Enjolras and Montparnasse

Enjolras was frustrated. And aroused. Always an…uncomfortable…state of affairs. His head was full of confusion, restlessness and what could only be described as ‘red’. He was finished all of his class work, he had speeches, discussions and pamphlets prepared for the next several weeks, and…he was bored. And his damnable cock had been tormenting him relentlessly. For the first time in his life, he found himself seriously considering finding a prostitute. Only…he had no idea where to find a suitable one, and the only person he could think of who would know was Courfeyrac. And the thought of asking that man such a question was unthinkable. He would never live it down. His mind kept straying back to Grantaire…again, unacceptable. He and the winecask had parted ways. Period. Done and over with and…oh god, just one more evening, one more hour, five minutes of pleasure couldn’t hurt either of them, could it?

Enjolras shook himself, nearly shaking his hair loose from its tie. This whole situation was confounding, and it simply wouldn’t do. Combeferre…Enjolras allowed himself a moment of quiet, pleasant indulgence in fantasy. Which finished with mutual satisfaction…but no, even if Combeferre did return his…admiration…which he had no way of knowing…it would take time to prepare him, to bring him round to the idea, to find him, to…

Enjolras screamed, muffling it through closed lips. Combeferre was…his oldest friend, practically his brother. They’d known each other their entire lives. No, there was no way.

Deciding perhaps some air would help, Enjolras stepped outside. Turning to lock the door after rummaging through his fob for his keys, he thought he saw a blur, an almost human shape streaking for his still-open door. Reaching out with a speed he hadn’t known he possessed, he found himself holding the sleeve of a thin young man. It was hard to say, at that moment, which of them was more shocked.

Enjolras examined his captive. He was indeed young; certainly no more than eighteen. He was almost painfully thin, with pale, almost womanly skin. He had long, wavy dark hair caught up in a rag of uncertain colour and composition. He was dirty, too, from his greasy hair to his nearly toe-less boots. His clothing was old, and had clearly been owned by at least two other people. Still, the young man showed signs that, with the right means, he would be fashionable. His coat was ancient velvet. He even had a threadbare silk top hat.

Breaking out of his startled trance, the boy began to struggle, pulling against Enjolras’ hold on his sleeve. Enjolras shook himself again, grabbing the boy’s wrist, just firmly enough to be uncomfortable, not quite enough to hurt.

“Were you trying to break into my flat?” Enjolras asked, one pale eyebrow raised. “Well, not break in…enter unlawfully, I suppose.”

The boy’s mouth fell open, understanding maybe half of Enjolras’ words. “I…well…um…Let me go!” He raised a leg to knee Enjolras, and his trousers ripped audibly.

Enjolras laughed unpleasantly. Perhaps his day was looking up. “You’re in a sorry state, aren’t you? I can’t just let you go, not looking like that…and not if you’re a criminal. You tried to enter my flat. I’ll have to punish you for that.”

The boy’s eyes widened and he froze, eyes drifting downward to survey the damage to his trousers. “Didn’t do anything,” he muttered.

“No, if only because I was still here and apprehended you.” His cock made its presence known again, insistently. Enjolras frowned mentally at it. This boy…?

“Can’t take me to the police, didn’t do anything.”

“No, the police involve far too much paperwork and effort on my part. And I’m sure you’ve spent plenty of time in jail before. I think you’re the answer to a problem I’ve been struggling with.” With a quick glance to make sure no one was watching, Enjolras placed a slender white hand on the back of the boy’s neck, the other one twisting the grimy wrist behind the velvet-covered back. He forced the boy through the still open door, shoving him hard enough to make him off balance, giving him enough time to close the door behind them. “There, much better. Now we’re alone.” Enjolras, almost gently, presses his leg against the back of the boy’s knees, making his legs buckle. He finishes by shoving firmly against the centre of the boy’s chest, driving him to the floor, straddling him down. Enjolras realizes he’s stil within reach of a pistol he keeps near the door, and by the time they’ve hit the floor, Enjolras has it out and pointed at the boy’s head.

“Now,” Enjolras said, with a cold smile, “what shall I do with you?”

Prone on the floor, legs bent painfully beneath Enjolras’ and his own weight, arms splayed out to his sides, the boy blinks terrified grey eyes at the blond straddling him.

“Mmm, good. I’m glad you don’t have any suggestions.” Enjolras shifted his weight, gathering up the boy’s wrists and easily holding them both in one hand, pistol still pressed just below the boy’s hairline. Enjolras suddenly realizes that he’s grinding his hips against his prisoner. He’s appalled for a moment, and then…his mind goes still and quiet, like a great problem he hadn’t even known he was struggling with had suddenly solved itself. “Yes…of course…”

The boy senses the change in his captor, and starts to protest.

Enjolras only crushes the thin wrists against each other. “Now, listen to me, very carefully. I am going to let you up. You will undress, slowly and carefully. If you attempt escape or anything of that sort, I will shoot you. If you please me, and do exactly what I say during our time together, I will let you go. I may even pay you for your services. Do you understand?”

“Not a whore,” the boy said, rather firmly, all things considered.

Enjolras smirked. “I doubt that, very much. You may not be now, but I’m sure you were at one time. Nor do I really care. If you’re not a whore, as you claim, then this will simply be rape, and I see no point in paying you. Now, we can either keep some pretence of transaction, or I can simply fuck you and take you to the police. Understand?”

The boy nodded.

“Good. I’m letting you up now.” Enjolras released the wrists and stood in a fluid movement, pistol still languidly pointed at the boy. A casual observer would hardly notice the frantic need of the blonde young man. “Undress.”

The boy stood, very slowly, clearly making sure he hadn’t been hurt during the struggle. There was a brief moment of rebellion in his eyes, but the sight of the pistol still trained on him extinguished it quickly. With another moment’s hesitation, the boy reaches up and removes his top hat, tossing it aside with a small flourish.

“Good.” Enjolras grabs one of the boy’s wrists again, drawing him further into the flat, to the sitting room. Positioning the boy in the middle of the room, Enjolras settles himself on an arm chair, arm resting, pistol aimed. “Continue.”

The boy is blushing a little as he begins undoing his coat. Only about half the buttons remain, and it’s soon open, revealing his collar-less, stained shirt, his rag of a cravat, and absent waistcoat.

Enjolras fights to remain poised and dignified and not withdraw his cock from his trousers. He nods his encouragement to the boy.

Reassured by the fact that he hasn’t been touched or harmed yet, the boy continues; removing his cravat, letting the coat slide from his narrow shoulders. Watching his captor’s every breath, the boy unbuttons his shirt as well, gently pulling it off and laying it on top of his other clothes, leaving his top half bare.

Enjolras watches all this without comment, only nodding whenever the boy pauses. The sight of the bare, pale, nearly emaciated chest does little to stir him, but…the opportunity is too good to pass up. He stands, slowly, so he won’t frighten the boy. The pistol is the first thing to make contact, the cold barrel stroking over the white chest, nipples, stomach. This still isn’t enough; Enjolras extends a pale hand, fingertips barely tracing the gun’s path. Increment by increment, more of his hand comes into contact with the heaving chest, until his palm is flat on the boy’s pectoral. With a sudden, almost violent movement, Enjolras throws his other arm around the boy, gun pressed against his bony back, crushing the boy against him. He works the gun up until it touches the back of the boy’s head, forcing his head forward for a kiss.

The boy fights, but only for a moment. He closes his eyes and allows his mouth to be opened by the force of the larger man.

Enjolras kisses him deeply, pressed against the boy from forehead to thigh. He moans softly, using the pistol to move the boy’s head to a better position. After a few moments, Enjolras pulls away with a gasp. “Finish undressing.”

Stunned, the boy hurries to peel his trousers off, nearly getting caught in the fresh rip. Despite himself, he’s partially erect. His drawers follow quickly.

“Good. “ Enjolras tries to think what he could use for oil, and realizes he has some olive oil his mother had inexplicably sent to him. Glad he hadn’t disposed of it, as he had originally planned, he pushes the boy ahead of him with the pistol, trousers uncomfortably tight. He grabs the oil on the way to the bedroom.

The boy is mostly too shocked to struggle, and anyway he’s used to being dominated and following orders.

Enjolras pushes the boy’s upper body onto the bed, leaving his lower body hanging over the edge. “Perfect.” He undresses in record time; he considers not bothering, but his skin cries out for skin. He oils his cock, a hand, and then pours some more between the boy’s legs.

The boy is struggling a little now, helplessly. Enjolras presses the pistol to the back of his head, tutting. “Don’t bother. It’s too late now. This is inevitable.” Enjolras is still calm and collected, somehow.

Placing a knee on the boy’s buttocks, Enjolras pushes them apart, slowly working a finger into the boy’s tight anus.

The boy is used to this, and forces himself to relax, forcing breath between clenched teeth with a quiet hissing noise.

Enjolras works the hole by hand as long as he can manage, until his need overwhelms him. Lowering his knee to the floor, he nudges against the hole with his cock. Meeting little resistance now, he is soon sheathed in flesh. Grabbing a handful of the boy’s hair and pulling painfully back, he begins to fuck.

Moaning, the boy grabs a pillow, clutching it beneath his chest, holding it as tightly as he can and biting it to muffle his cries. This only makes Enjolras fuck him harder.

Partway through, Enjolras flips the boy over so he can watch his face. He gently strokes the pale cheeks as he fucks the lower set. Before too long, Enjolras has spent himself in the boy. He has just enough strength left to sprawl on the bed, laying the pistol on his nightstand. He pats the bed beside him, inviting the boy into his arms.

The boy complies, moving slowly up the bed until he’s cradled in Enjolras’ arms.

“Good.” Enjolras notices that the boy is still hard, and gently takes the smaller cock in one slender hand.

The boy gasps, but doesn’t pull away or refuse.

Enjolras smiles contentedly, gently working the boy until he finally comes with a soft cry. Feeling a little more rested, Enjolras handcuffs the unresisting boy to the bed. Then, he allows himself to sleep, nestled against the sweating boy.

The boy, immobilized, settles in to sleep in a warm, comfortable bed with a gentle companion.

The next morning, Enjolras bundles the still sleeping boy and his clothing in a blanket and leaves him in front of the police station, still handcuffed.

Inspector Javert comes upon the bundle on his way in, and unwraps it enough to see the pale face. “Well, Montparnasse, it seems you had quite the adventure last night…”