Dedicated to Besanii for running the wonderful If you don't follow it start doing so now! It is an amazing resource! 3 Apologies for any and all mistakes, I haven't had time to beta it yet.
For a man so used to getting so few hours of sleep Enjolras had never felt so bone tired. It felt like a lifetime since he and the Amis had kindled the flame of revolution upon LeMarque's funeral procession. Yet it had been less than a day. He dropped his head into his hands as he leant heavily against the wall trying to console himself with a moments solitude. He couldn't allow himself to break in front of the others, they needed their leader strong and ready. How could he lead if he let the terror take over him? Of course he was ready to die for their cause but that did not mean he could absolve himself from the emotion.
But they had already seen him stumble and very nearly fall. It had all been so simple at first, the strange man had convinced them that he was a sympathiser to their cause and had voluntarily searched through their ranks. Call it naivety or desperation but he truly believed this man was going to try and aid their cause. Thank God for Gavroche. Had the gamin not been around then he was certain they would've been felled already.
Their apprehension of him had been too careless however. The man may have been considerably their senior but he was not weak. Courfeyrac and Grantaire seemingly had a good grasp of him. At least until he overpowered them both, sending the cynic colliding head first into a stone wall. The small dribble of blood Enjolras saw colour Grantaire's temple let a fury within him. Before he could comprehend his actions he had raised the truncheon in his hand, shaking off being punched by the inspector to strike Javert himself.
Even as the Amis hurried around to ensure their enemy was down the revolutionary found himself still reacting on instinct. His feet carried him quickly to the side of Grantaire's motionless body, his hands trailing carefully to cup the cynic's face. "Grantaire? Can you hear me?" He asked softly, his lips turning downwards with concern as he received no response.
"Come on R! Now is not the time to be stubborn!" Ignoring the startled glances he got from the other Amis he bent to listen to the cynics chest. "He is not breathing!" He yelled in despair, all of the blood in his body running ice cold. From that moment he felt everything slam into place within his mind. It was not loathing that had him feeling so strongly about the stubborn artist, it was love. Love that he was losing right before his very eyes.
Seeing his best friend struck still Combeferre reacted swiftly, replacing Enjolras' shaking hands with his own. Reacting on instinct he pried the cynic's jaw suspecting then had swallowed his tongue as a result of the impact. Referring to his training he righted the situation and lowered his mouth to Grantaire's, blowing in a lungful of oxygen then starting to compress his chest.
A deathly silence fell upon the room as all eyes turned to watch the situation. Not one member of the Amis had expected the night to pass without loss but to see it beginning to unfold left fear coiling in their guts, none more so that Enjolras. The startlingly blue eyes remained fixed on the stillness of their resident cynic's still chest. Every moment that passed sending an agonising pain to Enjolras' own heart. And then finally life. Grantaire's lips parted and he gasped in a desperate breath. "God I could do with a drink right now..." He laughed weakly, the others laughing along with him as relief rushed through them.
The leader dived forwards quickly, taking Grantaire's face gently between his palms. In his haste to get close he had unwittingly settled with his legs astride the cynics hips, a fact not unnoticed by the brunette. "If you're here to give me the kiss of life Apollo then you're too late, 'Ferre beat you to it." He joked awkwardly.
"Shut up Grantaire. For the first time in your life shut up." Enjolras answered, though there was no snappiness to his tone only relief. The hurt that lingered upon the artists face at the words barely had time to play out before Enjolras had crashed his lips passionately to the plump, wine stained ones.
For just a moment even the normally unfazed Combeferre stood watching the scene with his eyes wide, he knew Grantaire had feelings for Enjolras and had suspected they were returned, but he never thought his best friend would act upon them. Seeing the kiss deepen he coughed awkwardly and turned away. "Come on Mon Amis, let us check the barricade and our ammunition." He declared, thankful that almost all of the Amis hurried out with only teasing cat calls and wolf whistles left in their wake. Courfeyrac however was a different matter. The centre stood unashamedly watching the pair practically writhe together on the floor with fascination. Huffing with frustration Combeferre moved up to him and wound an arm around his shoulders. "You can tease him later, at least give him space for now."
"But 'Ferre, our baby is all grown up." He called out smirking, peering through fingers as the guide tried to cover his eyes. He inwardly cursed himself for not having the strength to outmanoeuvre Combeferre as he felt himself yanked outside. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" He called back just as the doctor closed the doors behind them. "Spoilsport." He muttered, sulking when the only reaction he got from his friend was an amused eyebrow raise.
"Mon dieu!" Grantaire gasped as Enjolras' lips parted for his own, though still close enough for their desperate exhales to ghost across each other's faces. "I must have suffered the event of the fates cutting my thread to find myself gifted this..."
"You are not dead Grantaire. You are very much alive." Enjolras responded, sparing a chaste kiss as he looked upon the artists face. The slightly bluish tinge that had started to creep over his face had thankfully subsided, pink instead lingering upon the flesh.
Grantaire let his trembling hands fall to rest upon the graceful curve of Enjolras' hips, half remembered fantasies slipping into his mind. A gentle caress, a hard kiss, bodies writhing together as one. The light flush turned a violent shade of crimson as he realised Enjolras was watching his face, and more worryingly - was likely able to feel the situation growing within the confines of his breeches. He turned his head away quick as a flash waiting for the moment his Apollo would realise and in disgust storm away. Instead he felt a hand cup his cheek, it slowly turning Grantaire's gaze vertical once more.
"I think perhaps we should move this upstairs." The blond spoke softly, reluctantly tearing his eyes from Grantaire's face to check the windows - sure enough spotting Courfeyrac peering through one.
"Wait...you want to..." Grantaire trailed off and bit his lip nervously. Could it be that this perfect marble god wanted to be with him in such a carnal manner? The revolutionary had always been disparaging when it came to his friends speaking of sex but even as he spoke he felt the evidence of the situation for himself - a hardness pressing against his abdomen.
Blushing as he rose up Enjolras nodded, extending a hand to aid the cynic up as he turned his eyes back to him. "I realise that I am inexperienced in this scenario but I would very much like to try with you." He answered. "Of course of you would rather not I offer my apologies for suggesting anything of the sort."
"I would be a madman to turn you down Apollo." Grantaire whispered softly, stepping close to the blond. "But only if you are certain. I will not take this gift out of pity or confusion, it has to be something you want and are certain of."
"When have you ever known me to agree to something I am not comfortable with?" He asked. His eyebrow arched with amusement as he spoke, watching the usually sharp cynic stammer for words. "Must I ask politely? Grantaire, I would very much like to fuck you if you would be agreeable?"
Grantaire choked out a yes, unable to stop the widening of his eyes as Enjolras gripped his hand tightly, leading him into lodgings at the back of the café - it was unlikely their usual occupants would return to them with the barricade already in place. He had not thought anything able to make him more awestruck than he felt in that moment, at least until he spotted Enjolras' nimble fingers begin to work off his clothing. The red pea coat was set aside carefully swiftly followed by the dirtied shirt his Apollo worked below. Never before had Grantaire seen such a work of art. Though of a slight build the muscles upon the blond's chest were firm, almost as if carved out of marble itself. "L-let me..." he said quietly as the delicate fingers reached to unfasten his breeches.
Enjolras' gaze followed as Grantaire knelt before him, the artist's hands gripping his legs and one by one sliding the boots from his feet. As those fingers moved to slowly unbutton his trousers he found a light blush colouring his cheeks. Of course he was aware that he was considered conventionally attractive – his parents attempting to arrange several marriages in the past based solely upon his looks – but no-one had seen him bare and vulnerable since his nursemaid. Perhaps in the past he would've found himself stopping the situation in that moment, but the look of absolute want lighting Grantaire's eyes. Though the summer heat wrapped around the room he couldn't stop the shiver that ran through him as the final layer was dropped – the revolutionary very aware of just how hard he'd become. And then it was heaven. An impossible warmth wrapping around his aching cock. Instinctively one of his hands fell into the tangle of brown curls below, gripping tightly as he felt the cynic's mouth begin to bob.
The first moan he drew from his lover had Grantaire groaning softly in return. His own hardness grew heavy between his legs but he would not tend to himself yet, first he wished to show Enjolras just how good simply feeling could be. He slid his mouth downwards, working at holding back his gag reflex as slowly, ever so slowly he let the hard length tease the back of his throat, his nose nestled into the soft blond curls at the base of his love's cock. If the earlier moans had left him already needy then the whorish sound he pulled from Enjolras as he swallowed around him left him aching and desperate. His mouth quickened its movements, taking the cock in quick and deep, his skilful tongue working over the underside. He was more than ready to bring his love off with simply his mouth yet never got the chance too, the hand in his hair gripping tighter and pulling the cynic off.
"Not like that..." Enjolras barely managed to stammer out, his blue eyes obscured by his heavy lids. God, he already looked halfway to wrecked. "Properly. I want to do it properly." When he received no clear response from Grantaire he dragged the cynic to his feet and began to work off his clothing. His waistcoat shredded first followed quickly by his shirt. Much unlike his own unmarked chest Grantaire's told a story of a hard life. Years of bar fights, fencing matches and boxing leaving him with numerous scars littering his pale flesh. His stomach jutted out ever so slightly – a consequence of his alcohol intake Enjolras presumed – though none of it made him any less desirable. Quite the opposite. He slid his hands over the muscles of Grantaire's back and round to unfasten his love's trousers. His eyes rose upwards to gaze upon the artist's face, a frown forming as he noticed the awkwardness upon his face. "Don't." The revolutionary said softly. "Don't think of yourself as less than you are 'Aire. You are beautiful." he promised, stifling the attempted protestations with a firm, passionate kiss.
Grantaire's lips parted in a soft moan as he felt the silver tongue trail along his lips, it slipping its way teasingly. With surprising skill it massaged his own, a second more vociferous moan rising from him. He felt his breeches loosed, though he was barely aware of them falling to the floor, only focusing enough to kick his shoes free of his feet. "Bed?" he questioned weakly against Enjolras' soft lips the moment they parted for breath, his eyebrows rising as the blond pushed him back onto it smirking. Perhaps he had underestimated just how much the blond's fire could spur him on to have what he desired, even if it was something he was inexperienced in.
Skin brushed skin as Enjolras straddled the cynic, plundering his mouth eagerly as he crooked his head, hands sliding to brush over the imperfect flesh below him, caressing it lovingly. His teeth nipped into Grantaire's supple lower lips, drawing a loud groan from him. God he wanted to hear more like those. "I want you 'Aire." he purred, slipping his mouth to press open mouthed kisses to the delicate curve of Grantaire's neck.
It took a moment for Grantaire's mind to focus enough on the words, his mind having been lost in the bliss of Enjolras' kisses. "You'll need to shuffle off me so I can reach the candle." he said softly, chuckling as his marble god looked at him in confusion. "Believe me, to try this without lubrication would not be satisfaction."
"Sorry." Enjolras mumbled, a soft blush colouring his pale complexion. Carefully he rose out of the bed to gather up the nearest lit candle. He brought it over to the bedside and set it down upon the bedside table. "Forgive my inexperience but I am not certain on how to..." he made an awkward gesture towards the dripping wax and Grantaire as he sat back on the bed.
"Then let me handle it." Grantaire said softly. His calloused fingertips reached out to coat themselves in the viscous solution, ensuring each was liberally covered. He felt the piercing blue eyes fix upon them as his hand lowered to rest between his legs, the first finger working its way inside his own body. Locking his gaze with his lover's he began to thrust it quickly in and out, making a show for the younger man.
"Mon Dieu..." Enjolras muttered, dropping his gaze to watch the cynic work himself open, the gesture utterly obscene and yet beautiful in the same moment. A second digit quickly added had the blond taking his own cock in hand to give it several swift strokes to alleviate the aching need. "Fuck 'Aire..." he whispered in awe.
"That's the whole idea." Grantaire smirked, his lips parting in an obscene moan as his fingers brushed over his prostate. The sudden flash of pleasure distracted him just enough that he didn't notice his lover's eyes grow darker with lust, nor did he notice the gentle fingers reach over to coat themselves until one pressed in beside his one. "F-fuck Apollo!" Grantaire groaned. Taking the hint he withdrew his own, two more of Enjolras' joining the first. By God if that wasn't a hundred times better! It was something he'd done hundreds of times for himself, something others had done...but having his Apollo's fingers working him open, preparing him for everything his deepest dreams had made him long for left him utterly wrecked.
"Beautiful." Enjolras whispered, watching in utter fascination as he rocked his fingers slowly in and out setting a deliberately teasing pace. Every moan and groan he treasured, memorising the sensual sounds. "I should have done this much sooner. It might not be you keeping quiet but it's preferable to you arguing with me over Robespierre."
"Hey. No fair starting an argument whilst I'm indis—oh fuck!" he arched his head back suddenly as he found the sweet spot inside him. The smirk returned to Enjolras' lips as he repeated the action several times, delighting in seeing Grantaire writhe below him.
"Sorry, I didn't catch that." he responded dryly, pressing to it one last time before he resumed the gentle ministrations of his fingers.
"You fucking bastard." Grantaire groaned, a silvery trail of pre cum building upon the head of his cock. "Stop...Apollo. Stop." he said, moving his hand down to grip the others wrist. A warmth filled his heart as he noticed the concern that immediately flooded Enjolras' face. "You didn't hurt me. I'm just not going to last if you keep that up." he smiled, accepting the small kiss his love pressed to his lips willingly.
Only as the fingers extracted himself from his body did he turn to reach for the candle wax once more. He gently poured the melted mixture into his hands, rubbing it across the surface of one palm. "This will feel intense." he warned as he took Enjolras' cock in the grip of his slicked hand, smoothly stroking up and down to coat the revolutionary. "Adonis could not compare to the beauty I see before me..." he mused as he watched his Apollo thrust into the gentle grip, his normally controlled face open – the pleasure he felt playing freely across it. "I need you to lie between my hips Apollo." he commanded softly, sliding his free hand to cup a flushed cheek.
Enjolras clumsily shifted into the ordered position, reluctantly letting his length pull away from Grantaire's hand. "What next?" he asked breathlessly, his answer given by the cynic spreading his legs invitingly. "Tell me if I hurt you." he pleaded as he gripped a hold of his cock to line up with Grantaire's entrance.
"You wont. I trust you Enjolras. I always have."
Once more Enjolras felt his breath slip away as he looked into Grantaire's eyes. For so long he had looked into them and found nothing but cynicism. Now it was as though they held the answers to everything he'd ever questioned. Such love and trust within their mysterious depths. It gave him just enough focus to slowly push inside the impossibly tight heat awaiting him. "'Aire"
Grantaire's hands slipped to grip at the revolutionary's shoulders for support as he felt the thick length begin to spread him, every inch bringing a small burst of pain and a sharp flash of pleasure. He forced his eyes open to watch as the desperation played over Enjolras' face, passion and need mingling to create such a beautiful image. Had he the time he would've sketched it out reverently. "I love you." he whispered, pressing kisses to his overwhelmed lover.
Enjolras swallowed the confession in a passionate kiss. Emotionally and physically he felt everything he'd known changing before his very eyes. For so long he had been certain that nothing good could come of carnal pursuits, yet buried deep inside R he found himself feeling more at home than ever before. Instinctively his hips rolled themselves into the tightness, the grip of the muscles around his cock making him growl needily. The resulting moan from Grantaire at the gentle thrust encouraged him, the revolutionary beginning a slow rolling motion.
A long muscular leg wound itself around the curve of Enjolras' hips, drawing him desperately deeper. Grantaire's body ground up restlessly, the sparks of pleasure leaving him moaning an unintelligible string of curses, his cock pressed between the friction of their stomachs. It took all the focus he had to turn his head enough to capture Enjolras' lips once more, the kiss clumsy and uncoordinated. A clash of teeth and tongues, each vying for dominance.
The pair lost themselves in the throes of passion, every hard thrust bringing a guttural gasp and groan up from a needy mouth. Lips caressed throats, as hands traced hidden muscles – each man memorising the body of the one they loved. Their soft rhythm stuttered as the pleasure grew and grew, each clinging to the other as their climaxes closed in.
Though it wasn't often that he allowed himself the touch of his own hand Enjolras knew he was growing close, the clenching of his abdomen a warning sign. He took both of Grantaire's hands from their perch upon his slender hips and pinned them to the bed, interlinking their fingers gently as he changed to pace of his thrusts, rutting into him hard and fast.
With a surprised cry Grantaire's hips arched upwards, the dexterity of the position allowing Enjolras' thrusts impossibly deeper, the revolutionary pounding his prostate every couple of thrust. He was so lost to constant stimulation that his orgasm crashed upon him before he could shout warning to his lover.
Enjolras watched on in wonder as Grantaire's face fell into bliss, his mouth parting as the cynic cried out his name reverently. A sight more beautiful he had never seen before. Feeling the muscles around him spasm and clench he found his own movements stuttering, his stomach coiling and tightening till finally it exploded into uncontrollable pleasure. His hips thrust several times sharply as he spent his load within the cynic, his body trembling as his vision blacked out.
Recovering first Grantaire pulled Enjolras' head to rest upon his chest, taking the strain from the blond's shaking arms. One hand trailed reverently through the sweat slicked curls currently plastered to his lover's head, untangling them lovingly. "Apollo?" he cooed softy. The soft smile fell from his face as he felt the blond stiffen in his arms, his heart sinking into his stomach. "Enjolras, tell me what's wrong." he pleaded as his lover slithered out of his arms to sit at the end of the bed.
Enjolras dropped his gaze to the floor as a solitary tear slipped from his eyes, the sound of his breath hitching almost haunting in the dimly lit quarters. "I find myself mourning the future. What we could have had 'aire."
Smiling sadly Grantaire moved to kneel behind his lover, winding his strong arms around his shoulders and kissing the back of his neck. "Do not hold regrets my dearest Apollo. We can not know what could've occurred. A relationship would've had so many consequences, our friends would have accepted us but the public would've been in uproar. It could have doused your battle before it began. And not to mention the way we fight. Think of Icarus, he flew too close to his sun. It is plausible I would do the same."
Raising one hand to place it upon Grantaire's where it rested upon his shoulder Enjolras sighed. "It would've been a risk worth taking. I was blind to it until I thought you lost...and now I know that soon again you could be lost again. I do not want that. Live Grantaire...live on..." He whispered.
Grantaire shook his head, moving around to straddle Enjolras' lap. As the blue eyes turned away he cupped the beautiful marble face of his love and forced him to raise them once more. "I will not desert your nor the others on the eve of your revolution. Fail or win I shall stand beside you even if I find myself unable to believe in it myself." He pressed his lips chastely to Enjolras' as the man opened his mouth to protest. "But I will always believe in you Apollo. I love you."
The words made Enjolras' heart hammer thunderously within his chest The cynic, the man who never believed in a thing beyond the bottom of his bottle had entrusted his belief in him. He would follow him every step. And most inspiring of all, he loved him. He knew the moment the words formed upon his lips that he meant each and every one of them, he only hoped that they could be of some consolation to Grantaire in what could quite possibly be their last moments together. "I love you too 'aire." He whispered, smiling warmly as he watched the much adored face slip into awe. "And I believe in you. I should never have been so harsh to you. I only pushed you because I thought - no I knew you could be do so much with your life. One day I do hope that we could meet again, another life where the people do not suffer so. A life where we could walk hand in hand without finding ourselves at the end of a musket."
The cynic pressed their foreheads together feeling himself longing for the imagined world. He doubted completely that the world would ever have equality. Greed was too ingrained into the people's psyche for it ever to be worked out. He suspected it would always be the way it stood now. The oppressed dying as the bourgeois continued on ignorantly. And yet in that world he would have his Apollo. Not just in fleeting glimpses and imagined fantasies. No, instead in soft kisses and tender touches. Even the simple thought of that left Grantaire wishing.
The sound of Combeferre's voice drifted through the empty café, weaving its way up the stairs as it voiced a call for Enjolras. Knowing that the final battle was to begin he called back to the man that he was on his way before glancing back to the cynic. "'Aire..."
"You need not say any more Apollo." He soothed, stroking his calloused thumbs along the ethereally beautiful cheekbones. "In this life our choice is set. At the barricade we either fall or rise. The decision for which happens is already scripted by the fates. All we can choose is whom we spend these fleeting moments with.
For the first time in his life Enjolras found himself utterly speechless, words had always been his forte and yet now he found himself bared before Grantaire - both emotionally and physically. Several phrases came to his tongue, none sounding right. And then he remembered the look in the cynic's eyes when their lips had met for the first time, the disbelief and longing. Like he couldn't believe it was happening to him of all people. Pressing their foreheads together once more he let a gentle smile spread across his lips. "You are more than you think yourself to be 'aire. I know at times I have gotten a little...agitated with you." He rolled his eyes as Grantaire snorted. "Alright, more than a little, but still...even when you argued with me it helped. Your criticisms helped me to strengthen my speeches, gave me what I needed to inspire the cynics out there. You played devils advocate perfectly. And if this is my last chance to say it then I will speak it with the passion you have rose within me. I love you Grantaire." He allowed R a moment to let the words settle in before he kissed him once more. A gentle yet passionate thing filled with all the emotions both had restrained for so long.
Yet, even as they parted it did not feel like long enough. But time ruled against them. Battle soon would dawn and blood would paint itself across the cobbled streets. Though Enjolras hated it he knew it to be true, loathing himself for the hope that it would be their opposition who were felled. Grantaire instead hoped for small mercies. Seeing no hope for the revolution he simply prayed that his friends would suffer a quick, painless end and selfishly that he would die alongside Enjolras. For that beautiful marble face to be the very last thing his eyes would see.
Too soon they found themselves parted upon their chosen field of battle, the crimson tide of blood spilling from one Amis after another. If he had not found himself drunk and absent Grantaire would have cursed whatever higher power remained for the agonising deaths his friends suffered. But fate did grant one small mercy. And he thanked every deity he was aware of as his hand clasped tightly into Enjolras', the emotion shared within their last glance filling his heart with love and happiness, even as the bullets pierced their young bodies spilling out the last righteous drops of the hopeful revolution.