untamedantinous | closed: 'you don't believe in anything.' 'i believe in you.'

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The past few days have been less than pleasant. Firstly, it seemed that winter had decided to take an extended stay here at the mansion: yes, he knew this place had odd seasons, but winter has never been one of his favorites, even at home. Enjolras has been uneasy, lately, spending most of his evenings holed up with Laertes and Sagramore in an effort to avoid nightmares.

Today, he is hoping that spending time with the one other person from Paris will do him good: and besides that, it has been some time since he has properly seen Grantaire. It would do to check in on him, he thinks. And so, he has gathered up books and his nearly ever-present notebook, intent on doing some writing as well. --As an afterthought, he grabs the unopened bottle of wine that Dionysus had given him, and proceeds to Grantaire's rooms, where he knocks at the door.

"Grantaire?"

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From:

futaille

He pauses to work his tongue around the head of Enjolras's cock for a bit before he resumes, bobbing a bit faster.

From:

untamedantinous

"Ah, Christ--" His hand tightens again, and he arches his hips a bit despite himself.

From:

futaille

He makes a low pleased noise at the combination of the sharp sensation of Enjolras's hand in his hair with his other reactions and simply the taste of him. It's still unfathomable, yet he's absolutely intent on savoring every detail.

From:

untamedantinous

Enjolras will let him continue on in that vein, then, making soft pleased groans every once in a while and shifting his hips. "You might, ah -- mnn, more."

From:

futaille

A slightly quizzical hum, but still, he tightens his grip on Enjolras's hips and increases his pace.

From:

untamedantinous

He groans again, a little deeper this time, and tries to master himself enough to manage a full sentence. "You may be, ah. Rougher. If you like."

From:

futaille

For a moment there's not much indication that he even heard, but then, without breaking his rhythm, Grantaire slides his hands up to the sides of Enjolras's ribcage and then raking his nails down his sides.

From:

untamedantinous

Enjolras groans again and arches his hips properly, hissing. "Mmmn."

From:

futaille

His pace stutters for a moment as he takes Enjolras deeper with that hip arch and digs his nails in a bit harder.

Edited Date: 2024-04-30 01:42 am (UTC)

From:

untamedantinous

Lucien's hands grasp in his hair again and tug, fluttering. "Mm, I --" For once, he doesn't have words, and he just makes a low, shaky noise.

From:

futaille

And that's a low hum around Enjolras as Grantaire continues, keeping his pace fairly steady if a bit quicker than it had been.

From:

untamedantinous

It’s not too much longer after that before he gives a sharp tug to Grantaire’s hair and groans, arching up as he finishes.

From:

futaille

He swallows almost greedily, pulling off eventually and barely moving, opting to rest his head on Enjolras's hip and look up at him with a smile that could probably best be described as giddy.

From:

untamedantinous

In return, Enjolras strokes his hair a little, smiling hazily back as he tries to regain some sense of words. "Mmm."

From:

futaille

"Mmhm." He closes his eyes, his smile softening a bit. He has a heady feeling, absolutely none of which can be blamed on the wine.

From:

untamedantinous

In that case, Enjolras will continue to play leisurely with his hair, from time to time letting his hands slip down to caress Grantaire's shoulders and neck.

From:

futaille

Grantaire stays put for several moments, content, before ultimately opting to make a concession for his comfort. He climbs up next to Enjolras, nestling up next to him and slinging an arm lightly around his waist.

From:

untamedantinous

Enjolras drowsily does the same, snuggling into Grantaire's arms just as much as he will let him. He does, however, remain silent for now, smiling faintly.