Work Text:
Enjolras was not sure, even in hindsight, where - how - it had all gone so unbelievably wrong.
Though truthfully, he would grudgingly admit to himself much later that it was probably when he let Courfeyrac convince him to hire a stripper for the celebration that the Amis were hosting for Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta’s polyamorous union (and not actual marriage because that would be too goddamn normal for them). Enjolras had only agreed to it so the always up-to-no-good brunette would leave him alone as he wrote out a draft of his Political Theory essay; he should have been paying more attention to what Courfeyrac was actually asking because Joly would run for the hills as soon as he heard stripper because do you know how many people they touch a night? Bossuet and Musichetta would probably comfort him and take him to their bedroom and they won’t emerge for the rest of the night and Courfeyrac, that horny bastard, would get a free male stripper for his Saturday night.
Except that didn’t happen.
Well, the part where Joly ran and his two lovers had to coax him into bed did. (They were currently having a very nice time on Courfeyrac’s bed thank you for asking)
Except it was Enjolras who was forced into a kitchen chair in the centre of his and Courfeyrac’s living room, the Amis gathered around him, all talking excitedly, because how is Enjolras going to react as a lithe young man sways, hands clasped above his head, hips rotating with each sensual step to the music, towards him. He’s got the messiest flop of glossy dark curls that Enjolras has ever seen and what wouldn’t the blond do to run his fingers through that hair and tug.
NO.
He was coerced into this; Courfeyrac and Bahorel said that he had to sit through one striptease else they would hide his favourite copy of Rousseau’s Social Contract and it was his favourite copy. He set his jaw and gritted his teeth, he would NOT enjoy this.
Enjolras could not, would not, enjoy an activity where this poor young man – whose fingers were unbuttoning his own sleek black shirt, shrugging it off and flinging it across the room, showing an expanse of perfect, unblemished skin and washboard abs that demanded to be licked – the blond student shook his head to clear his wandering thoughts, no he can’t be liking this, it’s not right.
What if the stripper, Enjolras vaguely remembers him introducing himself as “R”, what if he was forced into this business? R may only be stripping now, but what if he was under the control, the influence of some person or worse, some organization that forced him to do much worse. What if this man – no boy, who can’t be more than 19 was a victim of human trafficking and oh my god why hadn’t he checked before he let Courfeyrac book whoever he wanted. Did Courfeyrac check? Is there a way to check these things? Enjolras groaned internally, completely oblivious to his surroundings, this is exactly what Les Amis are fighting against, how could he be such a hypocrite and contribute to the subjugation of innocent people…
“Am I boring you?” A husky voice rang out in front of him.
“I.. what..?” Enjolras snapped to attention with a start. He can hear Courfeyrac and Bahorel cackling and Combeferre’s distinctively uncomfortable cough in the background.
Enjolras now noticed that the dark haired boy now stood directly in front of him, not a foot away, eyebrows raised and hand cocked on a perfect hip. The stripper was completely naked except for a pair of tight green briefs, his white pants had been removed during Enjolras’ internal turmoil.
How did he miss that?
Enjolras cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from R’s jutting hipbone, looking up into his eyes – holy shit those eyes are blue, how do you even get that shade? He must be wearing contacts, no one has eyes as blue, deep and fathomless like that, like the sea, Enjolras feels as if he’s going to be swallowed up by those eyes – holy fuck what is he, Jehan?
Realizing that R was still waiting, getting more impatient by the second, Enjolras broke himself out of his reverie and adopted the usual blank expression he wore when he felt as if his emotions were on the verge of bubbling over.
“Sorry, please continue”
R stared back at him with a perplexed expression before shrugging and continuing where he left off.
Apparently, he was just about to climb onto Enjolras’ lap. He promptly does so. He has his thighs wrapped around Enjolras’ own and starts rubbing his whole body against the blond student.
Enjolras can’t breathe.
The stripper pushes his upper body away from Enjolras, hooks his feet around the legs of the chair and arches back, sinewy arms reaching behind him as his body bends backwards. R never stops moving to the music, his chest fluid, his neck bared as he shakes his head and those curls side to side, facing upwards towards the ceiling. His hips are now perfectly aligned with Enjolras’ own and shit shit shit he can definitely feel...
R’s head snapped up, blue eyes glinting.
“Not so unaffected now, are you, Apollo?” he whispers through a slight smirk before continuing to writhe against Enjolras
Enjolras bit back a moan, and panics.
He remembers now that the agreement was only for a striptease, R is as naked as he is going to get because there is no way that the stripper would take off the briefs and show Enjolras his perfect ass and – NO. The agreement was only for a striptease and that is now over so there is absolutely no reason for R to continue, definitely not because Enjolras wants him to and... Goddamn it he has got to stop this now.
“Stop. That’s quite enough, thank you” Enjolras gets outs, trying to untangle himself from R, who didn’t seem to hear him as the man was again lost in the music, hips going in circles and ass grinding down obscenely against Enjolras’ growing erection. “Stop!” he repeated forcefully, before attempting to get up. His upward motion caused R to lose his own balance and fall to the ground in a mess of long limbs and skin. Enjolras felt momentarily apologetic before R looks up, brushing his curly locks out of his eyes, with a blue eyed gaze so intense that Enjolras almost takes a step back. “I..I think we’re done here, thank you for your services” he manages to get out before turning around and walking briskly to his room, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Panting, Enjolras leaned against his door and willed his erection and the visions of a lithe body twisting in his lap to disappear.
Courfeyrac was going to die tomorrow.