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"Fucking whore.”

Grantaire moans when Enjolras slaps him again. He isn't chained or tied, but Enjolras had told him not to move, and so he won't move. He's kneeling on the floor, his eyes downcast and his hands behind his back, while his master paces around him.

“You're already hard and I haven't even touched you except to hit you.” Enjolras sneers. “Is this what you want? You like kneeling here, nothing but a hole for me to fuck?”

Grantaire gasps. “Yes, master.”

Enjolras hits him again. “I didn't say you could speak, boy,” he says. “Do I look like I want to hear you run your mouth while I'm trying to get off? You're not here for your intellect, whore, you're here to please me, because anyone with the self-respect of a cockroach would have stopped me long before now. Do you want me to stop? You can speak.”

“No, master.” Grantaire licks his lips. This turns out to be a mistake, because another slap to his face leads to him biting down on his tongue. He doesn't taste blood, but it hurts, a sharp pain that shoots through his mouth.

“Why not?” Enjolras asks him.

It's hard to talk, but Grantaire does it anyway, even as he can feel Enjolras's hands twist through his hair. “Because I'm pathetic,” he says. “Because I'm your whore, I'll do anything for a taste of your cock, a chance to be near you.”

“That's my boy.” Enjolras grabs his hair hard, and yanks him to his feet. “You're lucky I ask so little of you, you know. Just to hold still and let me fuck you. We're perfect for each other in that way; that's all I need, and that's the most you're capable of.” He threw Grantaire down on the bed. “Sometimes I'm surprised you're even capable of that, worthless slut that you are. Do you want to suck me off?”

“Yes.” Grantaire has to restrain himself from sitting up, desperate and wanting. “Please, Enjolras, please, just let me suck you.”

“You think you deserve it?” Enjolras is straddling him on the bed now, and it's all Grantaire can do to keep himself from rutting up to meet him. But he knows he'll be punished if he moves.

“No, I don't.” He's almost sobbing now from want, so he can't see the look his words put on Enjolras's face.

“Why not?”

“I haven't been good.” Grantaire closes his eyes. “I haven't served you properly, and even if I had, you don't have to let a pathetic slut like me near you. But you do anyway. You let me beg, you let me have the chance to be hit by you, that's more than I deserve.” Enjolras was rubbing up against him now, and he gasped. “I'm your whore, Enjolras, please, I know I'm not good enough to be the dirt beneath your feet, but please let me have this.”

“You may.” Enjolras is whispering, and Grantaire doesn't know why, but he opens his mouth anyway, lets Enjolras enter him.

He tries to relax his throat, tries to use his tongue, but Enjolras is in control here, and he's setting the place. He fucks Grantaire's face like he's using a toy, and Grantaire moans and thrusts his hips into the air.

Enjolras comes without warning, but he's pulled out enough that Grantaire can swallow without choking. He leans back against the mattress, and Grantaire needs a moment before he can speak.

“Please,” he gasps. “Please, can I come for you, sir?”

Enjolras makes a humming noise in the back of his throat. “Yes,” he says, “I'd like that. But facing me, I want to watch you.”

Grantaire rolls over so that his face is turned towards Enjolras, and he wraps a hand around his cock. He doesn't need much from the warmth or the friction before his eyes are closed again and his mouth falling open with shaky gasps. He can feel Enjolras's hands brushing over his skin, touching his chest and his hips, but he's already too far gone to ask what his master wants, and all he can do is hope that he'll be forgiven.

Enjolras kisses him when he comes, swallowing the moans of his own name. When Grantaire falls back, panting and loose from his orgasm, Enjolras goes with him, so that they're curled around each other on the mattress, Enjolras brushing his hands through Grantaire's hair.

“Was that good?” Enjolras asks. He kisses the side of Grantaire's face, and his hands are gentle.

“Mmm-hmm.” Grantaire kind of hates how Enjolras seems to think they have to debrief every time they have sex. Of course he'll do it, he'll do anything to please him, but he has no idea what Enjolras wants him to say during these times.

“It got a little intense there towards the end.” Enjolras is still stroking him, but Grantaire stiffens in his arms. “When I asked you if you deserved to suck my cock? What happened there?”

“I answered.” It's too sharp, but he really doesn't want to talk about this.

“Yeah, but you said no. I didn't expect that. And then you said-”

“What?” Grantaire sits up. “Did I talk too much? Or did I give you the wrong answer?”

“No.” Enjolras looks surprised. “There isn't a wrong answer, I just-”

Grantaire cuts him off with a sigh, running a hand through his dark curls. “Can we not do this right now?” he asks.

“I really think we should.” Enjolras sits up. “Will you tell me what's wrong?”

“It's just-” Grantaire groans. This is pathetic. “I can take it during sex, okay? When I get to pretend it's a game. I just don't know if I can handle talking about all this shit the rest of the time. And I need to get home, anyway.”

He stands, sliding his feet off the bed, and goes to the pile of his clothes in the corner, dressing with his back to Enjolras.

“What are you talking about?” Enjolras asks. “What do you pretend is a game?”

If he doesn't leave soon, he might actually start crying, and that would be unbearable. Except Enjolras would probably like it, so it would be worth it. He buttons his jeans and goes for his shirt, pulling it over his bare chest.

“The way you feel about me,” Grantaire says. “Look, forget I said anything, it's pathetic, okay? Pretending we're in a relationship or something, so can we seriously not talk about this? I'm going home.”

Pretending we're in a relationship?” Enjolras stands, for all he's completely naked. “What would you call this?”

“I think I gave you enough labels to last a lifetime.” Grantaire waves goodbye, with the grin that means he doesn't mean it, and disappears out the door before Enjolras can stop him.

*

Enjolras stares down at the phone in his hands and tries to come up with a message to send. “Enough labels to last a lifetime.” It had taken him a while to realize that Grantaire had meant the dirty names he had called himself at Enjolras's request.

“I'm your whore.”

He looks at the message he's typed out. “I don't want you to feel like you're not getting anything out of this, I thought you were enjoying it. Can we talk?”

But Grantaire won't want to talk. He never does, Enjolras knows him well enough to know that.

“I'm pathetic, I'm your whore...”

Sometimes, Enjolras thinks that Grantaire might be the bravest man he's ever met, but whenever they get close to talking about something remotely important about their relationship, Grantaire runs away.

“Nothing but a hole for me to fuck.”

And no wonder. Enjolras had been awful, he was intolerable and cruel and completely thoughtless. The surprise isn't that Grantaire doesn't want to talk about feelings with him, it's that he can stand to look at him at all.

He erases the message. This isn't the way to go about it, and he knows it. There's no point in talking to Grantaire if Grantaire won't listen to him.

“Come over at 7” he texts instead. “We don't have to talk about it.”

It seems like forever, but finally his phone vibrates with Grantaire's response. “K.”

It's impossible to read anything into a one-letter response, but Enjolras can't help but try. To keep himself from overthinking it, he puts the phone down and goes back into his room. He has some preparations to make.

*

“In the bedroom.” Enjolras gives the order the second Grantaire makes it through the door. “Strip, and lie down on the bed.”

Grantaire doesn't look him in the eye, just drops his backpack on the floor and disappears into the room. Enjolras waits a little longer, gathering together the last of what he needs, before he follows him.

He smiles at the sight he sees before him. “Obedient as always,” he says. Grantaire is fully naked already, lying on the bed with his face in the pillows and his ass directed towards the open doorway. Enjolras steps closer and runs a hand along his lover's back.

“So obedient,” he says, “But I want you on your back tonight. Roll over.”

There is a moment of hesitation before Grantaire obeys, but once he does, he doesn't shy from looking at Enjolras. His eyes are bright and defiant, and Enjolras wants to just hold him down and kiss him right then, but he knows he should stick to the plan.

“Arms up,” he orders, and Grantaire obeys. Enjolras runs his fingers along the other man's biceps as he cuffs his wrists to the bedposts. He's spread out like this, his legs unconsciously mimicking the pose of his arms, wanton and open for Enjolras.

“My good boy,” Enjolras whispers. “So good for me, aren't you?”

Grantaire whimpers. “Yes, sir,” he says. “I'll be good, I promise, I'll be your good little whore.”

Enjolras cuts him off with a kiss, first to his lips, then to his chest. “You are good,” he says. “My good boy. Do you like this?”

“Yes.” Grantaire's voice is breaking already. “Yes, master. This is what I'm for, just to please you, it's all I'm good for.”

“That wasn't the question, Grantaire,” Enjolras chides him gently. He slaps him, and for as light as it is, it's still perfect to get his attention. “Tell me how you feel.” He uncaps the bottle of lube and coats his fingers liberally.

“I feel- good, master.”

“And now?” Enjolras teases one finger in through the tight ring of muscle in Grantaire's ass. “How does this feel?”

“Oh god.” Grantaire chokes back a gasp. “It burns, sir, but it feels good. I love being that full, for you. I love having you in me.”

“And I love being in you.” Enjolras presses a kiss to his jaw. “I'm going to open you up for me now, alright? You can make all the noises you want, but no talking unless it hurts and you need to tell me. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.” Enjolras kisses him again and slides the finger in slowly, until he can feel Grantaire tight around his second knuckle. “I love the feeling of you around me,” he says. “I love how tight you are when I'm preparing you. I know you've said you can do it yourself, and that would be faster, more efficient for me, but I would hate to give this up. I don't care if it's impractical, you drive me wild, Grantaire.”

Grantaire is groaning openly now, trying to press back on Enjolras's fingers, but he can't move very far at all without hurting his arms.

“I love the noises you make.” Enjolras slides the rest of the finger in and moves it around experimentally. Outside of the initial wall of his hole, Grantaire is open and pliant to the slightest touch. He gasps, and Enjolras pulls out a little so he can add another finger, going slow enough that it's almost painful for him, stretching the fingers apart and giving Grantaire time to adjust.

“So desperate for me,” he continues. “You have no idea how beautiful it is. Getting to see you like this, open and wanting and completely breathtaking, it's my favorite thing. You're perfect, Grantaire. Outside the bedroom, you're brilliant and argumentative and you keep me on my toes, but in here, you're gorgeous and obedient and mine.” The second finger is in all the way now. “How does that feel? You may speak.”

For a moment, he's not sure if Grantaire actually can talk. He's gasping, head back and mouth thrown open, his neck exposed and his eyes watering, but he finds his voice.

“Good,” he says, and his voice is a whisper. “Please, more.”

“More?” Enjolras asks. He leans down and nips lightly at Grantaire's neck. “No,” he says.

Grantaire sobs.

“No, you'll get more, but you'll get it on my time, and you'll be grateful for it.”

“Yes sir,” Grantaire gasps. “Thank you sir.”

“Good boy.” Enjolras strokes his hip with the hand that isn't currently inside him. He wiggles the two fingers just a little, testing Grantaire's limits, and is rewarded with a buck of his hips. “You're so beautiful, so needy. I love you like this.” He isn't quite ready to say that sentence in all its honest, abbreviated form, but the unsaid “I love you” bubbles up in his throat and waits for a better time.

“You're hard already, just from me fingering you.” He slides the two fingers out to add more lube before sliding a third in, just as slowly as the last. “So responsive. Does this please you, my fingers inside of you?”

“Yes.” Grantaire chokes out the word as a sob. “Please, sir, fuck me. Please fuck me, please, please-”

“Quiet.” Enjolras speaks more sharply than he intends to, but Grantaire falls silent either way. “Good boy.” He strokes the thumb of his free hand across Grantaire's hipbone. The three fingers are all the way in now, stretching him easily, and Enjolras knows this means Grantaire can take him.

“You're ready,” he says, and he removes the fingers. Grantaire whines. “But am I?” He bends over his lover and presses a soft kiss to his lips. Grantaire follows him with his mouth as he pulls away, but Enjolras isn't finished. “Convince me,” he says.

“What?”

“Go on.” Enjolras slides his hands all along Grantaire's body, passing a thumb over one nipple, stroking the dark hairs on his chest. “Convince me I want to fuck you.”

“Please, please, master.” If there's anything Grantaire can do, it's beg. “Please, I'm an open hole for you, I'll do anything you ask, I know I don't deserve it-”

Enjolras twists his nipple hard. “Yes you do,” he admonishes. “Tell me why.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me.” His hands still, because he isn't sure if he can keep working with them and control them from shaking at the same time. “Why do I want to fuck you, Grantaire?”

Grantaire hesitates, his eyes searching Enjolras's face. “I'm good,” he says finally.

“Yes, you are.” Enjolras kisses him. “You're very good, that's true. You're so obedient, so responsive and needy for me. But that's not the only reason. Why else?”

It hasn't taken Grantaire long to catch on to what Enjolras is doing, and he follows up boldly. “You think I'm beautiful,” he says, “You said so yourself.”

“So I did.” Enjolras runs his fingers along Grantaire's sides as he moves his hands lower, though not quite touching his cock yet. “Are you questioning my taste?”

“What? No, sir.”

“Then don't phrase it as an opinion.” He doesn't punish him for this, as much as his fingers ache to pinch and twist. “Try again.”

Grantaire breaths in. “I'm beautiful,” he says.

“Very beautiful. You're doing so well.” His hands have reached Grantaire's legs, and they wrap around his strong thighs before moving back up towards his ass. “Anything else?”

“I'm obedient,” Grantaire says. “And I take cock like a pro.” There's a grin on his face now, the sort of sideways, sardonic one, not nearly as wide as he grins when he's trying to hide something. “I'm always here for you, anytime you want me, and I love it.”

“Good boy.” Enjolras hasn't even thought of that, but it's true, Grantaire is always there for him. He has been since the beginning, Enjolras just hasn't always appreciated it.

Well. He can change that.

“I'm going to fuck you now,” Enjolras says. “Ready?”

“Yes.” Grantaire's eyes slide closed as he gasps. “Please.”

Enjolras positions his hands on Grantaire's hips, lining himself up and entering him slowly. It's so tight and hot that he's nearly out of his mind, but he keeps talking.

“You're so fucking perfect, Grantaire,” he says. “You're so much more than just beautiful and obedient. You're strong, enough that you can take whatever I do to you, but you're smart enough that you stop me before I go too far.” He's all the way in now, and he has to stop to get his bearings, to feel Grantaire around him and to catch his breath because the pleasure is fast becoming too much.

“God, Enjolras, move.”

“And you're so fucking bossy,” Enjolras adds, “Even when you're handcuffed to my bed with my dick up your ass. You have no idea how hard it is for me to control myself when you're talking while I'm trying to fuck you. I swear, one of these days you're going to sass me and I'll come, and you'll never let me live that down.”

“Isn't- that- romantic.” Grantaire speaks in harsh gasps around the thrusts, but Enjolras can understand him.

“You're just proving my point.” Enjolras ruts into him particularly hard for emphasis, and Grantaire lets out a scream. “And your voice, do you have any idea how hot your voice is? Especially when you're screaming for me.”

“Enjolras!”

“Just like that.” Enjolras fucks him harder, his sharp breaths piercing the air in the room. “God, Grantaire, I could happily never hear my name from another person again if it meant I could hear you say it for the rest of my life.”

He's getting close, and Grantaire is making little whimpering noises, so Enjolras wraps his hand around his cock and puts all his effort into maintaining the same punishing pace.

“You,” he says between gasps, “You are fucking the most important person in my life, Grantaire, fuck. I don't know what I'd do without you. Grantaire-”

Anything else he might have said is lost as he's coming, hot and needy inside his lover, Grantaire's name on his lips. Grantaire comes shortly after him, his body streaked in sweat and semen and his eyes blue and wanting.

Enjolras is silent as he undoes Grantaire's cuffs. A part of him feels like he might have gone too far, like he said too much, and he bites his lips to keep from taking any of it back. Grantaire rubs his wrists when they're free and doesn't wrap his arms around Enjolras as he lies next to him.

“So I'm fucking the most important person in your life, then?” he asks.

Enjolras swallows. “Yes,” he replies evenly.

“And since you're the only person I'm fucking, that would make the most important person-” Enjolras hits him with a pillow.

“Seriously, though,” Enjolras says, once Grantaire has wrestled the pillow away from him and thrown it on the floor. “You're important. I need you, not just because the sex is-” spectacular, amazing, kinky as hell- “good, but because of everything you are, in and out of the bedroom. You know that, right?”

Grantaire tips his head back and rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Enjolras,” he says. “Look, if I wanted a self-esteem boost, I'd be fucking Cosette. It's fine, okay? I don't need you to lie to me. You don't expect anything from me but the minimum, which, by pure coincidence, is what I'm actually capable of.”

“Then you're going to have to find someone else to fuck,” Enjolras says. “Because I know what you're capable of, Grantaire, and it's a hell of a lot more than this.”

“What's wrong with this?” Grantaire is indignant. “It's kinky sex, Enjolras, it doesn't take a genius to do it, but that doesn't mean I'm going to give it up and go become a rocket scientist monk just because you think I can achieve my dreams or something.”

“I'm not saying you should give this up!” It's hard for Enjolras not to bury his face in his hands in exasperation, so he wraps his arms around Grantaire instead and pretends not to notice his lover go rigid in his embrace. “I love this, the last thing I want you to do is give this up. I just don't want you to think it's all you're good for.”

“I don't, I just-” Grantaire waves his hands vaguely. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Fine.” Contrary to popular belief, Enjolras does know when to drop things. The word comes out as a threat, though, and he knows that Grantaire can tell that they will be talking about it later.

Good. That isn't negotiable, and Grantaire needs to know that.

“Will you stay, though?” He won't hate the weakness in his voice, he tells himself, he won't.

Grantaire only hesitates for a moment. “Okay,” he says, and he slides down, relaxing into Enjolras's arms.

“And Grantaire?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I ask one more thing of you?”

“Anything.” Grantaire's voice is hushed in the darkness. “You know I'll do anything.”

“Go on a date with me?


*

When Grantaire wakes, he's buried under Enjolras's blanket, his arms and legs wrapped around Enjolras, a head of curly blonde hair resting on his chest. He freezes.

Yeah, he's wanted this, he's dreamed about this, but he never expected it. But in the morning light he can almost let himself hope that this is real.

Grantaire closes his eyes and keeps his breathing even, his body still. He will be the most unobjectionable bed partner that Enjolras could ever ask for. Even if everything in him is itching to run his fingers through that soft hair, to press gentle kisses to the pale hands resting on the pillow by his head, to touch every inch of skin while he's allowed to.

He doesn't move.

Enjolras has just begun to stir when the green light of the clock says seven in the morning. He raises his head, but Grantaire's eyes are closed, so he presses his lips to his lover's jaw and holds him closer.

“I know you're awake, love,” he says, voice husky from sleep.

“Lies,” replies Grantaire. He doesn't open his eyes, but he can feel Enjolras's fingers in his hair, his chapped lips brushing over every inch of his face.

“I'm sticky and gross,” Enjolras tells him, “And I imagine you are too. Shower?”

Grantaire hesitates. He opens his eyes slowly. Enjolras is still curled around him, his chin resting on Grantaire's chest, and his eyes impossibly tender. The look on his face makes Grantaire's heart ache.

“You don't have to do this,” he says. “I mean, look, I apparently have really shitty self-esteem, but that's not your fault. You didn't tell me anything about myself that I didn't already know.”

Enjolras sits up. “The difference is, I never believed any of the things I said about you. And I never thought you did, either.” He runs his fingertips along Grantaire's chest. “I didn't want to sleep with you because I knew you'd let me hurt you, or because I wanted to take my anger out on you. I wanted you, Grantaire, and even if I never spank you or tie you up again, I'll still want you, because you're beautiful and intelligent, you make me think and you drive me crazy. You are so much more than you think you are, and I'll do anything to convince you of that.”

Grantaire sighs. “It's not that simple,” he says. “You can't just say something good about me and expect me to believe it. I'm sorry, Enjolras, but even you aren't that persuasive.”

“Then I'll just have to try harder.” Enjolras leans down to kiss him full on the mouth, and Grantaire responds without really thinking about it, arching up into the kiss. When Enjolras finally does pull away, he doesn't go far, and he rests his forehead against Grantaire's and speaks against his skin.

“I have wronged you, Grantaire, and I am going to fix that. Not because I pity you or because I think it's my duty, but because I need you to know how important you are to me. If I spend every spare minute of the rest of my life convincing you, I'll be happy, because honestly, telling you how amazing you are is one of my favorite things to do.”

Grantaire sighs and leans back into the pillows. “I'm sorry,” he says. “You deserve better.”

“I deserve the best,” Enjolras agrees. “And that's why I have you.” He kisses Grantaire again.

Grantaire knows that Enjolras can sense the tension in him, can feel him clenching his jaw under his hand, but he can't help it. Finally, with that kiss, he breaks.

“Why did you ask me out last night?”

“Why didn't you answer?” Enjolras shoots back.

“Because I didn't know why you were asking.”

Enjolras smiles. “Fair enough,” he says. A hand goes up to play with Grantaire's hair. “I asked you out because you said you were pretending we were in a relationship. And I thought this was a relationship.”

“You thought this was a relationship?” Grantaire sits up, and he can't help but laugh a little at the bemused look on Enjolras's face. “Enjolras, we have sex and we go to the same meetings we always did, but we don't interact outside of that. None of our friends even know about us.”

“Our friends know about us,” Enjolras interrupts. He starts to stand, and Grantaire thinks he's going to leave, until Enjolras takes his hand and starts to pull him towards the bathroom.

“We never said anything.”

“We never tried to hide it, either, and with our friends, knowing ridiculous amounts of personal details about each others' lives is kind of the default.” They've made it to the bathroom now, and Enjolras turns on the water and sits on the edge of the tub, holding Grantaire's hands in his and looking up at him. Suddenly his face is serious, and Grantaire wants to kiss the worry off of him, but he can't move.

“I've made you think you're less important to me than you are,” Enjolras says. “And I promise, I will make this right. I asked you to go on a date with me because I want to try to be better at this relationship thing. I want to go be stupid at restaurants, I want to make fun of bad movies with you, I want to annoy our friends with how much I love you.”

Grantaire stares at him, eyes wide. “I love you too.” His voice is shaking. “But-”

“No buts,” Enjolras says. “I love you, and that's all that matters. Someday, you're going to believe me, but until then, whenever you start to doubt that I love you or feel bad about yourself, or whatever, I just want you to tell me, and I'll do whatever you need, until you realize how much I love you and how amazing you are.”

“Thank you.” Grantaire is ashamed to hear his voice come out cracked and broken edges, as if he's about to cry. But Enjolras just tugs him down until he can kiss him again, and he wraps his hands around the sides of Grantaire's face and holds him like he's never held anyone before.

*

Their date is going to be Friday, but Enjolras doesn't let Grantaire leave the house for the rest of the day, and the next day, Thursday, he greets him with a kiss at the meeting. Courfeyrac wolf-whistles, and Grantaire turns bright red, but he's grinning.

The date goes about as well as expected, which is to say that Enjolras stops to yell at someone on the street about their offensive T-shirt and they wind up missing the movie because Grantaire bruises his knuckles punching they guy when he makes a move towards Enjolras. Instead, they sit on Enjolras's old couch and Enjolras kisses each knuckle in turn in between complaining about the idiots of the world. Grantaire can't help but think that it's perfect.

Even outside of bed, they work. Grantaire almost can't believe it, but they work. Enjolras silences their arguments with kisses, plays with his hair while he's drawing, and bickers with him over coffee. They start to sleep together on nights when they aren't having sex, and Enjolras kisses him absently and holds him.

They're still the same as they've always been. Enjolras ties him up or just orders him to sit still and spanks him with a hand or a paddle, leaves angry bruising bitemarks all along his back and shoulders, fingers him open and makes him beg.

Today, Grantaire isn't tied but he has been ordered to stay still, so he lies with his face in the pillows and breathes steadily. Enjolras has a riding crop out, and he's hitting him, leaving patterns of sharp pain across his back and ass.

“Good boy,” Enjolras whispers. “Just a few more, you're doing so well.” He strikes him again, and Grantaire moans against the pillows. “You're making it so hard for me not to fuck you right now. God, when you get like this, I just want to fuck all the rules and claim you, make you mine. But you deserve the best, you deserve to be a sobbing, needy mess before I fuck you, because that's how you like it, isn't it?”

“Yes,” Grantaire gasps. “Please.”

Enjolras hits him twice more, once on each cheek, then stops. “That's my good boy,” he says. He puts the crop aside and slides his fingers along Grantaire's ass, stopping at his hole to make sure it's still loose and lubricated from the earlier fingering. “Are you ready for me to fuck you?”

Grantaire arches up into his fingers. “Please,” he repeats. “Enjolras, please, fuck me, I need it.” He trails off into a cry as Enjolras leans down and bites his shoulder.

Enjolras sinks into him slowly, his hands wrapped around Grantaire's hips, pressing kisses into his back and shoulders as he whispers words of encouragement. Grantaire grips the pillow as he moans, rutting against the mattress, desperate and open.

“Beautiful,” Enjolras whispers against his skin. “My good boy, so beautiful, so obedient for me. You have no idea how much I want you.”

“Enjolras.”

It's all Grantaire can say, but it seems to be enough, because Enjolras strokes a hand down his back as he thrusts harder. “Turn your head for me, beautiful boy, I want to see your face.”

Grantaire turns obediently, and Enjolras leans down to kiss him as he grinds their hips together. The kiss is slow and lazy, but Grantaire still groans into his mouth when he bites his lip. Enjolras slides his hand under Grantaire's hips to grasp his cock as he strokes his tongue along the inside of his boyfriend's mouth.

When Grantaire comes, he's gasping, wrapping his hand around the arm Enjolras is bracing against the bed, and Enjolras lets him as he swallows his moans. He pulls out as Grantaire finishes, touching his shoulder to indicate that he should roll over, and Grantaire does. His hands are on Enjolras's cock without needing to be told, and Enjolras should praise him for that, but he's already moaning, his sensitive prick responding eagerly to rough hands and gentle touches. He comes on Grantaire's hands and stomach, and Grantaire closes his eyes in delight.

“Thank you, sir,” he whispers.

Enjolras kisses the corner of his mouth and helps him lie down. “Thank you” he says. “You were so good for me, so perfect. How's your back?”

“It's good.” Grantaire leans back, closing his eyes. “Feels good.”

Enjolras fishes a rag out from the bedside table and cleans Grantaire off with gentle strokes. “I'm glad,” he says. “Do you need anything, before I lie down?”

Grantaire shakes his head. “I'm good,” he repeats. “Stay with me?”

“Of course.” Enjolras lies down and curls his arms around Grantaire, kissing his forehead gently. “I'll stay as long as you want me to, because I love you so much. You took everything I did to you today so well. I'm proud of you, Grantaire, you know that, right?”

“Sometimes.” Grantaire buried his head in Enjolras's arms.

“Sometimes is enough.” Enjolras kissed him, stroking one hand over his back until they both fell asleep.