#marble-statue

[sxpxrmxrgxr]

[sxpxrmxrgxr]

[sxpxrmxrgxr]

[pessimisticcynicr]

★★★★★X100000000

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa [[cries more happy tears]]

[victorianvillain-blog]

"Wanna fuck?"

"Mm, I'd love to...Is there a catch?"

[rthedrunkcynic]

The Musain/R/Main story line / Closed with marble-statue and thelogicaletiennecombeferre

Grantaire had a long a rocky road behind him when, by a complete accident, he ended up with a group of young idealists who called themselves the friends of the ABC.

It had been Enjolras who had caught his eye, of course. How could it have not been? For someone who had given up on hope, or believe in a better world, a better humanity, to see someone so convinced, to the point of not believing was inconceivable, had been a shock. Like a forest fire, Enjolras had burned himself onto his eyes, his brain, left an eternal mark that would be there forever. It was the typical moth to a flame situation. There was nothing to be done about it. They were like fire and water of course. They fought relentlessly and it did not surprise Grantaire that Enjolras took an instant dislike to him from day one. What did surprise him, was that the others did not. In a few months time he found himself part of a crazy, dysfunctional, idealistic, rag-tag group of young men he called friends. These men made him feel alive again. And even though he realised Enjolras would never return his feelings, it was not a problem, it was enough to be in his presence, to be in the presence of this group of remarkable people. To be welcome in their midst.

Beside Enjolras despising him, he already had the perfect lover in the form of Combeferre. They never spoke of their relationship, but it was clear for all to see. The way the looked at each other, the way they were in synch, body and mind.

Grantaire could not even begrudge them or be jealous of Combeferre, because not only were they absolutely perfect for each other. No one could ever wish Combeferre anything but good. No, Grantaire admired him. He had not Enjoras's flame, but all the warmth the other lacked. He was gentle, smart and kind. Less impulsive, a tampering force. People could rely on him, something they never could with Grantaire and something he was secretly ashamed of. He was handsome to. Not the otherworldly, cold, captivating beauty that was Enjolras, but someone who became more handsome the more you got to know them. They deserved each other. And Grantaire contented himself with watching them from a distance and tried not to become too bitter.

[rthedrunkcynic]

Your light and your darkness (I want it all) / Closed RP with marble-statue

Grantaire had probably known before him and Enjolras had gotten together. At least he had suspected. People saw a drunk in the corner and always underestimated how perceptive he was. Especially when it came to sex. Grantaire liked pleasing people in bed, liked to indulge others' kinks and fetishes. So he had quickly learned to recognise the smallest signs. And Enjolras? He was the most oblivious person when it came to how blatantly he was displaying himself sometimes. The only thing that had managed to blind-side Grantaire was Enjolras' love for him, but that had nothing to do with perceptiveness and everything with not daring to believe things that seemed too good to be true.

But Enjolras' proclivities? Those were a lot easier to believe in.

The first time he had noticed something off was when they had been fighting in the Musain. Enjolras had asked him to hand out flyers for their upcoming protest, but it had been cold and no one had particularly cared, so after trying for ten minutes, Grantaire got bored and went to have a drink. He had made the flyers disappear. Enjolras had found out. He had been so angry he had threatened to bar him from the meetings and Grantaire had realized he had fucked up something big. He had pleaded with Enjolras, in a desperate and maybe a little silly attempt he had even offered to polish Enjolras' boots, had sunk to one knee. That's when he noticed Enjolras staring. His eyes were wide, pupils enlarged, he had stopped talking and he seemed nailed to the ground. Then he bolted form the room. Back then Grantaire had not yet been sure what had happened. Another episode started pretty much the same. They were arguing. Grantaire had turned to leave and Enjolras had grabbed him by the wrist, hard. So hard Grantaire drew in a pained breath. Instead of letting go, Enjolras stared at his fingers around Grantaire's wrist as if they were not his own, with some sort of horrified fascination, and squeezed harder, before letting go like he was burned and storming out once more.

Grantaire had masturbated that night to the memory of Enjolras' intent gaze.

Once they had started going out, and quickly progressed to sex it was surprisingly vanilla. Grantaire was of course gentle with Enjolras. He could never be anything else. But Enjolras had treated him like glass. It was beyond careful. It was nice, but something was missing. Sometimes Grantaire even missed their bitter fights from the past, because he would get Enjolras' full focus, full passion.

The full puzzle finally fell into place one Sunday morning. Grantaire was in the kitchen and somehow they had started wrestling over a spoonful of Nutella. It had been light-hearted fun until Enjolras had grabbed hold of his hair in retaliation for an elbow to the ribs and Grantaire had made a surprised squeak. Suddenly Enjolras had his wrists pinned above his head with one hand and the other wrenched his head backwards by the hair. He looked like he was ready to devour him and he was rock hard against Grantaire's thigh. Just as fast as it had started it stopped. Enjolras let go of his hair and disappeared into the bathroom. Afterwards he pretended like nothing had happened and would react with annoyance whenever Grantaire tried to bring the subject up.

This was getting ridiculous. If Enjolras would not talk to him about this, Grantaire would make him admit his desires in a different way. It was time for Grantaire to take action. He made a few purchases online and waited for Friday night, the evening him and Enjolras often spent together.

After dinner he plied Enjolras with gentle kisses, that seemed to do very little for the beautiful blond, and pulled him to the bedroom. He sat Enjolras on the bed and then, instead of joining him, sank to his knees in front of him, clasping his hands behind his back and bowing his head: the perfect picture of submission.

[anabundanceofcourfarchive]

Won't Say I'm in Love//closed

It had started out as an agreement that it would just be physical, and that had worked out well for them.

They'd been roommates since freshman year, although they'd been friends before that, but then one thing led to another and they ended up waking up in bed together, and then realized it was actually rather ice, good for when Enjolras was stressed, or when they just needed something, lazy making out during finals season. None of it was romantic, there were no stolen kisses in the halls or whispered confessions, and they were still good friends at the end of it all. Courfeyrac didn't really notice the difference, figured the warmth of his chest, the smiles that would never leave his face hen the other was around, was simply from their old friendship.

Until the day Enjolras came into their shared room, and Courfeyrac had gone up to him, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissed him, generally an indication that it had been a long day and he wanted something with him, but Enjolras had turned away, he wasn't kissing him back as he should, as he normally did and Courfeyrac gave him a puzzled look.

"What's wrong? Do you not want this right now?"