Some nights and evenings are just harder to face. There's not always a reason, sometimes it just gets like that, and Enjolras's left curled on their bed, trying to hug himself as best as he can. Grantaire hates it. He hates it because he knows that feeling much to well, and he's glad it's not often to see Enjolras like that, because he's strong enough to fight his voices and his worries, but when he gets like that Grantaire knows what he needs. He climbs up the bed behind him and hugs him tight from behind, let Enjolras just be in the warm space of his arms and soothes him when he cries, and waits and kisses him until he falls asleep.
When it came to expectations, Enjolras genuinely had little of them where as Grantaire had many, about himself and about others around him but mostly himself. His expectations were too high and he was forever putting himself down and drink was his escape.
It was his drinking that both pulled Enjolras towards him and pushed him away at the same time. Their relationship was a mess. His drinking was like a tornado, crashing through their lives and ripping their relationship to shreds and leaving it a mess that they had to fix but it wasn’t quite the same each time.
Grantaire was stood in the kitchen with a bottle of beer in his hand, drinking it slowly as he stared at the easel that he had set up next to the fridge for easy access as he tried to work out what was wrong with the not even half done painting. It was missing passion, the passion that belonged to him but he had been unable to provoke for a long time. He jumped as the door slammed open and Enjolras stormed in, dropping his satchel on the sofa as he marched through their shared apartment and into the bedroom. Grantaire thought nothing of it, it was quite a common occurrence when Enjolras was involved. With a sigh and another swig of his beer, Grantaire turned his attention back to the painting in front of him.
Enjolras remerged ten minutes later, his tie loosened and his waist coat gone. Grantaire barely registered him until his beer was ripped out of his hand and slammed down. “Enough of this!” Enjolras shouted, taking the artist by surprise. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself!”
“I’m not… I’m feeling sorry for this piece of art,” he shrugged casually as he continued to stare at the art.
“No more drinking,” Enjolras ordered sternly, crossing his arms against his chest. “You’re bleeding us dry and killing yourself in the process.”
“What’s got you in a bad mood?”
“You have!” Enjolras scowled at him in annoyance, ready to go on a rant at any moment if Grantaire set him off.
“Nah, you were in a bad mood when you stormed in here,” Grantaire told him with a slight shrug. Truthfully he enjoyed this games. He enjoyed the expression Enjolras got when he had been wound up, that smouldering glare that caused Grantaires insides to tighten.
Enjolras opened and closed his mouth a few times before stepping away. “I can’t do this,” he stated as he slunk off to the bedroom.
Grantaire frowned as he cautiously followed him and stepped inside the bedroom, glancing at Enjolras. “What’s wrong…?”
“Get on the bed,” he ordered as he kicked his shoes off and oh, Grantaire couldn’t deny him that. He began unbuttoning his jeans before Enjolras grabbed his wrist and shook his head. “I didn’t say to do that.”
“Sorry,” he breathed as he sat on the bed, watching Enjolras unimpressed expression remain the same before he decided to lie down, sneaking a glance to find him looking a little more impressed.
Enjolras quickly launched himself at him before Grantaire could protest and had both of his wrists above his head and tied by the tie that had been around his neck earlier. Grantaire gave them an experimental tug before Enjolras crushed his lips against his and drew out a small whine from the artist as he bucked up against him. Enjolras pulled back with a hiss, narrowing his eyes. “You’ve got to learn.”
Slowly Enjolras peeled away his shirt and folded it neatly on the chair, followed by his trousers as Grantaire watched on, desperate to be able to touch the marble skin mere inches away from him. He grunted in frustration, knowing better than to speak when Enjolras was in this mood as his own trousers were peeled away. He lifted his hips for him obediently as he watched, unable to do anything as Enjolras made sure not to touch his crotch.
A few moments later Enjolras was on the bed beside him with his hands gripping Grantaires shirt as he slowly lifted it up and left it around his wrists as he looked down at his boyfriends body that was covered in flicks of paint from his habit of painting naked most of the day. “Joly would kill you if he saw this,” Enjolras stated matter of factly as he traced his finger over a line of orange that ran across his abdomen.
“I hope Joly never sees me like this,” Grantaire replied as he shuddered under his touch, watching as Enjolras looked at each dash of colour on his skin. “Maybe you should see if I have any hidden anywhere.”
“Not yet,” Enjolras replied as he straddled him, this time tracing his nail over his skin and chipping away some of the pain whilst drawing out a whine from the others lips.
“Enjolras…” Grantaire groaned as he arched his back, trying to get more of the blonde that was pinning down his hips with his weight. It must have been obvious by now how desperate Grantaire was, his erection was pressing between Enjolras’ open legs which made it only more painful to wait.
“You shouldn’t drink,” Enjolras told him firmly as he stopped touching him, holding Grantaires gaze firmly. “You smell like a bar!”
“That’s not always a bad thing,” Grantaire replied with a quirk of his lips but Enjolras remained unimpressed. “Maybe you should teach me a lesson.”
Enjolras scowled as he leaned closer, his eyes narrowed as his lips found the others ear. “Or I could sober you up.”
Grantaire let out a strangled moan in reply as he bucked his hips up. Enjolras managed to grip the headboard before he fell off and quickly sat back, forcing Grantaire to remain still. “No moving until I say so,” he snapped as he got off of the bed and routed through the draw until he found the lube. Grantaire watched in confusion as Enjolras removed his boxers and added them to his growing pile of clothes before he straddled Grantaire once again but this time facing away from him as he leaned forward and slicked up his fingers, giving Grantaire the perfect view as he slowly a pressed a finger inside of himself.
“What are you doing?” Grantaire breathed as he tried to remain still. His boxers were growing uncomfortably tight as he watched the finger slowly move in and out of his boyfriend.
“You’re drunk. I doubt your coordination it very good tonight,” he told him. “I thought things would be easier this way.”
“Are you sure, we’ve never done-” Grantaire broke off as he let out another whine as he watched another finger slip into his boyfriends hole and close around his slender digits. He had no doubt that Enjolras was sure about this.
Enjolras grunted as he buried his face in the covers beside Grantaires leg as he scissored his fingers with every thrust, pushing them further until he was brushing against his prostate each time. Once he was satisfied he had opened his self up enough to take Grantaire he removed them slowly before sitting up and turning to look at Grantaire, his blonde hair now a mess and his face flushed and Grantaire sporting a similar look.
He slowly removed Grantaires boxers, brushing his hand over his length and gaining a small hiss. He grinned as he carefully dripped some lube over his length and stroked it teasingly slow as he watched his face screw up and his mouth form the perfect ‘O’ as he tried to not thrust up into his hand. “Ready?”
Grantaire frowned. “But… your mouth…” He pleaded as he forced his eyes open just in time to watch his boyfriend hold his length in place as he lowered himself down. Grantaire gasped, yanking at the tie that held his hands in place as Enjolras lifted himself up again before spearing himself down. Their moans mixed together as Enjolras used the headboard for support, his head thrown back as he moved.
“No coming,” Enjolras gasped as he rolled his hips slowly, drawing a beautiful whine out of the others lips. “Not until I’m done. This isn’t about your pleasure. It’s about getting you sober.”
“I’m sober enough!” Grantaire told him desperately as he thrusting up into Enjolras. The blonde allowed him to for a few moments before he tutted, moving to get off of him before Grantaire protested. “Sorry! Sorry, no moving! Please! I’ll behave… I just need you.”
Enjolras smirked as he lowered himself back down, groaning as he began moving again, his hands traveling down Grantaires body and pausing over his nipples. He grinned as he took one between his thumb and finger, twisting it as he began stroking himself.
“God…” Grantaire breathed as he threw his head back against the pillow. Normally by now he’d be thrashing on the bed, desperate to reach his climax but he knew if he did Enjolras wouldn’t sleep with him for at least a week and there was no way he could last that long!
He could feel the coil in his stomach tighten as he got closer and closer to his climax and he gasped as he felt Enjolras’ wall contract around him, squeezing him as he felt Enjolras’ come land on his stomach as the man on top of him let out a series of grunts and stilled. He bit his lip as Enjolras rocked his hips a couple of times before climbing off of him, leaving him painfully hard.
He turned his head to watch as Enjolras retrieved the cock ring out of the draw and fastened it at the base of Grantaires of erection before heading to the bathroom. “We have to wait for the alcohol to leave your system,” he called, shutting the door behind him and leaving Grantaire tied to the bed, coated in a mix of paint and come.
imagine enjolras in high school debate club and the douche prepares and presents a dissertation on all the reasons why grantaire should go to prom with him
