Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Enjolras wakes Grantaire with an insistent kiss to the neck. Grantaire groans, melodramatically, and yawns. Enjolras kisses him again, flooded with the sense of how much he loves Grantaire.

“Wazz’up?” Grantaire grumbles into his pillow. “S’early. Tired.”

Enjolras laughs, burying his face in Grantaire’s shoulder. The fact that Grantaire is practically allergic to mornings is one of the things that never ceases to amuse Enjolras. “I promised you a spanking last night, you still want it?”

Grantaire groans again and nods, head still buried in his pillow. “K.”

Enjolras pinches his thigh, but Grantaire is too tired to do anything more than whine. “I’m aiming for enthusiastic consent here, want to participate?”

“Yessir, please beat my ass, sir,” he mumbles into the pillow, followed by a large yawn. “Wanna feel it. Wanna feel you all day.” He’s silent for a few moments, and Enjolras is worried he’s fallen back asleep when he says, “sir,” belatedly, and slurred with sleep.

Enjolras laughs again. He presses a kiss to Grantaire’s neck then gets out of bed in search of an implement. “Belt or paddle?” he calls behind him, finding his belt on the floor and not feeling too amped about searching their mess of a room for wherever they threw the paddle last.

“Your job to pick,” Grantaire grumbles.

“Grantaire.” Enjolras uses his best “don’t try me” voice, and Grantaire has felt the results of ignoring that voice on his ass before, and he whines again. “Belt or paddle, and if you don’t pick, I’m not going to fuck you afterwards.”

“Paddle, please.” Despite the whining and groaning, he seems at risk of falling back to sleep at any moment.

Enjolras rolls his eyes fondly, and looks around for the paddle, finding it in a pile of dress shirts that he’s pretty sure don’t belong on the floor, either. He climbs back on the bed and kneels up behind Grantaire, who was luckily already lying on his stomach. “I’m about to start, Grantaire. You ready?”

Grantaire makes a vague affirmative noise, so Enjolras slams the paddle down on the back of Grantaire’s thigh. “Ah, fuck!” Grantaire cries, suddenly more awake. Enjolras knows it won’t last, nothing makes Grantaire sleepier than subspace, but he’d like it if they could at least start bright eyed and bushy tailed. “I’m ready, Jesus fucking Christ, sir.”

Grantaire shifts a little more onto his stomach and places his hands under his pillows, so they’ll be out of the way. Enjolras likes to reward initiative, so he presses a kiss to Grantaire’s spine and croons, “Good,” grinning when Grantaire makes a pleased little moan.

Enjolras begins soft, warming Grantaire up for harder hits. He wants bruises, but he also wants his partner to be able to sit down at some point. He keeps his hits light until Grantaire starts moving his hips into the hits, whining and moaning, and his ass and thighs are a uniform rose.

“Shit’s about to get real, love,” he whispers, running his hands across Grantaire’s ass. It’s warm already, and Enjolras loves it. He loves Grantaire, in general, and his ass, in particular, but he loves Grantaire’s ass red and warm and bruised with additional fervor.

“Bring it the fuck on, sir,” Grantaire says, still face down in his pillows. “I live for shit getting re—”

Enjolras slams the paddle down on his right ass cheek and Grantaire howls. Just like that, Enjolras’s dick makes itself known, hard and insistent. There is a red welt where the edges of the paddle were, and Enjolras traces it with a finger while Grantaire breathes shaky breaths. “I thought when we discussed this last night we talked about a spanking, not a spanking with a side of backtack.”

Grantaire wheezes a breathy laugh. “I know you like me,” he pauses to yawn, “bratty. Thought you’d appreciate me considering your needs, si—”

Enjolras smacks him again, in the same spot, and Grantaire cuts himself off with a cry, whole body tensing as he rides out the waves of pain. He rests his hand down on the mark and Grantaire recoils slightly, but doesn’t actually move away. “You done?”

“Absolutely,” Grantaire says, and his voice is already slurring again, this time probably from endorphins. “Shut up. I mean me. Shutting me up. I am shut up. Help.”

Enjolras snorts, and goes to town on the other side, too. He doesn’t switch sides every time, likes Grantaire’s reactions more when he fixates on a place for a while, when he makes it unpredictable. Grantaire’s so vocal when he doesn’t know what’s going to happen next, and if Enjolras could bottle a sound, it would be whines and gasps and cut off shouts that Grantaire graces him with. He spends a lot of time on the place where Grantaire’s ass meets his thighs. Grantaire said he wanted to feel it all day, after all. When Grantaire’s ass is mottled bright red, with some spots already turning purple, he reaches down and hitches Grantaire’s hips up.

“Fuckin’, sir?” Grantaire mumbles.

“Not yet, R. I was going to do your thighs?” That was the plan, anyway. Grantaire is so tired and pliant that Enjolras half thinks he should stop, but Grantaire immediately splays his thighs, eager and obedient, and, Enjolras can now see, very hard. Enjolras swats lightly at Grantaire’s balls, and he keens, humping the air. “Ready?”

“’S born ready,” Grantaire says, still muffled by the pillow.

Enjolras lays into him, working his right side first, then the left. Grantaire’s hips stutter forward with each blow, but he’s always back in position before the next one. Enjolras wants to thrash him and wants to cherish him, and he gets to do both. He hits the very top of Grantaire’s inner thigh several times in succession, building a bruise where it will hurt every time Grantaire closes his legs, and thinks about how lucky he is as Grantaire moans and groans and yells.

He likes the look of that bruise already, swelling and red and purple, and so he smacks a similar one into the other side, grinning as Grantaire groans in recognition. That might be a place that Enjolras has a habit of bruising, but he can’t help it, Grantaire is beautiful when he’s squirming and desperate and hurting. Enjolras sits back on his heels and surveys the damage. Grantaire’s ass and thighs are glowing red and bruised purple, welted in some spots, but mostly smooth, and hot, both to the touch and in appearance.

“Did I pass?” Grantaire murmurs, drunk on pain and endorphins.

“Mhmm,” Enjolras confirms, rubbing his hands against the heat. “Flying colors. Want a picture?” Grantaire tosses his phone over blindly and it hits Enjolras in the thigh. Enjolras rolls his eyes and unlocks it, taking a few photos of the damage. He hands the phone back to Grantaire, who grunts a thanks.

“S’good looking.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes again. “Yes, you are. You want more?” Grantaire nods a jerky nod into the pillow and Enjolras laughs. “Pass me the lube?” It hits Enjolras in the chest, so Enjolras swats his ass again, and Grantaire whines, high pitched and breathy.

He pours the lube liberally on his fingers and tries not to shudder. Enjolras is very on board with sex, but the feel of lube on his hands is the strongest reason Enjolras can think of for abstinence. It never gets less gross, but the feel of Grantaire around him is always worth it. He presses a finger all the way into Grantaire, roughly, hiding a grin when Grantaire moans by biting Grantaire on the fullest part of his ass.

Grantaire growls. “You’re killing me smalls.”

Enjolras is laughing too hard to think of anything creative and cruel to do, so he focuses on opening Grantaire up so he can press a second finger in. Grantaire moans, high a breathy, and Enjolras twists his fingers, spreading them and forcing Grantaire’s muscles to adapt to him, to let Enjolras mold Grantaire’s body to himself, which is such a sudden, hot thought that Enjolras is worried he might have to cut this scene short because he might actually cum before they can get to the fucking.

He adds more lube, suppressing a gag, as he presses back into Grantaire, adding a third finger a tad faster than he maybe should but Grantaire likes hurting, and he’s stretched enough now that any pain Enjolras causes him will be very, very temporary. Judging Grantaire done, Enjolras slicks up his cock and slides all the way into Grantaire in one go.

Grantaire bucks hard against him, shouting wordlessly as Enjolras settles deep into him, presses tight up against Grantaire’s bruises. “Fuck me, sir?” Grantaire asks, more lucid sounding as he has all morning.

“Gladly.”

Enjolras fucks him hard, raking his teeth along Grantaire’s spine, and reaching around his hips to grasp his dick, and using the other to scratch welts into the bruises on his thighs. Grantaire shakes and moans, but is pliable as Enjolras takes him to pieces, fucks into him, jerks him off. Grantaire heaves breaths, heavy and whiney, and grasps at his pillows frantically. He looks desperate, and Enjolras loves it, loves him, wants to have this forever, keep him in a constant state of neediness and desperation.

Enjolras pulls Grantaire’s cock faster, and smacks Grantaire’s ass with his free hand. Grantaire falls to pieces, cumming into Enjolras’s hand and shouting wordlessly as he shudders through his orgasm, and Enjolras fucks him through it, keeps fucking him after Grantaire has collapsed onto the bed until he cums inside Grantaire, who is warm and clinging to him, and wrings him out.

He detaches himself, carefully pulling out, and collapses next to Grantaire. “How’re you doing?”

“Good,” Grantaire murmurs, turning his head to grace Enjolras with a sleepy smile. He yawns. “Sleep now. Talk later.”

Enjolras laughs. “Yeah, okay. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Grantaire mutters, and then falls asleep.

Smiling, Enjolras reaches to the nightstand and opens a book. Grantaire might want aftercare later, he might not. Sometimes sleep helps ease him out of subspace, sometimes not. Regardless, Enjolras will be sitting there, waiting for him.

Chapter Text

Grantaire’s arms are beginning to tremble. Despite the fact that Enjolras is supposed to be writing a paper, very little work has gotten done, as the vast majority of his attention has been on Grantaire, and trying not cum in his pants.

They had cleared the whole living room for this scene, and Enjolras sits in the middle of it propped up by a stack of pillows, while Grantaire kneels on all four before him, hands and knees on the wooden floor, with Enjolras’s laptop balanced precariously on his back. It had been hard for Grantaire to convince Enjolras not to put down anything soft for Grantaire’s knees, but Enjolras understands that that sort of pain is exactly what Grantaire’s looking for—that deep ache that settles into your bones but remains persistent and agonizing—so he had given in eventually.

He had also blindfolded Grantaire, but he was relatively certain that was his own idea.

It’s been almost forty minutes and Grantaire’s arms are beginning to tremble. He shifts his weight slightly and his back tilts, but Enjolras smacks his thigh and he snaps back into position.

“Are you purposefully trying to sabotage my paper?” Enjolras asks, with feigned anger. He’s smiling, though, can barely resist smiling when Grantaire is trying so hard for him. He’s glad for the blindfold, because Grantaire would whine about how he’s ruining the scene if he could see Enjolras smiling. “Well? Are you not going to answer me?”

“Sorry, sir,” Grantaire says after a moment, and his voice is shaky, too. He shifts his hips, curling them in to himself until Enjolras smacks his thigh again.

“You’re sorry you’re sabotaging my paper?” Enjolras’s fingers are resting on the computer, and the keys are warm to his fingers, so he’s almost certain it’s excruciating on Grantaire’s back. He smiles again, wicked.

Grantaire makes a desperate noise. “No, sir.”

Enjolras sneers. “Oh, so you’re not sorry that you’re sabotaging my paper and wasting my time.”

Grantaire whines, clenching his fingers into fists. “Sir, please!”

Enjolras huffs, exaggerated, watching carefully to see how Grantaire tries to both recoil and stay exactly in his place. “What now? What could you possibly need?”

Grantaire moans, low and desperate and filthy, and this was the other part of the scene, the part that Grantaire had assured Enjolras he wanted while he had chugged three glasses of water and a twenty ounce of Coke in the kitchen before they had begun. “Please, sir, I have to piss like a racehorse.”

Enjolras smacks his thigh again. “I was under the impression that furniture didn’t talk, and I’m absolutely certain that furniture doesn’t talk like that.”

Grantaire groans again, and tries to shift the weight on his knees. “Please, sir, please, I’ll do anything.”

Enjolras huffs again, carefully watching Grantaire’s reactions to make sure he isn’t pushing too much. “I need to finish this paragraph before I search out a new table. It’ll take me five, ten minutes at the most. You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?”

“Yessir.” Grantaire whines, face scrunched up. He tenses his body, his whole body, tight muscles quaking slightly as Enjolras begins to type again.

He glances at the clock and gives himself three minutes. Grantaire won’t know the difference and he doesn’t want to push him too far. Not the first time they try this, anyway. He types, idly. He’s not really working on a paper, couldn’t possibly concentrate on anything other than Grantaire, trembling and sweating and suffering for him. Enjolras is only human.

After the three minutes, he removes Grantaire’s blindfold and his computer, steeling his face and resting the urge to touch the hot pink rectangle of abused skin on Grantaire’s back. “Get up and go.”

Cautiously, Grantaire gets to his feet, groaning as his tight muscles stretch, and he glances nervously at Enjolras, who waves him on.

“You have three minutes,” Enjolras calls to Grantaire, once he reaches the hallway. “I’m not finished with my paper, after all.”

Grantaire’s, “yes, sir,” is almost too soft for Enjolras to hear, but that’s okay, Enjolras knows that Grantaire will follow directions, because Grantaire may be contrary and bratty, but he’s always good for Enjolras.

Enjolras moves himself onto the couch and rests the laptop on his lap and waits.

Grantaire comes back a minute and a half later, blushing and still moving slowly, sore. “How do you want me, sir?” he asks, breathlessly.

His knees are red, but this was what they negotiated, this is what he wants. “Get back down where you belong. I’ve had enough delay as is.”

Grantaire drops gracelessly back to the floor, grimacing as his knees settle back against the floor. It’s worse, after a break. Enjolras had tried it himself, to know what he was putting Grantaire through, and it was infinitely harder the second time, settling into bruises that were already there, but Grantaire does it without complaint. Grantaire is always so good for him.

Enjolras swings his legs onto Grantaire’s back, letting them fall down hard. Grantaire grunts with each impact, and his limbs are already quaking again. Enjolras knows it’s painful, but when he glances down, Grantaire is half hard, even as his body shakes and strains.

He gives Grantaire another ten minutes of struggling before he decides to move it forward. “It you can’t stay still, we might as well finish this.”

“Sorry, sir,” Grantaire grunts, voice strained again.

“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asks, and when Grantaire doesn’t answer, he digs his heel into Grantaire’s back. “I said, I bet you’d like that.”

“Yes.” Grantaire’s face is dripping with sweat, his chest, too, wet and heaving. “I would, sir.”

Enjolras unzips his fly and takes himself lazily in hand. “Tell me what I should do to you.”

“Sir?” His voice is tight and breathy, and Enjolras wants to drink up the sound with a straw.

“Tell me what I should do with you.”

Grantaire takes a deep breath, and exhales sharply, trying to stretch his shoulders without kicking Enjolras’s feet off. “Leave me here. On my knees. For you.”

“Obviously,” Enjolras drawls, running his thumb across the head of his cock. “Furniture is generally left out. What else?””

Grantaire groans, cock twitching, hard and ignored. “Plug me? So you could use me whenever?” He heaves a breath. “So I’d be open and waiting for you.”

Enjolras lets himself smile because Grantaire is straining too much to notice, and because it’s the only thing he can do to keep himself from laughing. It’s a sort of silly image, but not without its merits. He loves the idea of Grantaire open for him, waiting, all the time, wet and plugged and aching just for him. “Are you suggesting I fuck the furniture?”

“Just me,” Grantaire clarifies with a laugh. “It’s part of my functionality. And you should probably gag me, to keep me from complaining when my knees hurt.”

“Can’t have that. Loud furniture is gauche.”

Grantaire cackles, and his shoulders and ribs shake. He is trembling harder now, the effort of staying in the position paired with the pain in his knees and wrists. “A cock ring,” he manages after his laughter subsides. “I’m going to cum.”

Enjolras focuses his strokes, pressing his feet down harder on Grantaire’s back, because every groan takes him closer. He cums, loudly, over his own hand, then swings his legs off Grantaire and slides onto the floor with his pants still undone. He presses his cum filled hand to Grantaire’s mouth, and Grantaire begins to lick it off obligingly, body visible shaking now.

“You’re going to hold this position,” Enjolras tells him as begins to stroke Grantaire’s cock. “You’re going to hold it until you cum, alright?”

Grantaire nods. His limbs are vibrating out of control, and he cums on Enjolras’s fourth stroke, body shaking violently, before collapsing. Enjolras keeps him from face planting, then turns him onto his back, and maneuvering them both to the stack of pillows.

“Was I a good table for you?” Grantaire asks, sweaty and tired and sated.

Enjolras cuddles him closer, presses a kiss against his forehead. “The sexiest table. The only furniture I’d fuck.” Grantaire laughs, and Enjolras smiles. They’ll have to do this again, sometime.

Chapter Text

Grantaire’s hands are shaking as he locks the door. He isn’t entirely sure, still, how he convinced Enjolras to do something public-adjacent. Despite finding it hot, Enjolras was staunchly opposed to them having sex in public, because “what if someone saw us and didn’t want to see, didn’t consent to it, and Grantaire why are you laughing at me?” so Grantaire had done the next best thing, and begged the keys to the back room of the Musain off Musichetta around closing time.

“You lock the door?” Enjolras asks, sort of breathy in the way he gets right before a scene, before he puts his Domineering Aristocrat Sneer on and makes with all the mean words. Grantaire’s not sure which he likes better. Domineering Enjolras is hot as fuck, but anxious excited Enjolras is so fucking precious.

Grantaire waggles the keys and grins. “I got you boo.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling reluctantly, and Grantaire snickers. “You ready to get started?”

“Yup,” Grantaire replies. “We have about fifteen minutes.”

Watching Enjolras’s smile fade into Dom Face takes Grantaire’s cock from mildly interested to upsettingly hard in a millisecond. “Then you better stop wasting time. Take off your jacket.” Grantaire shrugs his jacket off onto the floor and moves to put the keys on the table, but Enjolras clicks his tongue, bringing him up short. “Put those in your pocket. Front pocket.”

If Grantaire’s dick wasn’t currently trying to burrow through his jeans, he thinks he could have probably extrapolated and guessed why Enjolras ordered that, but as it stands, he shoves the keys in his pocket without a second thought.

Enjolras stalks over to him, pushing him up against the wall, and Grantaire shivers. He loops his arms around Grantaire’s neck, leans close to whisper in his ear, “Ready?” and then he jumps up, wrapping his legs around Grantaire’s waist.

Grantaire’s hands shoot out to support Enjolras under his ass because it’s the easiest place to stabilize him, but also because Grantaire will never pass up a chance to touch Enjolras’s ass. Enjolras isn’t that heavy and Grantaire is much stronger than he looks, but he doesn’t really expect that Enjolras is going to make this easy on him. He shifts, slightly, trying get a better grip on Enjolras’s ass, and Enjolras chuckles in his ear, which makes his erection twitch insistently against his zipper.

“Time to show me how strong you are,” Enjolras says, and unhooks his arms. His weight rests almost completely on Grantaire’s arms, now, and Grantaire tries to shift, to get a better grip on Enjolras because his arms are already getting tired. He’s foiled almost immediately by Enjolras squeezing his legs tighter around Grantaire’s middle and there’s a sudden sharp pain on his right thigh, and oh, he thinks, that’s the point of the keys.

The pain makes him harder, more desperate to cum, and he whines loudly.

Enjolras hushes him, winding his hands in the front of Grantaire’s shirt. “Our friends are right outside—do you want them to hear you, R? To know exactly what I’m doing to you? How desperate you are for me?” He presses a soft kiss to place where Grantaire’s shoulder and neck meet, then bites down, savage, like he means to devour Grantaire whole.

Grantaire knows their friends are not right outside, that was literally the point of doing this right after closing, but the idea is so terrible and attractive that he moans, softer, aware that he has to be noise conscious in this fantasy. “We should be quick, then,” Grantaire hisses. “Courfeyrac might come looking.”

Enjolras chuckles and a shiver runs up Grantaire’s back. “You are so right,” Enjolras whispers back, nipping at the livid bite mark on Grantaire’s shoulder. He releases Grantaire’s shirt with one hand and reaches down to unbutton both of their flies, and Grantaire all but comes out of his skin at the first touch of Enjolras’s hand on his dick. He releases them again, holding his hand out by Grantaire’s mouth, and Grantaire groans. “Spit. And be quiet.”

Grantaire spits obediently into Enjolras’s hand, whining again, softly, when Enjolras wraps his long fingers around both of their cocks at the same time. Grantaire tries to thrust up into the sensation, but Enjolras squeezes his legs tighter and the pain from the keys grows from Fun to Distracting and Grantaire groans again. His arms are beginning to tremble slightly; holding up Enjolras with his arms fully extended was a dumb position on his own fault, and Enjolras, naturally, will exploit that for all it’s worth.

“Did you hear that?” Enjolras whispers in his ear, stroking them steadily, but unhurried, which is so beyond frustrating that Grantaire could scream if he wasn’t supposed to quiet. “Footsteps right by the door.”

“Bahorel,” Grantaire supplies instantly, knowing it’s not. It probably isn’t even Musichetta, but Grantaire is pretty sure he’s lost the ability to hear anything that isn’t Enjolras’s voice. His arms are really beginning to burn. “He moves around a lot.”

“Fuck, you’re so strong,” Enjolras whispers, breathless, and for a moment he is soft and loving again, and he then places a harsh bite overlapping with his last one. Grantaire squeals, bucking his hips into Enjolras and scrabbling desperately to keep hold of Enjolas. “Shut up, they’ll hear you!” He bites down again, hard, and Grantaire is sure he’s going to have bruises.

Grantaire loves bruises. Enjolras’s slow hand is maddening, and Grantaire moans louder, forgetting for a moment that he’s supposed to be quiet.

“Unless maybe that’s what you want,” he whispers in Grantaire’s ear. He pushes Grantaire harder against the wall, and they make an audible thump. A thump that anyone in the Musain could hear. “Maybe you want them to hear.”

“Yes,” Grantaire says, because he can’t think of anything else to say.

“Tell me.” Enjolras’s voice leaves no room for argument, so Grantaire doesn’t try.

He takes a shaky breath, tries to still his arms, then says, softly, “I want them to find us.” Enjolras makes an inquiring noise while working another bite into his neck, and Grantaire has trouble thinking for a second, and he can feel the precum seeping out of his dick. “I want someone to find us, to see us, to know how much you own my ass.”

Enjolras chuckles, and grips their dicks tighter. Grantaire’s eyelashes flutter like he’s a fucking damsel, and his are really straining now. Enjolras presses a kiss to his throbbing bicep. “Who?”

Grantaire’s mouth goes dry. Who? Well, no one, in real life. In real life it’d be embarrassing in the Can’t Look My Friends In The Eyes Ever Again kind of way, instead of the Hot Hypothetical kind of way. But hypothetically, “Combeferre,” Grantaire whispers, and squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to see Enjolras’s expression. Fuck, his thighs are beginning to shake, too.

“He’s at the door, Grantaire. He’s staring right at you.” Enjolras hand is tight and fast and wet (oh god, probably from Grantaire leaking—he’s going to die of embarrassment). He kisses Grantaire’s neck like he hasn’t been mauling it for close to ten minutes.

“Fuck, he’d be—” Grantaire really means to say judgmental, can see the look Combeferre gets on his face when he’s done, can see him staring at Grantaire as his dick leaks onto Enjolras’s hand, shaking and moaning while Enjolras turns his neck into one giant, throbbing mar and he cums, hard, shaking harder.

Enjolras strokes him through it, keeps stroking even after Grantaire starts to soften. Grantaire hisses, legs quaking and arms a giant ache and his cock too sensitive for this much contact, and then Enjolras cums, too. He lifts his hand, covered in their cum, to Grantaire’s face. They’re panting, both of them, and Grantaire obligingly cleans Enjolras’s hand with his tongue. Once it’s reasonable clean, Enjolras uncurls his legs and uses Grantaire’s body to settle himself back on his feet.

Grantaire leans heavily against the wall, still vibrating with endorphins and muscle ache and gross gooey feelings. He presses a shaky hand against his neck. If it’s half as big and red as it feels, he’s going to be wearing scarves for months, and it’s spring.

“You need anything in the way of aftercare before we go?” Enjolras says, leaning in and kissing him on then lips.

“Nah. Massage when we get home maybe? Also I’m skipping arm day for like a month.”

Enjolras laughs and kisses him again. “You’re so strong. It’s so hot, that you can just lift me like that. That you’re so fucking powerful and you let me do those things to you.”

Grantaire barely suppresses a full body shudder. He grabs his coat, very aware that it covers his neck not at all. “You can’t just say shit like that. We gotta go, Musichetta needs to leave.”

As soon as he says it, there’s a tentative knock at the door. “Hey,” Musichetta says, “I don’t want to know what you’re doing, but if you could wrap it up that’d be great.”

Grantaire fishes the keys out of his pocket, and fuck he’s going to have a bruise there too, and kisses Enjolras. “Let’s go home.”

Chapter Text

It always amazes Enjolras, having Grantaire spread out beneath him. He’s not small, by any means, but Grantaire is strong, and big, and relatively athletic, and Enjolras feels powerful, straddling him, like Grantaire is a stallion that he’s somehow tamed.

Grantaire’s arms are affixed to the center of the headboard, and they’re tied together from wrist to elbow, and his legs are bound ankles to thighs, and anchored at the side of the bed. He is so strong, but he has almost no wiggle room, and the frustrated sigh he makes only serves to make Enjolras grin more.

“Something wrong?” Enjolras asks, grinding his cock into Grantaire’s, which is straining hard and also tied up. Enjolras likes consistency.

“Oh my god, you’re the fucking worst, sir,” Grantaire whines, and tries to buck up into Enjolras. He can’t, really, because of how thoroughly he is bound, but damn it does he try. Grantaire’s skin is flushed red and his cock is almost purple, and he’s probably twice the size of Enjolras and he’s helpless.

“Do you think you could get out?” he asks, because he wants to make sure Grantaire knows it, too, knows the stakes and where he stands in the world.

Grantaire whimpers. “No, sir.”

Enjolras is filled with a warm, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I could just leave you here, and you’d be powerless to stop me.”

“Don’t!” Grantaire’s response is harsher than Enjolras expected and so he walks back his statement. He hates stumbling into Grantaire’s insecurities, but it’s happened enough now that he knows how to handle it.

“Why would I? Why would I ever leave you, when I can have you here, writhing beneath me, all wanton and desperate and mine.” Enjolras kisses Grantaire, kisses him hard and bites at his lips. When they part, Grantaire’s mouth is red and swollen and well kissed.

“Yessir, please, sir,” Grantaire moans.

Enjolras rocks his hips into Grantaire’s, unhurried. Grantaire wiggles his legs, barely, so contained and small for such a large man. At some point he’ll have to untie Grantaire, relinquish his control, but not right now—he has time. He reaches blindly behind him for some more rope. Grantaire lifts his head off the bed to see what Enjolras is doing and groans, but that’s okay, too; it’s not like there’s much he can do.

“How much more immobile do you think we can get you?” Enjolras asks, running his fingertips across Grantaire’s chest. Grantaire groans again and flops back onto the bed. “Yeah. I thought so, too.”

Chapter Text

Enjolras comes home as quickly as he can, having spent the whole afternoon jittery and anxious. The text he had received had only read, “got a surprise 4 you,” followed by, “a naked surprise,” and then, “semi-naked,” so Enjolras had spent the daydreaming about Grantaire naked or tied up or suffering, beautiful and all for him.

“R? You home?” he yells, slamming the door to their apartment behind him.

“In the bedroom,” Grantaire calls back, and Enjolras barely stops himself from sprinting into the bedroom, instead pausing to push his the heel of his palm against his over-excited dick and taking a deep, hopefully calming breath.

Enjolras manages to walk to the bedroom at a reasonable pace, but doesn’t manage to control a stunned gasp at the sight of Grantaire.

He’s sitting on the bed in a casual pose that looks a little too casual to be honestly calm, and he’s decked out in a cotton-candy pink sheer babydoll and pair of matching lacy panties, and Enjolras honest to god gulps. Grantaire is staring at him, clean-shaven and vulnerable, but his face betrays some anxiety.

“Good surprise?” he asks tentatively, and Enjolras nods emphatically.

“You look incredible,” Enjolras says and sits down next to him on the bed. “But I need a little guidance.”

Grantaire flushes, which looks lovely with his babydoll and Jesus seeing R in lingerie makes Enjolras just want to hold him down and tell him how pretty he looks. “Fuck me? And leave the panties on?”

Enjolras presses his palm back into his cock, hard, because that image is amazing and he actually gets to act it out. “Do you want me to boss you around? Tie you up? Hurt you? Just fuck you?” Grantaire shrugs, but he’s not making eye contact, so Enjolras assumes it’s something else, something he’s embarrassed about. “Do you want me to tell you how pretty you look in your pink panties, sweetheart?”

Grantaire shudders and makes a little breathy moan the likes of which Enjolras had never heard from him before. He nods, wide-eyed. “Yeah.”

Enjolras smirks, pushing Grantaire back onto the bed and kneeling over him. “Yeah, sweetie? Want me to tell you how lovely you are in pink? How happy I am you got all dressed up for me?”

Grantaire is flushed, bright red and panting. “Please, please, please fuck me, please.” He’s soft and pliant beneath Enjolras, and Enjolras wants to devour him, wants to kiss him all over and shower with him affection, so soft and sweet as he is now.

He kisses up Grantaire’s arm, and can’t help but whisper, “Cara mia,” when he realizes how ridiculous he’s being.

Grantaire laughs, breaking the tension. “Do you think Morticia Addams would be caught dead in this color?”

Enjolras kisses his neck and slides a hand up under the babydoll. “Fair point. Don’t need Morticia, I’ve got a perfectly good Grantaire. And he’s so sweet and beautiful for me.” Grantaire is blushing again, mouth gaping and open. “So soft and lovely.” Grantaire’s stomach is softer than the other parts of him, and Enjolras dives down to lavish his stomach and chest and arms with kisses. “Fuck, you’re so pretty.”

He reaches down to feel Grantaire’s cock through the panties, and he’s hard and straining against the pink lace, and Enjolras strokes him and he kisses up Grantaire’s neck. He pulls away, reluctant to be parted from Grantaire’s skin. “Pass me the lube, darling?”

Grantaire shakes his head slightly, pointedly not making eye contact and redder than before. He opens his mouth like he means to speak, but doesn’t.

Enjolras can’t think of why Grantaire’s being reluctant, he reaches into Grantaire’s panties and cups his ass, pushing his fingers against the rim. “Jesus, sweetheart, are you wet for me?”

Grantaire lifts his hands the cover his face and nods sharply, embarrassment coloring his face.

“Fuck, I can’t believe how lucky I am. You are so sweet for me, so good and beautiful, Grantaire.” Enjolras kisses his hands, still in front of his face, and feels out how wet Grantaire is. His fingers come away sopping and slick and it’s disgusting but so hot. He can picture Grantaire sitting in their bed, contorting to stuff his fingers up his ass as he soaked himself will lube. He moans, burying his face in Grantaire’s neck, and pulls Grantaire’s panties to the side, sinking into Grantaire slowly.

Grantaire inhales sharply, stock still as Enjolras sinks into him. His cock twitches in his panties and it’s obscene and pornographic and Enjolras can barely stand to look at it for fear he might burst.

Seated fully, finally, Enjolras takes a moment to truly take in the view, Grantaire spread out beneath him, all soft curves and pink lingerie and flushed skin. He begins fucking Grantaire in earnest, and Grantaire shifts his hips to meet him. Enjolras curls his hand around Grantaire’s cock through the lace, and Grantaire squeezes around him reflexively, tight and hot and brilliant, and Grantaire bites his lips and shuts his eyes tight.

“It’s like you were built for me,” Enjolras whispers, biting Grantaire’s ear, fucking into him hard and fast and sloppy and wet. “Like you were made perfectly, perfectly for me—you’re so, so good for me.”

Grantaire’s hands tangle in his own hair and he shudders, cumming on the inside of his panties and Enjolras fucks him through the aftershocks. Grantaire, gamely, clenches his ass around Enjolras, and Enjolras, cums too, running his hands up the smooth skin of Grantaire’s sides as he does, relishing in the feel of Grantaire around him.

He pulls out even as he’s softening, and Grantaire starts to move, most likely to clean up and hide in the shower, but Enjolras is having none of that. As he moves the panties snap back into place and Grantaire shivers. He pushes Grantaire back onto the bed with a large hand splayed on Grantaire’s chest.

“I gave you something,” Enjolras says playfully, scooting backwards so he has a view of Grantaire’s ass, pulling the panties back out of the way. “I want to see you give it back, sweatheart.”

Grantaire squeaks, covering his face again, and Enjolras watches as his cum and an astounding amount of lube seep out of Grantaire, and he feels so possessive and warm, watching Grantaire drip for him.

“Shit, you’re so pretty, Grantaire. Even your ass is pretty.” Grantaire is shaking his head frantically, but Enjolras ignores him, pressing a kiss to his navel and fixing his panties. Grantaire’s cum is drying on the inside, and it’s probably getting itchy, but Grantaire lets himself be manhandled into a cuddle.

“Gotta shower,” Grantaire mumbles weakly, but doesn’t move.

Enjolras smiles sweetly, kissing his temple and holding him close. “Let me enjoy the afterglow, sweetheart, than I can run you a bath and cherish you some more.”

Grantaire goes scarlet again, hiding his face, but he’s smiling. “Tell me I’m pretty again?”

He presses another kiss to Grantaire’s temple, curling around him protectively. “The prettiest.”

Chapter Text

Enjolras is scowling, which is an expression that Grantaire probably shouldn’t admit that he always finds hot. His long hair is pulled into the neatest ponytail it’s ever been in, his button-up tucked neatly into his mom-jeans, covered by a tweed jacket, and ensemble completed by his reading glasses, halfway down his nose. On his knees before him, Grantaire has a lot of time to appreciate the view and dedication, and manages for an entire moment before he gags.

It’s all especially effective, because Grantaire is completely naked.

Enjolras tsks, all disappointed expression and disgusted tone. “Are you even trying?” Enjolras asks as he fucks himself even further down Grantaire’s throat.

Grantaire tries to answer but retches again, Enjolras’s thick cock buried in Grantaire’s throat. His eyes are watering, view of Enjolras obscured by his tears, and his face is red and hot. The lack of air is beginning to get to him, but he tries his hardest to take Enjolras’s dick to the root.

Enjolras pulls away, and Grantaire retches again, saliva falling from viscous strands from his mouth as he gasps. “I thought you were dedicated to raising your grade,” Enjolras spits, angry and disappointed and harsh in a way that makes Grantaire’s stomach tighten and dick twitch.

“I am,” Grantaire says, voice scratchy and sore and he’s only spent ten minutes choking on Enjolras’s dick.

Enjolras scoffs, grabbing a fistful of Grantaire’s hair and wrenching his head back. He sneers, and Grantaire feels even more disgusted with himself, crying and covered in spit. “If this is your best effort, then I’d say you earned the ‘F’ I gave you.”

Grantaire is still panting, desperately trying to catch his breath before Enjolras picks up again, and it’s harder with his head wrenched back, but the pain his scalp and tension in his neck only makes him harder. “Let me try again, Professor, please!”

Enjolras smirks at the title, not entirely able to keep in character. “Fine. Impress me.”

Grantaire dives back onto Enjolras’s cock, swallowing hard to fight his gag reflex. He’s doing better this time, swallowing and raising his soft palette and not gagging at all, but the Enjolras, using his hair as a guide, fucks all the way into Grantaire’s throat and he gags, sputtering.

“This is disappointing, Grantaire,” he snaps.

Grantaire retches again and again as Enjolras rocks into his mouth. His stomach is spasming with the strength of his gagging. His stupid, confused dick finds all this hot, though, and he’d be stroking himself if his hands hadn’t been tied behind him with Enjolras’s discarded tie.

He focuses on sucking and swallowing and doing anything with his tongue. He barely has a chance to breathe between thrusts, and Grantaire is gasping. He can hear the wet gagging noises he’s making and they’re disgusting and humiliating and Enjolras looks so into them that Grantaire is considering volunteering his throat to get fucked more often.

“Do you think you’ve earned it?” Enjolras asks, slightly out of breath and tugging relentlessly on Grantaire’s hair. “Do you think you’ve earned my cum?”

Grantaire tries nod but gags himself further, choking. His throat spasms and then Enjolras cums down his throat, hot and hurting on his sore throat and filling his mouth as he gags again. Grantaire swallows hard, choking down cum and gasping when Enjolras finally pulls himself free.

“A ‘D’,” Enjolras says after a long moment, and Grantaire could cry more, if he had ever stopped.

“Please, professor,” he begs, hoarse and tired and hard as steel. “I need a ‘B’, please.”

Enjolras smirks again, betraying the fact that he clearly planned for this eventuality. The fact that Grantaire couldn’t have won makes his sob, but he sort of secretly loves that Enjolras built him a no-win situation and then lied to him about it. “Get yourself off humping my leg like the dumb bitch you are and I’ll give you your ‘B’,” Enjolras says sweetly.

Grantaire blushes hard, embarrassed and turned on and embarrassed that he’s turned on. He shuffles forwards awkwardly, unbalanced on his knees, and falls into Enjolras’s leg. Enjolras, obligingly, pushes his leg hard into Grantaire’s crotch, and Grantaire moans, reflexively thrusting into him. He closes his eyes and slowly begins circling his hips into Enjolras’s leg. It’s uncomfortable and awkward, but Enjolras’s hands are back in his hair, keeping his head fixed as Grantaire undulates and arches.

“I’m running out of patience,” Enjolras says, so Grantaire rocks harder, grinding into Enjolras’s jeans. “You have thirty seconds, and if you can’t bring yourself to completion by then, I’ll go to the dean and tell him you tried to bribe me with sexual favors. Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight. Twenty-seve—”

Grantaire cums suddenly, streaking Enjolras’s jeans and shuddering through it. He’s panting, coming down hard and shaky.

“Good.” Enjolras grins. “I’ll give you five minutes, and then, you can have another chance to deep throat me competently, and I’ll consider giving you an ‘A’.”

Chapter Text

The gag Enjolras picks out for Grantaire is sort of a monster. It’s a big, black ballgag with a leather strap and an honest to god lock. It’s the sort of thing that Enjolras spent so much of his youth feeling guilty for finding hot that he struggles with the idea that Grantaire also finds it hot and wants it in his mouth.

“Open up, R,” he says firmly, and Grantaire’s mouth falls open. He eyes the gag in Enjolras’s hand winks, because he’s a little shit. They’ve been over nonverbal safewords close to a hundred times now (and Grantaire has demonstrated his ability to hum La Marseillaise while gagged ad nauseum), but Enjolras is still vaguely worried that something will go wrong.

Grantaire, probably sensing this, rolls his eyes, and Enjolras decides right then and there that he’s going to make what follows suck for Grantaire, and grins. He pops the gag behind Grantaire’s teeth, and Grantaire groans, hands clenching and unclenching with nervous tension. Enjolras pulls the strap as tight as it can go, and delights in the little shiver Grantaire breaks into when Enjolras clasps the lock on.

“Little tough on your jaw?” Enjolras asks with mock concern, and Grantaire groans and mumbles something unintelligible. “No? Okay then. Maybe I’ll keep you in it all day.” Grantaire mumbles something a little more urgent, but just as garbled. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to talk with your mouth full?”

Grantaire stamps his foot, petulantly.

Enjolras reaches out, both hands, and grabs Grantaire’s nipples, squeezing tightly. Grantaire moans, bouncing on his toes, torn between leaning into the pain and running away from it. Enjolras loves how sensitive Grantaire’s nipples are, and how high his pain tolerance is.

Laid out on the bed already are a roll of electrical tape, a bowl of slightly melted ice, and a pair of nasty clover clamps that Grantaire says hurt too much for him to use on himself, but that he desperately wants to use. The logical conclusion was for Enjolras to use them on him; if Enjolras was in charge, Grantaire could handle it or safeword, and that was really all there was to it.

“Get on the bed,” Enjolras says, and shoves Grantaire towards it. Grantaire goes willingly, sits on the edge of the bed and offers Enjolras his hands. This part, they’ve done before. Enjolras takes the tape and winds it carefully around Grantaire’s fists until his has two black balls where his hands were. Grantaire shivers, cock bouncing hard against his stomach, and Enjolras grins. “Get comfortable—this is going to hurt.”

He shoves Grantaire and Grantaire falls backwards, bonelessly, and says something that Enjolras can’t even begin to understand, but it’s paired with another wink so he figures he’s probably better off for not knowing. Enjolras flicks Grantaire’s nipples a few times (and Enjolras loves how quickly Grantaire’s nipples get hard, like they’re eager for the pain Enjolras wants to inflict).

He takes the clamps, one in each hand, and fastens them simultaneously. Grantaire is still for a moment, and then he wails, cheeks already wet with tears and he’s clawing at the clamps with his blunted fists, which only causes the hurt to increase, and he wails again.

“Hands off.” Enjolras gives Grantaire a moment to obey, and when he seems less inclined to listen, Enjolras bats his hands away from his chest and straddles Grantaire’s legs. Grantaire sniffles, body vibrating with pain and tension. “These are mine to play with, not yours.”

Grantaire sniffs again and rubs his wet eyes on his taped hands. He’s soft again, but Enjolras isn’t about to let that stop him. He tangles one hand in the chain between the clamps as pulls as he begins to stroke Grantaire’s flaccid dick. Grantaire squeals, so Enjolras pulls the chain harder. A strand of drool escapes the corner of Grantaire’s mouth, and he’s clearly embarrassed about it because he blushes and tries to wipe at it, and Enjolras loves it—loves the shame and the loss of control and Grantaire staring up at him with wet eyes.

“You want these off already?” Enjolras asks, coloring his voice with faux-concern. Grantaire nods emphatically. “I’ll take them off if you can get yourself hard for me.” Grantaire groans, and Enjolras takes pity on him, releasing the chain and dipping down to take Grantaire into his mouth. The chain dropping no doubt hurt, too, but Grantaire is distracted by Enjolras swirling his tongue around the head of Grantaire’s cock.

Without Enjolras actively messing with the clamps, Grantaire gets hard quickly for him, which is exactly what Enjolras was hoping for. He pulls off Grantaire’s dick and smiles. “You did so well! Let’s get these off you.” He smiles like an elementary school teacher and releases both clamps one at a time in quick succession.

Grantaire screams, and his taped fists rise to his chest immediately, rubbing his sore nipples the best he can.

Enjolras picks up two ice cubes and shoves his thigh between Grantaire’s thighs. “I’ll help cool those down for you, but you’re going keep your hands by your head and you’re going to grind yourself against my thigh, understand?” Grantaire nods and says something, but he moves his hands away from his chest and begins pitching his hips against Enjolras.

Enjolras presses the ice to Grantaire’s nipples and Grantaire jackknifes up, but then collapses a second later, breathing short, whiny, wet breaths. Grantaire dutifully fucks Enjolras’s thigh, but Enjolras can see how much he wants to bat the ice away. It burns, it must, and it must be unbearable against Grantaire’s already hurting nipples. He holds the ice steady, waiting for it to melt completely. He knows, at that point, his nipples will be numb, which is exactly what Enjolras wants.

“I think it’s time to put these back on,” Enjolras says once the ice has melted, and shakes the nipple clamps.

Grantaire’s eyes go wide and he whines, shaking his head desperately.

Enjolras knows Grantaire could stop this, but he doesn’t, and Enjolras thrives on the trust there, the willingness to endure. He places them back on Grantaire’s chest, left then right. Grantaire sniffles cautiously, but Enjolras knows his nipples are too numb to really feel it yet. He twists the clamps, pull the chain and pulling them tighter. Grantaire moans, probably waiting for the pain he expects, and Enjolras wants to eat Grantaire’s anxiety up with a spoon.

Slowly, the pain starts seeping in and Grantaire shouts, cock softening as his chest is assaulted by Enjolras’s long fingers, bringing back the burn and ache and deep, inescapable pain.

Enjolras had tried this on himself, but hadn’t been able to keep the clamps on for more than a few seconds, but then again, he isn’t into pain the way Grantaire is.

“You can take them off, if you want.”

Grantaire says something, which Enjolras is pretty sure is “fuck you,” but he chooses to ignore it because he’s nice like that.

“I’m serious,” he says, very seriously. “You can take them off if you can get them off.”

Grantaire whines again, banging his legs against the bed. He lifts his fists to the left on first and tries to grasp both sides of the clamp with his slippery and grip-less hands. The first try, the clamp slips from between his hands and twists, and he releases it like it’s burning and shakes with frustration. He gets it on his second try, getting it off and pressing his fist to the red nipple as hard as he can.

He takes a deep breath and tries the other. He’s softening, but Enjolras strokes him through it, not letting him get all the way soft. Enjolras didn’t have anything set aside for this, but he pulls a hair tie off his wrists and wraps it three times around the base of Grantaire’s cock; a makeshift cockring.

Grantaire gets his hands on the clamp and presses, managing to loosen the clamp, but his grip slides and clamp closes again around the tip of his nipple and he shrieks, resorting to grabbing the loose clamp and just pulling the attached one off his nipple. Spit bubbles around the gag and there isn’t a single part of this that Enjolras isn’t enjoying.

“You did exactly what I said,” Enjolras says carefully. “But I didn’t say what was going to happen after you did that, and what’s going to happen is I’m going to put them back on.”

Grantaire starts sobbing, drool falling from his gag, and tears from his eyes, and he’s shaken, and Enjolras loves it, loves how desperate and hurting and unhappy Grantaire looks, and how he’s doing it all for Enjolras.

He does it three more times, icing Grantaire’s nipples until they’re numb and then bringing feeling back with sharp, painful compression until Grantaire is a sobbing mess, covered in tears and sweat and snot, shaking and pushing Enjolras weakly with his bound hands.

“You’re doing so well,” Enjolras tells him, sliding the makeshift cock-ring off. “Do you want to cum?”

Grantaire nods slowly, cautiously, like he guesses what Enjolras is thinking. It’s possible he has. They didn’t run through all the particulars of this scene, but they’ve been through all these details in general, and they’ve done somewhat comparable scenes before.

Enjolras kisses his cheek, stroking his cock firmly, and reaching covertly with his free hand into the ice bowl. Grantaire is distracted by his own pleasure, rocking into Enjolras’s strokes, eyes fluttering shut, so immersed in the first pleasure he’s felt this scene that Enjolras almost regrets what he’s about to do.

“I don’t think you’re going to cum today.”

Grantaire is very close, whining and writhing, and then Enjolras swaps his hand for the one filled with ice and presses it to Grantaire’s cock.

Grantaire screams, bucking away from the hand, trying to get away from Enjolras even as he gives in, sobbing hard again as he settles into the pain. When Grantaire’s all the way soft, Enjolras puts the ice away and pulls Grantaire close to him, holding him while he sobs. When Grantaire is out of tears, calm and floaty, Enjolras removes the gag and unwinds the tape, then surrounds Grantaire with his body.

“That sucked,” Grantaire whines when he finds his words again. He sounds stuffy from crying, and hoarse from screaming, and whiny because he’s whiny.

Enjolras knows it’s okay because Grantaire didn’t safeword and also because he uses terms like “sucked” very loosely, but Enjolras’s anxiety is never more present than in the post mortem of a scene. “Was it okay?”

Grantaire presses a wet, sloppy kiss to Enjolras’s neck, which is gross and reassuring somehow at once. “It was fucking terrible and I’d do it again in a second, you absolute bastard.”

“I’ll give you a blowjob in the morning,” Enjolras offers, feeling guilty in the aftermath, despite the fact he knows that Grantaire likes this.

“Damn fucking straight you will.” Grantaire pulls Enjolras closer to him, and everything is okay.

Chapter Text

Enjolras is tied, spread eagle on the bed, their softest cuffs around his wrists and ankles, and tied comfortable spread, not stretched. He’s gagged with a squishy silicone ballgag and blindfolded with a red velvet lined sleepmask; there are earplugs in his ears and noise canceling headphones on top of that, plugged into his cell phone which is playing white noise that more or less exactly drowns out Grantaire’s voice.

He’s helpless, and it sort of terrifies Grantaire.

(They’d talked about it many times, in depth, Enjolras anxious because Grantaire was anxious.

“I’m fine with it,” Grantaire had explained, “if I’m topping you because that’s a form of service to you. I don’t have the most experience on this end? But I like serving you in scenes and whether that’s taking a beating or holding a position, or tying you up and fucking you, I like doing it, and I like doing it for you.”

Enjolras had kissed him then, and their conversation had gotten derailed.)

Grantaire surveys him carefully, keeping a hand on his calf to steady him. They don’t switch often, and when they do the objective is to overwhelm, to drown Enjolras in feelings, and making him anxious because he doesn’t know Grantaire is tends to be counterproductive.

He straddles Enjolras’s calf and lubes up a slim vibrating prostate massager, then Enjolras’s ass, which is one of his favorite parts of Enjolras (physically, mentally his list starts at courage and dedication, and endless misguided faith in people). He stretches him slow, taking his time and getting him sloppy and wet with lube. When he’s making loud, squelching noises that would absolutely stop Enjolras from enjoying himself if he could hear them, Grantaire slides the massager in, nestling the end against his perineum.

Enjolras has been fairly quiet for the proceedings, but once the massager is seated he sighs and begins wriggling his hip. Grantaire pushes the on button on the bottom to start it vibrating and Enjolras gets suddenly much louder.

Grantaire had lubed himself before they started, so he crawls further up Enjolras’s body, settling himself down slowly on Enjolras’s cock. Enjolras moans louder, arms pulling hard against the bindings, but he’s stuck tight.

It take a moment for Grantaire to adjust to the stretch, and he takes that moment to scratch at Enjolras’s skin, alternating light strokes and hard welts. Enjolras moans again, and Grantaire begins fucking himself on Enjolras, focusing more on Enjolras’s pleasure than his own. He is absolutely going to make Enjolras cum at least twice, and that’s going to be significantly harder if he cums first.

He bounces on Enjolras’s cock methodically, latching onto one of his nipples with his mouth, and the other with his nails. He is conscious of alternating sensations, barely touching Enjolras’s nipple with his lips, then biting for all he’s worth, doing the same with his nails on the other side.

He knows, from experience, that uneven sensations are harder to track, make it easier (for most people) to fall into the feelings and get lost there. From the near constant moans coming from Enjolras’s mouth, he’s pretty sure Enjolras is there.

Enjolras thrusting his hips to meet Grantaire, who squeezes his ass tight around Enjolras’s cock and thanks his lucky stars that Eponine made him start doing kegels. He kisses Enjolras’s neck, using his hands to scratch savage marks and then soothe them away, and it doesn’t take long for Enjolras to come apart at the seams, crying and moaning as he cums into Grantaire.

Grantaire pauses his hips, but not his hands or mouth, and he doesn’t stop the vibrator. Enjolras struggles under him, whining, then struggles harder when he realizes Grantaire isn’t about to let up. He waits, motionless, for Enjolras to stop fighting, which Enjolras finally does with a sob. Grantaire kisses the places he’s scratched to ribbons and begins to coax Enjolras back to hardness inside of him. One more time he thinks, listening to Enjolras sniffle, or maybe two.

Chapter Text

“Oh god, that sucks, that sucks so much oh my god.”

Enjolras hesitates where he’s kneeling over Grantaire’s bound body. He had gone for simplicity for this scene, with Grantaire’s hands cuffed to his collar, and his ankles bound to thighs, because that wasn’t really the focus. The focus was the steel rod that Enjolras was easing into Grantaire’s cock with his gloved hands. Grantaire hisses and his hands shake where they’re bound next to his head, jingling.

Enjolras freezes. “Do you need me to take it out?” It’s hard to want to stop, watching Grantaire twitch and flush and moan. He’s penetrated so completely by the thick metal rod, it’s obscene and gorgeous and if Enjolras wasn’t trying his hardest to keep everything sterile he’d have already put his mouth there.

Instead, he has his knee pressed up against the plug in Grantaire’s ass, nudging it periodically. It’s not very big, because the internet had very inconsistent views of how safe that is while sounding, but it’s odd shaped and maybe a little less lubed than it ought to be.

Grantaire closes his eyes tightly and shakes his head, panting and whining. “No, it’s great, I fucking hate it.”

Enjolras laughs and grips Grantaire’s dick, letting the sound sink in a little more on it’s own. Grantaire’s breath hitches and then he moans again, wriggling his hips. “You’re going to love this, then,” Enjolras tells him, and pinches his cock hard around the sound. There’s a brief moment of silence and Enjolras frowns, wondering if maybe this wasn’t as effective as he’d read about, and then Grantaire howls, folding in on himself and thrashing, and if Enjolras didn’t have his hand still and securely holding Grantaire’s cock, he could have really hurt himself.

Or at least that’s what he’s telling as himself, as he continues to compress Grantaire’s cock beneath his fingers.

“Fuck fuck fuck—please! Please make it stop, I can’t—I can’t—” He wails, breath coming in little hiccupping gasps and tugging his wrists hard enough they’ll bruise.

Enjolras relaxes his grip and Grantaire collapses, panting and turning to hide his head in one of his hands. “How you doing, R?”

“Marigold?” Grantaire says after a moment, still catching his breath. “Or like, goldenrod?”

Enjolras nods and presses an apologetic kiss to Grantaire’s thigh. “No more sound or no more big pain?”

Grantaire swallows hard. “Second one.” His chest is moving slower again, and he’s growing calmer. “Little pain is a-okay but that was too much for today. Sorry.”

“No apologies,” Enjolras corrects him, nipping at his thigh and kneeing him hard against the plug.

Grantaire giggles. “Sorry.”

Enjolras, still holding Grantaire’s cock erect at the head, gives him a firm stroke. “Pain?”

“No, sir,” Grantaire moans. “It feels weird as fuck, though.”

Enjolras gives him another firm stroke, then still holding the head, lifts the sound out, and lets it drop back into Grantaire slowly as Grantaire shakes. “And that?”

Grantaire’s fists are clenched tight and he’s vibrating with contained energy. “Intense? Because you’re literally fucking my cock, sir, like what the fuck?”

Enjolras laughs, lifting and releasing the sound again. It sinks into him faster than before, which is incredible to see, so Enjolras does it again and again. “Want to go a size bigger?”

Grantaire whines, biting his lips. “Yeah, all right.”

Enjolras leans harder against the plug and slowly pulls the sound out of Grantaire’s cock.

Grantaire shouts, “Fuck!” and cums all over Enjolras.

“Oh,” Enjolras says, then laughs. “Or not.”

Grantaire laughs, too, then groans. “Fuck. Oh my god, that hurt though. I forgot you said my dick was going to hurt for like days, shit, I don’t want to piss ever again.”

Enjolras laughs, throwing the sound on the bed and taking off his gloves. He’ll disinfect everything later. “You should soon, though, to lower your risk of UTI.”

“Okay, Captain Safe Sex.” Enjolras reaches up and unclips Grantaire’s wrists from his collar and Grantaire groans appreciatively, rolling his shoulders. “Next time we do that, you can make it hurt."

Enjolras grins, untying Grantaire’s thighs and then leaning up to kiss him on his lips. “Next time, I’m going to start with a bigger one, and fuck you and squeeze you until you’re begging me to stop. Then I’m going to make you cum with the sound still inside you, which apparently is agonizing. And then I’m going to keep fucking your cock until you beg me for mercy.”

Grantaire’s cock twitches furtively. “Fuck, yeah, sir, please.”

Enjolras kisses him again. “Next time. Promise.”

Chapter Text

The head harness is possibly one Enjolras’s new favorite toys. It has a heavily padded blindfold and a butterfly pump gag, and Grantaire looks appalling good with his head wrapped up in it. He’s pumped the gag up until Grantaire’s cheeks are all but bursting with it, and his voice is muffled and soft.

Grantaire’s hips are moving rhythmically, fucking into Enjolras, who moans, loudly. Grantaire groans in response, stamping his foot. He’s standing at the foot of the bed, arms tied behind his back, and his legs and back must be getting tired at this point, because it’s been some time already.

Enjolras isn’t stroking himself because he wants this to go on as long as possible, and it’ll more or less be over once he cums. “Isn’t this what you wanted, R? I thought you said you wanted to fuck me?” Enjolras wraps his legs around Grantaire’s waist, grinning as Grantaire grunts in irritation. “You’re friends with like four lawyers, you should really learn the importance of specificity.”

Grantaire grunts a little louder, fucking Enjolras harder.

“Oh, yeah, that’s great, keep that up,” Enjolras says, breathless. Grantaire whines, stamping his foot again. Enjolras doesn’t really blame him, what he’d gone for today was underhanded and maybe a little mean. After Grantaire had expressed interest in doing a scene and maybe fucking Enjolras, Enjolras had strapped the head harness on, tied him up, then bound Grantaire’s cock down, strapping on a dildo in it’s place.

Grantaire groans again, still pistoling his hips steadily.

“Can you feel anything at all?” Enjolras asks, digging his heels into Grantaire’s ass to pull him closer.

Grantaire shakes his head. The pump goes swinging, which is obscene and that along with the fake cock at Grantaire’s crotch makes him like a toy, or a machine, and Enjolras hums with appreciation.

“Good.” Enjolras can’t help himself from reaching up to pump the bulb, and Grantaire groans softly as the gag expands, and fuck it’s hot. “This is so much better than when you usually fuck me. Maybe we’ll do this from now on.”

Grantaire whines softly and his hips stutter.

Enjolras likes that image, Grantaire all bound up for him, swapping out parts and upgrading him when Enjolras wants to. “Yeah, find something to better to bind your cock up with, keep you like that all the time, never let you cum, just keep you like this forever.”

Grantaire moans, long and low and fucks Enjolras harder, and Enjolras resolves to make them talk about all of those thoughts once he’s been fucked out (and maybe let Grantaire cum. That’s still up for debate).

Chapter Text

“We have an observer today,” Enjolras says. They don't, at all, but Grantaire is blindfolded, so for all he knows, they could. (That isn't true, either, they'd discussed this part of the scene ad nauseam, but that's not the point, the point is the fantasy and the fantasy involves an observer). “Any idea who?”

They hadn't discussed this part, but Enjolras is pretty sure he knows who Grantaire will pick anyway.

“Combeferre, sir?” Grantaire asks, sort of breathy and nervous sounding, like Combeferre is really there, staring at Grantaire's naked body with that look he gets, analytical and detached, but hyperfocused. Shit, just the image of that makes Enjolras's pants tighten significantly. He reaches in his pants to shift his cock, and takes a moment to put the dildo he has plans for later in his pants too, so it'll be body temperature.

It’s not comfortable, but Enjolras is willing to make sacrifices for really good sex.

“Good guess.” He has Grantaire tied on his hands and knees at the end of the bed, with his hands attached to the underside of the bed on a short leash, and his feet lashed to footboard, soles up. “We were having a fascinating conversation about bastinado, and I thought I'd offer him a demonstration.”

Grantaire's breath hitches. They'd talked about this before, but always in the abstract, never concretely paired with the other fixings for a scene. “Am I meant to hold myself up, sir?” Grantaire asks, immediately cottoning into the challenge that Enjolras had imagined.

His boy is so brilliant and creative and dirty.

Enjolras is grinning, but he schools his voice into something just shy of disdainful. “Unless you're planning to disappoint our guest . . .?”

Grantaire springs into action, eager as always to prove himself obedient, especially now when there's someone to impress. “Of course not, sir!”

“Sirs,” Enjolras corrects mildly.

“Sirs,” Grantaire agrees readily. “Yes, sirs, of course, sirs, forgive me.”

“No,” Enjolras says, just to hear his breath hitch again. “I don't think we do. But I'll take it out of your soles. Hope you don't have much standing to do tomorrow.”

Grantaire whines a little breathy whine, but Enjolras had checked his gmail calendar and Grantaire has a five day gap from class and work, which won't be great for their finances but is perfect for this.

Enjolras picks up his implement and rolls his wrist, loosening it up. “Ready?”

Grantaire's back tenses and he blurts out, “Wait, wait, sirs, saffron, sirs, please,” and Enjolras would do anything to get Grantaire to use normal color names for once in his life. Saffron, at least, he knows is yellow. Probably.

He puts his hand in the middle of Grantaire's back, and Grantaire relaxes immediately. “What is it, R?” he asks softly. “What do you need?”

Grantaire let's out a shaky breath. “I'm sorry to embarrass you in front of company,” he says in a whisper, still conscious of the fantasy. “I'll be so good, I promise, I just need to know what you're using, sir, if that's okay? I just, we've never tried this and I don't know what to expect and—”

He's beginning to babble so Enjolras shushes him. “It's okay, Grantaire, you didn't embarrass me. In fact, our guest is very impressed with you knowing your boundaries,” which he honestly thinks Combeferre would be, not to mention how impressed he himself is. He places the cane he had chosen down in the bed and wraps Grantaire's fingers around it. “It's the thin cane, very stingy, but that's all I'm going to use on you this time. If this goes well, we can try out other toys, but this is the one for now. Anything else, love?”

Grantaire releases his death grip on the cane. “No, sirs, everything is lime-y,” he says. “Or seafoam-y, maybe.”

“I am so much going to enjoy beating the shit out of your feet,” Enjolras mutters, and Grantaire cackles with delight. Grantaire's head is tilted towards him, even blindfolded, like a sunflower, and Enjolras loves him very much.

He picks up the cane and stalks to the foot of the bed. He runs a nail up one of Grantaire's arches, just to be cruel, and Grantaire's whole leg contracts as he tries to pull it out of Enjolras's reach. Enjolras laughs and does the same to the other foot, just to be mean. Grantaire's feet are tied close together to ease Enjolras beating them, but already it's affecting Grantaire's balance and ability to keep himself upright

“Ready?” he asks, and then brings the cane down before Grantaire has had a chance to answer. He hits Grantaire on the meaty part of the ball of his foot, at maybe one-eighth of his full strength.

It comes down with a loud thwack and there's an eerie moment of silence before Grantaire howls, “Oh, fuck!”

Enjolras pauses, waiting to see if Grantaire is going to follow up the expletive with some irritatingly named shade of yellow, but he doesn't. Enjolras is amazed and sort of overcome at how strong Grantaire is, but half the fun is pushing him further anyway.

“We had decided on twenty strikes—”

“Fucking shit, Jesus Christ, sir—”

“But I think we should add two for every swear word.” He steps around the bed to catch the literal jaw dropping when Grantaire realizes he's dug himself an even deeper hole. “So, what's that, twenty five more?”

Grantaire whimpers, and he uses that moment of self-pitying distraction to cane him across the heels.

“Fu—nyuns!” Grantaire yells barely catching himself. Grinning, Enjolras strikes him again and again on the heels and balls of his feet, striking harder with every fourth or so hit.

They've reached sixteen before Grantaire starts to flag. His arms are shaking as he tries to hold himself up, and his abs are rippling with each attempt to pull his feet away from Enjolras. He's sweaty and panting, but he's stubborn and brave, and Enjolras doesn't want him to have to safeword during the actual proceedings.

He makes some unintelligible whispering sounds at himself, feeling like a fool, but Grantaire gets tense and immersed looking, so it's worth it. “We've spoken, and since you've been so good for us, we've decided to let you off with twenty.”

“Thank you, sirs,” Grantaire says half desperate, and Enjolras realizes that Grantaire is hard, which is so hot he has to pause for a moment and collect himself.

“Ask for the last four,” Enjolras demands, suddenly wanting to hear Grantaire beg for it.

“Please, sirs, cane my feet? Please, sirs? I want to be good for you, please.”

Enjolras gives him the last four in quick succession, stinging strike after strike. Grantaire howls, kicking wildly, but he holds himself up and he doesn't swear, because he is so, so good.

As soon as he's dropped the cane, he's digging through the cooler by the foot of the bed, emerging, triumphant, with a bag of frozen peas. “You did so well for us,” he tells Grantaire, breaking up the peas and loving the look of confusion in Grantaire's face at the noise he can’t place. “This is in your best interest, and not a punishment, and you can swear,” he says, and presses the peas to Grantaire's feet.

“Oh fuck, oh sweet fucking hell, oh Jesus Christ,” Grantaire hisses, trying to kick his legs, but Enjolras is already securing the peas with a length of rope and setting a timer for 15 minutes. Grantaire continues fighting, holding his body up in a plank, trying to struggle his feet free. “Sirs, it’s the worst, oh please, oh fuck.”

“You're welcome,” Enjolras says, and unzips his pants. “We’re going to fuck you now. Both of us.”

Grantaire stiffens, then moans. Before they had started, Enjolras had spent a good twenty minutes stretching Grantaire out for this, so he dives in, lubing his cock up and arranging himself over Grantaire’s bound legs and pushing inside him.

“So good for me,” he says, and Grantaire moans again.

“Please, sirs, touch me,” Grantaire whines, arms shaking harder. Neither of them are going to last that long, but Enjolras has plans, and he’ll be damned if either of them cum before he’s ready.

“Not yet, Grantaire. Gotta get Combeferre in on the action, too.” He scoots down, so Combeferre could be hypothetically resting above him, and presses a finger into Grantaire, and it’s so tight and hot around his cock that Enjolras can’t believe that he’s about to do that. He pushes another finger in, then three, until Grantaire is gasping and spasming around him, and then begins easing the dildo into Grantaire’s ass above him.

“Oh shit, oh shit, Enjolras, oh shit—” Grantaire’s arms give out and he falls onto his elbows, just ad Enjolras gets the dildo in. It’s warm, body temp, and Grantaire starts panting hard. “Is he—is he really—Combeferre—I—I can’t, I—”

“Shh,” Enjolras says, reaching down to grab Grantaire’s cock. He strokes him in time with the thrusts from the dildo, a counterpoint to his own thrusting, working Grantaire into a mess ofsensations. “We’re both in now, all you have do it let it happen.”

Grantaire nods and Enjolras begins fucking him in earnest, pushing the dildo in and out alternating with his own cock, and it’s the tightest Grantaire has ever been. He sits back too far and touches his ass to the frozen peas dives back into Grantaire and the force of the thrust, or is hand on Grantaire’s cock, is the last straw and Grantaire cums with a shout. He clamps down so tightly on Enjolras and the dildo that Enjolras cums just from the force of Grantaire clenching around him.

Grantaire collapses and Enjolras follows him down, exhausted now and sated, and then his phone alarm goes off and he drags himself up to deal with the peas, because he is nothing if not a responsibly dom. He leaves the dildo though, lets Grantaire deal with that for just a moment longer.

He unties the peas, and then Grantaire’s feet, and then his wrists. His feet aren’t too red, which is a good sign, so he moves on. “How’re you doing, R?” he asks as he coils the ropes.

Grantaire groans, reaching out to grab Enjolras’s hand. “Sore. Everywhere. Everywhere that I have a body is sore.”

Enjolras laughs. “Will cuddles fix it?”

“Fuck yeah,” Grantaire mutters into the bed. “And tomorrow you’re carrying me everywhere. Like my own personal carriage.”

Enjolras kisses Grantaire’s hair, curling around him. “We’ll see. Maybe I’ll just have you crawling the rest of the weekend.”

Grantaire groans again. “You’re going to kill me with sex.”

“You complaining?”

Grantaire shakes his head. “Honestly, what a way to go.”

Chapter Text

Grantaire always knows he’s in for a treat when Enjolras pulls out the ropes. They both like rope bondage, but it’s so time consuming, both to do, and then to put away, that Enjolras really only takes them out when his plans involve long term bondage, or something creative and terrible and impossible to do without ropes.

“How much is this going to suck, sir?” he asks, as Enjolras ties him a collar. It covers most of neck, not tight but tall and fairly rigid. He loops his wrists to it of either side with enough slack that Grantaire could probably stop himself from face-planting, but can’t do much else with them.

Enjolras smiles at him, fond and sort of sadistic all rolled into one. “Probably a lot. Think you have what it takes?” He shakes out another bundle of ropes and Grantaire is filled with that sort of nauseated excitement he gets on a rollercoaster, right before all the adrenaline kicks in.

“Fucking watch me, sir,” he says, and grins. If Enjolras says it’s going to suck, then it’s probably going to be worse than Grantaire can even fathom, but that’s half the fun.

Enjolras rolls his eyes. “Do you want a plug, R?”

Grantaire considers it. It’s probably a trap, but he gets an undue amount of satisfaction for being stretched out for Enjolras. “Can I get a pro/con list?”

“If I plug you, pros include: after you’re all worn out and exhausted, I’ll fuck you up against the wall, and I’ll let you cum. Cons include: that it’ll make the first part harder. If I don’t plug you, pros are: it’ll be a little easier on you. Cons: probably no fucking and certainly no cumming.”

“Plug please, sir,” Grantaire says as soon as Enjolras is done, because he is a weak, weak man who really wants to get fucked in some ropes. Enjolras smiles a little smirk that tells Grantaire that’s sort of what he figured, and lubes Grantaire up perfunctorily, plugging him up in one hard motion that makes Grantaire’s ass ache. “Fuuuuck,” he moans, breathing through the pain.

Enjolras chuckles and starts tying a chest harness around Grantaire. From there, he turns it into a rope corset, pulling fairly tightly and leaving Grantaire a little breathless. “You know what happens to your muscles when you physically exert yourself? Why your muscles burn?”

“Lactic acid?” Grantaire hazards, breathing a little shallowly. He’s sure he’s heard Joly explaining this to Bahorel, but he tends to zone out when Joly gets too technical, even though Bahorel clearly likes it.

Enjolras ruffles his hair, still holding the loose rope taut in his other hands. “Cute and smart, and a pain slut. What did I do to deserve you?”

Grantaire really wants to correct him, because Enjolras is incredible and beautiful and intelligent and really, it’s Grantaire who is undeserving, but while he’s gathering breath, Enjolras keeps going.

“Lactic acid is formed when there’s an oxygen deficiency in your muscles. By decreasing your lung capacity,” he says, tying off the loose end and wrapping a new rope around Grantaire’s middle, on top of the corset, “any physical exertion you do will be that much more painful, that much faster. Want to see?”

Grantaire is already dreading this in the best way, and he nods. Enjolras pushes his back to the wall. He’s half hard, but Enjolras swats his dick out of the way to get to his thighs. The rope around his waist is looped around his thighs, pulling him into a wall-sit.

“Oh, fuck, sir,” he whines, breathy, because wall-sits are the worst. His ass has already started clamping down hard on the plug and he realizes now that he was very easily tricked into making everything worse on himself.

“Up on your toes,” Enjolras commands, and all the playfulness has gone out of his tone. This is Enjolras completely in charge, and Grantaire really can’t think of anything he’d like less than to disobey him.

He rises onto his toes with some difficulty, legs already a little sore. Enjolras wraps the ropes around his feet, creating a fixed distance between his feet and thighs so he can’t rise out of the sit, and fixing his feet together, finally ending with two large, uncomfortable knots under his heels and arches, so he couldn’t sink to them even if he wanted to.

Enjolras steps away, looking inordinately pleased with himself, and Grantaire takes a shallow breath and appreciates the expression while he still has presence of mind to do so. He only really has a moment to do so, before the reality of his predicament sets in.

His thighs (and Jesus, his ass) are burning with the building lactic acid. His legs are already shaking. He tries to straighten them, but he can't without the rope around his thighs and abdomen tightening and he has to ease back into tie after only a few seconds.

“Fuck,” he says, and Enjolras grins.

He gasps in breaths, but his lungs won't expand all the way and he's shaking down to his calves. The balls of his feet are aching something terrible, so he tries to rest lightly on his heels, but the knots dig into his heels and arches like knives and he jumps back up, almost overbalancing, but Enjolras reaches out to steady him.

“Careful, R, you’re at risk of disappointing me.”

Grantaire whines, because really, what could be worse than disappointing Enjolras? “How long?” he asks, and its a mistake bc then he's fighting to make up for that lost air as Enjolras watches, disinterested and detached.

“I have a timer set,” Enjolras says in a tone that brooks no arguments. “You don't have to worry about it. It'll be done when it's done and until then you're just going to have to deal.”

Grantaire hisses out the softest wail, sobbing, and when his abdomen starts shaking he can’t stop it. His whole stomach is spasming while he tries to hold the position, and he realizes he’s crying. Fuck, he's not going to be able to move tomorrow, but Enjolras is staring at him implacably. Then, suddenly, and worse, Enjolras pulls out his phone and starts flipping through it, like Grantaire isn’t standing right in front of him, suffering.

“Can't,” Grantaire sobs, because the burning has moved from a slight pain to a wildfire, searing up his nerves and decimating his muscles. It's so much worse than any workout he's ever had. Everything is throbbing, burning, twitching, and he waffles constantly between leaning into the sit and trying to stand out of it, neither of which offer him any relief

Enjolras sighs, glancing at him for a moment, then turning back to his phone. “Disappointing, Grantaire.”

It’s worse, somehow magnitudes worse, because Enjolras set him up for failure and doesn’t even want to watch. He starts fighting, pulling at his arms, trying desperately to pull the ropes at his feet or thighs apart with sheer strength, like Enjolras would ever tie knots that weak. His back is beginning to ache, straining against the ropes and his ass, too, is aching, squeezed and shaking so tightly around the plug and it's such an unfamiliar deep ache that Grantaire almost can’t take it. His knees feel tight and hot, like they could burst. Everything hurts except his arms, but even his shoulders are beginning to protest the position they’re held in.

He’s shaking to the core, overwhelmed by struggling to balance, and his legs are visibly quaking now, violent tremors and he’s whining, red in the face, and struggling with all he’s worth. He forgets himself and lowers his heels again, and the sharp pain shooting through his legs is so unexpected and strong that it takes him a moment to scream.

Once he starts, he can’t stop, wailing and fighting and crying—pain so searing, so deep, he doesn’t notice at first that Enjolras is kneeling in front of him with scissors. It’s three small snips and then his legs are free, and his whole feet are on the ground. Enjolras eases him out of the squat, holding him up while he sobs into Enjolras’s shoulder as his muscles stretch and begin to rest.

“Shh,” Enjolras says, and his hands are in Grantaire’s hair, and he’s so close that Grantaire can grab his shirt, so he does. “You did so well, R. I’m so proud of you. Fuck, you’re so strong. Take a minute, take a deep breath for me.”

Grantaire’s still struggling with breath and his legs are still shaking like leaves, but it’s easier now. The scissors are still in Enjolras’s hands, and he can see Enjolras begin to lift them tentatively to the middle of the corset but Grantaire shakes his head. “Want it,” he rasps, because he absolutely wants to get fucked into the wall with this beautiful rope corset wrapped around him.

Enjolras nods, and his face is hard again. “Then you need to get your breathing under control, because I’m not going to fuck you until you’re breathing like a competent adult.”

It’s just this side of too dismissive and Grantaire can feel his hands begin to shake. “Yellow,” he murmurs, and Enjolras’s eyes practically bulge. It occurs to Grantaire that this is the first time in ages he’s actually said yellow.

“Do you want me to untie you?” Enjolras asks, because he’s got a triage order for every scene, and he absolutely cares about Grantaire and Grantaire’s physical and mental wellbeing. He puts his hands on Grantaire’s face, moves his head until they’re looking directly in each other’s eyes. Grantaire shakes his head and Enjolras sighs. “Okay. Can you tell me what you need me to do?”

“Did I do good?” Grantaire asks, voice shakier than he’d like it, and Enjolras’s face goes soft.

Enjolras kisses him full on the mouth, desperate and warm, and like an instant balm to Grantaire’s insecurities. “Yes, you did so good. You were wonderful for me, R. You’ve earned a reward—anything you want.”

Grantaire grins at him, tired, but as irreverent as he can manage. “Want you to fuck me against the wall while I’m gasping for it.” He is way too tired for it, but he was promise it and he wants it, and common sense can go to hell.

Enjolras swallows hard. “Yeah, we’re doing that,” he says, and spins Grantaire around forcibly, pushing him into the wall.

Grantaire has just enough time and space to brace his arms against the wall before he would have hit it with his face, and then Enjolras is behind him, both arms wrapped Grantaire’s torso. His legs are still shaking badly, and almost all of his weight is resting on the wall or being held up by Enjolras, but he’s not sure he could move even if he wanted to.

Enjolras says, “Deep breath,” and then he pulls the plug from Grantaire in one of the more excruciating moments of Grantaire’s sex life. His ass is so sore that it feels amazing to be free of the plug, but the sudden movement of his muscles is agony, as is the slicked finger that Enjolras slides into him. “Not going to last long,” Enjolras says in his ear, which is also sort of a blessing.

Enjolras slides into him, one hand hooked on the chest-harness to hold Grantaire up, and the other one tugging at Grantaire’s dick, even as he smashes them further into the wall. Enjolras grinds into his ass, not really fucking into him as much as rotating his hips, but it’s so familiar and comforting that Grantaire melts, let’s Enjolras carry his weight. He gets hard in Enjolras’s hand, because he always gets hard for Enjolras, even when his legs are shaking so hard he swears he can hear his bones rattle.

They both cum in an embarrassingly short time, as soon as he has, Grantaire’s legs give up on the fantasy that they were holding him up at all and he collapses. Enjolras catches him though—Enjolras always, always catches him, and pulls him across the room to the bed.

He closes his eyes, exhausted, and feels the burn in his chest begin to ease. His shoulders, next, as his arms are placed at his sides, and then the unfortunately minty sent of icy-hot being rubbed onto his legs. When his muscles have finally stopped shaking, he opens his eyes to see Enjolras patiently rubbing his feet, and smiling at them with an inappropriately mushy face for the task at hand.

“That was the fucking woooorst. How long did I last?” Grantaire asks, because it is vital that he knows.

“4:15,” Enjolras says, and the fact that he is impressed is written all over his face. “I would have stopped you at five, regardless. I am, as always, in awe of your strength.”

Grantaire smiles at that. “Felt like longer.”

Enjolras scoffs, wiping his hands off on a towel. “Of course it did. I had you tied in a stress position, and on your toes, with a plug in your ass. I bet it felt like an eternity.”

It had felt like an eternity, like ages and ages of pain and burning and Enjolras ignoring him, but on the other hand, hearing it had only been four and a quarter made sense to him, too. “I didn’t like that you weren’t looking at me,” Grantaire confesses as Enjolras lies down next to him.

“I was looking at you,” Enjolras says, with a conspiratorial tone. “Through my camera. Couldn’t look away, in fact. You’re incredible.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Grantaire lets Enjolras kiss his cheek, though, so it’s sort of a moot point. “What gave you this idea, anyway?”

Enjolras grin turns a shade more embarrassed, and Grantaire feels glad to have caught him in something. “I heard you complaining about wall-sits the last time you went to the gym with Bahorel. Couldn’t get the idea out of my head. Love to watch you straining for me.”

Grantaire laughs, and his abs ache, so laughing hurts, but Enjolras is giving him that same embarrassed grin, so that’s pretty wonderful, too, even if he’s going to ache for days.

“I love you,” Enjolras tells him, and that’s best of all.

Chapter Text

The position isn’t an easy one. They never are, with Enjolras, but this one is probably in Grantaire’s top five Worst/Best Positions. Enjolras has spent weeks researching architecture, figuring out which beams were weight-bearing and how to drill into them all sorts of minutia that had ended up with Grantaire in the position he was in.

It hadn’t been so bad at first. Enjolras had built a rope harness around his hips, weaving ropes until he could sit upright, fully supported, which had been cool and not at all strenuous or painful or exhausting, so Grantaire really should have known better.

Enjolras smiles encouragingly as he hoists Grantaire up and off the ground. “That’s it, the ropes have you, just relax into them.”

He lets Enjolras guide him, leans into the ropes until he’s horizontal and then lets his abs relax until he’s in a backbend. Grantaire’s fingers and toes barely touch the ground, but he’s holding himself up for all he’s worth. If this is going to be a thing they do more, Grantaire thinks, he might have start doing yoga.

Enjolras laughs. “You realize that suspension involves you being suspended, as in, not touching the ground?”

“Fuck you, sir,” Grantaire says through gritted teeth. He’s sure it’s harder trying to hold himself up than relaxing into the ropes would be, and he knows that Enjolras’s ropes will hold him, but a tiny, terrible part of him keeps asking, what if they don’t? He trusts Enjolras, really he does, but letting his feet leave the ground is still a task.

“Okay,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire can hear the smile in his voice. “Here are your two options. One: I can haul you another foot off the ground, so you have no choice but to relax. Two: I can tie you up where you are, and if you don’t relax into the ropes, you’re going to be holding yourself up on one hand and foot while I tie the first one.”

Both of those options sound terrible, and Grantaire is already beginning to sweat. “Number one? I guess?” he decides finally, because Enjolras taking the decision out of his hands is always a good decision.

Enjolras snorts affectionately, and then tugs on the pulley. Grantaire’s fingertips and toes leave the ground and he’s almost weightless. The harness creates pressure on his pelvis, but nothing tight or pinching or painful, just intense, and maybe it’s the blood rushing to his head, but everything is suddenly very, very floaty.

“I’m going to tie you up more, now, R. Deep breaths.”

It’s hard to take deep breaths in the backbend, but he tries, because he always tries his hardest for Enjolras. Enjolras tugs his arm backward and lashes it to his ankle, then does the next just as quick. His back bends more, and it’s like an inverted hogtie, and it sucks as much as a regular hogtie, except he’s also upside down.

Enjolras steps away for a moment, and then comes back with the stainless steel asshook that he had picked up a few months back—a big, two inch ball on a metal curve, and of course, Enjolras is making this harder. Enjolras disappears behind him, and with his neck at the angle it’s at, he can’t see anything at all, but he can feel Enjolras’s fingers in his ass, and then the ball, pushing through with a hard shove, and he hisses as the cold hook settles within him.

“Fuck, sir—that’s cold! And big!” Grantaire’s voice sounds funny to himself, but maybe that’s because of all the blood thudding in his head.

Enjolras laughs again. “Correct on both counts. Have I told you lately how happy I am that you’re growing out your hair?”

Grantaire groans, suddenly regretting the last six months of his life and every time he put off cutting his hair because Enjolras likes tangling his hands in it. Enjolras squats down next to him, and he can see him mostly out of the corner of his eyes. Enjolras grins and begins gathering his hair into a ponytail. It’s a tight ponytail, but Grantaire likes his hair pulled, so it’s actually pretty nice, until he realizes that Enjolras has somehow affixed rope to it, because then his head is being pulled back, hard.

There’s a metal loop on the end of the asshook that he knows is meant for attaching ropes, so it’s sort of stupid that he’s shocked when his hair is connected to it.

The sudden tension in his neck and in the hook in his ass is terrible and it’s amazing. His whole scalp is tingling and he tries to ease the tension in his neck, but then it pulls the hook, hard, and the ball hits him hard directly in the prostate, and he’s really fucking hard and there is nothing but air on his dick, and he must be making some sort of stupid face because Enjolras is laughing. He drops his neck at once, gives himself some relief from the ball, but already his neck is beginning to ache.

“Sir,” he whimpers, struggling against the ropes but he has no leverage, no foothold, no nothing. He is floating, but bound so tight. He can’t move, and even if he could, where could he go?

“Yeah,” Enjolras says, a little breathless with excitement. He undoes his fly and he’s only a few inches away, but it’s far enough that Grantaire couldn’t reach him without some serious effort. “Yeah, that’s good. I’ll give a few minutes to get to used to this and then I’m going to tie a vibrator to your cock and not turn it off until you’ve managed to get me off with your mouth.”

Grantaire groans, thinking about it. He’s at the perfect height to suck Enjolras off, but with his neck at this angle, he’s knows he’ll have to strain, have to pull the hook up hard against his prostate to get his mouth around Enjolras, which will be that much harder to bear with a vibrator against him. He wonders how many times he’s going to cum before this is over and he groans again. “Jesus fucking Christ, sir.”

Enjolras pushes him gently, and he swings in his harness. It’s scary and sickening and sort of incredible, and his head is spinning. “Yeah,” Enjolras says again. “Yeah.”

Chapter Text

Enjolras had been waiting for the timing to work out for weeks. Their relationship isn’t the sort where he can’t just tell Grantaire not to cum for a week because he has scene in mind (although he knew if he did tell Grantaire that, Grantaire would obey, which is sort of why he doesn’t), so he had needed to wait until they had both had a week so miserable and busy that there hadn’t been time for masturbation, let alone sex.

The day after the week from hell, Enjolras kisses Grantaire awake at a reasonable time in the morning, because he’d like Grantaire to actually agree to the scene and not complain about the hour. Grantaire is grumpy and grumbling when he wakes up, but once his eyes are open and he actually sees Enjolras, he gets smiley and blushy, which never ceases to amaze Enjolras.

“I want to try again with desperation,” he tells Grantaire, earnestly. “Today, hopefully.”

Grantaire blinks at him slowly, still waking up. “You just want to make me piss myself, don’t you.” It’s not really a question, and even with sleepy eyes, Grantaire’s gaze is like a laser focus and Enjolras blushes, a little, but he sniffles and stiffens his upper lip.

“Well—yes. But more than that.” He can tell his attempt to cover up his embarrassment isn’t really working because Grantaire is laughing at him, but he loves Grantaire’s laugh, so it’s all right. “I want to make you desperate and aching, torn between that and wanting to cum.”

Grantaire groans exaggeratedly, but rolls into Enjolras’s arms and kisses his chest. “‘Wanting to cum,’ he says, as though I’m not dying of blue balls.” He smiles up and Enjolras, and he’s blushing a little too. “Yeah, that sounds hot. Sign me the fuck up.” He runs his hand up Enjolras’s side, gently, almost too cautiously, and Enjolras waits to see what has Grantaire wound up. “Will you be mean about it, though? I mean,” he says, and huffs a little breath into Enjolras’s chest. “Can you make me feel bad about it? About wanting it? With your words?”

“Are you sure?” It’s not that Enjolras never humiliates Grantaire verbally, but it isn’t the sort of thing that happens regularly, partially because Grantaire occasionally feels legitimately ashamed of his desires, but also because it’s hard for Enjolras to do. He loves Grantaire, loves fucking in him in weird and painful and inventive ways, and making Grantaire feel bad about the gift of his dirty, kinky mind feels wrong.

Grantaire nods. “Yeah. It feels dirty and wrong and I want to feel like it’s a dirty-wrong thing you’re doing for me, because I’m gross and want it, even though—don’t say it—I know it’s fine and not gross.”

Enjolras indulges him and doesn’t say anything reaffirming. “After breakfast,” Enjolras declares, “and then the rest of the day until I’m through with you.” Grantaire hums contentedly, and Enjolras spends a long moment feeling lovey and grateful and happily anticipating how miserable he’s going to make Grantaire today.

They eat and shower quickly, anxious to get to the main event. Enjolras tells Grantaire not to relieve himself with a blush, steeling himself for the rest of the scene. He’s uncomfortable with bodily fluids of any kind, if he’s being honest with himself, and it had taken quite some time to even be okay swallowing after blowing Grantaire, but the idea of controlling Grantaire so completely is more appealing than the amount he is grossed out by bodies and the things they do.

While Grantaire is preparing himself, Enjolras sets up a tarp and towel, tapes a garbage bag around a kitchen chair. He has a long moment to stand by himself and try and calm himself, nervous and excited, and it’s almost a long enough moment that he has second thoughts.

Grantaire returns, naked and red in the face. Enjolras hands him a vibrator without commentary, and Grantaire obligingly lubes himself up and presses it into himself, bending over and moaning and putting on a show for Enjolras. Enjolras keeps the remote to himself, because that’s for later.

“Ten scale,” Enjolras says. “How badly do you need to piss?”

Grantaire considers for a moment, rocking from foot to foot. “A seven,” he says, so Enjolras throws him a water bottle. “But embarrassment is definitely at a nine, sir, just, like, in case you were curious.”

“Drink it,” Enjolras says, and pretty much manages to swallow his grin as Grantaire does.

“How do you want me, sir?” he asks, waggling the empty bottle at him.

“Completely,” Enjolras says, and watches Grantaire’s throat as he gulps. “And also on that chair.” Grantaire rolls his eyes but walks over the chair obediently and allows Enjolras to manhandle him into it. He binds Grantaire’s legs to the legs of the chair with plastic wrap, then covers that with duct tape. He winds it down, taping Grantaire’s feet to the chair as well, so they’re pointed and tensed and uncomfortable.

“No rope, sir?” Grantaire asks, leaning forward to watch Enjolras do it. They haven’t used plastic wrap before, but he doesn’t want to pull out the hair on Grantaire’s legs with duct tape, even if he thinks Grantaire would probably be into that.

“Of course not,” Enjolras admonishes. He spreads Grantaire’s thighs wide and binds them to the seat of the chair with a few turns of plastic wrap and a long strip of tape. He strokes Grantaire’s cock once, but it’s incorrigible and hardens for him. “Just because you’re happy getting dirty doesn’t mean I want you to get my things dirty.”

Grantaire groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Fuck, sir. Aren’t I one of your things, too?”

Enjolras laughs. “Of course you are. My favorite thing. But that doesn’t change the fact that no matter what I do with you, you are dirty. Whereas my rope could avoid that fate very easily.”

He wraps Grantaire’s torso and arms to the back of the chair with plastic wrap, pulling it tight, and then covering it with several strips of tape. Grantaire struggles to show him how secure it is, and Enjolras smiles. He likes that Grantaire knows what he likes, likes that Grantaire will put on a show for him, and likes that Grantaire is bound up tight. He also likes that the plastic wrap will make Grantaire uncomfortable and hot.

“Okay, so here’s what’s going to happen,” he tells Grantaire, winding his fingers through Grantaire’s hair and pulling his head up sharply. “I’m going to let you piss right after you cum. You want to cum, R, right?” He drops Grantaire’s head and steps backwards, keeping his eyes on Grantaire.

Grantaire hangs his head pathetically. “Yessir, you know that sir.” He tugs against his binds, but they don’t budge.

“Then this should be really easy for you.” He has the remote for the vibrator in his hand and he turns it on high with no warning. Grantaire jolts forward, fighting, and Enjolras preens internally. He backs up to couch and seats himself comfortably, pulling a book off the table next to it.

“Sir?” Grantaire’s voice is pathetic, high pitched and whiny, which is one of Enjolras’s favorite.

“Yes?” he replies impatiently, thumbing through his book.

“Aren’t you going to help me?”

Enjolras glances up at him. Grantaire is trying desperately to rock his hips, and the chair is creaking slightly, but Enjolras tied him down well and he’s immobile, shoulders shaking as he tries to pull away. “I never said anything about helping you. If you really need to piss, I imagine you’ll find a way to get yourself off, first. Use that depraved imagination of yours.”

Grantaire pants, and squeezes his eyes closed. “And if I can’t hold it until then?”

Enjolras knows he’s smirking a little, but he really can’t help himself. “Then I hope you’re prepared to spend the rest of the day with the vibrator going, covered in your own piss.”

Grantaire makes a desperate, breathy noise, and then starts trying to hump the chair harder.

Enjolras tries to read, glancing up occasionally at Grantaire. He knows scenes in which he ignores Grantaire aren’t a favorite, but it seems fitting for this one, especially since Grantaire asked for some humiliation, and also because it is literal definition of a waiting game.

Grantaire gets increasingly desperate, sweating and shaking the whole chair as he struggles, dick hard and leaking. It’s a lovely image, and Enjolras finds himself staring more than he means to, waiting for the inevitable.

“Please, please, sir, I need help,” Grantaire says finally, after maybe twenty minutes.

It’s more time than Enjolras had guessed it would take, but he really should have learned by now not to be surprised by Grantaire.

“How can I help you?” he asks, and tries his hardest to sound cold and uninterested.

He’s sure he succeeded, because Grantaire groans again. “I need your help to cum, sir, please!”

Enjolras stands and saunters back over to him. He crosses his arms and looks down at Grantaire, who gazing up at him with that look he gets that’s a little too close to worship, and his eyes are wet. Grantaire is panting, lips littered with tooth marks, and cock softer than it was in the beginning. “Use your words, R. You’re disgusting, but you aren’t dumb.”

A tear falls from Grantaire’s eye, then another and another, and he’s sniffling and shaking. “Touch me, sir, please.”

Enjolras considers touching his face, pretending not to know what Grantaire wants, but then discards it. There are other ways to tease Grantaire. He holds his hands under Grantaire’s mouth and says, “Spit.” Hand wet, Enjolras kneels, leaning in and giving Grantaire’s half-hard cock a couple of hard pulls.

Grantaire groans, head lolling. This close, Enjolras can see his legs are shaking, and no doubt his whole body is going into overdrive after thirty minutes on the vibrator. “Please, please, please!” Grantaire’s voice is thick with tears, and his whole face is red with them. He keeps stroking Grantaire, gets him hard again and dribbling.

Enjolras lets go, just to hear him wail, and he isn’t disappointed. Cautiously, he lifts a hand to Grantaire’s abdomen. He’s sue he’s imagining it, but it looks as though his stomach is pulled taut, like he can see the swell of Grantaire’s bladder through it, and he presses his palm against it.

Grantaire yelps, rocking back in the chair, but not enough to move it, so he’s still trapped by Enjolras’s hand. Enjolras glances up, watches tears fall from Grantaire’s eyes as he shakes his head frantically. “Fuck—Enjolras, I’m going to—fuck!”

It’s hot, knowing that Grantaire is full up for him, straining and hurting. He knows what that sort of desperation feels like, and that Grantaire is willing to accept that for him is way hotter than he thinks it should be.

Enjolras pushes a little harder than lets go, returning his hand to Grantaire’s cock. “Ask me for permission before you cum.” Grantaire nods, still shaking. Enjolras keeps stroking him, and Grantaire gets closer quickly, probably because it’s been a dry week.

“Can I cum, sir?” Grantaire finally asks. His eyes are wet and wide and Enjolras really loves making him suffer.

“No,” Enjolras tells him, and removes his hand.

Grantaire wails again, his cock twitching hard, and a small spurt of piss squirts out of him. He doubles over as much as he can, crying harder.

“That’s pathetic,” he says, and Grantaire nods, shaking with sobs. “What do you need more? To cum or to piss?”

Grantaire shakes his head. “Dunno. I—I don’t…” he trails off into sniffles and Enjolras takes pity on him.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, and wraps his hand around Grantaire’s cock again. “Doesn’t matter what you think you need. I know what you need, isn’t that right, R?” Grantaire nods. “That’s right. And I say you’re going to cum for me. You’re going to cum for me right now, isn’t that right, Grantaire?”

Grantaire nods, and a second later does so, cumming across his own abdomen. Enjolras releases him just in time, because his orgasm is followed by a torrent of urine. Grantaire is flushed head to toe, looking more embarrassed by that than anything else they’ve done. He is panting, trying to catch his breath, but starts whimpering after a few second, quickly getting louder.

Enjolras is certain it’s the vibrator, but he lets it run. “You got piss on me,” he says, even though he didn’t. “What did I tell you about getting me and my things dirty? I should just leave you here in a puddle of your own piss with that vibrator going, shouldn’t I?”

“Please, don’t, sir, please! Please, oh, fuck, please.” Grantaire is babbling, which is always charming, and thrashing so hard that the plastic wrap is actually beginning to stretch.

Enjolras cups his cheek and kisses him firmly on the mouth, turning off the vibrations with his spare hand. Grantaire sags into the kiss once the vibrations stop and Enjolras pulls back smiling. “How was that?” he asks, still holding Grantaire’s face in his hand.

Grantaire grins and sniffles. “Fuck you, you know it was good. Was it…” he falters, licking his lips nervously. “Was that okay with you?”

“Okay? Very much better than okay, that was incredible.” Enjolras kisses him again. “And next time, we’re going harder.”

Chapter Text

Grantaire is bound to the corners of the bed, stretched and slightly straining, with a vibrator in his ass and sharp-toothed clips on his nipples. Enjolras sits next to his bound body, one hand on the chain connecting the nipple clamps and the other on Grantaire’s dick, stroking him.

“Have you been good, Grantaire?” he asks, twisting his hand along the length of Grantaire’s cock. “Good enough that you think you deserve to cum?”

“Yessir,” Grantaire moans, piteously. His body is covered in a sheen of sweat, because Enjolras can play him like a fiddle—or, like a crowd of people, which unlike the fiddle, Enjolras is actually good at. “Please, sir.”

Enjolras hums noncommittally, tugging at the nipple clamps sharply. The one he picked have teeth, and they dig into Grantaire’s nipples with painful pinpricks and Grantaire moans, head shaking. His limbs are pulled too taut to move them, but Enjolras can tell how much Grantaire wants to move, wants to shift and shake and falls to pieces, but he can’t, which is definitely hot.

He loves that he can control Grantaire like that, how thoroughly he can restrain him, and he thinks at some point he’ll get used to how overwhelming and good that feeling is, but he hasn’t yet. He hopes he never will. “I’m not sure. Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

Enjolras drops the chain to reach down and turn up the vibrator. Grantaire’s stomach contracts, and if he could, his hips would be off the bed, but there’s no slack for him, and he has no choice but to endure.

“Fuck, sir! That’s going to vibrate me to death.”

Enjolras snorts. “Can I tighten your nipple clamps?” The ones he chose are adjustable, and if Grantaire has enough brain power to be a sarcastic, then Enjolras could definitely put him in more pain.

“You really don’t have to, sir,” Grantaire says, offering him a solid attempt at a smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to, anyway.” He twists the knobs once around on each clamp, and it’s enough to bring tears to Grantaire’s eyes, but that’s sort of the point of this evening anyway. “Don’t you want to thank me, R?”

“Thank you very fucking much, sir,” Grantaire grumbles, then gasps when Enjolras passes his palm across the head of Grantaire’s cock. “I’m close, sir!”

“Ask me before you cum,” he says again. He’s staring at Grantaire’s face, can’t look away. Grantaire knows what’s coming, and he can see it on his face, the tension in his mouth, how desperately he’s looking at Enjolras, like Grantaire hopes to somehow sneak his orgasm past him. “If you cum without telling me, I’m going to tape a vibrator to your cock and keep it running until the batteries die.”

Grantaire groans, dropping his head heavily back onto the bed. He’s dripping pre-cum, so Enjolras tightens his grip and concentrates on Grantaire’s cock, working it hard. “Oh, fuck,” Grantaire says a moment later, “please, sir, can I cum?”

Enjolras looks him in the eye and says, “Try.” Right when Grantaire is about to cum, he removes his hand. Grantaire tries to buck into his hand, but it’s gone. He’s too far along and he cums, yelling. His stomach is spattered with cum and he’s panting and there are tears at the corners of his eyes.

When Grantaire had first brought the idea of ruined orgasms to him, Enjolras had tried on himself, finding that line of close-enough that you ejaculate while having none of the endorphins or relief both hard to find and harder to make himself commit to. It had made him uneasy and off kilter and just as needy as before he had masturbated, and he had sort of hated it, but he understood enough about what Grantaire liked to see why Grantaire would like it.

“Fuck,” Grantaire whispers, and his voice is wet and thick. “Sir, please.”

“What?” Enjolras asks innocently, turning the vibrator down. “You wanted to cum, and you did. See?” He scoops the cum up and pushes his fingers into Grantaire’s mouth and Grantaire licks them clean, because Grantaire is always so good for him. “And if you keep being good for me, I’ll let you cum again.”

Grantaire’s face is a mix of horrified and hopeful, and Enjolras is so much going to enjoy dashing his hopes.

He spends Grantaire’s refractory period removing the nipple clamps and biting and sucking Grantaire’s nipples until they are red and covered in bruises and warm to the touch. Grantaire is squirming and whining with his eyes shut tight, and it’s such a good sight that Enjolras almost regrets leaving his nipples be.

Grantaire is hard again, so Enjolras turns up the vibrator. Grantaire whines again and says, “Do I get to cum this time, sir?”

“I don’t know what you mean, R, you came last time.” Enjolras leans down and licks a stripe up Grantaire’s cock and Grantaire shakes. “You can cum again, though, if you like.”

“I’m pretty sure I hate you, sir.”

Enjolras grins and takes Grantaire into his mouth, sucking him down. Grantaire’s thighs are so tense that they’re shaking. Enjolras pulls off when he feels Grantaire getting close, biting Grantaire’s thighs as he keeps jacking him.

Grantaire’s neck is craned so he can look at Enjolras, and his bottom lip is littered with bite marks. “Please, please, please, can I cum?”

If Enjolras were a better person he wouldn’t get so much joy out of saying, “No.” He releases Grantaire’s cock, and it spurts cum weakly as Enjolras snatches relief from him. Grantaire sobs, whole body shaking as he tries to fight his way out of the bondage. All that build up, with no release—he must be feeling beyond frustrated, and all for Enjolras.

Enjolras turns off the vibrator and lays down, half draping himself on Grantaire. “Look at me, love?” Grantaire turns his teary eyes towards him, but he’s still vibrating with sobs. “I know you’re feeling on-edge and sort of off, so I’m going to give you some more pain to focus on before I let you go, okay?”

“Emerald,” Grantaire says weakly, and Enjolras kisses him.

“You’re so good for me, R.” He takes the nipple clamps and tightens them a little more, and then puts them back onto Grantaire’s nipples, now bruised and already hurting. Grantaire yelps, but Enjolras winds a fist in the chain and leans up to kiss him. He sucks at Grantaire’s lip, increasing pressure on his nipples as he kisses him senseless.

Grantaire’s breathing calms after a few minutes, and then he goes quiet and soft, which Enjolras takes as a good indication to wrap up. Enjolras removes the nipple clamps first, and kisses each nipple, then unties Grantaire, throwing the rope on the floor to wind later. He manhandles Grantaire into a cuddle and wraps himself securely around Grantaire.

“How are you doing, R?”

Grantaire sniffles. “Fuuuuuck.”

Enjolras chuckles, then, overcome with affection, kisses Grantaire’s forehead. “Did you like it?”

Grantaire hums thoughtfully. “Yeah, but it sucked a lot? And I don’t think I want frequent repeat.”

“That’s okay. You did really well, though. You handled it beautifully, and you were so good for me.” Enjolras is not sure he could handle frequent repeats either. He genuinely enjoys hurting Grantaire when Grantaire wants to be hurt, but this was harder than he’d expected—a more mental hurt, than physical, which is apparently harder for him. “In a couple hours, want to fuck me? Get a real orgasm in today?”

Grantaire laughs, still a little tearful sounding. “Abso-fucking-lutely, my dude.”

Enjolras smiles in spite of himself. “What did I tell you about calling me ‘dude’ in bed?”

Grantaire grins back. “I love you.”

Enjolras is overwhelmed by Grantaire and the depth of his own feelings for Grantaire, and endlessly thankful for Grantaire’s presence in his life, and his bed, and for all the ridiculous kinky sex they have, but he knows better than to try and explain all that to Grantaire (whose method for accepting compliments usually involves finger guns). “I love you too,” he says, and knows that it’s enough.