Disclaimer: Still don't own Les Mis.

Alright, this chapter didn't take me as long to get up. It's kind of short, but I didn't want to cram too much into it. Hope you all enjoy it! The next chapter should be up relatively soon. Thanks you all so much for reading and reviewing!

Indeed, she was better than any wine he had ever tasted.

She was pressed up against him, her lips against his and her hands tangled in his hair. She tasted like wind and smoke and rain and honey all at the same time. He never wanted to stop kissing her.

His room was dark and quiet. It was late as it always was when they returned from the café. It was as if no one existed save the two of them. Marie's heart pounded in her chest, pure happiness coursing through her viens. Nothing mattered but her body pressed against Grantaire's, her lips pressed to his.

The kiss had not started out this way - so full of passion and heat. At first it had been soft and gentle, only to bid each other goodnight.

But now he was pushing her back onto the bed, landing on top of her. He trailed kisses from her jaw to her neck to her collarbone, smiling onto her soft skin at the way her heart rate picked up to match his own thundering in his chest. It seemed almost in perfect harmony.

Marie pushed her hands up under his shirt, trailing over the muscles of his chest, feeling them ripple beneath her fingertips. It was strange, but in a good way. This was not her only encounter of the sort, clearly, but this was truthfully the only time she had wanted it to happen. She would usually stay stiff and straight, waiting for it to be over. But the kisses he placed on her chest were not overly rough and uncaring. They were soft, gentle, and left her wanting more.

She lifted the shirt up over his chest, and he leaned back, a knee on either side of her, in order to help lift it the rest of the way off. The cool air of the room hit him but he did not notice. He was too focused on the young woman beneath him.

Tentatively, he leaned back down over her, running his hands up her sides and removing the cotton shirt that she wore - one of his, as she had taken to wearing his shirts to bed. It was not the first time he had been this intimate with a woman, but this was the first time that it had mattered a great deal to him. That, coupled with the knowledge of how she was used to being treated in similar situations, made him nervous.

However, the small gasping noises she made when his hands came in contact with her chest told him that he was not scaring her. He brought his lips back to hers and lost himself in the moment once more. Her hands continued to explore his face, his arms, his chest, and lower. His did the same, trailing finally between her legs and making her eyes roll back.

No, she had never felt like this before.

She held tightly to him when it happened, expecting it to hurt as it normally did. But it did not.

Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over.

Grantaire stopped his movements immediately, frowning. He had hurt her - he had done the one thing he swore to himself he would never do.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed, already attempting to pull away. Horrified at what he had done, but Marie gripped his shoulders and pulled him back to her, shaking her head.

"You haven't hurt me," she assured him. "I'm happy."

Grantaire sighed in relief, pressing his lips to hers once more.

This felt like heaven.

This felt like being drunk on of the best wine there could ever be - better, even.

For both of them, it felt like home.

When they collapsed, exhausted, into each other's arms, they did not even need to speak a word to know how each other felt. She nuzzled her head into his chest and he cradled her there. Their breathing slowed and eventually, the two lovers fell asleep, still clinging to each other.

The pair did not wake up until it was nearly noon. Bright sunlight filtered through the window, splashing them both in yellow-white light. Marie woke first. She glanced at Grantaire, who looked peaceful as a child. She reached out with soft fingers and brushed a bit of his hair out of his face.

Taking advantage of the moment, she got up and dressed herself quickly. Despite what had happened the evening before, she was quite disgusted with her body - it had been dark then, but she would not subject him to her bony frame in the sunlight that now filled the room. He awoke as she was adjusting her skirts.

"Good morning," he said. His voice was husky and still rough from sleep. Marie turned to him and smiled.

"Morning," she said.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked. She looked happy, but he was a bit worried still. Perhaps it had been wrong of him to take things so far. She lived a cruel life. She was fragile... What if she really had not been ready yet? It made his stomach twist.

Marie nodded, "Best I've ever slept."

Grantaire sighed in relief, earning himself a concerned look from Marie.

"I was worried... I'm scared that I hurt you last night."

Marie shook her head and went to sit down on the bed next to him. "I already told you you didn't." She studied his face for a moment. "It was the best night of my life." She blushed as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She did mean it, though. Not simply because she enjoyed it, but because of the fact that it was another way to be even closer to Grantaire, and she wanted to be as close to him as possible. Becoming one with him, sleeping in his arms with nothing at all separating them, it was perfect.

"I just wanted to make sure," he said sitting up so he could reach and brush her hair behind her ear.

She smiled. As much as she hated seeing him worried, she as glad that he truly cared. No one ever seemed to. But then all of a sudden, he did. And his friends did as well. She still didn't understand why they bothered with her.

She smiled, "You're so thoughtful," she said, pressing her lips to his.

They stayed like that for a bit, just wrapped in each other's embrace.