Eponine never liked the jealous stare he gave her whenever she said she was leaving for work. She especially did not like it this night. His jaw was shut tight, and his eyes narrowed, tinged with anger as he watched her gather up her clothes to leave. In all honesty, she didn't like leaving him either. She had become so accustomed to him so quickly that she hated the idea of leaving him. She had come to love his comforting touches, his warm whispers in her ear, and the bites he left to mark her as his.
"I will be back early. Before midnight." She told him as she headed for the door.
"Why leave at all?" He said bitterly.
Eponine was silent. He was right; why should she leave? Enjolras was making more money than she expected. She didn't need to continue working. So why go back to the brothel?
"Wait a little longer," she said, a light smile gracing her face.
She left the house but not for the brothel. She swore she would never see that horrid place again. This night, she would work for herself and herself alone; neither Severin nor Lady would interfere with her earnings.
But in those hours, she found herself day dreaming. More than anything she wanted to walk the streets of Rennes with Enjolras—the city all the more beautiful at dusk when the candles were lit, green and red laced all around for the coming of Christmas as the snow fell. Such a happy thought made her blush, filling her with a warm hope that was so foreign to her but welcomed nonetheless.
But when a customer approached her, she remembered where she was, what she was doing, and her heart grew heavy. She couldn't bear Enjolras' absence, absence she had willingly forced, even if it was only for a few hours. In another man's arms, she felt wretchedly sick with self hatred regardless of the money he would give her. In another man's arms, all she saw was Enjolras.
And after the shameful sin was done, money exchanged, Eponine quickly fled the streets for home, returning just as she promised, before midnight.
She found Enjolras in his bed waiting for her, sitting naked under the blankets, reading as candlelight flickered across the room. "I don't know that I understand what it is that intrigues you so about this," he admitted as his eyes remained on the pages. "The idea of gods and goddesses and their ability to take mortal forms, the existence of otherworldly creatures, all of it is so irrational."
He was reading Greek mythology, she realized. She smiled.
"I read the myths as poetry," Eponine said as she slowly began to undress. "I don't try to make sense of them. I simply enjoy them."
She could see him eyeing her from behind the book as she took her timing peeling off each individual layer of clothing, and that made her smirk.
"Have you read the myth about Apollo and Daphne yet?" She asked, curious to see how far he had read.
"No, but why read it when you already read it to me?"
He remembered. Her heart skipped a beat. He was listening to her after all. He still was able to recall the story despite being sick. Warm joy and pride washed over her.
"Why read anything at all?" She teased as she climbed up on the bed. She crawled up to him as he remained buried in the book, "It is a nice change from reality."
Enjolras placed the book in his lap and looked up at her, "Can you say now that you need a change from reality?"
She smiled and said truthfully, "No, not now."
Enjolras smiled lightly too. She pulled the blanket over her, curled up against him to share the warmth, and with her head against his chest, she looked up at him. "So tell me, for I have been curious from the very beginning, how have I changed how you live?"
"What exactly are you implying?"
"I'm a difficult one to please, and from my experience no virgin could please me as you had our first night," she observed. "So just how experienced are you, dear Enjolras?"
He was silent, and Eponine half expected him not to answer at all as he stared down at the open pages of the book. She watched him, his eyes thoughtful as he tried to think of how to begin. Patiently, she waited.
"Before my passion for this country," he began, "I had frequented the whore house and that is all the experience I was able to acquire," he paused, his jaw tightened as he mulled over what he wanted to confide. "I'd never courted a woman simply because no woman had caught my eye. They were all too sophisticated, too wrapped and warped by money with no thought of their own. And when I decided I wanted to strive for change for France, I focused all my energy on the rebellion. I rejected women to keep from getting distracted. My colleagues mocked me for it, even went so far to question my sexuality," he admitted. "In Paris, I never believed in fighting for anything else other than ones country. Until now. You aren't like any of the women I've known. You have your own mind, your own ideas and desires. You're a strong willed, ruthless woman, and a secret."
"Never knew you could be so open with me," she teased him again, grateful and humbled by his honestly.
"I am capable of many things, Eponine." He said.
"I do not doubt you," she said, taking the book from his hands and tossing it away. She looked up at him and smiled seductively, "Come now, I have something a little more interesting than the book, dear Enjolras."
She rolled on top of him and kissed him with gentle ardor as her hand ran through his curly golden locks. His hands found his place on her breasts, and she curled into his warm touch as he massaged her. She drew back from him to kiss his chin and up his jaw only to stop again to inspect what her fingers had found. She pulled back his hair all the while he remained silent. His ear had a small piece, a crest shape the size of a bullet cut from it. A bullet wound that only nicked his ear. How had she not noticed it before? His hair covered it so well. Enjolras had almost received his wish. If that bullet were only inches close, he would have died. But she didn't want to think about that now, for it wasn't the case. He was there. He was alive and with her. So to keep the mood from fading, to show her concern and her affection, she leaned forward and sucked on his earlobe. She nibbled close to scarred loop as her hands journeyed over his body, searching for more scars.
"Eponine," he whispered.
She loved the sound of her name on his lips, ending the torment on his ear to kiss him again. They moved together, and by the end of the night, she had found all of his scars.
And never did she imagine that he liked to cuddle! If someone had told her when she first met him—his cold eyes, stone-like demeanor, his quickness to annoyance and rage—that Enjolras enjoyed cuddling, she Eponine would have laughed heartedly in that person's face. But indeed, he did take pleasure in it, and she did not feel uncomfortable or awkward as she expected while his head rested on her chest just above her heart. His leg looped over her, and his arms wrapped around her, held her tight, and she relished the pressure, his warmth. Smiling lightly, she ran her fingers through his golden curls, massaging his scalp as her mind was filled with thoughts of their coupling. His fingers, his mouth all over her as he filled her and took her and marked her as his. She felt the spark of arousal, and his fingers that meant to comfort her did little to ease the heated tingle. She ignored it though as he lay on top of her, savoring the silence.
"You've been coming home early more often." Enjolras stated.
Eponine stopped her ministrations on his hair and allowed her hand to rest on his head. "Yes."
"Either you are starting to dislike your work, or the money no longer satisfies you." There was an edge to his tone that made her flinch, a bitterness under his calm, steady voice.
Just before she could form a reply, he rose himself off of her. Her skin crawled from the lack of heat, and she shivered lightly.
"Or maybe," he lay beside her, his hand on her hip, and staring into her eyes, "you just miss my bed."
It wasn't just his bed she missed, and it wasn't just the sex that kept her coming back. No, it was so much more; it was his gentleness, his passion, his care he displayed when they came together under the cover of night, the candles dancing and tossing their shadows as buried each other in the sheets. He was her blessed secret, her happiness that truly was happy, no grief in it to taint her heart as Marius had. But Enjolras wasn't Marius and no amount of words could describe how contented she truly was.
And when she did go out at night and bedded strangers, she did think of Enjolras. Needless to say, she did miss him. She hated the money she received, because in the back of her mind, Enjolras with all his anger and jealousy was there. He was hurting, and the work disgusted her.
She considered teasing him to see what reaction she could stir from him, but she found she wasn't in the mood to be playful. After all, it was her work, a serious matter.
"Enjolras," she said slowly, calculating how she wanted to speak, but she was finding it difficult as Enjolras' hand roamed up and down the side of her stomach. His fingers traced her ribs but were careful not to touch her breasts. Damn him for teasing her.
"I won't go back to the brothel."
His hand stopped, and his eyes narrowed to a cynical stare, not exactly the reaction she expected.
"And what brought you to this conclusion?" He asked coolly.
Prepared for the question, collectedly she answered, "I only became a prostitute because we needed the money. But now you've found a job that's paying enough for the both of us. I have no reason to keep it." She paused, watching his face, waiting for him to relax in relief by her decision. But seeing he wasn't satisfied, she went on. "For a while now, I haven't be able to tolerate it. But it's not because of the mistreatment or the lack of proper payment. It's because I hated seeing your face everywhere I went. I hated hurting you. My own stubbornness stopped me from quitting early, but now I see what I've been doing to you. So I won't go back. I promise you."
His features lightened and a small smile curled on his lips. He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to kiss him. It was his way of saying 'thank you', knowing full well it would be difficult for him to say it allowed. So his kiss was sufficient. She kissed him back before pulling away.
With a smile she said, "None of those pigs could please me like you can."
His grin grew with pride, "Have I ruined you for all other men, darling Eponine?"
She nuzzled into his neck, curling beside him as he wrapped his arm around her. "I believe you have."
Another weight had been lifted from her shoulders, her heart lighter as she pressed herself against him, stealing his warmth, taking in his scent. Let her lay there forever with Enjolras by her side. If only it was possible. But she didn't want to think of forevers or any foolish wishings. So with a blithe smile, she closed her eyes, and Enjolras' soft breathing lulled her to sleep.