Loko: ::giggles hysterically:: Look … I'm writing Les Mis fanfic! Eek! Finally, something for my new obsession! ::giggles again and runs off to stalk Jehan::
Summary: Marius suffers odd dreams. Courfeyrac features, as does M. Gillernormand. M. Hugo insists Marius is completely virginal. IS he? Three tablespoons humour, pinch of angst, and two cups remorseless almost-smut. Slash!
Disclaimer: M. Hugo owned Les Mis 'till he died. Miscellaneous publishing companies own it now. This means I don't own it. I just come up with horrible perverted fantasies about the barricade boys. Listen … do YOU hear M. Hugo roll? Rolling the roll of horrified men?
--
What Dreams May Come
--
I like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh … And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new
- e. e. cummings
--
Marius came home early and depressed. Cosette had not been there. She had left a note, scribbled hastily and poorly hidden, reading something like "Papa is taking me to see a play. I am so sorry I could not tell you earlier." – here there were some illegible words – " – I love you so much. I cannot bear to not see you tomorrow eve! I will wait here as always. Nothing short of the end of the world could tear me from this seat." – more illegible scribbles – "I love you, I love you, I love you."
Marius sighed. "I am miserable," he declared to the empty room. "I am alone, we have had no heating for months, and I have no Cosette to show me the sun of the night and keep me warm through the cold."
There was a pause, and he realized that the words he had just spoken sounded rather pretty. He hastened to find the notebook on which he frequently scribbled the more lyrical thoughts of Cosette he had throughout the day – it was very full, and there were slight edits and suggestions in the margins from Jean Prouvaire – and laid his hand on it only to realize that, not only had they not had heating for a month, but they were also considerably lacking in candles.
"Merde," he said. "Perhaps I should stop giving those five francs to the Thénardiers. Wait, what am I thinking? Marius, you ingrate! The man only saved the life of your father under a gale of grape and ball! And this is how you repay him! You should be thoroughly and utterly ashamed of yourself, you wretch!" He continued in this vein for some time. Marius was prone to self-chastisement in that manner.
Some time passed, and gradually he felt tired. Long all-night secretive giggling with the one and only love of his life and the resultant short sleeping periods seemed to rush upon him in one large tidal wave, and he groped his way in the dark to the mattress Courfeyrac had so kindly allowed him to sleep on. It was actually on the other side of the bed frame, by the window, because Courfeyrac was a late riser, and in his own words, "The further my bed is from the sun, the better I sleep. Take the window if you want, Marius, I have no love of the light. Besides, sometimes I wake up and find the charming grisette from the night before resembles Grantaire enough to be related … "
Marius had stopped listening at that point.
The point was, the way the room was set up, Marius had to practically climb over Courfeyrac's bed in order to get to his own. At some points Marius felt his friend had done this on purpose, especially on the rare occasions Courfeyrac turned in early and conveniently rolled over just so, and Marius fell tumbling head-over-heels into his own bed. Courfeyrac had an – odd – sense of humour.
The mattress was out of sight of the door. In fact, one could barely see it until one had walked right up to the bed proper.
Courfeyrac was not present, but Marius tripped anyway.
After recovering from the dizziness caused by his headfirst topple, Marius sighed the sigh of the lovelorn. "Ah, Cosette," he breathed to the darkness. "You are not here, I cannot gaze upon your visage, I cannot even write my words of tenderness to give you because we are terribly poor and Courfeyrac insists on entertaining all the time. Speaking of Courfeyrac, my friend even is not here so he can distract me from my lonesomeness with his bawdy tales of various mistresses and drive me into convulsions at the raunchiness and impurity of his life."
He blinked. Something sounded slightly off. Perhaps it was a lack of lyrical, soothing words. The pretty poet, Prouvaire, had said something about that – words that were beautiful made for beautiful sentences. Only when the quiet student – at least, Marius thought he was a student, but then it seemed more likely that Prouvaire was studying clouds than anything else – had said it, it had sounded better. More profound. Poets were like that, Marius supposed.
Suddenly turning to more immediate issues, Marius ventured to wonder, "Where is Courfeyrac? When I used to stay here all night, it seemed that he came home fairly early most nights. And isn't tomorrow a school day? I passed my examinations, but Courfeyrac is taking still more classes, I know not why. Perhaps Combeferre has rubbed off on him."
The door opened noisily, and some instinct drove Marius to dive under his covers and flat against his mattress. In this manner, he was obscured from sight even to other occupants of the room. The blanketing darkness served only to hide him further. The abrupt mention of his name forced him to stiffen, a shiver running down his back as the situation became apparent.
"Don't you have a roommate?"
"Ah, Marius. He's never home before three."
"Oh! Isn't he the naughty boy? Why, don't you two like to share?"
(Marius twitched at the mere thought. Cosette! Share! Indeed!)
"Oh, he has some true amour. He is addicted. This lady-love has stolen his heart completely."
"How sweet. And what of you? Am I a thief of your heart also?"
"Ah, yes, your beauty intoxicates me. You are like wine."
"Oh, surely you can do better than that."
"Your eyes are gorgeous, my beauty, they remind me of amethyst wine in crystal glass, they are crystalline, clear, brilliant, fiery, exhilaratingly striking. Your face is handsome and pale, your nose is adorable, and your lips are to die for. Your form is exquisite, even under those cumbersome clothes."
"Oh, stop. You embarrass me." – without sounding in the least embarrassed – "Ah, shall we – take care of these cumbersome clothes?"
"There you mirror my own mind."
Marius blushed madly. He felt the proper thing to do would be to spring up, declare his presence, and leave as quickly as possible, but some terrible perversion kept his limbs adhered to the mattress as though they had grown roots. He pulled at them with all the power of his mind, but his youthful body disagreed, maintaining its terrible and awkward presence in the room. Moments later, even had he decided to leave, he could not have. The sound of rustling clothing brought even more colour to his face, and a moment later a – sound – of some sort brought all the blood in his body rushing somewhere else entirely.
"Oh, Courfeyrac!"
"Mm, yes, my beauty?"
"Ah!"
Marius felt his head was about to explode. Well, something was going to explode.
"Ahn …" He grunted softly, pressing closely into the pillows and trying hard not to think of Cosette. Normally the mere thought of her would have calmed him and sent him into dreamland of roses and daffodils, but he would not, could not ever sully her thought with a moment as deprived as this.
"Oh!"
He wondered if all women were always so vocal. Maybe Courfeyrac liked them this way. Yes, that was it. Focus on something he could not possibly – lust – after. Courfeyrac. Think of Courfeyrac.
Courfeyrac was a good friend. He asked no questions, and Marius had felt immediate affinity with the other law student. Even when Marius had shown up at his door with the cryptic "I must sleep with you tonight," Courfeyrac had simply pulled his mattress off his bed and given it to Marius. Marius was infinitely grateful to Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac with his dark circles under his eyes from long nights spent either studying or frolicking yet still with a pale attractiveness, with the wine tolerance to reach almost halfway to Grantaire's, with the ravishing voice, Courfeyrac with his elegant, cat-like grace, the tempting Casanova smirk, the long, delicate white fingers with the single callus on the first joint of the middle finger from holding a writing implement.
Courfeyrac with his long, delicate fingers just slightly short of warm slowly, languidly drawing down Marius' back …
Marius shivered. "What the - ?" He whispered softly to himself, then counted himself lucky that the other occupants of the room were rather too occupied to pay attention.
"Oh!" The woman again, a soft, breathy exclamation. "Oh, Courfeyrac! Oh!"
Marius shivered once more. Softly, against his will, his lips formed the same syllables: "Oh, Courfeyrac …" he echoed the woman, wondering what could possibly cause the pleasure in her voice. Surely nothing in the world short of true love could cause such pure ecstasy.
The vision of Courfeyrac, poised above him, face flushed in excitement, that smirk …
Marius flushed madly. That memory was from one of the few times he'd gone to the Luxembourg with Courfeyrac – in a moment of immaturity, Courfeyrac, Joly, Bossuet or Lesgle or, really, what Marius thought was a perfectly fine name, L'Aigle, and himself had decided to play tag. Courfeyrac had chased Marius into an unexpected depression in the ground, they had both tripped, and Courfeyrac had landed over him …
"You're it."
It was a perfectly innocent memory! What of the flush, the slightly sweaty face, the breathless exhalation, the smirk …
A long series of chills, not entirely uncomfortable, ran down Marius' back. He hoped it was because of the euphoric cries of the woman on the bed, and not … not …
"Ah … ah … ah …" Courfeyrac's smooth voice, somewhere between alto and tenor, drawn out in a languorous sigh …
Marius felt his hips, of their own volition entirely, thrust madly into the mattress, and barely bit back his own cry. Only a whimper escaped his mouth, but it was luckily drowned in the heavy sighs of post-coital bliss emanating from the bed above him.
He gnawed his lip worriedly. Surely they wouldn't lie there all night, would they? In the morning, they could not miss him, and Courfeyrac always woke if the door was opened so he could trip Marius when he made for the mattress …
"You should go, chérie."
"Ah, why? I am so tired. It was such a workout."
"Ah, it will not be too good when Monsieur my roommate Marius comes in."
"Oh, the roommate. Why not? Marius. What a sweet name."
"Yes, very Roman. He will be horrified."
"Indeed! How charming."
"Moreover, I always take the opportunity to trip him when he climbs over to get to his section of the room, and I fear with more than one of us in the bed he who lives in dreamland may plummet to his death."
"Oh, really!" Delighted laughter. "Courfeyrac, you are incorrigible! You merely make me want to meet the boy."
"Oh, believe me, you don't."
"Whyever not? Don't you like him?"
"On the contrary. He amuses me greatly. His face is noble, classical, his hair flies madly about his face in the morning and when he comes in from a humid day, he is prone to wandering in lovesickness out to his daily walk with his new coat and then forgetting about coats altogether in the rain. I found him his job. Should he be horrified by my loose lifestyle and leave, I would be greatly disappointed."
"You sound attached, Courfeyrac. That isn't like you."
"Oh, I adore the boy, ma chérie, and I have evil plans to seduce him away from his pretty girl one dark, lonely night."
"Courfeyrac!"
"I jest, beauty. Nothing could tempt me from your side."
"As if, you liar! I saw you with that pretty girl in the pink bonnet last night."
"She means nothing, nothing, ma chérie."
"Oh, you lie, you fiend. But I care not. I have more admirers than only you."
"But of course."
"So I must leave then."
"A thousand apologies, chérie. I worship you. I will call on you again – the same place?"
"As always, you unremorsefully ravishing man."
The shuffle of clothing followed this statement. In the process, something black and heavy – Courfeyrac's coat, Marius guessed, it smelt of him, ink and musk – fell onto Marius on his mattress. The thick material smothered his breath, silencing the mildly harsher sound, but served to suffocate Marius.
"I take my leave."
"Farewell, ma chérie."
The door shut. Courfeyrac waited until the footsteps had retreated before leaning over the side of the bed and snatching the coat off Marius' head.
The shadow of a head, fine hair hanging loosely from a useless tie, hung over the edge of the bed. From the angle, Marius could not tell if the face was frowning or laughing. A hand grabbed his shoulder and flipped him over onto his back. "And you, Monsieur my roommate Marius Pontmercy!"
Marius squeaked in a most undignified and unmanly fashion.
"I never thought it of you," Courfeyrac continued, sounding highly amused. "To be such a voyeur. Tell me, did you enjoy my lady companion's voice? She sings sometimes, at the playhouses, you know."
"I never! I – I!" Marius sputtered incoherently, turning red. "I!"
"You!" Courfeyrac imitated. "Or perhaps it was my voice you pleasured in most? I do recognize I am in possession of a wonderful baritone."
"Alto, more like! You sigh at near the same pitch as your lady friend!" Marius retorted in desperation, and clapped a hand over his mouth at his own stupidity.
"Ah?" Courfeyrac said, sounding startled. "It was my voice?"
"Of course not!" Marius said, but before he could do anything further Courfeyrac had rolled neatly off the bed and onto the mattress, straddling Marius' waist, and Marius abruptly realized that Courfeyrac was very, very naked. He made that horrible high-pitched noise again: "Eep!"
"I revise my statement," Courfeyrac said. "It is not that I adore you. You are adorable. You are so virginal it ought to be a crime. Tell me, is your lady-love possibly more innocent than you?"
"Don't speak of Cosette!" Marius said angrily, but was silenced in a most effective and very unexpected manner by the very naked law student sitting on his torso. "Mmph!"
"Indeed," Courfeyrac said, drawing back, and Marius could hear the infernal smirk in his voice, "Adorable."
"But not adored," Marius said sharply, wondering if the kiss had driven him out of his mind and he was just stringing words together into vaguely coherent sentences.
"Is that it?" Courfeyrac asked, laughing. "I adore you, Marius Pontmercy. I beg to teach you of your virginity so that you may lose it."
"I –mmph!" This time, Marius had all of one second to register that Courfeyrac had somehow gotten his hands held over his head before he realized that his mouth was open, and Courfeyrac's mouth was open, and there was tongue, and it was warm and Courfeyrac tasted like wine and bittersweet things and heavy lusty sweets in the back of his throat …
"You are so virginal," Courfeyrac murmured, breathing the words into Marius' ear. "Are you possibly human, you innocent creature of light?"
"What are you – are those your teeth?" Marius squeaked. "Ow! Ah! Stop! My ear!"
"Mrr."
"Ah! Wait, Courfeyrac – not the teeth – the – ah!"
"So you want me to stop?"
"No! Yes! No! I mean - " Marius glared up without any success, trailing into total incoherence. "I mean - "
At which point he stopped making sense at all, because Courfeyrac's teeth were just behind his ear and his hands were doing something and, and …
"Ah!" Marius ground out, wondering why he wasn't resisting more.
"This is what you want," Courfeyrac hissed, deep demanding hot pleasure zinging through every nerve of Marius' body at the voice, "it's not innocence and purity you crave, what you want is fire burning down your back and teeth on your ear and pleasure aching in your every nerve to the very arches of your feet you want to thrust upward and squeeze your eyes shut and scream in blinding white light bloody murder more yes more, it's what you want, Marius, and I know …"
Marius gasped, a confused breathless sound of need, and Courfeyrac's lips formed a smirk against the skin behind Marius' ear.
"Enjoying yourself? It's what you want, deep down, like every man … pleasure is a man's real drive … " Courfeyrac's voice seemed deeper all of a sudden, something unexpected and a little gravely. "I always said you were one ought to have a mistress before a wife. This body is far too fine to waste."
"You sound like my grandfather."
Then, horror of horrors –
"I am your grandfather, boy, and don't you forget it."
Marius opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His grandfather, all 200 some-odd pounds of him, was sitting on him, holding him down, and leering gleefully down at him. With a mad scramble, Marius pulled back and managed to extract his torso from under the old man, but moved no further as the old man clamped heavy hands down on his thighs.
"No …" He moaned, trying fitfully to pull his limbs out of the grip of his grandfather. "Let me go! Let me go!"
"I'll never let you go, you regicide!" His grandfather bellowed with a horrible grin on his face. "You deserve all the pains and pleasures the world can give you! I only wanted everything for you and you left me, you left this old man to his aging, balding death!"
"I didn't leave you!" Marius wailed pitifully, still caught by the unholy strength of the unexpectedly powerful hands. "You drove me out!"
"You knew full well I meant nothing by it!"
"You commanded me go!"
"I command things of you thousand time and this is the only time you obey me?"
"You said you couldn't live with me!"
"Live! With you! No, monsieur, I cannot live with a regicide!" The old man roared, squeezing painfully. "But I can live with my grandson, my grandson always!"
"Ow!" Marius yelped, as the grip tightened.
"I will make you burn with pain …" His grandfather hissed, and for the first time, Marius felt true fear.
"No …" He said softly, trying to make his voice work properly. He screwed his eyes shut like a coward, refusing to look his grandfather in the eye, and in a spectacular bid for freedom wrenched his body sideways and backwards. "No … NOOOOOO!"
"Marius! Marius!" An urgent voice that was certainly not his grandfather caused him to open his eyes hesitantly, discerning in a blur of light and dark what seemed to be the features of his roommate.
"Cou – Courfeyrac? Is it you?" He whimpered, falling forward onto his palms and staring straight into the face before him. He blinked twice, blearily, and realized it was indeed the revolutionary law student.
"Who else would it be?" The boy replied, looking slightly confused.
"What? Where'd my grandfather go?" Marius asked blankly, not entirely awake.
"You were having a nightmare," Courfeyrac informed him. "You were writhing and screaming and everything."
"Huh?"
"I came back from class and you were unexpectedly present," Courfeyrac said bluntly. "But you were also unexpectedly unconscious, and you had my old coat half wrapped around you. I think you managed to trip over my bed even when I wasn't there, Marius. You probably hit your head and had some sort of concussion accompanied with a nervous breakdown, and probably some sort of hallucinatory dream."
Marius blinked. "Combeferre has definitely rubbed off on you," he declared. His mind tried to wrap around the situation.
Courfeyrac looked concerned. "Was your pretty girl not there? Did Grantaire get a hold of you?" He demanded. "You haven't had absinthe, have you? Damn it, Joly would probably know more about negative effects of alcohol … Heaven knows Bossuet manages to get him drunk a good deal …"
Marius blinked again. His mind had gone from a state in which "Wha huh?" was the main thought to "It's Courfeyrac! Not Grandfather! Courfeyrac!"
"It's you!" He said joyously.
"I thought we'd settled that," Courfeyrac said, raising an eyebrow.
"Not Grandfather, Courfeyrac!" Marius said, and kissed him, and the real Courfeyrac just tasted kind of like spit and maybe he hadn't had dinner and what the hell was Marius doing?!
Marius' head snapped back.
"Eh?" Courfeyrac said. He seemed rather less startled than most would have been had a rather pretty boy just declared "It's you!" and proceeded to give him a thorough snogging. Marius took a moment to wonder if this sort of thing happened to Courfeyrac often before panicking.
"Mon Dieu!" He gasped, scrambling back and away from his roommate. "Merde, Courfeyrac, I'm so sorry! I wasn't thinking straight! I just did the first thing came to mind!"
"Indeed?" Courfeyrac said, looking – amused? "The first thing comes to mind when you realize I'm me is to kiss me? I must admit, I never thought it of you, Marius."
"I – I'm so sorry!" Marius said again, curled up against the wall. He buried his head in his knees, and as a result did not see Courfeyrac stealthily creeping up on him, catlike languor evident in every ripple of youthful muscle.
"Marius."
Marius jumped. "How did you get there?" He demanded, rubbing his ear where Courfeyrac's breath had resonated. The shiver had been there, again, and he suddenly remembered the gentle pull of nails down his spine … "Eep!"
"Eep?" Courfeyrac asked, looking as if he wanted very much to laugh.
"Um – that is – I …" Marius trailed off, looking at Courfeyrac's face.
"It's my job, Marius," Courfeyrac said. "You kiss like an amateur. I must teach you."
"No!" Marius yelped. "I stopped dreaming!"
"You did," Courfeyrac agreed, and kissed him.
One very enjoyable minute later, Marius stared into a satisfied-looking Courfeyrac's face and blushed madly. "Eep," he said again. Courfeyrac sighed at this astounding show of eloquence.
"This is the way the world goes, Marius." He said softly. "We all must learn to love at some point. Someone must teach us. Lucky you if the one from whom you learn with your heart is the same one from whom you learn with your body, but it does not often happen thus."
"What?"
"You'll never learn to love with your body, Marius, if no one teaches you," Courfeyrac said, looking just short of sad. "Your little lady-love will not be giving lessons. I am your friend. You have taught me certain things. Thus, it is my duty to teach this to you. Ah, but the glory it must have been to be God and teach Adam the first virgin!"
"What?" Marius said again.
"Nothing comes without a price." Courfeyrac said softly. "You will give me your wedding night. Think of me then."
"What do you - " Marius began, but Courfeyrac leaned forward, opened his mouth, and Marius stopped thinking.
--
Marius left late. He was watching the door rather than the clock, but he knew from the slow speeding up of his heart that it was soon time to leave to go meet Cosette. He was dallying – shuffling his feet, delaying the putting on of coat and hat, and all this why?
"Courfeyrac is not home yet," Marius mused to the room, which was just as unresponsive as ever. "I thought perhaps to dine with him today. To – ask questions? The law school is always changing. There are always new things to learn. I have not spoken with Combeferre long enough for him to corrupt me this badly. I am a bad liar. I make bad excuses. I am waiting for Courfeyrac because I am afraid of what may happen tonight."
He blinked. "I must stop talking aloud," he grumbled. "I am too likely to suffer epiphanies. What if I notice Cosette's garter?"
Marius blushed madly just as the doorknob turned and Courfeyrac walked in. They stared at each other for a long while. Marius decided that he had too much to lose, and that he would let Courfeyrac begin the conversation and decide which way things were going to go. Courfeyrac decided that Marius was far too timid and far too much of a little fool to start the conversation and figured nothing would be said if he didn't say it himself.
"Good evening, Monsieur Marius," he said amicably. "Aren't you late for your usual meeting with the young lady?"
Marius opened with mouth to demand why his roommate was being so casual, then closed it, realizing that Courfeyrac was trying to make a point. "I – I lost track of the time," he fumbled. "I – I shall be leaving now."
"Don't forget your hat this time," Courfeyrac said calmly as he strode in and set his own on the hat-rack. With a smooth movement, he tossed Marius the black felt contraption that failed to cover his ears and left them red with cold.
"Thank you," Marius said awkwardly, standing in the doorway with his coat half on and twirling his hat in his hands. With a sudden, unexpected burst of courage, he started, "Courfeyrac, I - "
"Go already," Courfeyrac ordered, a wry grin over his fine features. "Outside is life. Outside is living. Go you forth into the land of the living and love your heart away. Bluebirds and roses and all that."
"I - " Marius said, hesitant, and finally he relented. "Good evening, Courfeyrac. Do not go to sleep too late."
"Good evening, Marius. Do not stay out in the cold too late."
So saying, Marius left Courfeyrac inside.
--
"Marius?"
"Yes, my love?"
"You're walking oddly."
"A-Am I?"
"Yes. Did something happen?"
Marius paused, thinking hard for an excuse.
"I – ah – fell."
"Oh, no!"
"A – friend of mine – tripped me."
In the dingy, drafty room, Courfeyrac blinked, startled.
"Someone's talking about me," he grumbled, and rolled over.
--
"Marius."
"Yes, grandfather?"
"Didn't you have an intimate friend?"
A barely perceptible pause.
"Yes, Courfeyrac."
"What happened to him?"
Another tiny pause.
"He is dead."
"Ah! Well, no matter."
Marius looks at Cosette, and at his grandfather, and closes his eyes for a second.
Go you forth into the land of the living and love your heart away. Bluebirds and roses and
all that.
--
FIN
--
Loko: ::looks up:: Hmm. This shaped itself. It had a life of its own. IT'S ALIIIIIIIIVEEEEEE! RUUUUUN! ::runs about madly before smacking into a wall:: Oh, REVIEW! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!!!