Work Text:
Bahorel knew the second Grantaire walked in they’d both be bruised and bloody by the time they left today. The tension he carried between his shoulders was enough to know that but the thundercloud expression etched into his brow made Bahorel’s own knuckles ache in preparation.
He turned the stereo all the way up, a mix of his own creation blaring out of the speakers to block whatever noise they made in here so they didn’t get the cops called on them again, and Bahorel turned to Grantaire who immediately launched at him, throwing them both to the ground.
Bahorel grappled back, using his height and weight to throw Grantaire off and try to pin him down, but the shorter man slipped away and rolled to his feet. Bahorel stayed crouched, rocking back and forth on his heels, reading Grantaire’s body for his next move. Ducking and rolling away from Grantaire’s kick, Bahorel rose, fists at his side, and smirked at Grantaire. Whatever it was he’d had on his mind when he’d entered the gym, Bahorel must have exacerbate it because Grantaire sneered and threw himself at Bahorel again.
Bahorel caught and flipped him over his hip this time before following him down and pinning him to the mat with hands on wrists and legs holding thighs still. Bahorel raised a brow at Grantaire, who flushed and looked away, tapping the mat with two fingers.
Instead of releasing him, Bahorel slid upwards, hips rutting against hips. Grantaire reared up and bit at his mouth, but turned it into a kiss at the end.
Bahorel let go of Grantaire’s arms, sitting up and stripping himself of his shirt and flipping them over so Grantaire sat astride Bahorel. He rocked into Grantaire’s ass, the drums from the speakers vibrating the floor beneath him.
Grantaire threw back his head and Bahorel rose to bite along that dark throat, Grantaire’s nails scratching bloody lines into his own brown skin. Bahorel slid a hand between them, pulling Grantaire’s sweats low enough to wrap a hand around his cock, Grantaire’s hips stuttering in their pace against Bahorel’s hips.
Keeping a tight grip, Bahorel watched Grantaire grow more and more flushed above the line of his t-shirt, bandage wrapped hands clasping Bahorel’s shoulders in a bruising grip. Bahorel licked the sweat from a scruffy jawline as Grantaire came in his hand.
Still panting, Grantaire pushed Bahorel back down against the mats and crawled backwards, taking Bahorel’s shorts with him. Bahorel’s groan couldn’t be heard above the sound of the guitar line, but judging by Grantaire’s grin, he’d felt it when he swallowed him down. Bahorel grasped the back of Grantaire’s neck, thrusting up into his mouth. Bahorel growled when Grantaire slammed his hips back down against the floor and held them there with a forearm, his tongue lapping circles around the head Bahorel’s cock before swallowing him whole, his throat contracting around him.
Bahorel left purpling bruises along Grantaire’s biceps when he came in his mouth, the music screeching to a stop as the mix ended, only the sounds of their panting filling the room.
“Get that attitude worked out?”
“Fuck you.”
“Maybe next time.”