So here's 5000 words of Enjolras being mean to Grantaire. Literally, that's all this is. There was going to be plot but then it got too long.

This was not an entirely new situation for Enjolras. He had been aroused before, had felt that desperate need for release. Not often, but it was not unknown. However, he had never felt it quite this strongly before. Usually he would take care of such base urges himself, when the need arose, wanting nothing so insignificant as a lover to distract him from his cause. Now though, he had his cause no longer, and here was Grantaire, on his knees and begging to pleasure him. Why should he refuse?

The problem was that he did not want to give Grantaire what he wanted, and he clearly wanted this very much. No, he wanted the man to suffer, not to be rewarded. But why should he deny himself just to punish Grantaire? Hadn't the drunkard taken enough from him already? A compromise then.

"No, you may not pleasure me. You don't deserve that, you haven't earned it." Grantaire bowed his head but did not protest, despite his disappointment. It was not for him to question his Apollo's will. He who would always be the lesser, the slave grovelling at his feet, now literally instead of merely figuratively.

"You may watch, however, as I pleasure myself," Enjolras said, as he walked across the room and took a seat in the armchair by the window. Grantaire's entire face lit up as if he had been given some great reward. He fixed his attention raptly across the room on Enjolras, while breathing a reverent "thank you" that somehow still made its way to Enjolras' ears. He barely blinked as Enjolras opened his trousers and began to stroke himself slowly. His eyes were not fixed on that movement though, but on Enjolras' face, watching every flicker of pleasure that went across it with a delighted expression, as if it were he himself who felt it.

Enjolras, in turn, was focused on Grantaire. He gazed upon his kneeling form with an air of satisfaction. He admired him like one might a prized possession. Thoughts ran across his mind, things he could have Grantaire do. He had no doubt that whatever he ordered, he would be obeyed. But Grantaire seemed to be enjoying this a little too much, so…

"I've changed my mind, you are not permitted to watch. Look away."

Grantaire looked down immediately, with a small, upset expression on his face. He was disappointed not to be allowed to watch anymore, of course, but he was more worried that in his watching he had done something to upset Enjolras, or make this less enjoyable for him. He continued to gaze down at the floor in front of him, his own aching member within his view. But it would do no good to think about that; he'd already disgusted Enjolras enough for one day.

Enjolras saw where his gaze was directed and was inspired.

"Does it make you ache, Grantaire? To know that I am getting relief and you will not? Ah, I can see you throb and twitch even now. Does it excite you, that I am taunting you? Disgusting. You're worse than the most shameless of streetwalkers, aren't you? Answer me."

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'm disgusting, I don't deserve to be in your presence, I'm sorry." He was frantic, he knew how revolting he was, he always had, but now Enjolras knew it as well. He would surely want nothing to do with him now, would go back to ignoring him.

"Is that what you're going to be for me, Grantaire? My little whore?" He was stroking faster now, getting excited at the desperation of the man before him.

"Yes, your whore, your slave, the dog grovelling at your feet. Anything you want, Enjolras, anything. I swear it." He nearly slipped up here, nearly tore his gaze up from the floor, desperate to check Enjolras' expression, but caught himself in time.

Enjolras was close now, and struck with the perfect idea of what he wanted to do to Grantaire.

"Come here. Crawl," he ordered. Grantaire scrambled to obey, losing any grace he might have put into his actions in his haste. He knelt at the base of the chair, at Enjolras' feet, but still did not look up; he did not have permission.

"Look at me," Enjolras snarled, gripping Grantaire's hair and the back of his head with his free hand and pulling viciously, so that Grantaire was forced to tilt his head back. They locked eyes.

"I'm going to spend all over your face. Would you like that, whore?"

"Yes, Enjolras. Please," Grantaire gasped breathlessly.

"Quiet, close your mouth. I said this was going on your face, you don't get the privilege of tasting it."

Grantaire closed his mouth with a small whine as Enjolras stroked faster, finally coming to his climax and spending all over Grantaire's face.

Enjolras released Grantaire's hair and sat back in the chair, allowing himself a few moments to enjoy the aftermath of his orgasm and to compose himself. Grantaire though that he'd never looked more beautiful, relaxed and more content than he'd been since he had woken up in this house. He would be glad to stay like this forever, just gazing at his Apollo in all his sublime glory. Alas, the moment ended too soon as Enjolras roused himself.

"Clean yourself up and then get out and leave me be."

The next day Grantaire did not see Enjolras at all. He waited until evening, but Enjolras did not quit his bedroom, leaving Grantaire anxious. He hadn't eaten all day. Surely things hadn't gone back to the way they were before? He resolved to go check on Enjolras, to try to get him to eat.

Enjolras felt sick every time he looked over at the stain at the foot of the bed. He spent the entire day in the armchair, placed resolutely facing away from the stain. He fluctuated back and forth in opinion. Was what he had done absolutely right, or were they the actions of a monster? He did not know.

He pictured this happening to any other man and he felt sickened, yet when he remembered last night all that was stirred in him was satisfaction and lust. Perhaps that was were his disquiet stemmed from? The fact that he felt he should feel ashamed, but could not find it in himself to. Yet, if he did not feel ashamed, then surely he had done nothing wrong? He wished he had Combeferre to- No! He would not think of that, he could not. He would break if he did. And there was his answer, wasn't it? There was no punishment he could dole out, nothing within his many varied imaginings that could make amends for that loss.

There was a knock at his door.

He did not hesitate before going to answer it. He had made his decision. He wrenched the door open and Grantaire faltered.

"Yes? I thought I told you not to bother me."

"I- You did but-"

"But you thought you'd ignore me."

"I- I'm sorry. You haven't eaten today. I made stew, I came to see if you would eat some?"

Enjolras considered and Grantaire wondered if he should start begging, Enjolras seemed to like it when he did that.

"Fine, I will."

"Than-"

"There's a stain on the carpet from our evening yesterday," said Enjolras coldly. "Take care of it."

"Of course."

Grantaire stepped back as Enjolras walked past him without another word.

It was entirely humiliating, Grantaire thought as he scrubbed the carpet in Enjolras' bedroom, to be made to scrub ones own blood from the floor. The thought was not unappealing, which was a problem on its own. He was hard again, kneeling there on the floor, and he couldn't let Enjolras see him in such a state. He'd be so disgusted. The stain seemed to be gone now; it was possible that some still remained but was hidden by the red of the carpet.

"Pathetic." This came from Enjolras, who was now stood in the doorway.

"Don't you think? That you're pathetic that is." He said it almost casually, as though it were nothing. Which, Grantaire supposed, it was. He already knew how Enjolras viewed him.

"Well? Do you?"

"Yes," he answered quietly.

"Good, it's best that you know it." He glanced down at the patch Grantaire had been scrubbing. "Are you done?"

"Yes, unless you'd have me dry it as well?"

"No. Follow me." With that he turned and went downstairs, not looking to see if Grantaire followed. He knew he was unable to refuse him anything.

Grantaire found Enjolras in the parlour, sitting in the armchair that Grantaire had come to think of as his. He did not hesitate this time before going to kneel at Enjolras' feet. He knew what would be expected from him.

"Good." Grantaire doubted Enjolras knew just what that minuscule bit of praise meant to him. He'd do anything just to earn that.

"You're aroused again." There was nothing in Enjolras' voice to give away how he felt about this, but Grantaire remembered his disgusted reaction yesterday.

"I'm sorry, I'll try to do better, I promise. I cannot stop my reaction, but I will not pleasure myself unless you allow it, you have my word."

"Do you think I'll allow it?"

"No. As you said, I shouldn't be drawing pleasure from this."

"So you are content to stay in a state of perpetual sexual frustration because I told you to?"

"Yes Enjolras, surely you must know by now that I would do anything you told me to."

"Fetch me the book on the desk."

Grantaire did so, crawling there and back. Unlike last time he moved slowly enough to be graceful, it unsettled Enjolras a little how much he enjoyed watching. He took the book from Grantaire.

"I did not tell you to crawl."

"No," said Grantaire, bowing his head, "I thought you might like it. I'm sorry if I displeased."

He hadn't, not exactly. If anything he'd pleased too much. He did not know if he should reprimand or not, so he remained silent. Grantaire took this silence to mean that he had indeed displeased, and he felt the weight of sudden anxiety at the thought.

"Is there anything else I can do for you? Please, give me some small task? Anything that would please you. Please?"

"Touch yourself for me."

Grantaire started.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, "I don't think I heard correctly."

"I told you to touch yourself, and you heard me perfectly. Don't waste my time."

Grantaire was too taken aback to obey.

"But- why?"

Enjolras struck him across the face. It didn't hurt very much, merely stung a little. A trifle after what had been done to him last night. Yet there was something degrading in the casualness of it. Enjolras seemed entirely unaffected yet it left Grantaire with his prick throbbing and desperate for touch. Which it seemed it was being granted.

"I told you not to waste my time. Touch yourself. Now."

Grantaire complied without comprehending why he was suddenly being allowed this. He took himself out of his trousers and began stroking slowly, his eyes watching Enjolras' face warily, looking for a sign that this wasn't the right thing to do. Enjolras simply opened the book that he'd had Grantaire fetch, Le rouge et la noir, and began reading. When he reached the bottom of the first page, as he turned the page he remarked idly:

"I said you could touch yourself; I did not say you could have release. Do not allow yourself to reach climax." Grantaire felt his prick twitch and throb in his hand at that thought. He was to be left desperate and frustrated then, because it pleased Enjolras for him to be so.

They continued on thus, for what felt like years to Grantaire, stroking on his cock and trying desperately to not let himself release. At one point during this torturous experience he go too close and had needed to let go.

"I did not give you permission to stop," said Enjolras, idly, not even looking up from his book.

Grantaire let out a shaky breath before taking his cock once more in hand and stroking. It was, perhaps, ten minutes later when Grantaire began to beg. He had been stroking progressively slower and slower, trying desperately to not go over the edge, no matter how much his prick was straining for release. He would not disappoint Enjolras.

"Please Enjolras, please let me stop. I can't continue, I'm so close. I feel as if I'll go over with each stroke. Please, have mercy, let me stop." He was practically sobbing now, but still his hand continued moving, however slowly.

"Perhaps," said Enjolras leisurely, "perhaps I'll let you stop. What will you do for me in return?"

"Anything. Enjolras please, you know I'll always do anything you wish, please."

"No. Give me specifics, entertain me. What will you do?"

"I'll- I'll kiss your feet. Black your boots. I'll lay down and let- let you whip me, or use me. Please Enjolras, please!"

"You'll let me, you say. Do you pretend you would take no pleasure from those things?"

"No! I- I would. I would beg for them even without this. Please Enjolras, I know you have no interest in me beyond hurting me, and I deserve it, I know. But if y- you want to know things I wouldn't enjoy, I can think of nothing. I would enjoy everything simply because I know it pleases you to do it."

Enjolras sighed.

"Very well, you may stop."

Grantaire let go of himself with a gasp. His prick twitched and throbbed in the air.

"Thank you," Grantaire said, bowing his head. "I'm sorry, I should have been able to suffer longer for you. I should not have begged, I have no right to ask anything of you."

"You do not, but begging is how one asks for something they have no right to ask for. Otherwise they may demand it, if they have the right."

Grantaire did not know how to answer that. Enjolras was confirming neither that he did right nor wrong.

"Now, I would have release. Since you were so entertaining fighting against your release, I'll let you use your mouth."

Grantaire froze, hardly daring to breath. He remained very still and barely managed to utter a whispered confirmation:

"I'm allowed?"

"Yes. Get to it, you're trying my patience," Enjolras replied sharply.

Grantaire was still unsure, but he was pushed into action by the obvious irritation in Enjolras' voice. He quickly opened Enjolras' trousers and pulled his cock out. He glanced up quickly to check that Enjolras hadn't changed his mind before reverently taking him into his mouth. He could not believe he was being allowed to do this.

He had expected that Enjolras would curl a fist in his hair and use that to control him. He was so forceful of late, it seemed in keeping with that. He ought to have known better. Enjolras had never needed more than his voice to be completely in control of anyone who was listening. Merely the tone of it would be enough that Grantaire could not possibly think of disobeying, even if he had wanted to.

"Take me further in. Surely even you can do better than this?"

Grantaire obeyed, of course. He pushed further down, feeling Enjolras in the back of his throat, which he immediately relaxed. He would not choke. He had to be perfect, Enjolras deserved nothing less.

"Use your tongue."

He pulled back, swirling his tongue around the tip. This gained a low moan from Enjolras, a sound which sent shivers through Grantaire.

He carried on pleasuring Enjolras according to his exacting standards until Enjolras lost some of his habitual control and fisted his hand in Grantaire's hair, spending in his mouth.

Grantaire swallowed and continued suckling at Enjolras' cock until he was pulled off. As Enjolras recovered from his orgasm he was unaware that his hand remained in Grantaire's hair, reflexively stroking through it. Grantaire thought that he could not remember feeling more content in his entire life. This was all that he had ever wanted, to be allowed to make Enjolras happy, even if it was only for a moment. He ought to thank Enjolras profusely, but not now. Enjolras was enjoying the afterglow of his orgasm and Grantaire would not disturb him.

A while passed before Enjolras stirred himself, removing his hand from Grantaire's hair and tucking himself back into his trousers. That done he rested his arm on the armrest of the chair and Grantaire, feeling brave, leaned forwards and placed a worshipful kiss on the back of Enjolras' hand.

"Thank you, Enjolras, truly. That was- I cannot describe it. Thank you." He spoke in a hushed voice, as if speaking to loudly would break the paradise he seemed to have found himself in.

Enjolras looked down on the man at his feet and felt some strange affection stir in his chest, entirely unsettling him. The earnestness of that thanks moved him in a way he had not felt since before the barricade. He did not want to- No! He would not allow himself to soften towards Grantaire. The man was no better than a murderer; the blood that stained his hands must not be forgotten. And he was certainly a kidnapper. Enjolras could not forget for long that he was Grantaire's prisoner. That whatever Grantaire might allow him to do was exactly that: something that he was permitted. In reality, Grantaire had complete power over him for as long as he was trapped in this house.

"Be quiet. You may stay here if you are silent, if you can't accomplish that then go where you can't bother me."

Grantaire silently bowed his head in acquiescence. It was not enough, Enjolras needed to reduce Grantaire, to debase him, to show his control.

"Take off your clothes. I see no reason you should not be on display for me. That way I can simply reach over and pull or pinch and hurt you, should the mood strike me. It saves me needlessly expending energy on you. You'll not wear clothes anymore."

"Yes, Enjolras," said Grantaire, quickly taking his clothes off before kneeling back a Enjolras' feet. Enjolras reached over and viciously twisted one of his nipples.

"I told you to be silent. Can you not do anything right?"

Grantaire bit back a whimper and, when Enjolras let go, he pressed his forehead to the ground in a wordless apology.

They continued thus for a week without incident. Grantaire spent his days at Enjolras feet, and was content with his lot. Enjolras acted out cruelly, seemingly never bored with tormenting Grantaire, with testing his obedience. By far his favourite thing to do was to have Grantaire bring himself to the edge of orgasm and then stop. Enjolras would make him repeat this, over and over again, until he could do nothing but beg for a reprieve. Whether Enjolras took any notice or not was subject to his mood at the time. If he was feeling cruel enough then Grantaire would continue for hours, begging and pleading to be allowed to stop, but not even once contemplating begging for release. He knew Enjolras wished him to be frustrated, so he did not even think to ask for something that was against Enjolras wishes. He already felt horribly guilty when he begged to stop. He felt he should be able to do as he was told without question and yet in this particular torment he knew that if he continued to do as he was told he might well end up going over the edge accidentally and disobeying. There was no good answer, and he was disappointing Enjolras either way. He truly hated it when Enjolras ordered him to edge.

With such relentless torment it was only a matter of time really, before Grantaire slipped up. In fact, Enjolras had been purposely pushing, waiting for it. The fact that it was expected though didn't lessen the horror that Grantaire felt upon waking covered in his own release. It seemed he couldn't obey even the most basic of commands, he couldn't even deny himself this one trifling thing for Enjolras. He was pathetic, disgusting, revolting, and Enjolras was going to be so angry with him. The thought of not telling him didn't even cross Grantaire's mind, he had done wrong and he had to be punished for it.

He cleaned himself up and stripped the bed of its sheets so that he could wash them. That done, he went to Enjolras' door and knelt there to wait for him to wake. He would confess his crime and beg for punishment. He could only hope that he would be forgiven.

He didn't look up as he heard Enjolras' door open. He heard his Apollo stop in surprise before asking:

"What are you doing?"

"I orgasmed without permission in the night. I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry Enjolras. Please punish me?"

"Look at me."

Grantaire complied, his eyes darting up to Enjolras' face as soon as he was given permission, wanting to see how angry he was.

"What you are saying is that you could not control yourself, even though I told you that you weren't to have release? That you wilfully went against my wishes when you swore to obey me?"

"I'm sorry, I was asleep, I didn't mean-"

"And now you are trying to excuse it!" Enjolras talked over him angrily.

"I'm sorry." Grantaire all but whispered with tears in his eyes.

"You disgust me. Get out of my sight," he said viciously.

"No, please! Anything but that, anything!" He was really crying now, barely able to get the words out past his tears. Enjolras looked down on this pitiful creature and was moved despite himself.

"Fine. Follow me and be silent."

Grantaire followed, trying to quieten his tears since it appeared they annoyed Enjolras.

He was lead to the parlour where Enjolras seated himself, not in the armchair like Grantaire expected, but at the desk. Before he could kneel down beside him Enjolras spoke.

"Go to the kitchen and fetch a cup of rice."

Grantaire complied, a little confused but eager to make up for his mistake all the same.

"Spread it out in the corner and kneel on it. I'll tell you when you can get up."

He then proceeded to ignore Grantaire completely, immersing himself in the same book as before.

It hurt. It wasn't as immediate as the pain of being whipped. It started out as discomfort which progressed further into pain the longer he was left kneeling there. Every time he shifted a little attempting to ease his discomfort only made it hurt more. He did not know how long he had been kneeling, it felt like days. He wanted to beg Enjolras to let him stand up but he wouldn't. He was being punished and he would not allow himself to disappoint Enjolras again. He would take what he was given and take it gratefully, as Enjolras had already been beyond merciful in not banishing him from his presence earlier. He bit back his pained whimpers whenever he accidentally shifted and tried to remain still and silent for Enjolras, even though he could not see whether the man was watching him or not, facing the corner as he was.

It wasn't until he could not longer choke back his whimpers that Enjolras paid attention to him once more. He simply turned to watch Grantaire for a few minutes, observing him shifting and wincing, watching how he tried to be as quiet as possible. Finally, he grew bored and turned back to his book saying:

"You may stand."

Grantaire did, brushing off the rice that stuck to his skin. When he had done he looked uncertainly towards Enjolras, wanting to say something but not wanting to disturb him. Finally Enjolras sighed and looked up at him.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for punishing me, Enjolras. I'm sorry I disappointed you."

"I don't care for your apologies, I want to make sure it never happens again. Clean up the rice and then get dressed; you're going out."

"Yes, Enjolras."

When he returned downstairs to ask where he was to go and why, he was handed a piece of paper with a roughly drawn diagram and an address on it. It was clear to Grantaire what the device [1] was: a cage to lock his cock in so that getting hard would be painful, and even then he couldn't do anything about it if he was hard.

"First go to a jewellers and acquire a chain to go about my neck. Then go to the address written there and have this made. The blacksmith there is discrete, if not tactful. He will wish to measure you; you will allow him to."

"You have had such a device made before?" Grantaire asked hesitantly.

"No. Courfeyrac had- he-" Enjolras found he could not continue past the constriction in his throat and tears in his eyes. Grantaire saw this and though that the pain in his chest at his Apollo's tears was worst than anything Enjolras could do to him.

"Forgive me," he choked out past his own tears. "I should not have inquired."

"Go," said Enjolras, unable to regain his composure.

The trip to the jeweller passed uneventfully and Grantaire had acquired a very fine white gold chain for Enjolras. He barely flinched when the jeweller, obviously trying to clinch the sale, had said that his "young lady" was certain to adore it.

The blacksmiths though was an ordeal, undoubtedly. Having found the man and presented him with the drawing, he was forced to admit that the device would be used on him so that it might be sized properly. He then had to suffer through the leers and allusions that the blacksmith made while measuring him. The most humiliating thing was that there was nothing overtly sexual about his taunts. They were focused on humiliating him, not seducing him. Then the man proclaimed that he could come back in a few hours to pick up the device.

He wandered for a while before finding himself at a café he used to frequent. There he sat and drank coffee only. He had not drank wine since the barricade, it would not do to be drunk when Enjolras had need of him. He passed the hours he had to wait there, thinking of the change in his situation since that time. He could not say that he was worse off now. It may be that Enjolras hated him, but at least he was allowed to be close to him. By doing what Enjolras told him to he knew that he was pleasing him. He was contributing in some small way towards Enjolras' happiness. He sat remembering those few times that Enjolras had told him he'd done well until it was time to go back to the blacksmith's and get what he'd ordered. After a few more humiliating comments and being presented with the device and key, Grantaire set off home to Enjolras.

It was evening by the time Grantaire arrived back home, and he found Enjolras in much the same position he had been in when Grantaire left this morning. He was at the desk, bent determinedly over the book. He had been forcing himself to read, to avoid unpleasant thoughts. A single candle was all that illuminated the room.

Grantaire immediately went to his side and knelt, presenting the objects he'd acquired.

"Good, well done. Strip."

Grantaire took his clothes off quickly, practically shining at the praise.

"Stand up, I'm going to put this on you."

As he stood Grantaire tried not to think about having his cock locked up and out of his control too much. If he did, he'd become aroused and Enjolras wouldn't be able to put the device on, and then he'd be angry. He felt the cold metal against him and held Enjolras' eyes as the lock was clicked shut.

"There, now I don't have to worry about you being unable to control yourself," said Enjolras, taking the key to the lock and slipping it on the chain, which he then placed around his neck. He though it appropriate, that Grantaire had his locks and keys to control him, and now he had the same in return.

"Go make us both something to eat," said Enjolras

"Of course, what would you like?"

"I don't care, something quick."

They ended up eating boiled chicken and steamed vegetables. As the meal cooked Grantaire went about lighting the rest of the candles so that Enjolras would not strain his eyes while he read. Enjolras continued to pour over the book. Enjolras took his meal at the desk, Grantaire took his kneeling at Enjolras' feet, his knees recovered from their torment that morning.

When they were finished Enjolras retired to reading on the sofa, while Grantaire went to clean up in the kitchen. After a few moments he heard Enjolras call him.

He returned to the parlour.

"Yes, Enjolras?"

"My eyes are sore, come read to me."

"Of course," he said, abandoning the cleaning and going to kneel by Enjolras. Enjolras handed him the book and then laid out on the sofa. Grantaire started at having Enjolras' head so close to his; if he had dared, he could reach out touch Enjolras' perfect, golden hair. It seemed wrong somehow, to see his Apollo is such a relaxed position.

"Well? Get on with it," snapped Enjolras.

"Yes, sorry," said Grantaire as he opened the book to the page that had been marked. "C'est la violente impression du laid sur une âme faite pour aimer ce qui est beau. [2]"

Once Grantaire had started reading Enjolras relaxed and closed his eyes and it struck Grantaire how strangely domestic this scene was. Despite the fact that he was naked and kneeling at Enjolras' feet, this was something that young lovers might do. Not that he would ever presume that he could be such a thing to Enjolras. Still, the strange intimacy of this scene was pleasant, and left him feeling light and a little hopeful inside.

[1] An image of a cock cage if you don't know what one looks like: /images/I/51Vj2D5aRxL._SY300_.jpg

[2] Translation: It is the violent impression of ugliness on a soul made to love that which is beautiful. From La rouge et la noir by Stendhal.

Please leave a comment to let me know what you think. Also, let me know if you spot any mistakes. As thorough as I try to be with proof reading, there are always some mistakes that slip through. I've just had to fix some on the last