It was a good thing Enjolras listened to audio books while Grantaire drew and painted him, because listening to textbooks was a good distraction from the way Grantaire made him feel when he arranged Enjolras' body with gentle hands and the occasional instruction and sat back to capture what he saw on paper. It always happened in Grantaire's bedroom too, because he still preferred working out of sight of prying eyes, and it usually ended with Grantaire putting his sketchbook aside and pausing whatever Enjolras was listening to.

Enjolras wouldn't move or speak at first, just watch Grantaire's eyes roam over him, his skin prickling and his heart rate increasing. Then Grantaire would make his move. The first time it had happened, he'd slid a hand under the edge of Enjolras' t-shirt and whispered, "Can I?"

Enjolras had nodded, and Grantaire had pulled it off, infinitely gentle. There was something indescribable about the way Grantaire would control everything, moving Enjolras' hands and nuzzling his nose, close enough to kiss but not quite doing it, walking him where he wanted Enjolras to be. Leading him. Guiding him.

That first time, he'd taken Enjolras' wrists, one in each hand, and walked him back slowly until Enjolras' shoulders and back were against the wall. Then he'd lifted Enjolras' arms and held them against the wall too, high above his head so he was exposed and open. Grantaire had grinned and kissed him until Enjolras was pliant and relaxed, holding him in place with his body, broad where Enjolras was lean. He hadn't pinned his wrists so much as held them up, and laughed quietly into Enjolras' neck.

"What?" Enjolras' heart had been thudding against his lungs, eyelids heavy as he gazed at Grantaire.

"You, like this." Grantaire had drawn back a little and dragged his eyes up Enjolras' body. "It's a good look, that's all."

"Paint a picture," Enjolras had smirked. "It'll last longer."

"Maybe later."

Grantaire was more experienced, so it made sense for him to take the lead, but Enjolras found that he liked being led. It took the pressure off, somewhat. Made it easier to relax. And they were taking it slow, teasing each other at every stage.

"Have you ever been…?" Enjolras paused, not sure how to phrase it. They were both in Grantaire's bed, naked and loose-limbed, and Grantaire hummed, rolling over and propping his head on his hand to raise an eyebrow at Enjolras.

"Been…?"

"I don't want to say fucked," Enjolras closed his eyes. "But I can't think of another way of putting it right now."

"Brain not up to speed?" Grantaire teased. Enjolras swatted his shoulder lightly.

"Not right now, no."

Grantaire preened and pressed a kiss to Enjolras' cheek. "In answer to your question," he murmured, "yes, I have been."

"What's it like?"

"Good." Grantaire flopped back onto the pillow and exhaled heavily. "Sometimes, anyway. Sometimes not so good. Depends who you're with."

"Who were you with?"

Grantaire turned to face him, expression guarded. "Why'd you want to know?"

Enjolras shrugged. "Curious, that's all."

"Hmph. No one you know, at any rate," Grantaire looked up again. "No one special. No one good."

"You didn't like them?"

"Not really. I…last year wasn't exactly a great time for me."

Enjolras had seen some of Grantaire's work from last year – a few of the larger canvases he had to keep in his room because there was nowhere else they could go. He kept their fronts against the wall, but Enjolras had looked, with his permission, and examined the screams and darkness painted onto the bruised canvases. A self-portrait mostly obscured by deep gashes where Grantaire had scraped layers of paint back from the material, ripped and ugly. A startlingly detailed painting of an abandoned bar that practically oozed silence; broken glass and plaster on the floor, damp on the walls, wooden stools and countertop rotting where they stood. A multi-media piece that showed a view down the neck of a bottle, oil-slick colours and strange indistinct images laid over with so many words in black print none of them were legible.

They were beautiful, but they were beautiful the way broken things were beautiful. They hurt to look at. They radiated despair and loneliness and pain and endless, furious, agonised frustration. After looking at them, Enjolras had climbed into Grantaire's lap on the bed and stared for a moment at his anxious expression before pressing him down and kissing him over and over. He'd undressed Grantaire piece by piece, and kissed each bit of skin revealed until Grantaire was panting, chest flushed and hands fisted in the sheets.

Enjolras pressed his face against Grantaire's neck. "How's this year treating you?" he asked quietly.

Grantaire laughed, and Enjolras rolled onto his side and put a hand on Grantaire's chest to feel it. "So far, miles better. I've probably never been happier."

"Me neither," Enjolras smiled and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Grantaire's shoulder. "Just so you know. R?"

"Mm?"

"Could we? I mean, you know…we've done everything else, basically, but could we…"

"Have sex?" Grantaire turned to face him and Enjolras nodded, smiling when Grantaire dipped his head to kiss him. "Yeah," he said when he pulled back, crooked smile in place. "We could do that. How do you want to do that? Like…"

"Top or bottom, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Either. Both."

Grantaire laughed and kissed him again, rolling on top of him and running a hand through Enjolras' hair where it fanned out on the pillow. "Any preference for your first time?" he asked easily.

Enjolras breathed out unsteadily. "No," he lied, not quite able to ask Grantaire to be the one who fucked him. He'd been thinking about it a lot recently, but he wasn't ready to ask yet. Not with words, at any rate.

"Okay then." Grantaire brushed his lips across Enjolras' nose and down to his chin, breath warm on Enjolras' throat. "Well, it's been a…while, for me, so we could probably work up to it together? Take it slow?"

"We're good at that," Enjolras smiled and turned his head to capture Grantaire's lips.

"We are," Grantaire agreed pleasantly when they'd stopped kissing. "Exceptional, one might say."

"Mmmm." Enjolras kissed him again, languid and unhurried, something warm purring in his chest at the way they'd both said 'we'. "We could start now?" he suggested, loving the way Grantaire's face lit up with amusement.

"You're insatiable. I love it."

"Pot, kettle."

"You love it."

"I do." Enjolras arched up into him. "So…" he looped his arms over Grantaire's waist and didn't look away. "How do we do this?"

Grantaire bit his lip. "Well," he said slowly, eyes taking in every tiny movement Enjolras made. "I've done it before, so…you could go first?"

Enjolras nodded. Perfect. "Okay."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Grantaire breathed, closing his eyes for a second.

"You okay?"

"Give me a second to take this in, okay?"

"Surreal?" Enjolras said dryly.

"So fucking surreal. And amazing." He opened his eyes and kissed Enjolras quickly, laughing a little. "And every synonym of amazing you can currently think of."

"That's a lot."

"Yeah?" Grantaire pushed himself up on his elbows and rolled off Enjolras slightly to stretch an arm out for the bedside table. "Go on then."

"Incredible, fantastic, splendid, magnificent…" Enjolras propped his head up on his hand and grinned. "Brilliant, excellent, fabulous –"

"Show-off," Grantaire muttered, though he was grinning when he came back, bottle of lube in his hand.

"Marvellous, wonderful, spectacular," Enjolras continued, "glorious, tremendous –"

"Alright, alright," Grantaire cut him off with a kiss. "Well done, you can do anything, I get it."

Enjolras grinned and spread his legs so Grantaire was lying between them, their hips flush together. "So you tell me."

"How about…I show you?" Grantaire was obviously well aware of how cheesy he sounded, but Enjolras couldn't respond when Grantaire was trailing a hand down his thigh and lifting his knee up. "Lay back?"

Enjolras breathed out slowly and obeyed, keeping his eyes on Grantaire as his other knee was nudged up as well, a cradle for Grantaire to settle into, a space for him to move. He sat up and looked down for a moment to dribble some lube over the index and middle fingers of his right hand. Enjolras was already breathing a little faster, half hard at the thought alone of what they were about to do. "You're sure about this?" Grantaire checked, and Enjolras nodded.

"Definitely."

Grantaire's lips quirked, then he put the bottle aside and smoothed his left palm down Enjolras' chest to his belly. The familiar motion was soothing, and Enjolras let the muscles in his thighs relax, his legs falling a little more open. "You're gorgeous," Grantaire murmured, and trailed his fingers past Enjolras' balls to the skin just before his entrance. "God, I can't…" he swallowed and brushed his dry fingertip over the hole. Enjolras' breath caught and Grantaire looked at him. "Do you want…should I keep talking?"

"Please." Enjolras' toes curled when Grantaire slid his left hand back up to his hip and stroked the back of his right down the inside of Enjolras' thigh. Not teasing, he knew, just letting him know where it was so he wouldn't startle, but he was fully hard now and when Grantaire touched lube-slick fingers to his entrance, his mouth fell open and his hands curled into the sheet below him. He wished suddenly that he had something to do with them. Something proper to hold, or something holding them.

Grantaire stroked a fingertip in a circle and cleared his throat. "Relax," he whispered. "You're great, you're fine. I've got you. Jesus –" He pressed, just slightly, not enough to go in, but Enjolras clenched his hands tighter in the sheets at the feeling. "You have no idea what you look like."

"Tell me," Enjolras managed to say, proud of how clear his voice came out. Grantaire slid his left hand from Enjolras' hip to his knee, along his thigh, smooth and firm.

"You're beautiful," Grantaire said quietly, eyes dark. "God, I'd paint you like this." He rubbed his left hand back to Enjolras' hip slowly, pressing just a little harder with the finger of his right hand. "Maybe paint on you, write my name right onto your skin, R over and over again, different colours and sizes."

Enjolras bit back a moan and closed his eyes as Grantaire finally pressed the tip of his finger in, just a little, before pulling it away again. The idea of being painted, being marked, streaks of colour daubed across his chest, his shoulders, his stomach, was intoxicating. "What…" he swallowed and tried again. "What would you use? A…oh…a paintbrush?"

"No." Grantaire slid his finger in further and ducked his head to kiss Enjolras' knee, soft hair brushing against the joint. "No, I'd use my hands. Finger-painting is very satisfying, you know. Maybe I'd use pens for anything intricate. I could make you a forest – trees and leaves and vines growing up from the soles of your feet. Put a sky across your chest – for the lungs." His finger pushed further in, and it was strange, unfamiliar, but good, and Enjolras tried to hold his eyes open to keep watching Grantaire, because he was flushing and beautiful.

"I'd leave space for my name, obviously," Grantaire smiled, crooked his finger as he drew it out, and Enjolras hissed through his teeth. "Enjolras?"

"Yes," Enjolras needed something to do with his hands, something more than clutching at the sheet. "I'm good, I'm really good."

"You are," Grantaire agreed. "You're amazing. And all those synonyms you came up with, you're all of those too, every single one."

"Ngghh." Enjolras' eyes fluttered shut again and his chest heaved as Grantaire slid the finger back in and kept it there for a second before dragging it out slowly. It was easy, not painful, and Enjolras ached for more but couldn't form the words to ask.

"I could paint you with all those colours," Grantaire continued, teasing with two fingers when he drew out but only sliding one back in. "Watercolours dripping into each other, maybe, or oils. I'd make it really thick on the canvas, no dilution at all."

"R," Enjolras managed to say, shifting his hips and fixing eyes he was sure showed his desire on Grantaire.

"You ready for more?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Grantaire whispered, "okay." He glanced down and Enjolras' head fell back as two fingers pushed in slowly. One was easy, but two stretched a little, and it felt good. He clutched the sheets so hard his fingers started to go numb. "Relax, it's okay, relax." His hand slid along Enjolras' thigh again and Enjolras let go of the sheet with one hand to scrabble for it desperately. Grantaire caught it and let out a surprised grunt when Enjolras squeezed hard. "Enjolras?" He squeezed back and pulled his fingers out. "Does it hurt? Are you okay?"

"Don't stop," Enjolras huffed. "I just…my hands, I need something to do with my hands."

"Ohh." Grantaire kissed the inside of his knee again and Enjolras opened his eyes to see his smile. "But it doesn't hurt?"

"No, no, keep going!" On the last word, Grantaire pushed his fingers back in and Enjolras pressed his head back into the pillow, arching his back a little, his whole world centred around what Grantaire was doing to him.

"Something to do with your hands," Grantaire repeated, pulling them out slowly, pushing them in a little faster. "Like what?"

"I don't…" Enjolras struggled to focus. "I don't know, just…ah, something, anything."

"A stress ball?" Grantaire teased, finding a slow rhythm now. "My hand seems to be serving that function pretty well. You'll have to let go in a second by the way – can't get more lube with just one hand."

"Hnngh."

Grantaire moved forward suddenly, lifting their entwined hands and pinning them next to Enjolras' head, putting all his weight on it for a moment before he got his leg hooked over Enjolras' side to sprawl against him, taking his fingers away for a second to reposition his arm underneath Enjolras' leg. The way his hand and wrist dipped into the mattress, yielding under Grantaire's strength made heat coil in his belly, and on the next thrust of Grantaire's fingers Enjolras gasped aloud.

"Something to do with your hands," Grantaire breathed, pressing a hot kiss to his chest. "What would you do if I tied them to the bed?"

Desire, hot and desperate, made Enjolras gasp, and Grantaire pressed down harder on his hand again, steadily thrusting his fingers in and out between Enjolras' legs. The combination was setting him on fire, and Enjolras had to swallow twice before he could pant, "R, R…"

"I think you'd like that," Grantaire whispered, mouth moving to Enjolras' pinned wrist and settling over his pulse point.

"Oh, God." Enjolras clenched his teeth and bucked as Grantaire curled his fingers inside him and pleasure sang through his veins.

"You sound like you'd like it," Grantaire murmured against his wrist, tongue darting out against the thin skin there and followed swiftly by what could only be teeth. Enjolras fought against the urge to whine. "The lack of headboard isn't a problem – I could tie you to the slats under the mattress. Rope's best for that, probably, but you'd look amazing in silk, or satin. Something smooth and bright – red, bright red, that'd be gorgeous against your skin, Enjolras, you have no idea –"

Hearing Grantaire say his name like that, rolling off his tongue in a low tone, pulled an embarrassingly high noise out of Enjolras, slipping between his teeth without his consent.

Grantaire hummed, pleased, and pushed Enjolras' hand up higher so he could drag his lips down the inside of his arm to the crook of his elbow. "I could loop some round your hands so you'd have something to hold onto, something to really pull against," he breathed, "tight and secure so you could yank on it for hours and it wouldn't give."

Enjolras was going to die. "Fuck," he gasped, because it was either curse or beg, and he was already having a hard time thinking straight. "Fuck, fuck, R, please…"

"I've got you," Grantaire kissed the inside of his elbow. "Are you close?"

"Not…" Enjolras sucked in an uneven breath and fought to open his eyes. "I can't, I need –"

"Yeah," Grantaire pulled his fingers out completely, and before Enjolras could complain they were on his dick, squeezing just a little, unbelievably warm against his skin.

"Jesus Christ, Grantaire –" his voice cracked when Grantaire gave him a quick, tight stroke.

"Decision time," Grantaire told him, hand stilling.

"What?" Enjolras turned his head and stared at him, not even caring if he looked as wild as he felt.

"I can't finger you and jerk you off without leaving your hands free," Grantaire told him, cheeks flushed and pupils huge.

"I…" Enjolras struggled for a moment to take that in. "I've got to choose?"

Grantaire leaned forward enough to kiss him, and that put a lot of weight on the hand he was still holding. Enjolras' other hand, sorely neglected, felt horribly light without something pressing it down. "Or," Grantaire said, pulling away and swallowing, "or, option three, I tangle your hands up in the sheet and we see if that works."

"That," Enjolras said immediately, "yes, option three." There was no way he'd manage otherwise.

Grantaire dropped his head for a moment and exhaled heavily. "You are going to be the death of me," he breathed after a second. "You don't…Jesus, okay, let me just…" He sat up, taking both hands away, and Enjolras felt the loss keenly for an unpleasant second before Grantaire leaned over him to drag the discarded top sheet over. His side was heavy on Enjolras' middle, a comforting weight, and Grantaire guided Enjolras' hands up over his head quickly, crossing the sheet between them and around them in an 8 shape, pulling it tight. "Give it a tug," he said, voice an octave lower than normal, and Enjolras shivered as he obeyed. "Awesome. Hang on, give me a second…"

Enjolras twisted onto his side to keep watching as Grantaire looped the sheet around his wrists a couple more times, then dragged the top of the mattress up and did something underneath it. When he let it fall back into place, the sheet went taut, yanking Enjolras' wrists up higher. "Tied it round the slat," Grantaire explained huskily, sliding back down next to Enjolras. "Reckon the weight of the mattress will keep it there. Give it another tug?"

Enjolras did so, and Grantaire nodded, pleased, and ducked in for a long, thorough kiss. Enjolras melted into it, regretting for a moment that he couldn't pull Grantaire closer, but then Grantaire sat back and nudged his legs apart again, grabbing the lube from the edge of the bed. He gave Enjolras a wicked grin before bending down and licking Enjolras' cock from base to tip, and suddenly Enjolras very much appreciated having something decent to hold onto, because fucking hell.

"You're a work of art," Grantaire breathed against his hip, shifting down to nose at the inside of his thigh. "Christ, Enjolras, you're a living masterpiece, do you know that? I could train for the next fifty years and not even come close to showing anything like this, no matter what media I worked in."

"You could…" Enjolras panted. "You could…take…a photo."

"Wouldn't translate," Grantaire shook his head, soft curls against Enjolras' skin and finally, finally, fingers back at his entrance, newly slick and prepared, gliding in easily now. "I could take a thousand photos and it wouldn't work. Not even video…nothing could capture this, nothing."

Enjolras wound his fingers in the sheet encasing his wrists and hands and pulled, the relief when it didn't give an inch almost overwhelming. "Capture what?" he asked, and sighed when Grantaire's other hand closed around his dick and began to stroke, lazily.

"All of this," Grantaire was thrusting against the bed, Enjolras could feel it through the mattress, and knowing that sent another coil of heat curling through his body. "God, all of it, Enjolras. The way you sound right now, like every word has to be dragged out of you…you're so…" He slowed his fingers down for a couple of thrusts, then began to ease a third in as well. Enjolras' chest heaved and he dug his teeth into his lower lip, trying to keep his hips still – no easy feat when Grantaire's other hand was still jerking him off slowly. "You're unreal," Grantaire laughed breathlessly, pushing his head against Enjolras' knee.

Enjolras pushed back and dug his heels into the bed as Grantaire got all three fingers in, stretching him open. "You okay?" he panted, rutting hard enough to shake the mattress now.

"Yes," Enjolras gasped, "yes, keep…" going, he meant to finish, but then Grantaire started to move his fingers and he just groaned, all words flying from his brain. The sheet he used as leverage to move his body, trying to get Grantaire to go faster, deeper, harder. "R, R, fuck, R –"

"Enjolras –" Grantaire sped up, both hands pumping in time, and it was so much, too much, too good… "God, you're so…oh fuck, fuck…"

Enjolras threw his head back and arched his back, agonisingly close. "R, please –"

Grantaire made a strangled sound and his rhythm faltered for a second, breath hot on the inside of Enjolras' thigh as he came, shuddering against the bed, incoherent noises exhaled against Enjolras' fevered skin. His hands slowed almost to stopping, and Enjolras did whine now, thrusting desperately against them.

"R, please, please –"

Grantaire huffed shakily against his leg and resumed his movements, setting a punishingly slow pace apparently designed specifically to torture Enjolras and make him writhe helplessly. "I'll draw this from memory," Grantaire rasped. "Christ, I'll do it in ink – nothing like ink for capturing the lines of a body, like when you do this." He curled his fingers inside Enjolras, making his spine arch like a bow. "God, you're beautiful, you're beautiful." He twisted the hand on Enjolras' dick, coaxing a full-bodied shudder out of him. "I'll do it in black, yellow for your hair, red for your lips, and your cheeks right now, and your cock. I'll dilute the red down to paint your curves, Enjolras, show the way your muscles are so tight, your whole body…like an instrument or something, singing for me, just for me."

Enjolras came in a sudden rush, his body going completely rigid as a broken sound was physically torn from his throat, hands spasming in the restraints and heels digging so hard into the bed he pushed his back right off the mattress. Grantaire milked him through it and pressed his mouth against Enjolras' thigh, only withdrawing his fingers when Enjolras relaxed.

He vanished suddenly, all heat and bulk drawing away, and Enjolras' eyes flew open, a sound of discontent slipping out before he could stop it. Grantaire had only gotten to his feet to grab the tissues, and he came back with a smile. "Hey," he whispered, leaning down to kiss Enjolras gently, slowly. "You okay?"

"Mmmmm." Enjolras smiled up at him, eyelids heavy, and Grantaire sighed, pressing their foreheads together for a second before he sat back and started wiping Enjolras' stomach and chest, then his entrance. Enjolras twitched at that, still sensitive, and Grantaire grinned, trailing fingers up Enjolras' side to his arm, and up to where the sheet was wound tight around his wrists and hands.

"So hey," Grantaire said softly, chucking the used tissues onto the floor carelessly and stretching out against Enjolras' body. "I think the sheet worked pretty well, don't you?"

"Very well," Enjolras murmured, drinking in the sight of Grantaire next to him, naked and spent. "I'd kind of like my hands back now though."

"On it," Grantaire assured him, sitting up a little to lift the edge of the mattress up. He fumbled around for a few seconds, then came back and guided Enjolras' tied hands down below his shoulders. "It wasn't too tight?"

"No," Enjolras breathed out and let his eyes fall closed. Grantaire kissed his cheek and freed his hands carefully, stroking the skin as it was revealed. "It was perfect. Thank you."

Grantaire spread the sheet out over them and hooked an arm over Enjolras' chest, an ankle over his leg, cuddling as close as he could. "I love you," he whispered against Enjolras' jaw. "I mean, you probably knew that already, but just in case, I figure now's as good a time as any to tell you."

He had to be having some sort of heart attack. There was no other explanation for the ballooning sensation in his chest. Enjolras rolled onto his side and found Grantaire's lips with his own, kissing him slowly while he twined their legs closer together and slid a hand between them to run his thumb along Grantaire's jawline, slightly prickly and rough. "I knew," he breathed when they parted. "I mean, I know. And I love you too, by the way. In case you didn't know."

Grantaire gazed at him in silence for a long moment, eyes noting and cataloguing every tiny movement Enjolras made. No one had ever observed Enjolras as closely as Grantaire did, memorising his expressions and tracing the lines of his skin with fingers, lips, tongue, teeth. No one else could absorb it all and put it on paper. No one else made him feel this treasured. He doubted anyone else ever could.

Grantaire closed his eyes for a moment and smiled, the barest lift of his lips. "Say again?"

Enjolras pressed his lips against Grantaire's cheek, near his ear. "I love you," he whispered. Stroked a palm down Grantaire's back and moved his mouth to Grantaire's jaw. "I love you." Hovering over Grantaire's lips, close enough to just brush them with his own. "I love you."

Grantaire sighed and kissed him with just an edge of desperation, clinging tight to every part of Enjolras he could touch, and Enjolras pulled him closer, closing the last gaps between them and curving into it as much as he could.

Later, Grantaire would paint him again, stretched out and half-asleep on the bed. Enjolras would roll his shoulders and yawn, and before he left in the morning, Grantaire would use a felt-tipped marker to write directly onto his skin. A small, stylised 'R' in the dip below the joint of his hip, hidden from everyone but them, and Enjolras would imagine he could feel it there and smile every time he thought of it.

In the present, they curled around each other and fell asleep slowly, relaxed and comfortable where they were, happy for the time being to let the rest of the world forget them for a while.