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making Victor Hugo turn in his grave since 1885

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The Les Mis Anon Kink Meme, Round 8
and I am winterborn
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 8 here.) Everything has been backed up there. The LJ kinkmeme will stay up, but is now closed to new comments.

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anything with them being happy and sexy together because this is a thing we should have more of
(Frozen) (Thread)

Re: Bahorel/Grantaire


Bahorel was involved in an intense discussion of exactly how blind the ref was in the last Liverpool match (answer: very) when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

“Yes?” he turned on his barstool, not sure if he should be glaring at the interruption or not.

“Hey mate, you responsible for the short and curly menace?”

“Oh god, what’s he done now,” Bahorel groaned. Then commonsense reasserted itself and he shook his head violently. “No, no, I have no idea who you’re talking about, and I’m definitely not responsible for him.”

“Up to you mate, but he’s getting into it with the posh tossers in the back room. Maybe want to go and retrieve him before they start getting nasty?”

“Oh god.” Bahorel closed his eyes and wondered if counting to ten would help. Opening his eyes he sadly realized he had not been transported to alternate universe where he had not somehow become responsible for a short and curly menace.

“So much more trouble than he’s worth,” he muttered and looked mournfully at his nearly full pint. “Such a waste.” He necked about half of it and then set the glass back down and set off on his retrieval mission, planning to take the loss out on a certain someone’s hide.

The back room was full of a lot of smart university boys, and Grantaire. The smart boys were all staring at Grantaire who was in the middle of one of his long rambles. Bahorel couldn’t tell if they were stunned by the argument, or the fact someone was arguing with them. He didn’t much care either, he was just grateful violence hadn’t broken out yet. Though given the way the guy standing at the head of the table was flexing his fists it couldn’t far off.

“Okay, that’s enough trouble-making for one night, let’s go.” He grabbed Grantaire’s arm to haul him out the room.

“I’m not trouble,” Grantaire whined, locking his knees like a stubborn toddler. “It’s not my fault Apollo here thinks being pretty is a valid argument.”

“Pretty!” snapped the man at the head of the table, who, now Bahorel took the time to look, was really rather blindingly pretty.

“Oh for god’s sake,” Bahorel growled. “You are such a fucking magpie.” He yanked Grantaire again and was rewarded as he staggered back a few paces towards the door.

“But shiney,” Grantaire wailed, making grabby hands.

“Hold on,” said the guy at the head of table, and yeah, he sounded mad.

Bahorel flashed them all a big toothy grin, “Sorry guys, things to do, places to be. Come on!” He tugged at Grantaire again and when this produced no result he bent down and simply heaved Grantaire up so he was draped over one shoulder and he could carry him.

“Whoa,” Grantaire cried, as he clutched on to Bahorel as best he could. “Why’s the floor moving?”

“Yeah, you’re toasted.”

Bahorel carried him quickly out the room, shutting the door firmly behind them, and then out the bar altogether.

“This is undignified,” Grantaire grumbled, his drink-scrambled brain having finally caught up with events.

“You’re the one who was eyeing that poor sod like you wanted to take him home and keep him in a box.”

“But he’s so pretty, Bahorel. And wrong. Very, very wrong, but pretty. Bahorel, my head hurts.”

“Are you going to be like this all the way home?”

“You could give my mouth something better to do,” Grantaire tempted, would-be sly but too drunk to do more than leer.

“Arguing got you hot, huh?”

“Yep.” Grantaire nodded his his head, incidentally clunking Bahorel in the kidneys with his forehead.

“Menace,” Bahorel accused, letting him slide off his shoulder and onto his feet. But Grantaire didn’t stop there, slithering right down onto his knees. He turned his face up to Bahorel and grinned,

“Make it up to you,” he offered cheerfully, hands already creeping towards Bahorel’s fly.



“I’m not a wuss, but spending a night in the cells is not as exciting as the movies make out.”

“You don’t want me,” Grantaire drooped in place, curly head bowed.
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Bahorel/Grantaire


Despite being one hundred percent sure Grantaire was putting it on to get his own way, Bahorel’s resistance, never that high when it came to Grantaire in the first place, crumbled to nothing.

“Fine.” He glanced about for the nearest shadowed corner

Grantaire’s head bobbed back up and he grinned happily as he scrabbled at the fastening of Bahorel’s jeans, even as Bahorel dragged them both into the lee of the sidestreet.

“Menace,” Bahorel said fondly.

Grantaire rubbed the side of his face against Bahorel’s jeans like an affectionate cat. Bahorel skitched his hands through the dark hair and wondered if he could make Grantaire purr for him.

Then somebody was demanding, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Bahorel bit back his instinctive smart-arse response in favor of glaring at the intruder and batting Grantaire’s hands away so he could step between him and the threat. Of course Grantaire never had any compunction about being a smart-arse,

“What the hell does it look like we’re doing?” he asked indignantly, “Or trying to at any rate.”

“Oh,” said somebody else, “it’s like that is it. Come away Enjolras, they don’t want you bothering them now.”


“Go away,” said Grantaire, “I want to go back to sucking Bahorel’s brains out through his cock.”

Their gasps came in stereo. Bahorel just groaned.

“Uh, yes,” said Enjolras, “we’ll let you have your privacy, but we do hope to see you at the meeting next week, or on Wednesdays - “

“Enjolras, come along,” said the friend, “you cannot recruit by cock-blocking.”

“But - “

“Oh for goodness sake,” snapped Grantaire impatiently, “yes we’ll come to another of your precious meetings. Now go away.”

“Okay, so you can recruit by cock-blocking.”

“Good,” said Enjolras, “We will see you then. Perhaps we can - “

“Move Enjolras,” the friend forcibly dragged him away, still trying to argue.

Grantaire’s hands crept up Bahorel’s legs. “Now where were we.”

“Oh no,” said Bahorel. He grabbed Grantaire and hauled him to his feet. “I’ve had enough of this street. We’re going home and, since you’ve been so much trouble tonight, I’m going to put you over my knee.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault the weirdos followed us.”

“Was that a no to a spanking?”

“I didn’t say that,” Grantaire hastily temporised.

“Of course not, because you love it when my hand leaves your arse red and stinging while you sob for more. Tonight I’ll keep going until you come all over my leg, hot and desperate. Then I’m going to fuck you while you’re still so shaky and raw you’d beg me to stop if it didn’t hurt so damn good.”

“Guh,” said Grantaire ineloquently as he stared up at Bahorel with wide pleading eyes. His tongue flicked out to lick his dry lips.

And that was so damn hot. That he could reduce all Grantaire’s sass and vinegar to heat and need. Bahorel didn’t think he could be blamed for pushing Grantaire up against the wall and fucking his mouth with his tongue while he jerked him off quick and hard.

And after Grantaire came apart in his hands, wordless and frantic, he slid down onto his knees, begging,

“Please let me suck you, please, please.”

Bahorel had no chance of refusing. Which meant it was sort of maybe partially his fault when somebody exclaimed,

“Shit, are you still here.”

Bahorel released his grip on Grantaire’s hair, but Grantaire didn’t pull away, so Bahorel decided to hell with them. He was vaguely aware of laughter and retreating footsteps but his focus was on the way his cock was sliding into between the circle of Grantaire’s lips and the way Grantaire’s cheeks hollowed as he sucked. By the the time he came deep in Grantaire’s throat, he’d forgotten all about them.

Though that didn’t stop him finding a hairbrush later that night to spank Grantaire extra hard.

Grantaire didn’t seem to mind all that much.

(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

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