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Trained to Heel (with love)

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The realization that it might be A Thing comes randomly to Grantaire two years into their relationship, at Courfeyrac’s birthday party.

Enjolras and her are both drunk - Grantaire less so than her girlfriend, which is not that surprising considering how often Enjolras drinks compared to her (Grantaire is immuned before five glasses, Enjolras is wasted after four) - and Grantaire is trying to make her dance. Enjolras doesn’t move (Grantaire suspects it’s because she’s not sure she’d be able to stand on her feet) but she’s laughing, and when Grantaire bends over to try to carry her, she hits her shoulder and orders her to just sit down and be good, R.  

She means it jokingly, that much is clear enough, but Grantaire has never denied being a little shit, and she grins at her girlfriend, falls on her knees in the middle of their friend’s living-room, and barks mockingly. Their friends are all inebriated enough to laugh at it - Grantaire responding to Enjolras’ every whim like a faithful dog is a joke that goes back from pretty much their third meeting or so and she played on it long enough that they all know that she doesn’t mind it.

What Grantaire doesn’t expect to see, however, is Enjolras looking down at her with familiar darkening eyes. She knows that look by heart - she loves that look; it’s a look that means I am very turned on right now and I’m ready to push you around for my sole pleasure until the only thing you remember is my name. It’s probably Grantaire’s second favourite look (the first one is the one Enjolras gave her after their first kiss, and then during their first date, and keeps giving her regularly at strange moments of the day. Grantaire has learnt slowly that it means I am so in love with you, and it makes her heart flutters every time she thinks about it.)

For a second, she’s confused - is it because she went on her knees? Enjolras usually needs more to give the look, but she’s drunk, so maybe her libido isn’t as well-behaved - but understanding down upon her when, after a moment, Enjolras reaches down and scratches her behind the ear, like she does sometimes with Bahorel’s dog before sneezing. Of course she doesn’t sneeze now, because Grantaire isn’t actually a dog, so there’s no allergy to worry about. Grantaire looks at her with wide eyes, her stomach twisting pleasantly and then, she nuzzles discreetly Enjolras’ leg.

Less than a minute later, Enjolras pulls her up firmly, and Grantaire finds herself straddling her while Enjolras kisses her as if she’s going to ravish her on the spot, with all of their friends watching. She doesn’t, of course - they’re both too drunk to do anything else than making out on Courfeyrac’s couch, and, anyway, ‘ sex in the presence of their friends’ is still a fantasy they’re not ready to actually act upon.

But Grantaire has just discovered a new side of her girlfriend (whoever said that you can’t be perpetually surprised by your partner after being together for a while has clearly never met Enjolras) and she carefully notes it in a corner of her brain, determined to talk with her about it when they’re both sober again, before teasingly sliding her hand underneath Enjolras’ t-shirt and forgetting about everything that isn’t Enjolras’ mouth and fingers.


She only thinks about it again several days later, at the end of a particularly intense scene, as Enjolras whispers praises while putting some soothing cream on her burning back, her other hand running through Grantaire’s curls gently. Grantaire is just starting to coming back to her regular self and it occurs to her suddenly that she loves it when Enjolras pets her like she’s doing right now, and that she would surely have a lot more petting if she discussed with her mistress the possibility of being her dog.

It seems like a brilliant idea, and since she knows she can talk now, she doesn’t wait longer;

“So, pet play?” she asks casually.

Enjolras’ hands freeze above her. Grantaire whines a little and then sighs happily when the gentle movements start again.

“Pet play?” Enjolras repeats calmly. “What brought this on?”

“You liking it when I barked,” Grantaire answers, and hums pleasantly when Enjolras’ hand caresses the back of her neck. “What didn’t you say before?”

“Are you really okay talking about it right now?” Enjolras asks.

“Yes, yes, I’m good. Is there a better time than afterglow to have those kind of conversations?”

Grantaire raises her head just a little so she can grin at her girlfriend, who rolls her eyes fondly. Enjolras manhandles her gently until Grantaire’s cheek is no longer resting on her lap but on her shoulder, and then she resumes her caresses, staying silent for a while. Grantaire doesn’t mind waiting; she knows Enjolras likes to organize her thoughts before expressing them, and Grantaire did kind of take her by surprise with this. Her body is all relaxed underneath Enjolras’ clever fingers anyway, and there is very little that could bother her right now.

“I didn’t really realized that I liked the idea until the party,” Enjolras finally admits after a while. “And after it, I didn’t think of it that much. It’s - very different from what we do.”

“Is it, really?” Grantaire says. “I mean, it still involves you ordering me around and me doing my best to please you. You know how much I like doing that,” she adds, kissing Enjolras’ skin.

She feels Enjolras’ lips on her forehead in answer.

“There’s a difference between being a human who enjoys being beaten and humiliated sometimes because they are dirty sluts, and being treated like an actual animal,” she says dryly, and Grantaire shivers with remnants of lust at her words.

“I’m very interested anyway, Ma’am,” she says, the title escaping her before she can think about it. “It sounds like a nice game.”

Enjolras puts her fingers underneath Grantaire’s chin and makes her raise her head, frowning at her thoughtfully. Grantaire doesn’t know if she’s annoyed or completely charmed by the way Enjolras is obviously concerned they’re maybe crossing a line, despite the fact that they’re both clearly happy with the idea.

“Are you sure?” she asks finally.

Yes, ” Grantaire says, fondly exasperated. “I like to lick your boots and being made to suffer just for you, Enjolras. No matter what you'd plan to do with your dog - fetching and eating from bowls or whatever - it’s probably going to end up actually less intense than any other stuff we’ve tried and enjoyed .”

She pushes herself on her elbow a little bit so she can kiss Enjolras, just to make sure her point comes across. Enjolras kisses her back languidly, and when they break apart, she reaches slowly for her bedside lamp and turns the light off before pulling Grantaire even closer to her. Cuddling before going to sleep is something that they both enjoy, and Grantaire is already tired enough by their scene that she feels her eyes closing by themselves quickly enough.

Just before she really falls asleep, she feels Enjolras’ lips brushing against her ear:

“Well,” she whispers, “I’ve always wanted a dog.”

Grantaire grins.


It hadn’t taken that long for Enjolras and Grantaire to discover how much they’d loved the idea of Enjolras having complete power over Grantaire’s body during sex. Honestly, Grantaire had known it long before they started dating - there was little that was more compelling and attractive in Enjolras that her natural charm and commanding air and definitely nothing sexier than having her look at Grantaire as if she was the most annoying thing she’d ever met and she wished really hard she could put some sense into her (by any way necessary).

They’d still taken a very long time until actually playing with it. Lines were too easily blurred for Grantaire not to make Enjolras uneasy and Enjolras had principles, anyway, which meant that they’d had long evenings talking about everything they liked and disliked, about consent and appropriate moments.

Six months ago, Grantaire had finally had the courage to ask Enjolras to surprise her. It was nice, talking about a scene before doing it, but it was even nicer to go into it completely blind, and trusting Enjolras to lead her in a wonderful place of pain and pleasure. She knew that Enjolras wouldn’t step on her limits, she’d had plenty of time to get used to Enjolras the Mistress, as well as Enjolras her girlfriend, and, even in case it was too much, she was absolutely certain that Enjolras would stop if she’d asked - that was, after all, why they had safewords.

Enjolras had been adamant about Grantaire telling her “no” if she didn’t want to play, no matter what she proposed or had planned. Six months later, and Grantaire has still hadn’t said the world; Enjolras is always very good at guessing when they were both in the mood.

It still completely takes her by surprise when, that Saturday, when she finally leaves her studio and goes to join her girlfriend on the couch to cuddle in front of the TV, Enjolras taps her on the nose and brings her on her knees by pulling on her hair, looking half-stern, half-amused.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you trying to climb?” she asks, frowning down at Grantaire. “Puppies aren’t allowed on furniture, you know that, you naughty thing, it’s the second rule.”

Grantaire feels a strange mix of shame and arousal downing upon her. No matter how many times they do this, there is still something deliciously degrading about being talked down like that - like she’s lesser than Enjolras, but her Mistress is willing to put up with her anyway. She licks her lips and glances at Enjolras, who’s patiently looking at her, waiting for Grantaire to either say yes or no. It doesn’t take long for Grantaire to make her decision - she barks softly, pushing her nose against Enjolras’ leg playfully.

Enjolras grins and pats her on the head, before taking out Grantaire’s collar from behind her back. Grantaire’s eyes shines as Enjolras fastens it around her neck, and she feels her whole body relaxing under the familiar weight of it. She licks Enjolras’ hand in thanks, and Enjolras shakes her head fondly.

“You’re a spoiled thing,” she says with a raised eyebrow. “Now you’ve got one minute to follow our first rule, otherwise I just won’t play with you. I don’t like undisciplined pets.”

The First Rule, with Enjolras, is constant enough that Grantaire has no doubt about what she’s asking for. She immediately takes off her shirt and bra, smirking proudly when she sees Enjolras’ interested glance on her breasts, and rises from the ground just enough that she can finish the task. Once she’s naked, she gets back on her knees again and her cheeks reddens slightly as Enjolras looks at her body with the air of someone happy of their latest purchase.

“Good girl,” she says, patting her head again. “Give me those clothes, I don’t want them to stay on the floor - who knows what kind of bacteria they have.”

Grantaire instinctively takes her pants in her hand and yelps when Enjolras hits her ass with her foot, looking back at her with wide eyes.

“How do you plan to carry those with your paws?” Enjolras asks with a severe frown.

Grantaire blushes harder, her stomach clenching with desire and humiliation and she leans on the ground to catches the clothes between her teeth, imagining what she must look like with her ass in the air. She always hates and loves the beginning of a scene, when she’s still far from subspace and can realize quite clearly what she lets Enjolras do to her. Or, rather, what she does for Enjolras -

She brings the clothes one by one, and when she’s done, Enjolras rewards her with another good girl and a scratch between the ear that makes Grantaire hums.

“Now sit and be good,” Enjolras orders gently, briefly caressing her shoulder. “I have to finish reading this report, and I don’t want you to walk around the apartment and make a mess in the mid-time.”

Grantaire obeys, because she always does and gets as comfortable as she can, resting her head against Enjolras’ knee because she’s supposed to be a dog, and this is something that dogs do. It’s nice for a while, to just rest and listen as Enjolras mutters under her breath about the lawyer who made the report, but after a while (twenty minutes? Maybe more? Who cares) Grantaire gets bored. Her feet are starting to fall asleep underneath her, but more than that, she wants Enjolras to pay attention to her.

She knows better than to speak (which ridiculous dog would try such a thing?) so she whimpers against Enjolras’ leg, pushing it a little with her nose. It’s an embarrassing sound on its own (barking actually feels fun - a whimper is needy, she knows it, Enjolras often sighs about how needy she is) but it’s even worse when Enjolras just pats her distractedly without even raising her eyes from the report, dismissing her completely. She whimpers again, louder, and raises her hands (her paws, she thinks, and a peak of arousal goes through her body, making her shiver) to put them on Enjolras’ legs.

Enjolras immediately pushes them away, and hits her on the nose again with the report.

Bad dog,” she growls. “I told you to stay still! This is important, I cannot be distracted by all the noises you make!”

Grantaire whines, because she doesn’t know how to say sorry otherwise, but it only seems to annoy Enjolras further. She sighs and grabs Grantaire’s panties at the top of the pile of clothes, opens Grantaire’s mouth by force, and pushes the panties inside as far as she can, making Grantaire almost gag on them.

“There,” she says, “Chew on this and let me work in peace.”

Grantaire actually has to chew on the undergarment to make sure that she doesn’t choke on it, and she can feel some of her spit  running on her chin in the process. She doesn’t dare completely let go of the panties, though, remembering that Enjolras didn’t want any clothes on the floor, and she’s left with actually holding them between her teeth, half it hanging out of her mouth and she cannot even start imagining how ridiculous she looks.

Fortunately, it takes less time for Enjolras to pay attention to her again. After a while, Grantaire feels the hand of her Mistress running through her hair, and she sighs, raising her eyes to her again. Enjolras is looking at her, clearly amused, and takes back the panties in between two fingers with a grimace:

“Such a messy little thing,” she says, making Grantaire blush some more, and then smiles and scratches Grantaire’s neck just underneath her collar with both of her hands:

“Do you want to play?” she asks with that tone of voice that people usually only use for pets or babies. Grantaire barks, happy to be able to move and Enjolras snorts: “Of course you do, you needy girl. Well then, see that?” she flings her pen in front of Grantaire’s nose. “See that, sweetheart? Fetch!”

She throws the pen as far as she can, and it falls somewhere near Enjolras’ desk. Grantaire knows what she has to do, and she begins to crawl awkwardly to the pen, as fast as she can. She’s acutely aware of the way she looks, and she can feel Enjolras’ eyes on her, but she ignores any embarrassment and lowers her head to take the pen in her mouth, bringing it back to Enjolras and putting it on her lap. Enjolras lets out a delighted exclamation, as if what Grantaire just did was truly a wonderful thing, and then she throws the pen again.

And again.

And again.

Each time Grantaire comes back to her with it, Enjolras praises her and pets her a little, and Grantaire can feel herself falling into the peaceful place where nothing matters except Enjolras’ smile and pleasure. Enjolras was right - it is different from what they do usually, but it feels wonderful to have Enjolras’ compliments so easily when she has to work so hard in other scenes to hear even a such a good slut.

She completely lost track of the time. When her Mistress gets bored with playing fetch, she makes Grantaire rolls other and begs for her own amusement. Then, she puts the pen on precarious balance on Grantaire’s nose, and asks her not to let it fall. Grantaire has stopped thinking about how ridiculous she must look, head jerked backward to keep the pen on the bridge of her nose, her hands still bend slightly at level of her chest, and she’s concentrating pretty hard on succeeding when her Mistress begins to play with her nipples.

She gasps and lets the pen fall. She looks at her Mistress, scared of being reprimanded, but Enjolras only laughs, and puts the pen back on the nose:

“Longer this time, you can do it,” she says, before going back to pulling and twisting her nipples.

Grantaire is vaguely aware that she’s wet, but she’s too focused on the pen and Enjolras’ fingers to really care. She makes the pen fall several times again until Enjolras finally gives up and lets her rest at her feet again. Grantaire is panting, exhausted. Enjolras pets her gently for a moment before grabbing her hair to make her look at her:

“Are you thirsty, pet?”

Grantaire barks softly. Enjolras rewards her with another caress.

“We’ll go in the kitchen then. It’s time to eat, anyway.”

Enjolras gets up, and Grantaire follows her slowly, glancing at the windows just to see that Enjolras is right - it seems to be far later than she’d thought, the sky is darkening outside, and now that she isn’t completely focused on Enjolras, she can even hear regular tapping against the walls - it’s raining.

In the kitchen, Grantaire’s eyes are immediately attracted to the large dog bowl near the table, and she wonders how she missed it earlier, pretty sure that she passed through the kitchen before joining Enjolras. Her Mistress brings another bowl next to it, putting it carefully on the floor, and beckons Grantaire closer.

“Now you can drink while I prepare dinner,” she says and pulls Grantaire forwards until her nose touches the water.

Grantaire’s too thirsty to think about the humiliation of having to lap her water from a bowl on the floor. She doesn’t even register what Enjolras said about dinner, she just drinks avidly, doing her best not to make a mess (she can’t help her curls from falling into the water though).

“Slower,” Enjolras orders after a while, slapping her ass. “You’re going to make yourself sick. Eat while it’s warm - I’m not warming it up again and I expect the bowl to be empty.”

Grantaire blinks and looks at her, confused for a moment, and then realizes that the large dog bowl is now full (when did that happened?). She looks at it a bit warily, not sure she’s ready to eat the hash meat which is in it (it really does look like dog food, and it’s really unappetizing) but Enjolras tsks, and she goes sniff at it curiously before carefully lowering her head and trying to eat. It doesn’t take long for her to realize that it’s actually the hash meat of the lasagna she made yesterday, and she almost grins (because of course, Enjolras cooking?) before diving into the bowl more eagerly.

The meat does get colder before she’s finished, but Enjolras has said she wanted the bowl to be empty, and Grantaire is an obedient pet. She grimaces as she forces to lick the cold remnants of it and goes back to drinking as soon as she’s done, hoping to make the odd taste disappear.

After a while, she feels Enjolras’ eyes on her again, and she raises her head. There is an happy glint in Enjolras’ stare, but her Mistress just burst into delighted laughter when she sees her face. Grantaire blushes again, awareness coming back to her just enough that she can realize that she’s got meat all over her nose and cheeks.

“You’re an horrible, messy pup,” Enjolras says when she calms down, looking at her with a mixture of amusement and disapproval. “Maybe I should enroll you into classes for undisciplined dogs so they can train you to eat better.”

Grantaire tells herself that she shouldn’t be aroused by the image of Enjolras, bringing her to a dog instructor to be trained, Grantaire naked and leashed at her feet, no different from all the others dogs in the room. It doesn’t change the fact that she has to bite back a moan and tighten her legs…. which is when she realizes that she needs to go to the bathroom.

She looks at Enjolras, and she almost says yellow, because she doesn’t know how to explain in another way that she has some natural needs to take care of, but Enjolras is already looking at her with knowing eyes.

“You drink too much, didn’t you?” she asks.

Grantaire feels her cheeks going red once more, and she whines, looking pleadingly at her.

“Well, I’m not taking you for a walk outside with that weather,” Enjolras says, frowning, and Grantaire, who hadn’t even thought about taking a walk stares at her with wide eyes, frozen. Enjolras is thoughtful for a moment, and then she shrugs: “well, you need to be washed off anyway, so you’re going to prove to me what a clever, clever dog you are, and you’re going to relieve yourself in the shower while I clean up the table quickly.”

For the first time since they started, Grantaire hesitates for real. Enjolras stares at her with a raised eyebrow, and she opens her mouth, ready to beg to use the toilet (she had to, before, it’s humiliating, to ask for this, but definitely less so than peeing in the shower ) but then Enjolras crouches in front of her again, scratching her ear again:

“You are a clever girl, aren’t you? You know where’s the bathroom? Or do you need me to accompany you?” she asks with piercing eyes.

Grantaire gets the message.

Either she goes alone, or either Enjolras comes with her - in any case, she won’t be allowed to use the toilet. Scarlet, she barks and gets on her hands and knees again. Enjolras grins proudly.

“Good girl! Now go, quick!”

Grantaire crawls to the bathroom - the door is already opened and she goes inside with apprehension. She looks at the toilet for a moment and wonders if she should just use it - but she’s been such a good girl until now, and Enjolras is trusting her and so, with an odd combination of dread and thrill, she climbs into the shower and crouches to relieve herself.

Perhaps because it’s so horribly embarrassing, it seems to take forever. When she’s done, she feels both empty and proud, and she curls up on the other corner of the shower, waiting for Enjolras.

Her Mistress arrives quickly; she takes one look at Grantaire and beams, which warms Grantaire’s chest - she did this.

“Good girl, such a wonderful, clever girl,” Enjolras whispers, ruffling her hair. “I’m so proud of you. Now we’re going to make you all clean again, alright?”

Grantaire barks in approval. Enjolras smiles, and takes off her shirt. Grantaire watches her happily, wondering if she’s going to join her, but when she’s in her underthings, Enjolras stops stripping and grabs the shower hose and makes the water runs on her fingers for a short time before suddenly turning the spray right on Grantaire’s face, who yelps and splutters, water filling her mouth and nose before she turns her head.

Enjolras grabs her by the waist and frowns at her:

“Be still, pet. You’re all dirty, you need to be washed.”

Washing doesn’t take long, once Grantaire stops trying to anticipate where Enjolras is going to put the spray next. The water is lukewarm at best, but Grantaire starts to relax when Enjolras starts to rub her skin with a bath glove. Enjolras spends a lot of time on her breasts, but towards the end, she actually pushes Grantaire’s head on the cold tiles of the shower’s floor and directs the water spray to Grantaire’s pussy.

Grantaire gasps and moans, and shamelessly opens her legs more, but when the tension in her belly grows impossible to ignore, Enjolras stops the shower abruptly. Grantaire looks at her and whines, feeling betrayed, but Enjolras just snorts.

“I should have guessed that some of your sluttiness would appear even know,” she says disdainfully. “I’m washing you and all you can do is moan like a bitch in heat.”

The words don’t help at all with Grantaire’s need to come. She’s too used on getting off from Enjolras’ disdain and insults, and she knows Enjolras knows it. There’s nothing she can do without permission though, so she stays quiet and gets out of the shower, shivering, letting Enjolras drying her up quickly.

“There,” Enjolras says after a while, her voice soft again. “All clean, all pretty again for me, pet.”

She kisses Grantaire’s nose, her hands holding Grantaire’s head, and Grantaire barks.

“Now let’s go to the bedroom,” Enjolras whispers. “You’ve been really, really good today, and I think you’ve earned a special treat.”

There’s no mistaking what treat Enjolras is talking about with the peculiar glint in her eyes. Feeling full of enthusiasm again, Grantaire crawls behind her Mistress, and eagerly follows her when Enjolras takes off her panties, sits on the bed, and spreads her legs.

“Well, come on!” Enjolras says, when Grantaire looks at her a second too long. “I know you want it. That’s what you always want, isn’t it pet?”

Grantaire’s answering whimper is really nothing but needy, and she crawls between her Mistress’s legs, licking with absolute joy her pussy.

It’s surprising how wet she’s already is - Enjolras is very good at pretending she’s not as turned on as Grantaire, which generally makes Grantaire feel all the more dirty for her own arousal. But right now there’s no hiding or pretense anymore. Enjolras grabs her by the hair and pushes her further into her cunt, and Grantaire licks and sucks her delightedly, thrilled to hear the noises Enjolras makes above her, proud to know that this is her who’s giving her so much pleasure.

Enjolras must have been even more aroused by their afternoon than she’d thought, because it doesn’t take long before her hand tightens around Grantaire’s curls and she thrusts her hips a little, before coming with a gasp. Grantaire licks her through her orgasm, and only kisses her reverently and sits back on her heels when Enjolras pulls her backward.

“Oh, Grantaire,” she sighs happily, smirking. “I’ve just washed you, pet.”

Grantaire only puts her tongue out to lick some of Enjolras’ juices off her chin, looking teasingly at Enjolras, who rolls her eyes and then raises her foot and lets it brush against Grantaire’ pussy. Grantaire forgets to tease, gasping again.

“Something you’d like to ask, sweetheart?” Enjolras smirks.

Grantaire almost says please before remembering that she’s a dog. The thought reignites the fire in her lower stomach, and she actually humps Enjolras’ foot a little, which only earns her a kick.

“Bad dog,” Enjolras says, frowning. “Let’s hear you beg nicely, and maybe you’ll be allowed to hump on my leg like the dirty bitch I know you are.”

Grantaire whines a little, but she obediently raises her hands to her chest again and barks. Enjolras only sighs and relents after a long minute.

“Oh well. Do it, if you must.”

Grantaire almost cries with pleasure, but chooses to lick Enjolras’ hand instead and then, too much gone too care about her dignity, she humps Enjolras’ leg, the friction more than welcome after so much time ignoring her desire. She can vaguely hear Enjolras telling her that she’s so filthy, so gorgeously filthy and that Enjolras loves to see her girl humiliates herself like that just so she can comes, come on R, comes just like that, like the dirty dog you are -

When Grantaire’s orgasm arrives, it’s sudden and wonderful. She kind of falls at Enjolras’ feet afterwards, panting, and looks at her Mistress with adoring eyes. Enjolras looks down at her with a fond smile of her own, and actually leans forwards to give her a belly rub.

“Good girl,” she says happily. “Good, good girl.”

They stayed like that for a moment longer, until Grantaire yawns involuntarily.

“Time to go to bed, I think,” Enjolras whispers. “I’m tired too.”

Grantaire moves slowly, and pushes herself on her feet to get on the bed, when Enjolras drags her back to the floor sharply.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks sternly.

Grantaire opens her mouth and then closes it back, confused. Enjolras gets up, still pulling Grantaire by the hair, and makes her crawl to the other side of the bed. Grantaire stops abruptly, frozen, when she catches the new addition on the floor.

“Sluts can sleep in beds,” Enjolras says quietly, “but I told you before, sweetheart, pets aren’t allowed on furniture. Especially a messy pup like you.”

Heart beating too fast in her chest, Grantaire eyes the green doggy bed, still stunned, (her bed) and she wonders when Enjolras had the time to prepare all of this. She doesn’t get to stay still for long, though. Enjolras pulls her again towards it, and makes Grantaire climb on it.

Grantaire will have to curl up, but the mattress seems comfortable enough, and there are a little pillow and blanket, which is… nice. She quietly settles, remembering that she asked for this, told Enjolras that nothing she could do would be more intense that what they did, and she’s almost comfortable when she hears a clanging sound and raises her head again.

Enjolras has just tied one of the metallic chain she uses on Grantaire sometimes to the foot of the bed. She takes the other end, turns to Grantaire again, and caresses her cheek even as she clamps the chain to Grantaire’s collar.

Grantaire swallows hard, and Enjolras just smiles.

“There,” she says, “now I’m sure you won’t get up and make any mess during the night. Sleep well, puppy.”