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but tonight you belong to me

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Grantaire is being ridiculous, he is distinctively aware that he’s being ridiculous, but every time he tries to talk himself out of being ridiculous, a tiny voice at the back of his head that sounds eerily like Marius tells him that Enjolras would probably appreciate Grantaire being ridiculous for him, so he sucks it up and scatters a path of rose petals leading from his living room to his bedroom. The lights are turned down low in his room, there are fucking scented candles on his bedside table, and there’s music, Eponine-Recommended music, playing softly on the speakers, and the whole thing is ridiculous, but Grantaire does it, because this is a Huge Step, it’s a milestone, and you’re supposed to do Make-It-Special when it’s a milestone.

His palms feel sweaty, and he knows it’s ridiculous to be feeling nervous about having sex with Enjolras, because he’s had sex with Enjolras before, has had plenty of sex with Enjolras, multiple times a day if they can find the time for it, even, but he is anyway, less because of the actual act of having sex with Enjolras, but more because of where they are doing it. Enjolras has been hinting at it for awhile now, and this is Grantaire trying to tell him that hey, he listened to Enjolras and heard what he was trying to say, and he’s trying now even though he knows he’s not always good at it, but he’s listening and he’s trying, and he really hopes he isn’t screwing anything up.

The doorbell rings and Grantaire goes to get the door, keeping in mind not to disturb his trail of rose petals, heart in his throat, because this is it, there’s no calling it off once he opens the door because Enjolras would have a great view of his living room, where the rose petal trail starts. He picks up the bouquet of roses he set aside on the coffee table on his way to the door, and opens the door.

Enjolras takes a look at Grantaire, shirtless, pyjamas pants hanging low on his hip, bouquet in hand, and blinks at him. Grantaire holds the bouquet out to Enjolras, offers it to him, and chokes back on a sigh of relief at the smile starting to unfurl on Enjolras’ lips, because oh good, he did good.

“What’s this?” Enjolras asks, taking the flowers from Grantaire and peering over Grantaire’s shoulders. He’s probably talking about the rose petal trail.

Grantaire steps out of the way to let Enjolras into his apartment.

“I’m trying to woo you into my bed,” Grantaire says as he closes the door, locks it behind him, and turns back to waggle his eyebrows at Enjolras. He defaults to joking most of the time when he feels like he’s out of his depth, and Enjolras has been patient with Grantaire, waiting for Grantaire to sort out all his insecurities about starting a relationship with him, has been great at letting Grantaire get over his commitment issues by himself without ever pushing, and Grantaire wants to be great for him too, doesn’t want Enjolras to ever have to settle for anything less than great.

“I’m already your boyfriend, I don’t think there’s any need to woo me into your bed,” Enjolras tells him, but the curl of his lips tell Grantaire that he’s pleased, and Grantaire feels more of his nerves settle. “You know I’d go willingly into your bed.” Enjolras sets his bouquet of flowers back down onto the coffee table, smiles at the rose petals on the ground, and steps into the circle of Grantaire’s arms. “Eagerly, even.”

“Eagerly, you say?” Grantaire asks, hands settling into their position on Enjolras’ hips, nosing at Enjolras’ jaw.

“Eagerly,” Enjolras confirms, and Grantaire can’t think of anything better to do than to press his lips to Enjolras’ in a hot, hard kiss.

There’s not much room for words after that.

After, when Enjolras is loose-limbed and pliant against him, sated and happy, Grantaire presses a kiss to his forehead and asks, “Was that everything you dreamed of and more?”

Enjolras smiles lazily. “Almost,” he tells Grantaire.

Grantaire frowns slightly, his fingers stilling in their path down Enjolras’ back. “Almost?” he asks, faking nonchalance, even though he can feel the slight spark of panic flaring up. Did he overdo it? Did he misread Enjolras’ cues? Was having sex in Grantaire’s apartment not something Enjolras wanted them to work up to? “How do I turn almost into yes, R, that was everything I dreamed of and more, please say we can go again soon?”

He feels Enjolras smile against his skin and resumes slowly massaging Enjolras’ lower back.

“We can go again soon,” Enjolras says, and he sounds amused, which is always a good sign. “But I’m afraid you have to figure the other thing out yourself.” He moans when Grantaire’s fingers press down against a particularly hard kink in his back. “This is pretty close to perfect, though,” he tells Grantaire, and sighs against his neck.

Grantaire hums. “C’mon,” he says eventually, “let me get out from under you so I can rub your back properly.”

Enjolras doesn’t move beyond craning his head up to press a kiss to Grantaire’s jaw. “That’s not The Thing.”

“I know,” Grantaire says.

He has a pretty good idea of what The Thing is. He isn’t sure if he’s ready for it, but he supposes that Enjolras understands that he isn’t ready for it, because he doesn’t seem to be waiting for Grantaire to do something about it. Enjolras will wait for him to get there, because he’s patient with Grantaire, always has been, likely always will be, to the best of his abilities, and Grantaire doesn’t deserve him, not one bit, but Enjolras chose him, chose to be with him instead of anyone else, and Grantaire is going to try as best as he can to make sure that Enjolras’ faith in him isn’t misplace, he’s going to fight like hell to make sure that Enjolras stays happy with his choice.

“I’d still like to rub your back anyway,” he tells Enjolras.

Enjolras smiles at him and slowly gets up from where he’s half-sprawled on Grantaire, before he flops back onto the spot next to Grantaire, and mashes his face to Grantaire’s pillow. Grantaire leans down to graze his lips against the base of Enjolras’ spine, grinning when it makes Enjolras shiver, and starts to press open-mouthed kisses up his back.

“This is a very nice back rub,” Enjolras mumbles, huffing a laugh.

“Yeah, well, only the best would suffice for you, of course,” Grantaire says, and brings his hands up to Enjolras’ shoulders, where he is the tensest at, and kneads down hard.

Enjolras keens. “Oh, I take it back,” he murmurs. “The back rub is definitely The Thing.”

Grantaire smiles at that, and kisses the spot behind Enjolras’ ear. “I adore you,” he whispers by Enjolras’ ear, because it feels right to say it, because he has to channel the rush of affection he feels for Enjolras at this precise moment somewhere, because it’s true.

It isn’t The Thing, Grantaire is working his way up to being able to say The Thing without feeling like he’s choking on air, but it’s close enough that he hopes Enjolras understands, for now.

Judging by the way Enjolras turns over to stare at him, pleasantly stunned, before he capture Grantaire’s lips in a fierce kiss, Enjolras does. They stay that way, with Grantaire straddling Enjolras’ waist, pressed against Enjolras’ back, trading kisses and sharing breath until Enjolras rolls them over for round two.