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The Les Mis Anon Kink Meme, Round 5
accept no substitutes
10littlebullets wrote in makinghugospin
Since LJ seems to have finally capitulated to the Russian government and is now subject to Russian anti-obscenity laws, I'm not going to take a chance on sudden deletions. The Les Mis kinkmeme now lives at https://lesmiskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/. (Round 5 here.) Everything has been backed up there. The LJ kinkmeme will stay up, but is now closed to new comments.

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E/R, really tender sex, body worship?

Grantaire is really self destructive with his sexuality, likes rough sex with strangers, has never had anyone look him in the eye while fucking him or treat him like he was worth anything more than being fucked. Then Enjolras comes in (could be newly established relationship or just a hookup; maybe he finds out what Grantaire's been doing and decides to show him how much he's worth/how much better it can be?) and holds his gaze and fucks him so slow and careful and touches every inch of him like it’s sacred until Grantaire is pretty much sobbing at how overwhelming it all is, the pleasure and the emotions alike.

(canon or modern era is fine by me)
(also this was inspired by a post on tumblr)
(also I don't think this falls under the moratorium, but if it does I'm v sorry and feel free to tell me so!)
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Re: E/R, really tender sex, body worship?

ANON THIS IS BRILLIANT and sad and hot and I really want it
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Re: E/R, really tender sex, body worship?

THIS IS A GOOD PROMPT. Writing now, anon.
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Re: E/R, really tender sex, body worship?

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Re: E/R, really tender sex, body worship?

I can't wait!
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Fill 1/?

Not previous anon, but I'll give it a go. No porn in this chapter, sorry. Warning for speculations about non-con, not graphic and doesn't actually happen.


Enjolras should have known that the six of them moving in together would be a bad idea. He had known, really. But they had all needed a place to live at the same time, and Courfeyrac had found a house close to campus and downtown, with four bedrooms and this really amazing backyard, and he couldn't say no.

For the most part, it wasn't so bad. Downstairs was a communal living space, and their stuff all quickly mixed together and became one huge mess of sharing and destruction, but it worked for them. Despite most people's expectations, Enjolras wasn't a neat freak. In fact, his mess probably took up more than his fair share of the space, which he felt a little guilty about, but no one seemed to be complaining.

There were three bedrooms upstairs, and one downstairs. Combeferre had quickly nabbed the downstairs one, much to Enjolras's disappointment. Bahorel had set up a mattress in the basement with a little grin that showed them that he didn't think he'd gotten a bad deal at all. Their living room contained a futon, which served as a temporary home for a rotating roster of their friends, usually Bossuet, Feuilly, and Eponine. Upstairs, Enjolras took the room in the far back corner, but it was, for all intents and purposes, the middle room. There was one bedroom to his right, just at the top of the stairs, and another bedroom across the hall from him, next to the bathroom. Courfeyrac and Jehan took the room across the hall, so Grantaire wound up next door.

Enjolras didn't mind Grantaire. He actually kind of liked him, for all he intruded on their meetings and mocked their beliefs. He was intelligent, and funny, and absolutely relentless when he decided he was going to cheer one of their friends up.

And he was loud.

It wasn't like the others were celibate. Courfeyrac and Jehan were quiet enough, and Enjolras had lived in the same small apartment as Courfeyrac for long enough that the rustle of sheets and occasional gasp was a familiar pattern. If any of their exploits were louder, they saved them for a time when the others were out of the house.

Bahorel's current girlfriend laughed a lot, which Enjolras only knew because he had tried to go down into the basement to replace a burned-out lightbulb in the kitchen while they were occupied. Fortunately, he had heard her through the door before he had opened it and seen anything he couldn't unsee.

It wasn't that he minded the idea of sex, or that all of his roommates, barring Combeferre, seemed to be having it regularly and vigorously. But Grantaire was loud.

Enjolras had lived with Courfeyrac for two years, and Courfeyrac had been single for most of them. He knew he was somewhat inexperienced, especially by his friends' standards, but he knew what sex sounded like. The gasps and moans, the occasional scream, the begging- and really, he hadn't wanted to know the things his best friend would beg for. This was nothing like it.

There were thuds from the other room, like someone being slammed into a wall, and the gasps quickly turned into yelps of pain. Grantaire's voice sounded almost like a sob when he cried out, and a low whisper answered him, the words indistinguishable. Enjolras crammed a pillow over his ears and wished he'd thought to buy earplugs before the move.

It sounded painful, and not the kind of pain that some people enjoyed. This sounded harsh and heartless, everything that Grantaire was not.

Was he willing? Grantaire had been sober when he'd gone out with Bahorel, and he hadn't been gone long enough to get too drunk. Surely Bahorel wouldn't let him bring someone home if they seemed to have bad intentions.

Still, Enjolras tightened the pillow over his head and wished it was enough to drown out the noise. When it came to sex, they looked after each other, but he wasn't involved. He didn't have enough experience to make judgments.

But Grantaire was loud, and he sounded like he was in pain, raw cries being torn from his throat.

Enjolras stayed awake until long after the door slammed.
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Fill 2/?

He found that he couldn't look Grantaire in the eye the next morning. The other man moved stiffly, wincing like he was sore every now and then, but he didn't say anything about the night before. He was acting exactly like he always did. But Enjolras couldn't get those noises out of his head, couldn't forget how rough and used and broken Grantaire had sounded.

And he couldn't forget that he had just laid there and felt embarrassed. He was embarrassed, because he didn't like to talk about sex, while his friend was in the room next door, crying out like he as being torn apart.

He couldn't help it, and that afternoon, while Grantaire was painting in the garden, he slipped out the back door to go talk to him.


Grantaire jumped. Enjolras was standing behind him, hands in his pockets, trying desperately to look casual, and Grantaire looked like he was the last person he would have expected to see. The surprise was quickly replaced by a grin, but Enjolras had seen it.

“Enjolras,” he said. He had this way of saying Enjolras's name, like it was a nickname, drawling out the syllables, his eyes glinting like he was sharing a private joke. “What brings you out here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” Enjolras found himself slipping into the tone of voice he used when he was most nervous, the tone that made people take him seriously. It was a politician's voice; intelligent, confident, and uncaring.

“I would point out that you're already doing that, but I'm as I'm sure you'll be happy to inform me, you're probably already aware of that little tidbit of information, and don't have time for my tomfoolery.”

“I don't think I've ever used the word tomfoolery in my life.”

“You should!” Grantaire pointed a paintbrush at him. “It's a great word. Although I've always wondered who tom is, and why he's fooling around so much that he got a whole word named after him. Still, old words like that are the best, I don't know why nobody uses them anymore. Except maybe if they did, we wouldn't appreciate them so much? Like 'awesome,' everybody says awesome, all the time, but do you ever think about what it really means?”

“Grantaire.” For all his attempts to sound scolding, Enjolras was more than a little amused, and he was relaxing in spite of himself. Grantaire was good at putting people at ease.

“Sorry.” He sat down in the deck chair, putting his paints aside, and rested his hands on his worn jeans. “You were talking.”

“I wanted to talk about last night,” Enjolras said.

A pained look crossed Grantaire's face. “Shit, was I too loud? Sorry, I got back kind of late, I didn't realize anyone was awake. Don't worry, I'll make sure to-”

“No.” Enjolras interrupted him quickly. “No, forget it, that's not what I meant. I just- are you okay?”

“What?” Grantaire's face drew in, shaded with confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“You just sounded-” Enjolras hesitated, but that was all Grantaire needed. He let out a sharp, barking laugh.

“Oh, Enjolras.” He wiped fake tears from the corner of his eye. “Have I traumatized you? Do I need to give you the kinky sex talk? Sometimes, when a man and another man- or a man and a woman- or a woman and a woman- or any combination of the above with more than two people- find each other very hot, they give each other a special hug, which can involve handcuffs, or whips, or sometimes those cool little claw things, you know from that arcade game where you try to grab the toy and no one ever wins?”

“Oh my God.” Enjolras covered his ears. “No. No. That wasn't what I was talking about.”

“My ass is a little sore.” Grantaire sounded almost musing. “Which, by the way, is not where babies come from.”

“Shut up. Just shut up.”

“I'd suggest you make me, but I'd probably like it.”

Enjolras retreated back inside, but not before he noticed the tension in Grantaire's shoulders and the way his head bowed under some unseen pressure as soon as he thought he was alone.
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Re: Fill 2/?

Oh Grantaire!

This is awesome Anon.
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Fill 3/?

Grantaire couldn't bring anyone home for a while after that. He would get close and then think about the look on Enjolras's face, and he would find himself backing out. He bought Enjolras earplugs and laughed at him. Then he went up to his room and wrapped a fist around his cock, hard and desperate, and tried not to imagine soft blue eyes looking at him like he was worth something.

He went to another guy's place one Friday night. Enjolras had come out with them, for once, and he watched as Grantaire left with the man who'd shoved him against the wall in the toilets, an arm around his waist tight enough to bruise.

The guy was pushy. He shoved Grantaire again when they made it back to his apartment, pressed him against the door and sucked a bruise into the skin at the base of his neck. Grantaire whimpered, and was ignored.

He was pushed to his knees when they made it into the bedroom, and he opened his mouth while the other man unzipped his jeans. He was hard already, and Grantaire wrapped his lips around the shaft, licking and sucking and trying to ignore the hand pulling his hair and the gasps that formed someone else's name.

It had been a while since he'd fingered himself, so when Grantaire was thrown facedown on the mattress, two fingers lubed up and sliding into his hole, it burned. He couldn't restrain a cry of pain, but if the other man cared about the noise level, he didn't try to silence him. The preparation was rough and brief, and a hand on the back of his head held him down, nearly smothering him into the pillows, as the man shoved into him.

Grantaire bucked his hips up to meet the cock in him, groaning loudly, but this guy didn't seem to care, didn't fuck him harder or try to find the right angle to make this any more pleasurable for Grantaire. Normally he didn't mind, but right now he was wondering what color his eyes were, if they were blue, and if they were ever warm.

Not while looking at Grantaire, at least. No one looked at him like that, not on purpose.

The man came with a shout, and it was the first time Grantaire had heard his voice outside of the noisy bar. He found that he didn't much care what it sounded like.

He hadn't come yet, and he was hard and aching, but more than that, he was tired. He just wanted to lie in the warm sheets and never move again. But the other man was up already, threw his jeans at him. The sharp metal of Grantaire's belt hit him in the face, striking his cheekbone hard enough to bruise.

“Go home.” He was already lighting a cigarette, facing away from Grantaire.

“What, no cuddling?” It came out as sarcastic as he wanted it to, and he was already pulling his pants on when the other man turned around to see if he was serious. Grantaire looked down, searching for his shoes. He didn't want to see his face.

He took the subway home, and it was dirty and dark at this time of night, but at least it wasn't late enough that it had closed. Grantaire shut his eyes and stared at the blank concrete walls until his erection subsided, but he still felt exhausted and unfulfilled.

The light was on when he got home, but he was quiet as he let himself in. It was late enough that everyone should be back by now, and Combeferre's door was closed, the house silent. It was only the kitchen light that was on, and Enjolras was sitting at the table, his fingers curled around a mug of tea, and his eyes on Grantaire.

“Hey.” Grantaire kicked off his shoes. “What are you doing up?”

Enjolras was still watching him. “Waiting for you,” he said. His eyes were warm and fixed on Grantaire.
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Re: Fill 3/?

I really love how you write Grantaire!
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Fill 4a/?

“That's not creepy at all.” Grantaire paused in the hallway. All he wanted to do was go upstairs, jerk off, and sleep, but apparently Enjolras wasn't going to let him do that. “What is up with your obsession with my sex life?”

“Grantaire.” Enjolras stood and took a step closer to him. Grantaire resisted the urge to step back.

“That's me.” His throat was dry.

And then Enjolras kissed him.

It was a gentle kiss, a press of his lips against Grantaire's, his hands lacing behind Grantaire's head, barely a slight movement before they pulled apart. Grantaire would have liked it to have gone on longer.

“Apparently I've been stupid,” Enjolras said. “Courfeyrac says you've been pining after me for ages now. His words, not mine.”

“I can imagine.” Grantaire had to take a moment to let his brain catch up. “Sorry, what?”

“Can I kiss you again?”

This was something Grantaire understood, and he nodded quickly. Enjolras's mouth was warm, and Grantaire groaned against him, pressing in to everything he'd ever wanted.

He let out a little whine of annoyance when Enjolras pulled away again.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“More than okay,” Grantaire said. “But if you keep stopping us like that, I might have to revise my opinion.”

Enjolras laughed. “Sorry. I just- I just want to make sure this is as good as you deserve.” His voice sounded suddenly small and Grantaire ached to pull him close and comfort him.

“It's fine. You don't have to worry about me, I'd be fine with the sexual equivalent of your table scraps. Seriously, that's a hell of a lot more than I was expecting.”

Enjolras frowned. “I think that says more about your expectations than about what you deserve.” He kissed him again, quick and almost familiar, and he took Grantaire's bottom lip in his mouth and sucked once before leaning back again. “Or about what you're going to get,” he added.

Grantaire moaned. “Oh my god, are you trying to kill me? Is this some sort of top-secret assassination plot? Convoluted scheme, make it look like an accident.”

“I'm not trying to kill you.” Enjolras wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. “I have some very good reasons to want to keep you around for much longer.”

“Well if you keep this up, you might not have that chance and- oh, God, Enjolras, don't do that with your mouth.” Grantaire gasped. “Do that again.”

“You just told me not to do that.” Still, Enjolras complied, teasing his tongue over Grantaire's lips and sucking hard. “I just want to make sure this is what you want.”

“Of course this is what I want!” Enjolras had stopped for now and was leaning back, watching him with that steady blue gaze. “I want you, Enjolras, I want any part of you that you'll give me. And I say again, you are going to kill me.”

“Well, we wouldn't want that.” Enjolras kissed him again. “Upstairs, then?”

Grantaire thought his head might fall off from nodding so hard. “Upstairs.”

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Fill 4b/?

It took some maneuvering to figure out whose room they were going to, but eventually they wound up in Grantaire's. Having seen Enjolras's room, he couldn't quite bring himself to be embarrassed about the mess, and at least Grantaire knew that he had condoms and lube.

Part of their navigational problem was that Enjolras refused to let go, even on their way up the stairs, and kept kissing any part of Grantaire's body that came into reach. Grantaire shivered at every gentle press of lips.

Once inside, Grantaire started to pull his shirt off, but Enjolras stopped him.

“Let me,” he said. His fingers curled around the bottom of the T-shirt, brushing over Grantaire's stomach, but Grantaire couldn't look away from the sharp eyes on his face, watching every reaction. The shirt came up over his head and he couldn't see for a moment, but he could feel. Enjolras's hands were gentle, pulling clothes off almost reverently, and his lips moved across Grantaire's chest.

“You look gorgeous,” he whispered. Grantaire's face fell.

“You don't have to do that,” he said. He didn't want Enjolras's pity.

Enjolras looked back up at him. His fingers were hooked in Grantaire's beltloops, his hands clutched around his sides. “I know.” He kissed gently at Grantaire's collarbone. “Bed.”

Grantaire couldn't bring himself to argue anymore. He backed himself up until his knees hit the bedframe, falling back with Enjolras smiling over him. Their fingers intertwined before he knew what was going on.
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Fill 5/5

Enjolras was kissing every inch of him, wet presses of lips and tongue, and Grantaire couldn't do anything but gasp for air. His eyes were watering, his whole body trembling already, and his pants weren't even off yet.

“Oh my god,” he managed. “Enjolras.”

“That's me.” Enjolras's voice was light, teasing. His fingers were nimble on the buttons of Grantaire's jeans. He kissed each hipbone as he slipped them off, his eyes flicking up to Grantaire's face again. “How's this?” He was mouthing at the exposed skin, not down to his cock yet, and he was watching Grantaire like his face held the key to all the world's happiness.

Grantaire groaned. “Fuck,” he said. “Yes. Just, please, don't stop.”

Enjolras's tongue flicked out of his mouth, a torment that made Grantaire gasp. He wrapped his lips around Grantaire's balls, and then over the head of his cock. Grantaire thought he might scream.

He wasn't entirely sure what was coming out of his mouth, but it was probably nonsense. He was whispering Enjolras's name on every breath, and he could barely restrain himself from thrusting up into that perfect mouth. He had fallen in love with the lips that screamed revolution, those blue eyes that didn't move from his face, and he was falling just as surely for the way that perfect body moved over his, gentle and wanting while Grantaire came apart.

Enjolras shucked off his own clothes to take himself in hand, and he nuzzled against the trail of hair on Grantaire's stomach as he moved back down.

“Please,” Grantaire begged. “Enjolras, please.”

Enjolras made a 'shh' sound through his teeth. “It's okay,” he said. He stroked a thumb over his hip and kissed the other. “Whatever you want, love. I'm here.”

Grantaire could hear himself breaking down, his breath coming out as sobs, but Enjolras was taking him in his mouth again. He wasn't sucking hard, no porn star techniques, but somehow this was still the best sex he'd ever had, and he hadn't even come yet.

Enjolras was warm around him, his fingers light and his touch gentle. And his eyes were wanting, blue and full of desire and they didn't move from Grantaire's face when Grantaire came apart under him. Enjolras finished a few seconds after him, crawling up to his side. His touches were just as gentle when he held him in his arms.

“That was-” Grantaire trailed off. Enjolras kissed him. “What was that?”

“About half as amazing as you deserve.” He buried his face in Grantaire's hair, and Grantaire's hand came up almost without him thinking about it to curl around Enjolras, but the other man just held him tighter.

They fell asleep like that, and when Grantaire woke Enjolras was still there, wrapped around him and breathing softly in his ear. He looked softer like this, asleep, with some of the lines of worry erased from his forehead. Grantaire hadn't even realized that they were there, they were so much a part of Enjolras's face.

They hadn't been there last night, though, when Enjolras had fixed those blue eyes on his face and never looked away. Grantaire kissed him until he woke up, but he woke with a smile that was just for them.
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Re: Fill 5/5 (Anonymous) Expand
Re: Fill 5/5 (Anonymous) Expand
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Re: Fill 2/?

This is excellent so far!! Grantaire's kinky sex speech and Enjolras' reactions had me dying laughing. I'm excited to read more! :)
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Re: Fill 2/?

This whole fic is awesome so far (sorry, Grantaire, I'm jumping on the "awesome" bandwagon), but there is one sentence that really struck home for me -

"He had this way of saying Enjolras's name, like it was a nickname, drawling out the syllables, his eyes glinting like he was sharing a private joke."

I fucking love that! I haven't even read the other parts you've posted yet, but I just had to jump in and express my love for the fact that Grantaire says Enjolras's name like it's a private joke, because seriously...yes!
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