R laughed a little and leaned in to kiss Jehan. "You are not so good at the orders, mon cher, but I will pretend that they are. 'Go to the bedroom, Grantaire! Undress and wait for me!' That is what I will think that I heard."
He let Jehan go with a playful shrug and headed towards the bedroom, wiggling out of his clothes. He folded them - perhaps the only time they were ever going to be folded, but he pretended it was part of his orders. 'Be neat, Grantaire, you're such a mess.' The thought sent a shiver down his spine and warmth blooming in his groin, but he didn't touch himself, as tempting as it was. There was another imagined order, 'do not pleasure yourself, you will wait for me'. And so he would. He knelt on the bed, knees splayed just so to show off his hard cock.
It wasn't long before he started to think about how ridiculous he must look. He tucked his hair behind his ear, then untucked it, then tucked the other side back instead. He fidgeted, picking paint out from under his nails - when had he painted anything with red? He didn't remember, which meant that he'd burned the canvas (likely) or hidden it from himself (also likely - he was a big of an asshole when he was drunk, and what was a better asshole move to himself than to discover one of his paintings when he wasn't expecting it?). He began to think too hard about his position - was his back straight enough? Too straight? How did he look? Uncomfortable, he was sure. Maybe he shouldn't kneel. Maybe he should lie down instead. But he'd been told that he was most attractive on his knees (though he could acknowledge that maybe his position had nothing to do with that, and everything to do with his mouth being too occupied to be chatty).
Thankfully, Jehan reappeared before he could start really overthinking. It had only been a few minutes, at longest, but already his mind was running away. But with something to focus on, he was better. "Mon ami, I thought that you were lost! You took so long!"