A/N: We've (finally!) arrived at a few very important moments in this story. However, please heed the warning below that's included in this A/N. It's there for a reason.

Warning: This chapter is rated M for sexual content. (However, considering the rest of this story is, at most, T-rated material, I have chosen not to change the overall rating. If it were to become an issue for FFN, though, I will gladly change it and post the M material on my LJ account.)

Disclaimer: Les Misérables is copyrighted to and belongs to Victor Hugo. I'm just playing in his sandbox and receive no financial gain from this. Rats.

Chapter 18

"To love another person is to see the face of God."
-Les Misérables

Éponine stared long and hard at herself in the full length mirror. She wasn't even sure how long she had been standing still and admiring her remarkable, ivory-colored wedding gown, for it was quite a sight to behold. The thoughts running through her mind, however, had little to do with the dress itself, how she looked, or even physically how much she had changed and prospered in the past year. Rather, her mind was consumed with tender thoughts of her husband-to-be, and she wasn't at all nervous for what was to come.

Cosette suddenly came into view from behind her, dressed in an extravagant pastel green dress with a black ribbon around her waist and silver hair accessories. In her hands she held Éponine's bouquet—a vibrant assortment of blooms handpicked from Monsieur Gillenormand's garden.

Exchanging a quiet moment together, Éponine finally turned around to face her friend, who handed her the beautiful bouquet and assisted with placing her veil over her head. "Are you ready?" Cosette asked once her attire was perfectly set, to which Éponine took a deep breath and nodded. "Very well. The carriage is waiting."

Escorting Éponine from the Pontmercies' room and down the staircase, Éponine and Cosette soon found themselves being whisked away in an open horse-drawn carriage. Éponine received several tipped hats and cheers from strangers on the streets as they made their way to the church where Enjolras, Marius, and Monsieur Gillenormand were waiting for them, along with a handful of other acquaintances they had made in the past several months as an engaged couple.

The events leading up to the wedding ceremony itself became a whirlwind for the bride. Éponine was aware of the general buzzing happening all around her, mainly from an elated and all-too-happy-to-assist Cosette, and she tried to take in as much of the moment as her nerves could spare.

Some of the butterflies that had settled in her stomach were immediately erased when Monsieur Gillenormand rounded a corner and smiled affectionately at her. Though surprised to see him, Éponine readily smiled back and waved him over, where Cosette was fanning out her train for probably the fifth or sixth time since their arrival.

"My, my, my dear," Monsieur Gillenormand murmured in awe, soaking in the beautiful bride before his eyes. "You look splendid!"

"Thank you, Monsieur."

"Well, then, shall we?" He held out his arm to her, earning a shocked reaction from Éponine.

"Oh! I... Would you?"

"Would I?" Monsieur Gillenromand snorted. "What an absurd question!"

Éponine allowed him to take her arm with a proud smile that stretched from ear to ear. It was a touching gesture she hadn't at all bargained for. She had been prepared to walk herself down the aisle for months leading up to this moment, never anticipating that Monsieur Gillenormand would take the duty upon himself of giving her away.

Like a real father figure...

Deeply moved and caught off her guard, Éponine pulled back her veil to peck the elder gentleman's cheek, her eyes brimming with tears. Monsieur Gillenormand blushed, his own emotional reaction surfacing despite his best efforts. Even his bushy mustache twitched.

"Best save that kiss for your husband-to-be," he muttered, trying to sound disingenuous and grouchy but failing miserably.

Éponine and Cosette giggled in unison as he led them through the doors to altar with Cosette bringing up the rear. Guests immediately rose to their feet as an organ began to play, and Éponine took the small moment the musical allowed her to scan for the only individual she had need to find: Enjolras. She spotted him at the altar with Marius standing next to him, both looking remarkably dapper in their black coattails and trousers. On his chest, Enjolras bore the red, white, and blue symbol of his revolution—a personal touch both bride and groom approved of, even if Monsieur Gillenormand didn't. Her own ribbon had been sewn proudly around her bouquet.

As dashing as Enjolras may have looked, it was his face that she was most focused on as she progressed down the aisle towards him. There was a tranquility on his face and a mesmerized glimmer in his eyes that told her she had not only hit her mark with the wedding gown but that also she was—to him—the most beautiful bride in the world. That message was clear as day across his face. Her breath caught in her throat when she reached his side and her arm slipped through his, leaving Monsieur Gillenromand to take a seat in the front pew.

Éponine wasn't aware of anything else—not the guests, the priest, or Monsieur Gillenormand leaving her side—only the blond-haired gentleman standing beside her and staring down as though she were the most fetching creature he had ever laid eyes on. His words that followed, which he whispered into her ear, matched that readable notion.

"You look stunning, Éponine."

"Thank you," she replied with a soft smile, nudging him playfully in the ribs. "You don't look so bad yourself."

Shooting her a small smirk reserved only for her, the two tried to turn their attention to rest of the ceremony, although frequent sidelong glances made the act of focusing rather difficult. Still, the rest of their wedding went by exceedingly fast and, before Éponine knew it, she was facing Enjolras with a ring wrapped around her fourth finger. Gazing up into Enjolras's eyes—a sight she admittedly never imagined would be the striking gentleman in question—she smiled and allowed him to draw her closer as the priest announced them as "man and wife."

Pulling her to him to seal their nuptials, Enjolras warm lips closed in on hers and, for a fleeting moment, the rest of the world slipped away. A hand reached up to caress one side of her face; a smaller hand glided up his neck to weave fingers delicately through his tight curls. Then, the rest of the world registered again through robust cheers and loud clapping that echoed throughout the intimate church setting. Enjolras and Éponine's mouths broke apart, followed by blissful smiles from both as they exited the church arm in arm, as husband and wife, and with their friends following closely behind.

"What a wonderful day, yes?" Cosette chimed, taking a seat next to her husband in the parlor.

Night had finally fallen on their wedding reception—at least, for most of their party. Having only been attended by close friends—mainly those from university and elder couples who were acquaintances of Monsieur Gillenormand—the celebration had lasted until dusk. Éponine and Enjolras were now content to be amongst those closest to them, and their celebration, which included plenty of wine and champagne, went on well past midnight, after which the family decided to retire at long last, leaving Éponine and Enjolras—mostly—to their own devices.

For a while, the newlyweds sat in comfortable silence in the abandoned parlor room, staring lovingly at one another and soaking in every fine detail of their special day. The dim candle lighting throughout put the room in a darkened, romantic glow, leading Enjolras to occasionally take Éponine's hand in his and leave trails of kisses along her palm and wrist, whilst she snuggled closer and nuzzled his face against his neck.

How perfect and complete life now felt for Éponine, and for the very first time in her life. A true sense of love and security was present like none she had ever experienced before. Also, a burning desire that had been forming in the days leading up to tonight were also quickly becoming clear amidst soft candle light, warm kisses, and skin teasingly brushing skin. Though slightly nervous, Éponine was very much looking forward to tonight—another importance first step for the one-time street rat who had experienced far more harrowing advances than she ever deserved or wanted.

"What are you thinking?" she heard Enjolras whisper softly to her after a while of laying side by side on the couch, their bodies rubbing up against each other.

A contended Éponine peered up at her husband, met by his gentle curiosity. "You," she answered just as quietly, stretching her neck to lay a warm kiss on his lips.

Enjolras didn't respond further, merely met her satisfied smile with one of his own before slowly easing them both to their feet. Having taken the liberty of removing her heels earlier in the evening, Éponine was appeased to return to their new quarters barefooted and kept a hand linked through his, allowing Enjolras to lead her out of the parlor and down the quiet hallway towards their new bed chambers.

It included a small sitting room that extended beyond the bedroom and, here, they paused to open a window and allow the natural summer breeze to permeate the well-heated room. They were soon greeted by their new maid, Claudine, a friendly, eager-to-please young blonde who wasn't much older than either of them. She smiled brightly at Éponine, awaiting her instructions.

"I need to get out of this wedding dress," Éponine tittered, eying Enjolras sidelong. He arched an encouraging eyebrow in her direction and leaned down for another kiss.

"Tell me when you're decent and I'll come."

"Very well."

Shooting him a seductive smile, Éponine shimmied into their bedroom, followed closely by Claudine, and the door was then closed. Not sure what to do or how to occupy himself in the interim, Enjolras took a seat on the couch and leaned back to inspect the elaborate crown moldings and high ceilings. Not that he cared all that much about the current space he was in, only that of the fetching woman that awaited him on the opposite side of the wall.

After nearly twenty minutes, however, Enjolras was well beyond fidgeting and antsy by her long absence. What in God's name is keeping them? he puzzled, staring at the door with a furrowed brow. He was about to consider knocking to find out what was keeping his new wife when the door suddenly creaked open, sparing him of having to move.

It was just as well that he hadn't, though, for his entire body froze in place at the alluring sight before him: his alluring other half, draped in nothing but a silk robe of fierce crimson that was undoubtedly his favorite shade of red. Her long hair, which had been laced into an elegant bun for their wedding, now tumbled wildly down her shoulders. One of her legs also happened to be peaking out between the opening at the bottom of her robe, and Enjolras's lust-filled eyes roamed over her figure like a lion about to claim his prey.

"Thank you, Claudine, you may go," Éponine ordered their maid, who emerged from the bedroom looking smug and satisfied with her work. She quietly left, leaving the newlyweds alone.

At last, Éponine thought, grinning to her stunned and obviously turned on husband. The tightening around the crotch of his trousers acted as the evidence.

"Like what you see, Monsieur?" she teased, enjoying the usually stern and austere Enjolras's slightly gaping mouth and sheer look of desire in those piercing, blue eyes.

"Oui," he uttered, unconsciously licking his lips in anticipation of what was to come.

Éponine beckoned Enjolras to her with a flirtatious toss of her head, to which the freedom fighter obeyed with remarkable ease. He rose from the sofa and sauntered over, pausing before Éponine to survey the enticing number she wore, which loosely clung to her body and appeared ready to slink to the floor at any moment. Her left shoulder was already exposed, the fabric hanging limp against her arm. He slowly wove a firm hand around her waist and tugged her closer.

"It's for you," Éponine whispered breathlessly, watching his eyes attentively scan her form with understated excitement.

The smile Enjolras projected down to her was gentle enough to inadvertently make Éponine brush up against him and hitch a breath at the back of her throat. He sought the side of her face with his mouth, his cheek lightly grazing hers, and murmured "Beau," * into her ear. Éponine shuddered in his fold, caught up in his tender, yet enticing, observation. She leaned into him with her arms wrapped around his back, and he did the same, their embrace snug and warm.

Then Éponine was unexpectedly swept off her feet—literally—for Enjolras picked her up in one fell swoop and stepped into their bedroom with her draped in his arms, her elated giggles tickling his face as they both took a moment to eye their new quarters. The room was immersed in romantic candle light, but a luxurious, dark green wallpaper and cherry wood furnishings made up the large space. A high window was open to the summer breeze and the soft lighting cast the four-poster bed across the room in a gentle, sleep-inducing glow.

Enjolras took Éponine to the bed and laid her done upon the duvet, gazing at her in a thoughtful quietude as he tried to read his wife's own silence. Finally, he linked a hand through hers and brought his face closer.

"Are you all right?" he murmured, looking her over with care.

Éponine slowly nodded a 'yes,' offering him another one of her radiant smiles that he hadn't taken notice of until intimate time spent together in the Gillenormand house allowed for such an observation. How had he ever overlooked that smile before? His heart beat faster at the receiving of such obvious affections, devotion, and want of him.

Then she surprised him further by bringing their intertwined hand to her lips, where she bestowed several loving kisses upon the back of his hand. When she peered up at him again, the look she bore was considerably different than before. Gone was the sweetness, that placid expression of love. Instead, her sepia-toned eyes were illuminated like a flame, a burning desire forming in their depths that had little to do with the candles scattered throughout the room. It was entirely her own; a deeply passionate yearning that had been bubbling below the surface of her outwardly ladylike disposition.

"Enjolras," she issued with an overt ache in her tone of voice, "please... Touch me..."

This time, Enjolras didn't hesitate or feign restraint to Éponine's request. He coveted her mouth and began kissing her with eager mindfulness, his tongue soon slipping inside her mouth to delve deeper, earning a soft moan of encouragement from his flushing new bride. His large hands scaled her jawline and down her neck, then to her arms and along the natural small curves of her body. His thoughtfulness was clear and evident in the way his hands moved over every inch within range, savoring that electrifying contact of skin on skin.

He clearly worshipped her body as something sacred, and Éponine secretly never felt more alive or reassured sexually and emotionally than in this moment. The robe she wore quickly slipped away as Enjolras began rubbing himself against her, at first entangling the fabric before the tie unwrapped itself, as though of its own accord. At last, it presented him a complete picture of his blushing, breathless wife.

Éponine, who had brought Enjolras into a tight embrace as they fervently kissed one another, brought her hands around his back and began tugging anxiously at the buttons on his formal-fitting vest. He had removed his coat earlier, and now Éponine was determined to see the rest of his garments come undone. Just as he now had an uncompromising view of her person, so she desired of him, too.

Enjolras was vaguely aware of his vest being unclasped, as well as the dress shirt beneath, and soon his bare chest was open and exposed—a reality Éponine was evidently keen on exploring. Warm, curious hands glided along his protruding collar bone, his firm breast bone, and the various sculpted contours of his torso. She wasn't surprised that Enjolras was such a fit man. He wasn't one to overindulge in much of anything—Except politics, she had often mused to herself—but taking in the strapping sight of his sculpted beauty made her heart flutter excitedly against her chest.

She was rather grateful he wasn't perfect, however. The harsh gunshot wounds dampened what would otherwise be a flawless marble statue of a man; and yet, the torn flesh itself humanized Enjolras in a manner Éponine hadn't realized until now. He was no longer something to be idealized and revered as untouchable, but a man who had lived a life rather than idly stood by basking in the sunlight.

Éponine traced the wounds, carefully ascertaining Enjolras's reaction with quick upward glances, but he didn't flinch or shy away from her touch at all. Rather, he began kissing her with more vigor, encouraging her along, and, thus, Éponine persevered.

Equally encouraged, Enjolras took the liberty of appraising Éponine's nude form lying beneath him between kisses, pulling away from their lip locking every so often to take in the breathless sight of her. He re-uttered his sentiments from earlier with deep yearning.

"Beau..." his lips fluttered against hers. "Beau..."

Éponine sucked in a sharp breath every time at Enjolras's emotional declaration. His heated touch, on the other hand, was driving her mad with want. His fingers were running themselves over every part of her body, and for the very first time at that. How long had she desired this? For Enjolras to freely touch her as he was doing so presently?

As Enjolras's hands brushed their way down the sides of her ribcage to her small, yet perfectly perked, breasts, Enjolras's lips, too, moved away to stare intently. Éponine tried to focus, but she was soon overrun by the overpowering warmth and feel of Enjolras's large hands lightly squeezing and fondling her breasts. When his tongue followed suit, she nearly screamed at the newfound arousal such caressing brought. She arched her back as one of his hands massaged her one breast and his tongue coveted the other, swirling around her hardened nipple in a slow circle that shot peculiar sensations straight to her sex.

Yes, oh God... Oh God, I've wanted this, she very near moaned aloud.

Éponine instinctively reached down to capture clumps of his soft curls between her fingers, scrunching them as Enjolras's warming, wet ministrations began causing her to squirm excitedly. Every moment his body was pressed up against hers, Éponine was certain she would lose her head if he didn't fully undress, and soon.

"Enjolras?"

He raised his head, his eyes filled with sexual appetite; it was unlike anything she had ever seen.

"Yes?"

Éponine drew up onto her elbows, several soft waves of hair falling against her face. Surveying him for a pause, she then sat up straight and began the task of removing his vest and dress shirt completely. Enjolras remained perfectly still, enjoying Éponine's delicate fingers combing over his skin as she cast the items off, touching and pulling and brushing her breasts up against his bare chest as she did so.

Once his upper attire was removed, Éponine eyed her husband with a rather wicked grin—one he had grown to love—and her enchanted eyes trailed to his trousers and, more importantly, the erection that beckoned to be released. She reached out a hand that grazed teasingly down Enjolras's pant line, where she tugged at the material. Her fingers gingerly roved further downward to gently grasp his erection in her hand, or what she could of it, and Enjolras sucked in a deep breath. Then she began to squeeze and pull and stroke him, taunting Enjolras to keep his control.

Surprised, yet not about to request that Éponine desist, Enjolras's hips buckled against her touch, his chest beginning to heave and his eyelids fluttering to maintain their focus. Éponine shifted closer to him and pressed her lips once more to his, keeping her hand on Enjolras's groin whilst sucking and tugging seductively on his bottom lip.

After another minute or two in which the normally reserved Enjolras echoed groans of arousal unlike anything Éponine had ever heard before, his hand latched around Éponine's wrist and—reluctantly—pulled her away from his hardening length. His eyes bore into hers, darker and with a hunger that was more intensified than ever. She never thought him capable of such a reaction, and it made her insides flitter.

"Lie down," he commanded, though nonabrasively; still, his instruction was strongly urged, and Éponine did as he requested without question.

Craning her neck to see what Enjolras had in mind, she found his hands gently prying her legs apart, his intense gaze set on hers for a moment before they blinked and shifted their focus to her moistened folds, which were, too, carefully eased apart, revealing wife to husband at last.

That smoldering stare of his met hers once more and he whispered reassuringly, "Relax," which Éponine obeyed with surprising effortlessness. She had no idea how experienced her husband was in this department, despite the intimate setting she now found herself in, and yet, it didn't really matter to Éponine whether he was or wasn't. She trusted him—With all my heart, her conscience told her—and she would allow Enjolras to take charge of her like she was his Patria, his all, his everything.

Éponine laid down flat on the bed, waiting, her hands draped across the duvet. She was vaguely aware of Enjolras's exhilarated sighs at the vision before him and was about to incline her head again when the tickle of warm breathing whiffed against her weeping vulva, causing her to tense. The feel of her coverings being slightly stretched and two digits slipping inside her canal immediately ignited Éponine from the inside out.

"Mon Dieu!" ** she was soon hissing and clutching her hands onto the covers, scrunching the expensive fabric into her fists for lack of a firmer purchase. Her head rolled back and forth as Enjolras's fingers weaved and delved inside her, sliding up and down and every which way vigorously, to pleasure her most sensitive spots. "Enjolras!" she cried several times, which aroused him more than she could make sense of.

Enjolras was consumed by the sight of a beautifully naked and splayed Éponine wiggling and writhing under his physical attention, slowly losing control of mind and body—and all because of his advances. It defied explanation—the sight of his wife's tousled hair, perfectly-shaped heaving breasts, and sprawled legs. He was as turned on by her animated demonstrations of arousal as she was at being pleasured by him with his hand. Soon, she climaxed, clenching around his digits and curving her back as she came with a fierce cry that shook the room.

Enjolras eased his fingers, wetted by the remnants of her orgasm, out of Éponine and waited for her hazy eyes to come back into focus. As her breathing calmed, he crawled onto the bed and hovered over her, smirking rather triumphantly.

"Did you enjoy that?" he inquired in a low murmur, bending down to gently kiss her swollen mouth; she returned his question by moaning contentedly.

When Enjolras reared back, Éponine had his handsome face cupped in her hands. Staring deep into his eyes, their brightness reflecting the soft lighting throughout the room, her next words made his breath stall.

"Fais-moi l'amour..." ***

Enjolras stilled and, for a moment, the newlyweds simply stared admiringly at one another. Enjolras then broke the silence by taking her mouth again, kissing her as deeply and ardently as possible. Limbs blended together, hands explored bare skin, and a series of passionate echoes ensued.

Éponine's legs were spread wide, inviting Enjolras to enter, and the feel of his engorged shaft repeatedly brushing along her sensitive entrance was enough to drive her insane. Luckily, Enjolras was proving an eager lover. His trousers were soon swiftly unbuttoned and kicked off the bed out of sight. He proceeded to kiss her with far more earnest, and Éponine met his advances with equal zeal and excitement, pawing at his back and pushing her body against his as much as she could.

"Fais-moi l'amour, Enjolras," she breathlessly reiterated, for which Enjolras complied through another aching groan.

Finally, Enjolras tore his mouth away to move into position. Taking a moment to mount himself, Éponine was slowly stretched as Enjolras's length filled her to capacity, sparking her very nerve-endings as he entered. She had expected to freeze up or even grow nervous by this point, but, to her utter relief and delight, she was willing and ready when he began thrusting back and forth in a slow rhythm inside her, his face close to hers and his stimulations encouraging Éponine along. She gasped at the divine sensation of finally feeling her husband move inside her and it wasn't long before she was clasping onto Enjolras's back, avid to meet his steady rhythm and quicken the pace.

"Oh!" Éponine was soon gasping between crying Enjolras's name. "Dieu oui! **** Enjolras!"

The two never took their eyes off of each other, although, between Éponine's cries of ecstasy and Enjolras's groans of pleasure, their visions drifted in and out of focus. Enjolras's dampened face was pressed against his wife's, his rough-sounding breathing whiffing against her ear. He could feel Éponine's legs frantically trying to wrap themselves around his waist a few times unsuccessfully before finally locking at the ankles, her heels digging into his lower spine and her fingers clenching his shoulders as they rocked back and forth in perfect harmony.

Echoing her name as she did his, his uttering of her name was enough to send Éponine over the edge. She broke apart into a second orgasm, clenching her thighs around him and pressing her body into his; but Enjolras continued, never ceasing and pounded into her harder and harder against the mattress. His arms roped around her limp form as he, too, headed for a violent climax.

Éponine didn't think she could come a third time, but between the driving, relentless rhythm Enjolras had set, the moans in her ear that made her spine tingle, and the electric sparks inside her that kept up their hard-hitting pursuits, Éponine soon lost the battle. With another overwhelming wave of ecstasy, Éponine burst, threw back her head, and nearly tore flesh as her hands clamped down on Enjolras's back when she came. It barely registered to her a few moments later that Enjolras had finally caved, too, and climaxed inside her, also tossing his head backward and desperately flexing his limbs, twitching and near growling with his release.

Éponine slowly opened her eyes to the sound of combined strenuous breathing. Her legs unfurled from around Enjolras's waist and collapsed against the bed as though they were weightless, along with the rest of her. Feeling quite euphoric and drowsy, Enjolras made to slide out of Éponine when her hands, still loosely digging into his back, tried to hold him in place.

"No," she whispered, though it almost sounded like a whimper to his ears. "Stay..."

Enjolras was admittedly quite spent, as was she, so it didn't take much effort to convince either party not to move. Enjolras easily fell back on top of Éponine and her arms twisted themselves around his neck, as though she didn't trust that he would remain where he was—his face burrowed into her neck and inhaling the lingering scent of sweat and sex between them.

It took Enjolras another moment or two to register that Éponine was making soft, sniveling noises. He raised his head to look at her, only to discover tears looming in her eyes. As she returned his glance, a series of tears began rolling down her cheeks, startling him out of the comfortable quietude that had befallen their intense, satisfying union.

Before he could inquire as to why she was crying, Éponine spoke first, and in a pained voice. "Thank you," she muttered, her lower lip quivering as she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. "Thank you so much... I... I don't know...how to tell you..."

It was an appreciation for so many things—loving her, mostly—but also for making the natural progression between man and woman actually meaningful, pleasant, and even desirable. It was an agonizing, tormented echo of all of Éponine's past misfortunes when it came to sex, and how greatly her new husband had changed what she had for so long feared and despised.

Enjolras understood the magnitude of Éponine's expression without further explanation. Thus, his small smile was tender, his blue eyes returning to their usual gentleness when it came to her. He brought his forehead to hers with a heavily contented sigh. His lips left a series of kisses that mapped from her mouth to her cheek, and Éponine instinctively leaned into his touch, closing her wet eyes and allowing him to illustrate his regard for her.

Soon, her breathing leveled out and, together, the newlyweds basked in the silence and stillness for some time before willing their first night as husband and wife to continue for another round. Or three.

* Translation: "Beautiful."
** Translation: "My God!"
*** Translation: "Make love to me..."
**** Translation: "God yes!"

A/N #2: I hope the smut met your expectations...