Work Text:
The ropes that Grantaire was using were dark red. There were also some undyed ones, the beige of unbleached fibers, carefully lined up on the floor.
Jehan was usually seen in pastels and green tones that contrasted with his ginger bob. Enjolras couldn't help but think that the dark red didn't suit him as well, wasn't meant for him.
Not that he didn't still make a pretty picture, kneeling quietly as Grantaire looped the red rope around his wrists, tying it in his back and to the harness that already criss-crossed his chest.
Enjolras understood the aesthetic appeal of shibari. His education in a bourgeois family – which had included regular trips to art museums – had taught him to appreciate the beauty of the human form, which was only enhanced by the careful patterns of rope. However, he still struggled to understand the rest of the experience. His skin itched just looking at the unbleached ropes. He was already impatient, completely boggled by the way Jehan could hold himself so still and look so relaxed. That said, he was not about to interrupt the two others. He was the one who had asked to be able to watch this, so he was going to focus and stay quiet and let Grantaire and Jehan do their things, no matter how long it took.
The thing was, Enjolras wasn't really interested in shibari, or in kink in general. He was, however, very much interested in Grantaire. It had taken him long enough to realise it, he wasn't going to beat around that bush any longer. He was interested in Grantaire, and kink was a part of Grantaire's life. “It used to be”, Grantaire would say, happily sacrificing his practice to keep Enjolras happy and comfortable. But Enjolras didn't want that. He didn't want to stay comfortable forever. That's not what he'd left his bourgeois family for. He wanted to learn, to see if he could get it and, if that didn't work, if there was a way he could offer Grantaire a space beyond himself where the other man could explore kink and what it did for him.
That was how they had gotten here, in Enjolras' living room, a thin mat placed on the floor, Jehan dressed only in boxers and ropes.
Jehan was the perfect person to ask for something like this. It was no secret that he and Grantaire had been kink partners and friends with benefits for a long time, and yet Jehan had been extremely supportive when Grantaire and Enjolras had finally gotten their shit together enough to start dating. Even if the monogamous arrangement between Grantaire and Enjolras had meant Jehan had lost one of his regular partners for both sex and shibari.
Beyond his good will and selflessness, there was the fact that Jehan was aromantic and had never had an interest in a romantic relationship with Grantaire. That meant that Enjolras didn't feel threatened, which was what had made him able to suggest trying something like this. Grantaire had explained that shibari and other kinks didn't have to involve sexuality or romantic feelings, but it still seemed very intimate. Enjolras knew that there were lines that Jehan himself didn't want to cross, so that intimacy felt safer coming from him than from someone else.
Enjolras focused his attention again on the way Grantaire was moving. He grabbed hold of the harness he had fastened on Jehan's back, then slowly pushed down on the other man's shoulder. Jehan tipped forward, Grantaire's hold on the ropes the only thing keeping him from face-planting into the mat. Enjolras held his breath as he watched, but Jehan's exhale only deepened with the movement, most of his muscles staying relaxed, even as his core reflexively engaged to help keep him balanced.
Grantaire lowered Jehan until his face rested sideways against the mat, knees still bent and arms tied. From away, Enjolras saw the two men exchange a smile as Grantaire moved around to retrieve more rope, moving Jehan's legs easily to get them where he wanted them.
Grantaire hadn't looked at Enjolras since the very beginning of the session. They had exchanged a few nods as Grantaire worked on the harness, checking that Enjolras was okay with everything that was going on. Talking about sharing this experience and how it might go was not the same thing as actually seeing it, after all. Enjolras had done his best to seem at ease and enthusiastic, reassuring his boyfriend that everything was fine. After a few minutes, however, Grantaire had stopped checking in. Enjolras could understand why. He was entirely focused on what he was doing, on the patterns of criss-crossing ropes, on Jehan's each reaction. Each gesture was precise and imbued with a specific energy. Enjolras had never seen Grantaire act like this outside of his paint studio.
Grantaire carefully untied Jehan's wrists before flipping him onto his back. It was a casual display of strength to which Jehan's only response was a languid compliance. Enjolras felt twitchy.
He knew what those hands felt like on his skin, knew how easily Grantaire could hold him up against a wall or door before hotly pressing his mouth to Enjolras' chest.
But this was not what this was. Enjolras shook is head softly, trying to clear it.
He didn't catch the few words that Jehan whispered, but he wholy focused on his friend and partner when Grantaire responded by grabbing Jehan's hair at the root and pulling sharply.
Enjolras flinched a little, but Jehan only let out a contented gasp before he laughed. Grantaire ruffled his hair, an obvious smile on his face, before he went back to the ropes.
Enjolras' chest was tight.
The point of this experience had been to understand what this meant to Grantaire, and it was too easy to realise now. The focus in his gaze, the pleased curl of his smile, the shared intention that emanated every time he and Jehan moved together. It was obvious how precious an exchange this all was.
Enjolras understood, now, but it brought him no satisfaction.
Instead he felt jealous.
He had expected that this would be easy, because Jehan was aromantic and posed no threat to his couple with Grantaire. He had not counted on the fact that there was something beyond the romantic that he might also want to share. He had been so confident that romance was the most precious of all experiences, that he was the one who had the most to give to Grantaire.
But here was Jehan, offering his submission easily, and thereby creating a space and time so intimate and powerful, so apart from the everyday that Enjolras could only describe it as more.
More intense. More joyful. More devoted. More loving.
Enjolras knew that this was not the right way to think. He knew that types of relationship did not exist on a scale of value. Yet he realised that he had still felt as though that were true. Confronted with the reality of this form of intimacy he did not think he could offer, he realized just how awful he felt at the idea that he might not be able to offer all that Grantaire wanted.
Had Jehan felt this way even as he cheered Grantaire on when he and Enjolras got together? He had always seemed so eager to share others' romantic joy, even as it stayed inaccessible to him. It couldn't all have been an act.
Enjolras watched Grantaire uncoil his ropes. He watched him embrace Jehan as they both came down from the high of their session, as they both slowly took note of their environment again. Jehan looked up at Enjolras and smiled, curious and happy.
Enjolras wondered if compersion was not just an emotion, but a skill that could be learned.
He had always proven himself a dedicated student.