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[Closed Log]

CHARACTERS: Combeferre and Eponine
LOCATION: Their Room
WARNINGS: Sexual Content and discussion (so far) of Bondage. R, so far for themes. Will update when it gets to NC-17.
SUMMARY: Combeferre has a fun new idea to talk about...
NOTES:

[For all that Combeferre appears to be the calm, collected member of his little friend group, the one you would not consider to have any secret vices and pretty standard tastes, that is not entirely true. Combeferre, you see, reads everything, and on the ship, that has included quite a lot. Including a fairly terrible novel regarding some extremely dubious vampire erotica with loosely defined consent, and downright abusive tactics. The novel disgusted him enough that he actually smashed the pad, rather than return it to the media library. but it HAS given him something of an idea, awkward as it is.

For some reason, despite it being awkward, he does very much wonder how Eponine might react to his proposal, though he finds himself hedging around it a little, until one afternoon when they are both very much alone for a few hours. Smiling, a little nervously, he's pausing to perch on a bed, then getting up and walking again, clearly anxious, and clearly with something to say. And he's aware he looks like an idiot, but for the moment he is clearing his throat, then glancing at Eponine, finally opening his mouth.]

You do know how much I care for you, yes? And that I should never wish to harm you, and for you to always have a say in...in everything? Even if it seems as though...No, never mind. Perhaps I should not say...

[He's frowning again, unsure of how to get this out, but wanting to try.]

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I had rather thought so, yes.

[Combeferre would point out that prostitutes should also be treated with enough respect by their customers to not be harmed or made to do things they personally found uncomfortable, but it is a reality he knows too much of to consider that ideals are anywhere near the truth.

Enough women came into Necker during problems with delivering or with...attempting not to remain pregnant that the aspect of men holding power over women was made clearer for him than society had even managed to do before, and there had been others besides, who les amis had tried to help, but had not fully understood. Either way, it's an ideal he's not going to spit out now because of how grossly disrespectful it is to Eponine. Instead, he will be nodding and leaning over to give her a gentle kiss.]

Well then, let us see what I might find about the room?

[They had tried. Gold stars were rewarded in the form of bullet holes. They'd gone about it wrong, of course, hadn't fully understood. She did not expect them ever to do so, after all.]

Yes. Maybe ribbons, I have those for my hair.

[They had, at that. Combeferre, especially, had wanted to manage more, but well. There had been not much to do, especially in the days when politics shifted to the point that the rebellions they had long spoken of igniting were happening in the streets around them. It was at that point some other actions had fallen to the wayside in preparation and....well, things had gone on from there, now hadn't they?

Though no. Combeferre suspected it would take another who had been in the same position to really understand. He felt badly about it, but at least there was here and now, and Eponine in his arms.]

Ribbons. I think that those ought to help considerably.

Wonderful. [She returns his kiss, before settling back on the bed.]

They are with my dresses. I shall wait.

Ah, very good then.

[And he'll be getting up to go and check her ribbons, mostly looking for those thick and soft enough that they should not cause damage and can withstand being used for this purpose. Soon enough, he has a few good candidates that he is bringing back over for inspection.]

Are there any of these you should rather not risk?

[She picks up a pale pink one.] We must keep this one nice. I feel most beautiful in it. The others, it does not matter. I am sure our friends will find more for us.

Pink isquite lovely on you.

[There are a few more basic black ones which look like they might hold up, so Combeferre is checking those for strength, tugging a little, and then grinning at Eponine.]

These?

[She blushes, watching him test her ribbons.]

Yes, those will be lovely, I am sure.

Ah, wonderful, then.

[And he cannot help but smile as he heads back over, pausing for a moment.]

I suppose that the first thing to do, really, would be things as we usually do. [There is a little grin he's giving her there, determined to do this right, and ease into it best he can, really.]

Perhaps it is! Kiss me, then. [She takes his hand and pulls him to her.]

I should be very glad to.

[And the kiss starts as most of his kisses do at first, gentle, and a little tentative, but soon giving way to a deeper his with his hand tangled in her hair, ending just for a moment when he has to come up for air, and then starting again.]

[She responds to his kisses the same way, pulling him closer to her. Already on the bed, she angles so that he will be on top, taking his glasses from him even as she kisses him.]

[This is one of those moments Combeferre appreciates being a bit shorter than average, since it means he is less likely to end up either crushing Eponine, or having to bend too much for a proper kiss. It makes a good deal of things possible, though for the moment he is content enough to work at her clothing through their deep kiss, ready to undo buttons and ease her out of it, at least, if he was not pausing so often to kiss her again. Sorry, but Eponine IS distracting, in the best of ways.]

[Mind you, Eponine is near pocket-sized. She's convinced here that Gavroche will outgrow her, taking after their father in height. But with Combeferre, he is easy to melt against, move against. Like he was specifically cast to surround her entirely, to fit against her.

Her fingers make quick work of his own clothing, letting her palms linger over his bare chest, feeling the heat he radiates.]

[Probably so. Combeferre could see that coming any day now, with Gavroche, now that he's able to properly eat and grow. It seems too late for Eponine with that, and he feels terribly sad about that as a doctor, and as someone who cares for humanity in general, but on the other hand, where Combeferre loses the role of the doctor and just becomes the lover, he quite enjoys that he can curl around Eponine, embrace her and have her fit within his arms so nicely.

There is something so wonderful in having someone who belongs to you and belonging to them in return. With Eponine, it is the first time he has been the partner in the relationship who is able to take on the slightly more dominant role, and he does like it quite a bit. There is something to be said for being the one to feel as though he is doing the protecting, and the navigating, hell, the guiding that rushes through his body with a thrill in the times like this. The mark that he is placing on her throat now, carefully sucking there, and being sure both not to break the skin, or leave it in a location Gavroche might see and ask questions, is another testament to this, too.]

You are mine you know. [The murmur is fond, almost a vow.] And I am yours.

[He loves that they might mark each other in the casual ways that do not cause pain that only they can see, that there is a story in the carefully placed marks of kisses turned to something more, and that it is theirs alone.

When they are ready, that is, when their clothing is gone, Combeferre is picking up one of the ribbons, then clutching Eponine's hands in one of his much larger and more practiced ones, murmuring a little as he does so.]

So hmm how might we do this? Bedpost or above your head or behind your back? I am not certain what would be comfortable for you?

Yours, [she breathes in agreement, tilting her head back so that he can kiss her better, suck upon her pale throat.

Every day, she starts to love him more and more. He is not Marius. Just as she is not Enjolras. But they don't fill the same roles, and therefore, the love is different. But it's there. And it's mutual.

With his hands in hers, she looks up at him, and the look in her eyes is so different than any way she's looked at him before. Her eyes are wide and clear, her lips set together lightly. She keeps her eyes on him, the words sounding as though they came from someone else to her own ears.] Above my head. [It makes more sense, she still has a range of motion this way.]

[Which allows for Combeferre to not only suck there, but to nip a little with his teeth as well. It will leave a mark later, probably, yes, but he hardly suspects Eponine will mind, and well, it can be covered later, yes? After a particularly sharp little nip, he's soothing the spot with his tongue, humming a little under his breath there.]

Mine. My Eponine.

[For that IS it entirely, isn't it? They've come to love each other AS each other, and not as anything else. He loves her now for being Eponine as she loves him for being Michel. THAT is how this has managed to become more than simply friendship with benefits, the sort of mutual using each other he'd never wanted to have happen but had acknowledged might happen, at least in his own mindset. It's grown since then, become its own, making it a sacred love without taking away from either of their their pasts.

It keeps them rooted into who they are, with no pretending, but acknowledgements of who they are and have been and how they have gotten there. Amazing, in and of itself, as this happens to be too. ]

Mm, good idea.

[And so, he's moving to settle her hands there, gently allowing for the placement, which gives him room to maneuver a little now, dipping his head toward her breasts.]

I love you. And I love that we might try this. That I might...

Well that I might have my way with you.

[So saying, he's sliding a tongue over her nipple now, sucking it into his mouth now too.]

Might you?

[She helps him lay her down, even as he kisses her. Such things, helped ease her into relaxation. Reminded her that he was here, and it was him that was kissing her and saying such sweet things.

Eponine tips her head back, and lets go of Combeferre, but not before running her finger along his cheekbones, urging him to keep sucking.]

Anything for you, mon amour. You may do to me what you wish. For you love me.

I love you, yes.

[The words are heated, passionate, muffled as they are at the moment, but there is truth in them, and that rings through, no matter what else.]

I love you forever, and I will never let that fade.

Oh do not.

[But she knew too well how words, oaths, all of it would fade. He would love her, make love to her, yes. But then he would leave her, his affections moving towards a younger, more beautiful girl. And Eponine would be alone.

Bringing her hands up again, she raked his dirty blond hair back from his face, kissing his forehead.]

Love me. And I- [She inhaled shakily] I will love you.

I love you. I love you beyond what I thought I knew.

[So saying, he's reaching for those hands, catching them in his then dropping a kiss to her now bound wrists.]

If you will love me, all is well, then.

[The thought of Marius is worrying, at times still, but he has managed to simply become a spectre, nothing more and nothing less. It...helps a lot in times like this. ]

[His lips on her wrists, and she can relax just slightly, looking up at him as she keeps her hands above her head again. She holds his hands as best she can with the way that hers are tied, all the same.]

I do. I do, Michel. I love you.

You love me, yes. And you are mine.

[And then, his hands are wandering, rather slowly, at first, down her sides, followed up by small kisses pressed across her breasts, her stomach, everywhere.]

Do you know, I've read that things like this can make a woman go mad.

[His voice is muffled, and he's scooting down a bit to continue with licking at her body, delving lower every moment.]

I am game to attempt that, you know. How should it be if I were to...I believe the expression is "Go down" on you?

[She would be giggling, but with her hands tied it seems as if her skin comes alive with his kisses, and where giggles would be, she breathes.]

Have you?

[She blushes, every bit as far from from the brash, vulgar woman she had been in Paris as she had ever been.]

There are- there are some that say I am already mad. If you wish it... You may try further.

[Wait. Hold it.] "Go down" on me? As- oh, yes! If it is something you want. I don't- I do not believe it is something you would enjoy. I am- [She shifts her legs just slightly, her blush deepening.]

If you wish, you may. I should like to be driven mad by your kisses.

I have.

[The answer, muffled between sucking in a bit of her skin, is nonetheless, rather firm, solid and...determined too. Perhaps he's done a BIT too much reading to make sure things go well, but he's taking what he's found to heart, which is something.]

Ah, but you have never been driven mad by pleasure. They are...completely different things. And yes I...yes, I certainly would enjoy...I want to see you fall apart before me.

[Which says it all, really.]

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