against him while they kissed and groped at each other.
The lipstick became a fond memory, and a slight discoloration on both of their chins.
Grantaire reached between Enjolras’ legs and cupped him firmly. He’d been enjoying the heightened softness of Enjolras’ shaved skin under his fingers, but it also left him curious to see if the shaving had extended to manscaping. There was a bit more substance to the silky material covering Enjolras’ cock than the flimsy lace draped seductively over his chest, so it was still hard to tell. He palmed the fabric, massaging the bulge there until he felt a wet spot begin to form.
“How long have you been hard?” Grantaire asked, lips grazing along Enjolras’ throat as he spoke.
“Since you…since you came in here and started looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like…like that,” Enjolras said, eyes flying shut as he lost all his natural eloquence. “Fuck…’Taire…Why are you still fully clothed?”
Grantaire had been so utterly, overwhelmingly consumed by the sensory experience that was Enjolras writhing under him in black lace that he’d mostly forgotten about himself, or at least the parts of him that weren’t in direct contact with Enjolras. Now that his attention had been called to his own body he had to kind of wonder how he could have missed the way he was painfully straining against the zipper of his jeans.
He immediately went to work on his belt buckle while Enjolras ineffectually tugged at his shirt. Grantaire obliged him long enough to get his arms out of his sleeves, then went back to frantically divesting himself of his pants. Between the two of them they got him naked (though one steady hand might have accomplished the task more quickly), and then Enjolras climbed onto his lap and straddled him.
He chewed his pink tinged lip, heavy black lashes fluttering down to his cheek as his gaze dropped. “’Taire, it was…rather an effort to struggle into this thing, but um…you don’t want me to wear it while we’re…we’re…do you?”
Grantaire couldn’t help an affectionate chuckle. He ran his hands up and down Enjolras’ back, then dropped them down to his ass for a squeeze. He ran his fingers along the edge of the flimsy material, slipping them closer and closer to the crease between his cheeks.
Really, he very much did want to pin Enjolras to the mattress and take him just like that, but Enjolras also seemed eager to be divested of his garments and Grantaire wasn’t about to make Enjolras unhappy just to satisfy his own kinks. He reached up, framing that classically beautiful face in his hands. Enjolras watched him, eyes blazing with affection and trust, as Grantaire lowered his hand to Enjolras’ shoulder and then slowly peeled back one of the straps.
Enjolras hissed out a relieved breath. “Oh thank god.” He started struggling out of the teddy in earnest, which incidentally had his hips wriggling quite a lot while he was still very much straddling his lover. Grantaire made some interesting noises while they ineffectually tugged at the lace and satin.
“Fuck, Enjolras. How did you get this stupid thing on to begin with?”
“Time and effort. Screw this. Just rip the damn thing.”
Grantaire gaped at him in horror. “But…then we can’t use it again.”
Enjolras leveled a glare on him, and Grantaire felt his stomach sink. “This was a one-time thing, wasn’t it?”
“It is if you can’t get me out of this ridiculous piece of satan-spawned fabric in the next sixty seconds.”
That proved to be the most motivation Enjolras had ever given his jaded lover. Grantaire flipped their positions, pinned Enjolras to the mattress, and tugged desperately at the lingerie until he managed to pry it off.
In twenty seconds.
He also managed to confirm that no manscaping had been done, which was fine, but if that was the case he kind of wished the happy trail had been left intact.
Enjolras looked a little dazed. He leaned up on his elbows and quirked an eyebrow. “Wow.”
Grantaire hid his face by kissing along Enjolras’ collar bone. “Oh shut up.”
“No, I suppose it’s good to know how to…mm, inspire you.”
“Oh, you’ve always done that,” Grantaire reassured him. He fumbled around the side table for lube, and while he was stretched across the bed scrambling for it Enjolras leaned behind him to trail wet kisses down his spine. Grantaire shivered, and dropped the lube as soon as he found it. “You’re seriously making me too horny to function right now.”
“…your bedroom talk could use some work.” Enjolras didn’t sound like he minded though.
Grantaire got his hands securely on the lube, turned around, and again felt his throat tighten and his cock throb with pure, unadulterated lust. Apparently there was just no way to develop a resistance to Enjolras. The opposite seemed to hold true; the longer and more closely Grantaire looked at him, the more lovesick, horny, and thoroughly stupid he got.
He licked his lips, then crawled forward on his hands and knees. “Whatever you did to your hair…make sure you do it again sometime.”
“My hair?” Enjolras pushed the loose gold strands out of his face, where they’d been calling rather a lot of attention to his perfect pink mouth. “That’s what you’re staring at?”
“I’m staring at all of you.” Grantaire pulled him close and positively devoured him. The stupid and the senselessness took over. It was a very good thing that Enjolras was immune to his own charms, because he had the presence of mind to open the lube and coat his own fingers. Grantaire was still fiercely kissing him and rutting against him before he noticed his lover was preparing himself. He took the lube from Enjolras, slicked his fingers, and slowly sank his index finger in along with Enjolras’ index and middle.
Enjolras gasped and pushed back against him. Grantaire’s fingers were a bit larger than his lover’s, though not as long. And he could get a better angle. Being fingered by Grantaire was a different experience altogether from Enjolras preparing himself, something the beautiful boy made very clear through breathy moans and gasps.
“I’m…I’m good. I’m ready, ‘Taire,” Enjolras breathed.
Grantaire buried his face in Enjolras’ neck, nipped the skin at his throat, and then once more lowered him to the mattress. He pushed Enjolras’ legs apart, ran an appreciative hand up his thigh and positioned himself. He fumbled to slick himself up, and then Enjolras wrapped his gloriously long, lean legs around Grantaire’s back and tugged him in closer. Grantaire rubbed himself teasingly against Enjolras but wouldn’t press in.
“Dammit, ‘Taire!” Enjolras squeaked. He dug his heel sharply into Grantaire’s shoulder. “I’m in no mood for teasing.”
“Got that,” Grantaire said. “I love when I finally push you past all your flustered hesitation. What is it you want, love?”
Enjolras curled his fingers into tight fists that probably had his nails cutting into his palms and slammed them against the mattress. “What do you think?”
Grantaire rubbed against him again, then leaned down to kiss and bite at his chest. “Tell me. I’m stupid, apparently. C’mon Enj, say it.”
“I want you, I want your cock, now will you fucking fuck me?”
Grantaire would have liked to have some kind of quip there, really he would have, but he honestly didn’t expect Enjolras, who got flustered if they so much as held hands in public, to come out with that. He wanted to quip, but quipping wasn’t the appropriate response. The appropriate response was to sink himself, inch by incredible, hot inch, into Enjolras’ glorious body.
Enjolras let out an appreciative moan. He arched his back, pressing himself closer to Grantaire, pulling him deeper. His whole beautiful body was taut, his head thrown back and eyes shut from pleasure. Grantaire thought there was a healthy chance of him losing it right then. He squeezed his own eyes tightly shut and tried to get himself under some semblance of control.
“’Taire, move…” God, his voice was so wrecked. He was so debauched.
He was wearing fucking makeup, and that hair, and the too-smooth legs wrapped around his back…Grantaire gave up on coherent thought entirely and just did as his lover wanted. However long he lasted would just have to be enough.
He started thrusting into Enjolras, building momentum quickly. Enjolras met his thrusts with raised hips, swearing with every exhale and making the most wanton sounds. “Oh fuck, oh Enj, you’re fucking perfect,” Grantaire babbled.
He saw Enjolras reach to grasp his cock, and Grantaire smacked his hand away. Enjolras’ pretty hands were fine fisting the sheets while Grantaire fucked him. He jerked his lover off himself, in synch with his thrusts.
Enjolras was close. Grantaire could feel it in his movements, see it in his lust blown eyes. He raised Enjolras’ leg a bit higher, giving himself a better angle. Enjolras didn’t scream, but it looked to be a near thing as he bit into his forearm to shut himself up. He spilled over Grantaire’s hand after a few more thrusts, and the much loved body clenching around him was enough stimulation to send Grantaire following him over the edge.
Grantaire had his arms over Enjolras’ chest with his face planted on top of them. He was vaguely trying to get his breath back under control, but he was also much too blissed out to give a proper fuck about gasping and panting the way he was. Enjolras’ knees were still raised, but the tension had drained out of him and therefore the long, lean legs were more flopping against him than holding him anywhere.
After a few more minutes, Grantaire pulled out and collapsed on the mattress beside him. “You…didn’t think to put a towel on the nightstand…did you?”
Enjolras chuckled and shook his head. “You can wipe me up with the teddy. It’s right there.”
“No I fucking won’t because you won’t deign to wear it again once we’ve turned it into a cum rag.”
Enjolras turned onto his side and smiled lazily at him. “Considering what it’s designed for…you’d think they’d make it easy for…mm, for bodily fluids to wash clean.”
“It’s lace, faux-silk, and mesh. I doubt it’ll wash clean all that easily. Now my t-shirt on the other hand…” Grantaire wiped them both down then chucked the t-shirt in the general direction of the hamper. Enjolras looked less than thrilled about Grantaire’s casual clean up, but he was usually goodly enough not to bitch during cuddle-time.
Enjolras curled against Grantaire and pillowed his head on his chest. Grantaire ran his hands through Enjolras’ hair, which appeared longer while falling in waves as opposed to his usual bouncy curls. It fell past his neck, just touching his shoulders. “I really do like whatever you did to your hair.”
“Jehan loaned me some product or other. We thought I might look more feminine if my hair looked longer. You know, help with the illusion.”
“You…told Jehan about this?”
“I didn’t tell him much.”
Grantaire couldn’t tell if that was a lie or not. He decided he’d rather not know either way.
“At any rate, that was much more fun than I expected. I’m glad we tried it out.” Enjolras nuzzled against his lover, his artificially long lashes tickling at Grantaire’s neck.
“Yeah, that was great. I didn’t expect you to get into it as much as you did. I mean…y’know, I’m the one with the thing for androgyny and crossing gender norms around and stuff. You…”
Enjolras leaned up a little and looked at him with a predatory smirk. “I haven’t been exploring my kinks as long as you have. Apparently we have this one in common.”
“Uh…uh huh.” Grantaire swallowed, not sure he was reading that look right.
“Since you so thoughtfully saved the lingerie from destruction, I think it’s only right that you wear it next time.”
Oh. Yeah, he’d been reading that look perfectly.