Paris is awake and alert as Eponine slips through the shadows. They draw designs upon her jacket, and she is grateful for their cover. Under the moonless sky, the lights of the Musain call to her like a beacon.
Her night was long, and she has no wish to draw it out even longer. She submits to the call of the light and the alcohol, a dear friend that has never abandoned her in times of need.
The boys from the Sorbonne fill up one of the corners, and Eponine spots Marius looking down at his phone.
Probably texting his darling Cosette, she thinks, and the thought to leave enters her mind, unbidden but unsurprising. But then her eyes drift to Enjolras, and the lights in the Musain suddenly seem dim compared to his glowing, intense aura.
His voice rises and lowers like an angry wave crashing upon rocks, and his blue eyes shine. They roam around the crowd, lingering upon each and every face. His eyes drift over to hers, and heat pools in the bottom of her stomach. His mouth curls into a small smile and her mind freezes, stuck upon an alarmingly appealing image of his golden hair between her legs.
She blinks, paranoid for a moment that he, somehow, sensed what she was thinking as their eyes met...but then his eyes continue on, going on to interrogate the rest of the boys.
Eponine's own eyes reach the bar, and she decides that a long drink should help cure her of this...insanity. After all, the Marble Man has never been one for romance, and she still feels a slight pull on her heart at the sight of Marius...
Some kind of rusty-brown drink is placed in front of her, and Eponine doesn't think twice before downing it.
"Easy there, Ep - you might beat my record at that speed."
She smirks. "R, I don't think God himself could beat your record."
"I'll drink to that," Grantaire announces with a laugh. Eponine can feel Enjolras' glare on the back of her neck at the loud interruption. Her smirk widens, pleased at drawing out a reaction from the young man.
"Yes, let us drink to God," she exclaims, leaning back and almost falling off her stool. "Let us drink to Him who put us on this damn, meaningless Earth!" She giggles as though her statement is the funniest thing and tips her glass back eagerly. Out of the corner of her eye, Eponine notices fire in Enjolras' eyes.
Come on, pretty boy. The thought swims through her mind. Play with me tonight.
Her wish is granted after her fifth announcement and seventh drink. Grantaire is lazily raising his umpteenth glass and Eponine is laughing as her hearts floats in alcohol, content with whatever possibilities it finds.
"Eponine." A stern voice that sounds like a mountain slams into her ears.
"Oh look, R, the mighty God has come down to join us!" She grins at Enjolras' reaction- or lack thereof.
"I think you've had enough to drink," he responds and reaches out as if to grab her wrist. Eponine jerks back as the figure in front of her blurs into yellowed teeth, white hair, a leering grin, a raised hand prepared to strike.
"Don't-" something prepares to leave her mouth before her tolerance kicks in, and she sees it's only Enjolras, it's only him.
But now his eyes are soft and kind and so blue, and Eponine feels as though she is staring into the vastness of the ocean.
"Come on, Eponine," he whispers. "Let's get you home."
She complies with dull eyes, disheartened that the game of the night must end. Enjolras gently leads her home with one arm wrapped around her shoulders, steadying her even though she hardly wobbles.
She stumbles, once, and her hand scrambles for something to hold onto, and his chest seems to burn as she claws desperately at it for a few moments.
Then the world rights itself and the moon illuminates the street.
"There's my apartment," Eponine mutters to the air. Her tone is filled with fake enthusiasm, even though her common sense is screaming at her to get to bed,
And then there's her libido which is practically shouting at her to get under the covers with Enjolras, and the idea becomes more and more pleasant as a brutal wind kicks up on the almost-empty street.
"Wanna come in?" A smirk has grown onto her face. Enjolras' is still rapidly beating after her near-fall, and his tongue is uttering "Yes" before his brain can realize what he is saying.
His brain is fighting as she leads him up the stairs.
She's drunk and heartbroken and vulnerable, it whispers, and he tries to forget the way she looked at Marius at the Musain.
Her door squeaks open quickly, and Enjolras barely has time to register it slamming shut before her lips are on his and he feels as though he's on fire.
His hands are on her waist, pulling her closer so that she can feel him through the thin cloth, and her fingers are tangled in his hair and simultaneously unbuttoning his shirt-
Enjolras stumbles away, breathing heavily. He holds his hands out in front of him, as if pushing her away.
"Eponine, this is a bad idea," he begins as she steps closer to him. "You're drunk-" He loses his train of thought as her scent trails into him once again.
"Just give me this one night, pretty boy," she murmurs against his ear. "Just give me this one damn night." Her fingernails dig into his shoulders and he feels her quickened breath grow hot against his neck as his erection grows painfully hard against her thigh.
"Eponine, your thought is compromised, you're drunk-" he tries again through gritted teeth.
Eponine steps back and Enjolras is slightly relieved. Slightly. His eyes widen, however, and his mouth falls open when Eponine strips off her blouse.
"I can hold my alcohol much better than you think, pretty boy," she whispers, a ghost of a voice.
"Eponine," Enjolras attempts one more time before she takes a step closer, a smirk gracing her lips as she gently begins to stroke him through his jeans.
He moans and tilts his head back as she nips at his neck, her breasts pressed close against his chest. His hands travel unconsciously to her hips. Her fingers make quick work of his shirt, and it is soon discarded, lost upon the floor amongst earlier worries.
He feels his pants fall to his ankles and he rushes to catch up, fumbling slightly but eventually succeeding in reaching her damp panties.
"God, you're so wet," he groans and strokes her through her panties as her fingers dig into his shoulders.
It's her turn to groan when he suddenly shoves her panties aside and sticks his finger into get slick heat, curling and twisting inside of her.
"Make me scream, pretty boy," Eponine orders as she jumps up and wraps her legs around Enjolras' waist.
He slips her bra off and bends his head down to take a nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting gently with his teeth. She groans and digs her nails deeper into his shoulders as he fucks her with his fingers, moving in and out of her slowly, luxuriously.
Her breath starts coming in short, shallow gasps and Enjolras' eyes darken with lust as she comes with his name on her lips, shouting "Enjolras!" to the high heavens.
He nuzzles into her neck and breathes in the heavy scent of sex and her, all mixed together in the air. He stiffens slightly when he feels her hand trail softly down his chest and down his boxers.
"Don't stop now, Enjolras, keep going." And with her low, husky voice in his ear, he shoves his boxers down and thrusts into her wet heat.
And then it's him and her and she's chanting his name like it's her favorite word and he's angled to enter her just right.
She comes with a final scream of pleasure and he follows, groaning her name in delight.
"Eponine...I love you." The last few words are out of his mouth before he realizes, and he mentally slaps himself when he feels Eponine freeze between his arms.
He pulls back slightly, unsure of what he'll find in her eyes. He sees surprise, at first, and opens his mouth to apologize, to try and fix his mistake, to kiss her again...
But then she's kissing him and he's pulling her even closer, as if trying to meld their bodies together even more. Her tongue begins dancing with his and he pulls away with a strangled groan to bite and nip and suck at her neck.
He's always been passionate and quick with his words, but this…she had never expected this. But as his mouth preys upon her neck she finds herself wanting to believe his words, wanting to scream them back to him.
"Oh god, Enjolras," she gasps as his fingers stroll down to her clit once more. She feels him smile against the crook of her neck and she thinks, Yes, I could love you…I want to love you…
She kisses him in response and, with his smile, she understands that he knows.