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It was becoming increasingly difficult for Grantaire and Enjolras to find places to have sex. As Enjolras shared a house with Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Marius (who likewise had been recently divested of his virginity, and was all but joined at the hip with his beloved deflowerer, Cosette), the advent of an empty house was a rarity. Grantaire shared a miniscule one bedroom flat with Éponine, who could only be asked so many times to vacate their platonically shared mattress before she was likely to glass Grantaire across the face.
Grantaire didn’t attend the university, so hook ups in empty lecture theatres were untenable (despite Grantaire’s private fantasies of a teacher/student roleplay), and Enjolras didn’t have much time outside of his studies and meetings to visit Grantaire at work in the Corinthe bar where Musichetta had finally managed to secure some consistent shifts for the struggling artist.
“Grantaire, we can’t keep doing this,” groaned Enjolras as Grantaire sucked hotly at his throat. The artist had the student crowded up against a chainlink fence that encircled the park they were in that particular night. Grantaire had ambushed Enjolras on his way home from a late study group and though he insisted he was only out for a stroll, Enjolras knew that he was really out for much more than that, if he could get it. It was unusual for the artist to be so forward, but they hadn’t seen one another for a few days and Enjolras thought he was probably getting frustrated.
“Doing what?” asked Grantaire slyly, sliding a hand under Enjolras’ shirt in a way that he knew made the student shiver, and raking his blunt nails over the bare skin.
Definitely frustrated.
“Risking public indecency charges,” deadpanned Enjolras, playing at disinterest as Grantaire’s paint-stained fingers made their nimble way below the waistband of the student’s skinny jeans.
“Come on, it’s exciting,” purred Grantaire, unzipping Enjolras’ trousers as the blonde choked a little, “And you totally get off on it.”
“I may… get off on it… But I think we’ve decided that not all of my desires are – ahh! – legally practicable.”
“You’ve decided,” grunted Grantaire, palming Enjolras roughly through his red boxer shorts, “I still maintain that fulfilling every sexual fantasy you’ve ever had is my lifelong goal, even if it gets me arrested. You don’t happen to have a prison kink do you?”
“No,” gasped Enjolras, as Grantaire swiped a rough fingertip over his leaking cock head.
“Pity.”
“I’m serious Grantaire,” growled Enjolras, as his boyfriend licked his own palm obscenely and took the student’s cock in hand, stroking him quickly and firmly and immediately making Enjolras struggle to maintain his grip on coherent language.
“Grantaire, we can’t – this is a playground for God’s sake! It’s – ah! God! – it’s unseemly. It’s, it’s, if you don’t stop that right now and let me talk I will never let you suck me off again!”
Grantaire stopped instantly with a serious look in his green eyes as he stared at Enjolras. The artist may not have had much respect for authority in everyday life – not even Enjolras’ authority during the student meetings at the Café Musain – but they both knew without a shadow of a doubt that Grantaire would gladly obey any order barked at him in a sexual context.
“Thank you,” grunted Enjolras, ignoring the cold shudder of loss that flooded through his body as his impending orgasm receded at the withdrawal of Grantaire’s touch, “As I was saying, we can’t keep sneaking around like this, like naughty teenagers, it’s ridiculous. As exciting as it is being sucked off in public toilets it’s a tired cliché, and I’d like one day to be able to actually fuck you into a mattress, as you keep begging me to…”
Enjolras’ wager paid off; Grantaire had backed away with a sulky expression, but the offer of more frequent – and penetrative! – sex got him interested again.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if we could take our time for once?” purred Enjolras in a low voice that he knew drove Grantaire crazy. The artist licked his lips hungrily as Enjolras trailed a lazy hand down his boyfriend’s chest, “I could spend hours taking you apart… I could have you strip for me, then tie you up and just tease you… Wouldn’t you like that?”
Grantaire would like that, he thought desperately, he would like that very fucking much, but he would prefer Enjolras not to know exactly just how much he would like that, so he said nonchalantly, “I guess the weather is starting to get a bit cold for al fresco blowjobs.”
But the expanse of his pupils and the way his tongue flicked out again to wet his lips betrayed his piqued interest in the proposition. Enjolras knew he’d won.
“So what do you propose?”
Enjolras pulled something from his pocket and quickly pressed it into Grantaire’s hand, closing the other boy’s fist around it so he couldn’t see the tiny, cool object yet.
“Grantaire, I’m sick of sneaking around all the time. I want you so much, more than I’ve ever wanted another person, and I very much want to extend our activities into actual sex but you know the proviso for that is us being properly alone for more than ten minutes... So why don’t you move in with me?”
“Wh-what?” Grantaire opened his fist to find a silver key in his palm. The key to Enjolras’ house.
“Move in with me.”
“No!”
Enjolras frowned; he had not considered that Grantaire’s reaction to his proposition might be in the negative, “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“No means no, Enj. I’m not moving in with you, you couldn’t live with me.”
“Why not?” asked Enjolras, his frown deepening, “You already stay over most nights, and if you’re not at my house I’m usually at yours. Why not just dispense with all the to-ing and fro-ing and move in together?”
Grantaire scrubbed a hand across his face and sighed, “You really don’t do things by halves do you? We’ve been going out for less than four months, and believe me it’s been fantastic, I’ve loved every second of it, it’s been an actual dream come true… So I’m not keen to risk ending it by driving you crazy with my constant presence!”
“But I like your constant presence,” Enjolras tried to soothe.
Grantaire’s face softened for a moment, but then a rare gleam of resolution came into his eyes and he said in a firm, quiet voice, “No, Enjolras. It’s not a good idea at this point in our relationship, trust me, I’m an absolute nightmare to live with.”
“Éponine seems to get along fine,” pointed out Enjolras doggedly.
“Éponine was raised by wolves, she’s used to living with sub-humans. You were raised in a palace made of silver spoons and gold leaf. You were probably weaned on caviar and looked after by beautiful French au pairs, and taught how to use a salad fork correctly.”
Enjolras’ cheeks flared; he had long ago made peace with his privileged upbringing, but to be confronted with it in such brutal terms jarred with him.
“Besides which, you’ll get sick of me,” Grantaire continued, “If I’m granted twenty-four hour access to you I will take advantage of that. I won’t be able to keep my hands off you, you’ll never be left in peace to study… Just no, bad idea.”
“What’s the worst that can happen?”
Grantaire gaped, “Did I not just say that you wouldn’t be able to study?”
Enjolras shrugged, “If I want to work in peace I’ll go to the library. I usually do anyway.”
“You’ll get sick of me,” Grantaire insisted, “I drink, I smoke, I curse often and loudly, I’ll stumble in at four in the morning after a bar fight and get blood and puke all over your bed sheets. I’ll get paint all over everything you own. I’m both physically and emotionally needy, I never tidy up, and I can’t cook anything more complicated than scrambled eggs and baked beans. I will be naked all the time and probably grovelling at your feet and making your flatmates uncomfortable.”
“All minor faults that can be overlooked or easily corrected.”
Grantaire looked exasperated as he grasped for more excuses; Enjolras knew he had argued him into a corner, a rare occurrence during his verbal parries with the quick-witted artist.
“I can’t afford the rent! You know Éponine pays most of our bills anyway, I could never afford whatever you pay for that massive house.”
“My parents pay my rent for me, and as you’d be sharing my room there’d be no need for you to contribute financially. But you could make breakfast every so often,” Enjolras smiled, feeling that victory was within his grasp.
But Grantaire was growing ever more agitated, twisting his hands together and glancing between Enjolras and the grass at his own feet, as though searching for a downward escape route.
“I’ll smoke inside,” Grantaire snapped, “I’ll smoke inside and- and- I’ll break shit when I’m drunk, and I’ll get paint all over the place, and you’ll have to forfeit your security deposit!”
“Again, that’s my parent’s money. Believe me, they won’t notice a mere couple of grand missing from their bank account,” Enjolras countered coolly, still smiling.
“For fuck sake Enjolras, I said no! No! Just no, okay?” Grantaire yelled suddenly, his voice anguished and his fists clenched in frustration, “I don’t have to justify myself like this! I’m not going to move in with you!”
Enjolras was taken aback by Grantaire’s sudden anger. He’d seen him angry before of course, made him angry before, even. But he had not expected Grantaire to get so angry at a proposition that Enjolras had assumed he’d been waiting for for months.
“But… What?”
“Just no, Enjolras,” Grantaire exhaled slowly, taking control of himself again before replying firmly, “It’s not happening,” then he turned and walked quickly away into the park, his outline soon lost in the darkness of the trees.
Enjolras found himself staring after that retreating shadow long after it had disappeared, entirely unsure of what he had done wrong.