Enjolras doesn’t often visit Grantaire’s flat and when he does, it’s usually to pick up something for a Les Amis project. This is the case one Saturday afternoon where Enjolras finds himself at Grantaire’s doorstep knocking on the door. There’s some shuffling noises from inside before the door opens to show Grantaire with his unruly black curls in a mess but a smile across his face.
“Hi,” he says simply because Enjolras texted to ask if it was alright for him to come by to pick up the posters for the upcoming campaign to raise awareness on politics for the youth.
“Hello,” Enjolras greets and steps in when Grantaire gestures for him to.
“Come on in. I was just trying to find the posters because I seem to have forgotten just where I put them,” Grantaire says and pads through the tiny hall on his bare feet. His whole outfit seems like casual weekend wear, consisting of grey sweatpants and a much loved t-shirt, judging by the threadbare state of it.
“Nice skirt,” Grantaire comments because Enjolras is apparently not the only one looking at outfits. It’s without sarcasm and the smile stays on Grantaire’s face so Enjolras smiles back.
“Thanks,” he says, smoothing his hands over the red fabric. It’s one of his favorites because it’s both cute and practical. Grantaire looks at him for a long moment with an unreadable expression before he says something again.
“Anyway I’m sure I’ll find them soon, but in the meantime please make yourself comfortable.” With that he disappears into the living room which for Grantaire doubles as a studio. Enjolras considers going into the kitchen to sit down but decides against it. He would have to take off his shoes and he’s not planning on hanging around, just as long as it takes Grantaire to find those posters. He’s perfectly content with standing in the hall while waiting even though there isn’t anything to do. Enjolras doesn’t bore easily, there’s always something he can focus his mind on in any spare moments; strengthening arguments by going over them in his head with a critical eye, going over plans on Les Amis rallies or meetings or making to do lists for days or weeks.
He’s distracted from these kinds of useful thoughts, however, when his eyes are caught by something. Something colorful just in the corner of his eye. When he turns his head to see what it is, he notices that his looking through the sliver of space where the door to Grantaire’s bedroom is ajar. He probably shouldn’t be prying, but he can’t help but shifting just a little so he can see the object better. When he does see what it is he feels the blood rush to his cheeks. It’s a pair of panties, red and lacy from what he can see at this distance. Carelessly thrown or dropped on the floor, they lie there for everyone to see. Or well, maybe not everyone, not even anyone, since it’s not really okay to peek like this. Enjolras steps to the side just so he can’t see them anymore and tries to throw the sight of them out of his mind. It’s not that easy though, because now he starts to think why they’re there. It’s most likely a pair that some woman Grantaire has slept with has forgotten here by accident. But that doesn’t quite make sense because then why are they still there on the floor as if they’ve just been dropped? Surely if someone had left them here, Grantaire wouldn’t just leave them lying about. As much as the man is a mess with his own things, he isn’t irresponsible with other people’s possessions like that. He would put them away, maybe even wash them before he could get a chance to return them. He steps back to look at the panties.
So maybe they’re not left here, forgotten. Maybe they’re his own.
The thought of Grantaire owning those red panties starts thoughts in Enjolras’ head. Two major ones. What would it be like to wear panties like that? Enjolras has never really conformed to gender norms in clothing, skirt evidence of that, but he has never even considered trying the lace and silk of panties. He considers it now, swallowing at how much he finds he wants it.
But where the first thought is him wearing panties the second is the thought of Grantaire wearing them and how much he wants that as well. It’s surprising because he has never thought of Grantaire like that before, but it comes very easily and vividly to him now. He might have thought about how smart and funny Grantaire is and how he hates it when Grantaire acts like he’s not worth anything. How he hates it when Grantaire flirts with people and take them home, no doubt to have sex. Okay, maybe he hasn’t been thinking about Grantaire this way but he has been feeling it.
“Uhm… okay,” he mumbles to himself because this is kind of big and he has no idea what he’s going to do about it.
“Here we go!” Grantaire exclaims when he finally finds the posters underneath a mountain of papers and books. He digs them out quickly and goes to find Enjolras in the same exact spot where he left him. So much for suggesting to make himself comfortable. He’s just about to say something when he notices the fact that Enjolras isn’t looking at him but at something else. He’s looking off to the side, into Grantaire’s bedroom and Grantaire gets defensive for a second before he sees the expression on Enjolras’ face. It’s nothing but utter longing and when Grantaire steps closer he can see just what Enjolras is looking at. The red lace panties on his floor that he didn’t care to pick up last night when he slipped out of them. There’s a shortcut in his brain the second he connects the panties to Enjolras’ expression. This is not real at all, it can’t be in any universe. He makes a low coughing noise to bring attention to himself and Enjolras whips his head around, looking panicked at first but then his expression goes soft. And it’s not only soft, Grantaire swears he can see something in Enjolras’ eyes that looks very similar to adoration. He’s not used to seeing that directed at him and he’s positively flustered by it. This is maybe why before he can help it, the first thing that comes to mind just slips out.
“They match your skirt, you know.” Grantaire squeezes his eyes shut when and hears the hiss that is Enjolras’ sudden intake of breath. He could hit himself. Of all the inappropriate things he has ever said, this might be the worst one. He doesn’t even know what he means with those words but it sure sounds like some kind of unsolicited offer to try them on or whatnot. He did not seriously just say that to the man he has been in love with for years and who has never once shown interest in him.
“I–” Enjolras stutters. Grantaire opens his eyes to see him blushing profusely and is ready to apologize when Enjolras meets his eyes. “…They do.” He sounds both very calm about it and flustered but offense is not there in his voice. Grantaire doesn’t know what to make of all this at all because it’s just too surrealistic. Enjolras is tugging at his skirt with fidgety hands and not looking away now that he has caught Grantaire’s gaze. It’s like he’s willing Grantaire to say something and Grantaire has an idea of what it might be. He might also be completely wrong, but here goes nothing.
“You could try them on,” he says, his voice so quiet it’s almost inaudible. “I mean, I have other pairs that haven’t just been worn.” The sound Enjolras makes is nothing short of a squeak and this is it. He crossed the line, if not earlier then with this. He’s ready to bury himself in embarrassment but then Enjolras says something.
“Yes…” The words is barely more than a breath but then he clears his throat. “Please. The– uh red ones?” It’s formed like a question like Enjolras is asking permission to put on the panties that Grantaire wore yesterday. No, not like, that is exactly what he’s doing. Grantaire’s brain simply stops functioning. That is why he steps past Enjolras to push the bedroom door open for them to walk through.
“Be my guest,” he says and watches as Enjolras inches forward until he’s close enough to kneel down. He must have slipped out of his shoes on the way in, Grantaire notices because he’s not wearing them anymore. Enjolras looks up at Grantaire before touching the fabric as if to ask further permission and only picks them up when he gets a nod. Grantaire is so happy right now that he didn’t jerk off in those panties last night because if he had, either Enjolras would be holding come-stained panties right now or Grantaire would have tossed them in the laundry basket and this whole fever dream of reality wouldn’t have happened.
Every thought of what could and could not have been vanish though, when Enjolras straightens with his eyes only on the panties, rubbing the lace gently between his fingers. It’s practically porn, the way he admires them and works his fingers over them. No it’s better than porn. Far better, the comparison seems vulgar and wrong as soon as it enters Grantaire’s mind. He swallows.
After a few moments that feel like years Enjolras has apparently studied the panties enough because he scrunches them up in one hand and then he reaches up under his skirt and shucks off the boxer briefs he’s wearing. The sight of it makes Grantaire’s knee’s buckle and he falls just like the briefs do. Thankfully he lands on the bed instead of the floor but he doesn’t have the mind to really notice it. He thought that maybe Enjolras would excuse himself to try them on in the bathroom but here he is in Grantaire’s bedroom wearing a skirt and with his underwear around his ankles.
There’s a soft crushing noise and Grantaire realizes that it’s himself clenching his hand around the posters he was bringing Enjolras. He hurries to put them on the bed so as to not damage them further. When he looks back at Enjolras, it is to see him balancing on one leg and pushing the other foot through the panties. Had it been anyone else, it would have been awkward but with Enjolras he can only admire the long lines of his legs and the way the skirt drapes over them. He takes his time sliding the panties up his legs when he gets both feet on the floor again and by now his eyes are finding Grantaire’s again.
“Oh,” he whispers when he tucks them into place underneath the skirt and then his eyes travel from Grantaire’s face and down. “Oh.”
Grantaire is well aware that he’s affected by this show but he thought he might be able to hide the growing bulge in his sweatpants from Enjolras. He’s apparently not that lucky.
But Enjolras doesn’t look horrified just like he didn’t when Grantaire thought he crossed lines before. He just comes closer with small steps, blinking slowly when he with no doubt feels the lace move against his skin. He doesn’t stop until he’s close enough to Grantaire to touch. He doesn’t though, only reaches out halfway as if he wants to touch but stops himself.
“Can I kiss you?” Enjolras asks and by now Grantaire doesn’t even have the energy to be surprised. “I really want to kiss you, Grantaire.”
He wants to answer something sarcastic like are you sure you want to kiss a sceptic like me but he doesn’t really want to. Because that would only be some defense in case Enjolras is pulling a really shitty practical joke on him. He’s not though because Enjolras would never do that and it would also be a little too thorough to get into panties for a joke. So that leaves with no other choice but the truth.
“Yeah… Yeah you can.”
It only takes Enjolras a split second to react then he’s moving forward, pressing his lips to Grantaire’s. It’s soft and gentle but still Grantaire can feel a fire burning in his chest and the kiss grows deeper quickly. When Enjolras, without breaking the kiss, moves to straddle Grantaire he scrambles backwards on the bed to make room for just that. Enjolras immediately grinds down against him and he knows that he’s not alone in enjoying this. Not that he could ever be confused about it with the way that Enjolras is devouring him with his mouth by now. Their tongues sliding against each other and the breath that they share make this very hard to be confused about.
Still not wanting to assume anything though, Grantaire rests his hands lightly on Enjolras’ hips even though he wants to touch and grip so badly. Enjolras senses this want or maybe he just doesn’t give a fuck because he takes both Grantaire’s hands in his own and guides them up under the skirt making sure that Grantaire’s fingers are hooked in the waistband of the panties before removing his hands. He puts them in Grantaire’s hair and tugs at the curls just as he grinds down again. This is more than Grantaire can take and he whimpers weakly and claws at the panties wanting to rid both of them of clothes entirely. Enjolras is still wearing his light jacket for fuck’s sake. He doesn’t get far with his endeavor before Enjolras pulls him away by the hair to look into his eyes.
“No,” he breathes, eyes stern, “they stay. I want to come in them. Feel the lace on my cock when I do.” This is too fucking perfect to be true. Enjolras straddling his lap in his panties demanding to come in them. Grantaire is ready to die any moment.
“At least,” he huffs and leans in to mouth at Enjolras’ jaw, “the jacket?”
“Oh.” Apparently Enjolras hadn’t even noticed that he was still wearing it because he sheds it immediately before returning one hand to Grantaire’s hair. The other moves down to push at the waist band of Grantaire’s sweatpants but even though they’re comfortable they’re not come off that way. Grantaire lets go of the panties with one hand and pull at the sweatpants on the opposite side of Enjolras. With a little bit of team work they manage to get them and his underwear underneath down far enough for Enjolras to get access to Grantaire’s cock. He palms it with far too little pressure to Grantaire’s taste before moving his hips again, this time to let the lace of the panties rub directly against Grantaire’s skin. Enjolras’ breath hitches and Grantaire moans, completely gone with the sensation and the fact that this is Enjolras in panties and on his lap grinding like his life depends on it.
It doesn’t take long for them, stifling their sounds with kisses and seeking all the friction they can get, to reach orgasm. Grantaire comes first, after a particularly good thrust of Enjolras’ hips, and he makes a mess of both panties and skirt before Enjolras follows him and does the same. Slumping with satisfaction, Grantaire lets himself fall back to lie on his back on the bed. He loops his arms around Enjolras and pulls him down with him, holding him close. Enjolras peppers his face with tiny soft kisses and somehow this feels so much more intimate than what they just did. Grantaire closes his eyes in contentment.
“Grantaire?” Enjolras asks, his voice a whisper next to Grantaire’s ear. Grantaire just hums.
“I really like you,” he says and Grantaire blinks his eyes open again. Enjolras’ face is right above his own and his smile is sincere in a way that makes Grantaire’s heart jump.
“I really like you too,” Grantaire replies even though his hazy mind is still trying to piece all this together and figure out just what made Enjolras feel like this. They can talk about that later along with other things. Now he just wants to take a nap all tangled up in Enjolras. He tugs them both a bit further up on the bed and rolls so they lie on the side facing each other. “And I’m not averse to lending you my panties until we can get you your own.” His eyes are already slipping shut so he only just hears Enjolras’ response before he drifts off.
“I’d love that. Thank you Grantaire.”