It’s a mad grab for clothing and hair, a clash of teeth and tongue—and Grantaire can’t keep the ink inside him, feels it wash up over him, cold enough to burn, and keeps his eyes open, just enough to watch the colours spread out over Enjolras again.

“I love you,” he breathes against a mouth that tastes like sunshine, a mouth that’s breathing steam across his face, “I love you. Fuck, I love you.”

For Elizabeth's Mutant Registration AU.

11 tracks