[Les Miserables] Write What You Know
Title: Write What You Know
Author:
bearit
Rating: PG13
Genre: General, Romance
Characters: Combeferre/Prouvaire
Word Count: 385
Summary: Courfeyrac issues Prouvaire a challenge, and Prouvaire turns to Combeferre for advice.
Notes: Requested from TCRegan on Tumblr: Combeferre/Prouvaire. Intelligent discussion on sex turns into sexytimes.
Disclaimer: Les Misérables belongs to Victor Hugo. I have no rights to the novel, musical, anime, or any of the movies. This piece of fanwork is unofficial and not making a profit.
---
No one who was there quite remembered how this turn of events happened, but Combeferre was sure wine had something to do with it. Courfeyrac requested from Prouvaire a sonnet on the lovemaking between two people, and he wanted no detail spared.
Which left Combeferre completely befuddled as to why Prouvaire came knocking on his apartment door for advice.
Prouvaire stared at lap, his pants scrunched up in his fists. “You know a lot about everything. I figured you would know a lot about, well, this. I know Courfeyrac probably has more experience, but obviously I can’t ask him.”
“There are others,” Combeferre pointed out. “Bahorel, for one. Grantaire boasts enough about it. Joly, Bossuet, and I am sure Feuilly has his fair share of lovers.”
“But Courfeyrac specified two people, and Joly and Bossuet also have Musichetta! And Feuilly is too busy to be bothered with this, and Bahorel and Grantaire, well…” Prouvaire shrugged and looked up at Combeferre sheepishly. “I know you know something about this. And you wouldn’t make fun.”
Oh. “So you really never—”
“No.”
“Ah.”
Combeferre had suspected as much, but he did not want to jump to conclusions. Perhaps Prouvaire wanted to do more research, or have a more well-rounded view on the subject. But the fear of being made fun of, even if everyone else certainly would have done it playfully, not maliciously, confirmed it.
“Do you at least know the basics?”
“Of course!”
“Describe it as you know it.”
Prouvaire’s cheeks flushed red and he stammered for a moment. Combeferre smiled.
“And how do you expect to write a poem if you cannot speak of even the basics to me?”
“I would use metaphors! I could not be so crass as to describe it so literally. A beautiful poem uses symbolism and metaphors and colors and nature to describe even the basest of things.”
“Sex is not base. It does not have to be.”
“I—I know, but…”
Combeferre’s grin turned impish as he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips upon Prouvaire’s. “They say that you should write what you know. You don’t know this. Do you wish to?”
Prouvaire’s face was now a much deeper red. “I…” He bit his lip, smiled, and then nodded once as he leaned in to kiss Combeferre again.
Author:
bearitRating: PG13
Genre: General, Romance
Characters: Combeferre/Prouvaire
Word Count: 385
Summary: Courfeyrac issues Prouvaire a challenge, and Prouvaire turns to Combeferre for advice.
Notes: Requested from TCRegan on Tumblr: Combeferre/Prouvaire. Intelligent discussion on sex turns into sexytimes.
Disclaimer: Les Misérables belongs to Victor Hugo. I have no rights to the novel, musical, anime, or any of the movies. This piece of fanwork is unofficial and not making a profit.
---
No one who was there quite remembered how this turn of events happened, but Combeferre was sure wine had something to do with it. Courfeyrac requested from Prouvaire a sonnet on the lovemaking between two people, and he wanted no detail spared.
Which left Combeferre completely befuddled as to why Prouvaire came knocking on his apartment door for advice.
Prouvaire stared at lap, his pants scrunched up in his fists. “You know a lot about everything. I figured you would know a lot about, well, this. I know Courfeyrac probably has more experience, but obviously I can’t ask him.”
“There are others,” Combeferre pointed out. “Bahorel, for one. Grantaire boasts enough about it. Joly, Bossuet, and I am sure Feuilly has his fair share of lovers.”
“But Courfeyrac specified two people, and Joly and Bossuet also have Musichetta! And Feuilly is too busy to be bothered with this, and Bahorel and Grantaire, well…” Prouvaire shrugged and looked up at Combeferre sheepishly. “I know you know something about this. And you wouldn’t make fun.”
Oh. “So you really never—”
“No.”
“Ah.”
Combeferre had suspected as much, but he did not want to jump to conclusions. Perhaps Prouvaire wanted to do more research, or have a more well-rounded view on the subject. But the fear of being made fun of, even if everyone else certainly would have done it playfully, not maliciously, confirmed it.
“Do you at least know the basics?”
“Of course!”
“Describe it as you know it.”
Prouvaire’s cheeks flushed red and he stammered for a moment. Combeferre smiled.
“And how do you expect to write a poem if you cannot speak of even the basics to me?”
“I would use metaphors! I could not be so crass as to describe it so literally. A beautiful poem uses symbolism and metaphors and colors and nature to describe even the basest of things.”
“Sex is not base. It does not have to be.”
“I—I know, but…”
Combeferre’s grin turned impish as he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips upon Prouvaire’s. “They say that you should write what you know. You don’t know this. Do you wish to?”
Prouvaire’s face was now a much deeper red. “I…” He bit his lip, smiled, and then nodded once as he leaned in to kiss Combeferre again.