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The Blood of Passionate Men

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The man is beautiful - tall, angelically blond, his eyes shining such fury and passion that it takes Grantaire's breath away. He fills the room with his presence, his passion igniting everyone around him. Even Grantaire's affected.

He barely hears the words, but the sentiment behind them, about liberty and equality and fraternity, gets through to Grantaire all the same. He almost finds himself believing. The man looks Grantaire directly in the eye at one point. Maybe it was just an illusion from his part, but Grantaire sits up straight, striving to show he's affected, that he's worthy of attention.

After the speech, Grantaire gathers his courage to approach him. The others leave the room, heads and hearts filled with ideas of revolution. Grantaire is filled with other ideas.

"That was an inspiring speech."

"Did you hear a word of it?" There's no accusation from the man, just a wry smile.

"I understood the meaning behind them quite well," Grantaire retorts

"Yes, I suppose you did." The man looks him over, with a pensive expression. When it turns into a smile, Grantaire could swear he sees a glint of red in his eyes. "I'm Enjolras."


"Would you like to share my bed tonight?"

"Yes," Grantaire says without pause, without thinking, without breathing.

He's in a daze, unsure if he's dreaming or awake, all the way to Enjolras' room. Once the door is closed, he pushes Grantaire down to the bed and climbs to his lap. Enjolras starts undressing Grantaire, pushing his coat off his shoulders and untying his cravat.

"Why me?" Grantaire blurts out.

"Because you look at me like you need me more than air itself." Enjolras smiles as he unbuttons Grantaire's waistcoat. There's something quite terrible about it, but Grantaire, foolishly, isn't scared.

"I'd do anything for you," he says.

"Your devotion is very much appreciated, believe me." Waistcoat gone, Enjolras caresses Grantaire's cheek, his nails unusually sharp, his eyes glinting with red again.

"You're not human, are you?" Grantaire asks.

"How perceptive of you," Enjolras says, amused. He settles in Grantaire's lap, his arms around Grantaire's shoulders.

It's not a threat, but Grantaire is suddenly aware how easily Enjolras could dispose of him.

"Are you going to steal my soul? Because I doubt it'll be worth your trouble."

"Why would I steal something freely given? No," he shakes his head, "I don't steal anything to survive. The energy from a room full of revolutionaries, their spirits lifted, their attention focused on a single cause that matters more than anything else, that's enough to sustain me."

"You don't believe in the Revolution, then? You're just using those men to feed yourself?" Grantaire can't avoid the bitterness in his voice.

"Of course not," Enjolras says, eyes wide in surprise. "I believe in it with all my heart. Otherwise, it wouldn't do anything for me."

His honesty overwhelms Grantaire. "Sorry, I-"

Enjolras puts a finger to his lips. "Don't worry." He smiles again, allowing Grantaire to see a hint of sharp teeth.

"Why did you invite me here? I'm easily the worst revolutionary in the city."

"No, your devotion is entirely personal." Enjolras leans back, taking all of Grantaire. He runs his hands down his side, stopping just above his waist.

It makes Grantaire shiver.

"I confess, it's inebriating having all that concentrated in me alone. I haven't feel this hungry in decades."

There's that smile again. It's a predator's smile. Grantaire is a trapped prey and he couldn't care less - Enjolras can devour him if he wants. "Hungry for what?"

Enjolras picks his wrist and takes it to his lips for a kiss. He licks the skin, his tongue rough and scratchy. Grantaire can see Enjolras' fangs clearly now and he knows what's going to happen a second before Enjolras sinks his teeth in. He doesn't resist despite the sharp, penetrating pain. Enjolras keeps his lips pressed tight to his wrist, sucks Grantaire's blood for what seems like hours.

Maybe it's only his imagination, but Grantaire can feel Enjolras' heartbeat drumming in his ears. There's blood dripping down his arm, staining his sleeve, and he's never been this hard on his life.

When Enjolras pulls back, there's blood smeared in his chin. Grantaire reaches out with his thumb, ignoring the hungry expression and red eyes. Enjolras takes his finger in his mouth, sucks lightly, and then returns to his arm, licking the two small wounds. The blood still wasn't stopped flowing.

"Shouldn't it have stopped bleeding by now?" Grantaire asks, a hint of concern crossing his mind.

"Not yet. Do you want me to stop already?"

"No, don't!"

Enjolras' smile gets more feral each time. "I didn't think so."

He pushes Grantaire down on the bed, ripping his shirt open. Enjolras kisses his way down Grantaire's chest. He sucks his nipples until they're erect and he can bite down, drawing blood. Grantaire's body arches with the pain, his cock throbbing inside his pants. Enjolras keeps teasing, licking over his stomach. His tongue is rough, it scratches Grantaire's skin. Enjolras drags his nails down Grantaire's sides, leaving faint red lines with little pearls of blood in their wake.

He opens Grantaire's trousers slowly, undoing the buttons one by one.

"Enjolras, please, please," Grantaire begs, feeling light headed. Each scratch, each bite, it's a point of pleasure and pain.

His cock is released from its confines - hard, flushed, leaking - and Enjolras licks his lips, showing his sharp fangs clearly now. He drags his tongue up the shaft, making Grantaire squirm, and swallows his cock, his teeth touching the skin. Grantaire tenses, his blood pumping in his ears with fear and anticipation. Enjolras hollows his cheeks, keeps sucking Grantaire's cock, lulling him to some sense of security for a moment, before pulling out, dragging the skin of the prepuce with his teeth. Grantaire closes his eyes, grabs the sheets and only lets out a small cry when Enjolras bites down.

Enjolras licks and sucks the tip, drawing more blood out. Grantaire is almost too afraid too look, but he manages somehow. Enjolras has a truly feral expression - red eyes, full lips, blood dripping down his chin.

He's still the most beautiful thing Grantaire has ever seen.

He leans over Grantaire again, claiming his mouth in a bruising kiss. He tastes of blood and of Grantaire and of danger.

Enjolras is pressed over his body, his mouth on Grantaire's. Enjolras keeps kissing him, going over his jaw to his neck, right where his pulse is stronger. The pain isn't unexpected, but it makes Grantaire gasp anyway, arching against Enjolras. It hurts, his cock is tender, and he holds Enjolras with whatever strength he can conjure.

As Enjolras drinks Grantaire's blood, their heartbeats synchronized, until the drumming of his heart is everything Grantaire can hear. Tension grows, reaching an intolerable peak, and Grantaire comes with a muffled gasp.

Everything stops suddenly. The world goes quiet and Grantaire feels very, very tired. Enjolras moves, taking his weight off Grantaire, and looks at him with something resembling concern. Despite the blood smeared in his face and the still glowing eyes, he's starting to look human again.

"Thank you," he says. He kisses Grantaire tenderly. He feels himself drifting off, the blood loss catching up with him. Enjolras caresses his face. "Sleep now."

Grantaire nods, unsure of what to say, and obeys.