Written for a Kink Meme prompt: "To put it short: R has doubts about sex with E because he is ashamed of his body and/or self harm scars."
They're just through the door of Enjolras' flat after a nice dinner out when Grantaire finds himself pressed to the wall, Enjolras' arms around his neck as he kisses him deeply. Grantaire opens his mouth in surprise, allowing Enjolras' to deepen the kiss. Even his tongue is feminine, thin and soft, and Grantaire lets his eyes slide shut as he focuses on Enjolras' mouth. He can't help when his hand slides down from Enjolras' shoulder to his lower back, just above his arse. Enjolras' grip on his neck tightens just a bit and then he pulls away, eyes dark.
"Bedroom?" There's a pleasant lilt in his voice. The corner of Grantaire's mouth turns up in a smirk.
"Hell yes," he says, and kisses Enjolras again. This time, he's pressing forward, and the two of them stumble half-connected down the short hallway to Enjolras' bedroom. Grantaire almost falls through the doorway and is tugging at the hem of his shirt when Enjolras flicks the lights on. Grantaire's hands come up to shield his eyes, blinking in frustration.
"Is that really necessary?" Enjolras shrugs and he's looking Grantaire up and down in a way that would normally make Grantaire ridiculously hard. Enjolras stalks toward him and kisses him again, deeply, but it doesn't matter. Right now, Grantaire can't focus on it.
Enjolras breaks the kiss, his nose still pressed near Grantaire's, and searches Grantaire's eyes. One palm is pressed against Grantaire's cheek.
"I'd prefer to keep the lights on, yes." Enjolras' tone is steadfast.
"For fuck's sake," Grantaire mutters, "You can't just—not?"
Enjolras' gaze is intense. "I'm sorry I'd like to see you."
That catches Grantaire off guard, and it feels like he's swallowed a rock: Enjolras, perfect fucking Enjolras, wants to look at him. And that is too much.
"Jesus, do you have to be so fucking prissy," he spits and starts to storm out. Enjolras grabs his wrist before he can get far.
"Grantaire," he says, and it's stern but curious. Grantaire swallows and averts his gaze.
"Grantaire," Enjolras repeats. "What's going on?"
Grantaire shakes his head. "It's—nothing," he mutters, because it isn't. He's just being stupid and self-conscious and his usual worthless self. Nothing.
"Clearly it's something," he presses, but his tone has taken a gentler edge. He tugs on Grantaire's wrist until he sinks back against Enjolras, who leads them back to the bed. Grantaire tries just once more to tug out of his grip, but Enjolras whispers, "I just want to talk." and Grantaire calms down. Enjolras turns so they are face to face.
They lie next to each other, touching but not wrapped around one another. One of Enjolras' hands strokes circles gently along the back of Grantaire's arm. Finally, he asks, "Will you talk to me about what's going on?" When Grantaire does not immediately respond, Enjolras adds, "If I ask yes or no questions, could you answer those and—maybe we could go from there?"
Grantaire nods.
"I could be wrong, but I—was under the impression you wanted to have sex with me, so I'm guessing it isn't that?" Grantaire shakes his head and offers a small smile. Enjolras returns it.
"Do you just not want to have sex tonight?" Grantaire shrugs. Enjolras adds, "You don't honestly need a reason to not want to have sex, so if you'd rather I not press-"
"It's okay," Grantaire says. "I shouldn't… it's…" He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly through his nose. His eyes fall shut and when he opens them again, he looks straight at Enjolras. "It's an insecurity thing." Enjolras' brow furrows. Grantaire picks at his cuticles. "Like a… body thing, I guess."
"Why?" Enjolras doesn't sound judgmental, just concerned. Grantaire breaks the eye contact.
"Weight," he says immediately, because he knows his drinking problem has caused him to pack on more pounds than he is comfortable with, and it's much more obvious when he's not clothed. Then, more quietly, "Scars."
"You honestly think I wouldn't like you for that?" He sounds a bit hurt. Grantaire shakes his head wildly.
"No, no, it's not—it's not you, it's me," he clarifies. "I don't… I've never… no one's ever looked at me that closely," he admits. His usual fucks are quick and one time, dark and clouded with alcohol to cover his insecurities.
"That's their loss." Enjolras' reply is immediate. Grantaire shakes his head.
"No, it's really not. I'm—I mean, I can admit I'm not particularly attractive, that's one of those things you live with but…" He presses a finger to Enjolras' lips so he cannot interrupt while Grantaire finds the words. "They're self-inflicted."
"The scars?" He says it gently, like he just wants clarification and isn't going to judge. Grantaire nods and turns his focus to the shiny buttons on Enjolras' shirt.
"I'm sorry." Enjolras says it with so much sincerity, Grantaire wants to scream. He does not deserve that. "You shouldn't have to deal with that—no one should have to feel that way." Grantaire shrugs.
"I'm working on it," he answers, because he is. The past few months have been pretty good, too, barring a rough day here or there. Enjolras strokes a stray piece of hair back from his forehead and nods.
"Let me know if there's anything I can do to help?" Grantaire stiffens, because he could never put that burden on Enjolras, but Enjolras insists with a, "Please."
"All right," Grantaire mutters. When Enjolras presses a kiss to his forehead, Grantaire emits a small, pleased sigh. "Thank you. Sorry for—ruining this."
"You didn't ruin anything," Enjolras reassures. "And you're certainly allowed to always say no, regardless of why." Grantaire shrugs.
"I guess…" He does not continue verbally, but presses a little bit closer to Enjolras. He shifts down a bit so that he can tuck his head beneath Enjolras' chin. His partner easily complies, running fingers through Grantaire's dark curls.
"I may not always like what you do," Enjolras says a while later, when Grantaire has settled, relaxed and sleepy, "but I will try my best to never judge you." Grantaire does not move, but Enjolras scoots down so that he and Grantaire are face to face again. They kiss, tentative and awkward; all traces of the hurried, frenzied need from earlier are gone. Then, Enjolras takes Grantaire's hand, twines their fingers, and squeezes.
Grantaire smiles. For the first time in a while, he is pretty sure things will be okay.