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And then there was the time they watched porn For Science.
Enjolras comes to him and says, "I demand you show me the finest pornography of the land, so that I may best examine the problems--"
Okay, what he actually says is, "Grantaire, you have the largest porn collection of anyone I know. Show me the ones that you think won't make me break your computer."
"For science?" Grantaire asks.
"For science," Enjolras confirms solemnly.
And then he brings a notebook with him that night, so Grantaire is willing to believe the Science purposes.
"What kind of science?" Grantaire asks. "And will I be cited in your paper?"
"You shall be the most thanked research assistant of all time, feted throughout history," Enjolras actually says, and that's not a lie. "Now show me the porn."
Grantaire's hooked his laptop up to the TV so they can watch his selection in comfort. Putting together the highlights had been hard (yes, like that), but Grantaire had manfully risen to the challenge (also like that). If Enjolras wants porn, Grantaire's going to give him porn. That's what a good lieutenant does, and Grantaire is totally willing to show Enjolras how good a lieutenant he can be. Because it's not as though his other tries were successful (they were very unsuccessful). Finally Enjolras is giving him a job he can do! Grantaire is glad that his unique skill-set is being appreciated and utilized in the service of Enjolras activism. And Enjolras. Mostly Enjolras. Okay, entirely Enjolras.
The fact that this sounds like the set-up to a porno does not go unnoticed by Grantaire (he has no idea if it goes unnoticed by Enjolras). Two men, one small couch, a lot of porn, some pizza, and beer. That's an equation for fucking if Grantaire ever heard of one. And he's heard a lot of equations for fucking. He'd write a few of them, but he's a lover, not a fighter, and an artist, not a mathematician.
The first porn clip starts well, but then Enjolras says, "that's not a good idea, he's going to get splinters on his ass," and Grantaire has to pause the film long enough to give Enjolras a Look. "You know this is unrealistic," he says sternly.
"Yes," Enjolras hangs his head.
"No complaining about realism," Grantaire dictates, and un-pauses the film.
It doesn't help, though. Enjolras is muttering under his breath about camera angles and how that must be really uncomfortable, and he gets annoyed when the hot twink receiving a blowjob looks bored out of his mind.
"How bad is the other guy?" Enjolras grumbles. "I could give a better blowjob, come on."
Grantaire chokes on his pizza.
"It's just a matter of technique," Enjolras is saying. "I don't see what the complications are. The mechanics must be quite simple."
"Um," Grantaire says.
"There's no excuse for bad blowjobs," Enjolras says decisively.
"You are such a virgin," Grantaire does not say, because he values his life even if it doesn't always seem that way. He does say: "well, um, ah, um, uh, ah, well, uh, they're, um, professionals, you know. Anything, uh, could get, um, boring. You know. After a while. I guess."
Enjolras tsks.
"You're not the target audience anyway," Grantaire says. "It's okay if you're not finding this erotic. I mean, you aren't here for eroticism, are you? You're here for research. For science. Not for erections. Um."
"Play the next one," Enjolras says instead of giving him a meaningful answer to that.
After three more, Enjolras's objections have quieted entirely and Grantaire looks over at him nervously, not sure what fresh hell will be sprung upon him now that Enjolras has had time to think about unrealistic body images instead of just camera angles and inconvenient splinters and really bored porn stars.
What he sees makes him rub his eyes in confusion (yes, really), because Enjolras, the great marble statue that he is, has sprouted some extra marble. So to speak.
Okay, that was terrible, but can you blame him?
Of course you cannot blame him.
"Enjolras," Grantaire breathes, staring at Enjolras's lap.
Enjolras glares at him.
"It's okay!" Grantaire puts his hands up. "Normal reaction, blah blah blah, et cetera et cetera et cetera," he continues on in that vein, digging deeper and deeper. Enjolras just gets sterner and sterner and fucking dammit does he know how hot he is when he's being disapproving and stern and Grantaire just wants to be taken over his lap and--
Breathe.
Grantaire is breathing.
Grantaire assures you that he is breathing.
"Right," he says, out of his head and with no idea where he's going or what he's doing, so he gets himself another slice of pizza and another beer and resolutely does not sit down on Enjolras's cock and rub himself back and forth on it, pushing down insistently, wrapping his arms around Enjolras and holding down tight as they rut wildly and--
No, really, he's breathing.
Promise.
"Good idea," Enjolras says.
Grantaire focuses on breathing for the next ten minutes, resolutely not looking at the screen and trying not to listen to the moans (Why are they so loud? Enjolras had complained earlier. But now it looks like he's just getting off on it, so there's QED right there on why it's so loud, Enjolras, and Grantaire would like that noted for the record). He does not completely succeed, because where else is he supposed to look? Enjolras's cock?
And then Enjolras touches his cock through his jeans and Grantaire is off of the couch like a bullet from a not-misfiring musket. "I think I should-- in the kitchen-- dishes-- boxes-- kitchen."
Enjolras glares at him. "Sit your ass down, Grantaire."
Grantaire obediently sits his ass down.
On the floor.
Because he had been standing.
That this lands him not all that far from being between Enjolras's spread legs is a total, total, complete and utter, total coincidence. He promises. A lot. "Ung," he says coherently. Because getting ordered around is erotic, who would have known? (Grantaire. Grantaire had known. This is half of why Grantaire hangs around Enjolras, of course he'd known. But this is the first time Enjolras had been hard while doing it. Grantaire is allowed to be out of his head with lust right now. In fact, it's probably mandatory. There could be a law about it. Somewhere. Maybe.)
Enjolras cups his cock through his jeans, pressing down with the heel of his hand, and then his hips jerk up and then he's fucking the air, and Grantaire doesn't know what to do with this, he really doesn't. His brain has blue-screened, please reboot in safe mode. Enjolras's thigh muscles are working hard and Grantaire can see the muscles flex and Enjolras is getting himself off fully clothed on Grantaire's couch and all Grantaire can do is sit on the floor and watch it, because Enjolras told him to and--
Stop.
Grantaire swallows hard and stares at the floor, because he will not come in his pants, he will not come in his pants, he will not come in his pants.
He will not come in his pants.
And then, "watch me," Enjolras says, that same damn bite in his voice. "Watch me, Grantaire."
And Grantaire watches him, watches him like a porno, except his hands are behind his back (how did they get behind his back? Why are you asking questions at a time like this, can't you see this is important?) and he laces his fingers together and holds himself still, because he's not going to touch himself, because Enjolras is touching himself, because Grantaire can't do anything but watch this, nothing but watch and stare and try to keep breathing while he watches Enjolras come apart in front of him and Grantaire can't touch, and if he can't touch, then he won't touch, so he can't touch Enjolras and he won't touch himself and all he's going to do is sit and stare and wait and watch like a good lieutenant who can do what his captain tells him to, and this time that means watching his captain get off, and Grantaire can do this. He can totally do this. He was born for doing this. There is nothing more important in his world than doing this.
"Open your mouth," Enjolras orders, and then he's unzipping his jeans and getting his cock out and Grantaire wants nothing more than to touch and taste and show Enjolras what a good blowjob is and-- "Kneel up."
And he does, and Enjolras grabs him by the back of his head and pulls, and Grantaire goes, his mouth open and eager and this is going to be the best blowjob he's ever given, he promises himself, and Enjolras's fingers are scraping against Grantaire's scalp, directing him insistently, and the taste, Grantaire can't get enough, because what if this is the only time? What if Enjolras never lets him do this again? What if Enjolras falls out of a window wrapped in a flag? What if tomorrow they all get splinters and sun burns and become bored and wind up with strange tan lines and bad camera angles and Enjolras doesn't want to speak with him again? These things could happen!
So Grantaire would love to take his time and savor this, except Enjolras is in control (when is Enjolras not in control? Answer: never, of course never, and why is that so hot OH RIGHT THAT'S WHY THAT'S SO HOT), and Grantaire mewls around Enjolras's cock and this is the best blowjob ever, he should honestly be getting awards, maybe even porn awards, for this one, this is the best one ever, Enjolras is not going to have any cause for complaint. Not that Enjolras would ever be rude enough to complain, Grantaire is sure, because Enjolras is the pillar of politeness, the marble lover of manners, the-- he's lost his train of thought, but that's understandable, of course it is, it would be stranger if he could think straight, of course he can't think straight, Enjolras is coming down his throat.
And then Enjolras pulls him back and gently strokes a finger down Grantaire's cheek and says sweetly, "I think I'm ready for the rest now."
And that was how they had sex For Science.