It was chilly outside, to say the least. The young blond man trekking through the thick blanket of snow in the woods was bundled in multiple layers of coats that didn't even begin to shut out the piercing chill of the air. His back was warm due to the backpack that he had slung over his many layers, clutching the straps in hope of retaining the warmth it provided, but the rest of him felt exposed in comparison. Practically doubled over with the unforgivingly brutal wind, he trudged on, boots making deep impressions in the snow as he plodded forwards.
So caught up in his chill was this hastening student that he didn't notice the shadowy figure in the corner of his vision, sneaking up behind him, until it was too late. In an instant he was on the ground with his face was buried in a fluffy patch of snow. He began to squirm, only to be roughly manhandled up and flipped over so he was lying on his back. He looked up in bewilderment at his attacker.
"Grantaire" he hissed.
The brunette sitting on top of him wore a crooked smirk. "Gotcha!"
"Get off of me. It's freezing down here," barked the student in reply.
Grantaire adopted a mocking tone to playfully sneer, "Make me."
The pinned man struggled again, but to no avail. The chill of his surroundings was beginning to seep through his many layers. That, combined with the wet feeling of melting ice on the back of his neck, allowed for his feelings of increased annoyance and discomfort to creep onto his face, already flushed from the cold.
Grantaire was basking in his victory as he beamed when suddenly he felt a sudden strike of soaking, cold slush meet his face. Enjolras' gloved hand had picked up another handful of snow, but this time Grantaire was quicker. He leapt up and back, narrowly dodging the blow.
Enjolras was instantly on his feet, the blaze of battle shining in his frosty blue eyes and also shining in the form of a wicked grin that took up the majority of his face.
Grantaire couldn't help but chuckle in response.
However, the victory was short-lived as Enjolras quickly scooped up another heap of snow, formed it into a ball, and chucked it with remarkable force right at his chest. It hit its mark. Doubling back, Grantaire found shelter behind a tree. He crouched down and began hastily manufacturing ammunition in the form of mediocre little snowballs.
Enjolras, meanwhile, had jumped behind a bush and was busying himself with the same task. While he hadn't yet forgotten the biting cold that gripped his entire body, his fingers were slowly going numb, making the process easier. Within a matter of seconds, he had a sizeable pile; he looked up to see no trace of Grantaire.
Silence.
He tried to calm his heavy breathing from all the adrenaline of the scuffle, but to no avail. There was no doubt that the enemy could clearly hear him over the sound of the stillness, and his position was clearly revealed and not nearly as good as his opponents. The bush he was hiding behind was flimsy and only came up to his waist, so he needed to crouch down in order to stay fully hidden.
He saw a flicker of movement in the form of Grantaire's head peeking out from behind a sturdy oak. Without pausing to think, he instantly grabbed a snowball and hurled it at him. He, in turn, ducked out of sight quickly, and the snowball landed with a smack against the tree.
He had been compromised. His instinct was to crouch back down into the 'safety' of his natural shield, so he followed this inclination. He stayed completely still, listening for any sign that Grantaire was on the move and vulnerable to attack without having to expose himself first. There was a slight crunch in the snow followed by a whispered expletive, bringing Enjolras into a cautious standing position. Still nothing in sight. He slowly lowered himself back down.
By the time he heard the rapid footsteps approaching from behind, he didn't have any more time to gather his munitions. All the student could do was brace himself for Grantaire throwing a snowball straight into his face before ramming into him and dragging him to the ground with a low thud.
Enjolras laughed.
"Alright, alright, you win, get off!"
Grantaire's eyes still had the fiery glint of combat in them. "To the victor goes the spoils of war."
Chuckling in response, Enjolras quipped, "Do you really want to discuss disgustingly hedonistic Roman proverbs with me?"
"That depends. Do you plan on following them?"
Enjolras, as usual, ignored Grantaire's words, choosing instead to launch himself into a discourse to which Grantaire paid little to no attention: "Really, such an antiquated system. One would think that a culture as advanced as the Romans would see that their so-called spoils of war were pilfered at the expense of their enemies, and sometimes brothers, robbing them of their rightful property and dignity. That's sickening, if you ask me. They simply took without even considering life from the other side; I don't think they would have, though, as they desperately needed any resource they could get their hands on in order to form their advanced cultural society and thus a sound, structured government that was nearly representative of the people; certainly quite a feat of the time. But Grantaire, surely you must know that this phr—"
His babbling was cut off by Grantaire's relatively warm lips considering their location pressing onto his preoccupied mouth.
Enjolras kissed him back hungrily, seeking out the warmth that lay upon his boyfriend's lips. His cheeks were rosy.
As soon as Grantaire pulled away, however, a smug smile played about his sculpted features, Enjolras picked up exactly where he had left off. "Right, well, this phrase embodies the cruelty of man that was so heinously—"
And then he was being kissed again, this time for the sole reason of shutting him up. Ulterior motives were made clear though when icy fingertips ran over his stomach. He gasped and recoiled.
"You're freezing!"
"Not for long," Grantaire growled. His hands were forced upon Enjolras once again, this time just a fraction of a degree warmer than last time. Enjolras didn't actually mind, not really, except that frostbite would make it difficult to give an effective speech.
He let himself go as he pleasantly got lost in the kiss, the wet heat of Grantaire's tongue scorching his chapped lips.
A pang of embarrassment resounded in his chest when Grantaire's wandering touch roamed down his pants to caress his flaccid cock. He could feel him frown against his mouth. "Not your fault," Enjolras managed to breathe out between kisses, "It's just so damn cold." The only reply Grantaire could muster was a grunt as he opted instead to run his hand in circles over the light blond curls right above it.
The rhythm of their kisses changed slowly into something more brisk; wanting. As Grantaire's left hand cradled his lover's face, the right one felt the light pulse through the curls beneath his now warm fingers. There it is, Grantaire thought as he finally drew a moan from Enjolras' mouth, running his fingers in a ring down to the tip of his near-hardness.
"Are we really gonna do this here?" Breathed an uncharacteristically flustered Enjolras. He wasn't as worried about the possibility of being discovered on the hidden path as much as he feared the temperature.
"You'll be warm soon enough," Grantaire assured him tenderly. Layers upon layers of clothing made the usual signature trail of kisses an impossibility. Emboldened by the confusion on his lover's face while he leaned back into a sitting position to unzip his own pants and pull them down, underwear and all, to his knees, baring himself completely. He was completely aroused and already producing precum. The sight alone drove Enjolras to full arousal.
Meanwhile, the frosty air was striking Grantaire's bared skin like a relentless hail storm; luckily for him, his receptive partner yanked him to his level and as a result sent him into a faceplant on the ground. The fluffy snow broke his fall.
Removing his gloves, Enjolras hurriedly groped Grantaire's ass, pulling him so that his burning cock was pressed up against his mouth. He took it in without a second thought, the salty substance smearing over his face before he could envelop the source in wet heat.
Foreplay be damned; Enjolras provided unremitting stroking from his tongue and suction from the soft palate, eliciting a guttural moan from his boyfriend. "Fuck," he swore, "slow down." In reply, Enjolras tried to laugh, but instead all that he produced was staccato vibration around the tip of Grantaire in his throat, close to shivering with pleasure. It took all of his will power to lift his hips up and pull out of Enjolras. The air sucked the residual heat out of his dick in less than an instant.
Enjolras moaned.
"I need to taste you," was all Grantaire could choke out as he struggled to reposition himself so that he was lying on top of Enjolras, each with their heads between the other's thighs.
By the time Enjolras arched his head up, Grantaire had already begun undoing the buttons on his pants. "Do I have your permission?" He asked, the hot air from his lungs ghosting over the practically throbbing penis in front of him.
Propped up by hands on Enjolras' thighs, Grantaire kissed the tip of Enjolras' exposed flesh, painting his lips with his precum. His tongue then ventured to swirl around the head, and then further pushed itself between foreskin and the silky flesh underneath. Comforting arms coiled around his waist from below.
The fact that Enjolras' jaw had to drop in order to gasp was all the invitation Grantaire needed to ease himself down into his mouth. Enjolras had no complaints when Grantaire continued the motion repeatedly, slowly entering and exiting him while he just lay there and let Grantaire's tongue do all the work on the other end.
And oh, what excellent work he was doing. His tongue didn't stop moving under the stretched foreskin when he closed in around him, hot breath drawing out another reverberating sigh from the squirming man beneath him. Had all his weight been pressed elsewhere, perhaps Enjolras would have been thrusting upwards.
This theory was confirmed with clenching thigh muscles and shaking hips.
Enjolras started to shiver; neither of them knew whether it was from the melting snow soaking into his jacket or the intense pleasure pulsing through his body. All he knew was that in four short bursts, he was spent and already shrinking into softness inside Grantaire's mouth. Wasting no time, Grantaire swallowed the sticky liquid and fumbled to put him back into his pants as he began to insistently fuck his partner's face, eager to cum and then huddle back into his clothes. His naked knees were numb and the only sensation he could pay attention to was that of his cock. Enjolras had him in a deathgrip around his middle, struggling not to gag as his increasingly raw throat took blow after blow. He finally came with an inhuman shout of what sounded like Enjolras' name.
Grantaire was immediately standing and yanking his pants back up. He jerked a fucked-out and dazed Enjolras to his feet and broke into a run towards civilization, holding his hand the entire way.
Upon reaching the apartment, Enjolras threw open the door and bolted for his dresser, Grantaire now in tow. They shed their clothes in a flurry of waterlogged fabric and limbs and found themselves less than a minute later in Enjolras' sweatpants and tee-shirts.
"Why is it so fucking cold in your apartment?" Grantaire demanded, grabbing a soft, heavy blanket off of his bed.
"Heat's expensive. Come on," Enjolras replied, grabbing his partner's hand and leading him into the complex's common room. A fire roared in the big stone fireplace, and people bustled about, either preparing to exit the warmth of the room or busting into safety from the merciless glacial wind. He sat down on the closest sofa to the blaze and pulled Grantaire sideways onto his lap before wrapping him in the blanket. Grantaire leaned in and kissed his cheek.
"Thank you," he said before resting his head on his shoulder, nuzzling his neck.
Enjolras grinned and hugged the sleepy brunette in front of him. Grantaire sighed contentedly. After a while, he finally let himself fade into unconsciousness from the comfort of the inviting hearth and Enjolras' calming embrace.
Wow, y'all have no idea how much time this took! (Like, forever, to answer your question.) I had help from Tumblr users Mirth-City, e-njolras, thatswhatshowoffsdo, fangirlin-thetardis, and live-in-tricolor in the revision process;special thanks to Tumblr blog i-am-a-mocker for coming up with the title for me (a poem by Robert Frost) and extensive editing. This was based on a prompt by Tumblr user notsospecialnobody.
I hope you enjoyed this! Any & all feedback is much appreciated.