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Grantaire slides a hand into his hair, groaning slightly and grabbing at Montparnasse’s hip. He’s too good at this. Grantaire can taste the alcohol on his tongue, like always, and a distant part of his mind wonders what Montparnasse would taste like without it.
Apparently it shows, because Montparnasse pulls away again, briefly sucking on his bottom lip and giving Grantaire an appraising look. “You think too much,” he says, following it immediately with a grin. “I can fix that.”