Grantaire leaned in close, kissing the young man as he unbuttoned his waistcoat. He tasted of the wine Grantaire had bought for him earlier.
"How much time do we have?" he asked, clearly impatient to get to the barricades. This annoyed Grantaire somewhat, he was paying for this, after all. He could at least pretend not to be eager to leave.
"Enough." said Grantaire, unbuttoning the boy's pants clumsily. "Don't worry, I'll get you there in time to share in the victory spoils."
The boy made what was obviously meant to be a pleased sound, but sounded much more like he was choking and pulled Grantaire closer, his bony little hands wound tightly into the fabric of Grantaire's shirt. Pressed against him like this, Grantaire could feel how pathetically thin he was, although his figure would have otherwise been quite nice. If only he wasn't so ugly, Grantaire thought as he un-tucked the boy's shirt, one could almost mistake him for a girl. Finally having managed to move most of the clothing out of the way, he slid a hand into the boy's pants, ignoring his complaints about cold fingers, and then suddenly stopped, enlightenment dawning on him.
"You're really not a man at all." He said, vaguely horrified. She stared at him, uncomprehending.
"Why didn't you say something?" He asked, recoiling and wiping his hand frantically on his pants. It was faintly sticky.
"Does this mean I can go?" she asked, seemingly indifferent to his distress. Even before hearing his answer, she began to replace her clothing.
"Yes. Yes, please go." Grantaire said, grabbing a bottle from his night stand. He managed to pry it open, unmindful of the amount he spilled on himself, he had to get the horror of what he'd just experienced out of his mind. Perhaps, he thought, in a distant sort of way, I should go out today after all. It's bound to take my mind off of this, and then I can see Enjolras again.
He resolved to go to breakfast.