lastgrimmstanding: (Default)

Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Words: 3624
Tags: Sexual Content

A/N: I don't own Grimm or make any money from this.

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  “Ok. Here is my spare set of keys.” Monroe went through the use of each key for the third time. “I put the lights on a timer. Stop in once or twice and just check on things.” He sighed and furrowed his brow. “I think that’s about it.”

                “I’ve got it, Monroe. Your house will be fine. Just go and have a good time at your clock party.”

                “It’s a clock convention, Nick.”

                “Yeah, yeah. Just go.”

                He walked out with a huff. I followed him out, shutting and locking the door behind me. I shooed him into the car and tossed his bag in the trunk for him. I waved as he drove down the street standing there until I couldn’t see his taillights anymore.

                I went home, kicked off my boots, and poured myself a drink. I plopped into the recliner looked around at the empty space, the bare walls. Juliette had taken a lot of our stuff when she left. In all fairness, most of it was hers or she picked it out. There were personal touches here and there – mostly souvenirs from day trips of antiquing with Monroe. He even picked out a nice mantel clock for me. I’d been in a rut after the break up but I bounced back quickly. Monroe had been determined to make me feel better and he succeeded. He may not always seem like it, but he’s a great friend to lean on.

XXX

“Burkhardt, I need you to go downtown and have another chat with our witness. I think she knows a lot more than she’s letting on.”

“Yes, Captain.”

XXX

                “Mr. Johnson, I need you to put down the gun. You don’t need to do this.”

                I had my gun aimed for the shot; so did he. Jennifer Smith – our key witness and an eisbiber I’d met through Bud – was standing next to me. She was the next target. A skalengeck – Eric Johnson – was killing all the wesen who were low on the food chain. He’d said that it was his duty to rid the wesen world of “low life scum.”

                He pulled the trigger and I pulled mine. In a matter of seconds he was down, taking his last breath. I holstered my gun and dropped to my knees. I pulled off my jacket and pressed it to the wound on Jennifer’s chest. I pressed as hard as I could, but she just kept bleeding.

                “Come on, Jen, stay with me. Help is coming.” I could hear the ambulance sirens.

She locked eyes with me and her lips curled into a small smile. “Thank…you…” She closed her eyes and one last breath slipped out.

“No, no, no! Come on. No!”

The paramedics had to pry me from her; I couldn’t let go. She was one of the sweetest people I had ever met. She always “forgot” to charge me for my doughnut at the bakery. She didn’t deserve to die like that. Had I gotten there a minute sooner…

XXX

I stood in the locker room shower, scrubbing the blood off my skin. No matter how hard I scrubbed I could still feel it – it was guilt more than blood. I should have saved her. Maybe if I was more of a grimm than a cop, I could have.

XXX

                “Burkhardt.”

                “Yes, Captain?”

                “Why don’t you take a few days off – clear your head.”

                “But, sir…”

“I’ll see you Monday, Nick.”

XXX

                I sat in my car, outside my house. I looked at it – big and dark. That wasn’t what I wanted, or needed, right now. I put the car back into drive and made my way over to the one place that had brought me a great deal of comfort over the last few months. I pulled up in front of Monroe’s house, in my usual spot, and walked up to the door. Then I remembered that he wouldn’t be home until tomorrow night. I had already made sure things were in order, so there wasn’t much to be done. I sighed and went inside anyway. I kicked off my boots and poked around. I helped myself to a beer and walked around aimlessly.

                Monroe had a lot of stuff in his house: clocks and trinkets and personal items. I made a mental note to ask him about some of the stuff when he got back. I browsed his book shelf – a lot of classics. Then his dvd collection – again, a lot of classics. It was weird – the comfort that Monroe’s house brought me, even when it was empty. He had a record player, so I turned on some music. He had mostly classical, which I actually kind of liked – though I wouldn’t admit it to him.

                I got a chill so I grabbed the blanket that laid over the back of the sofa and wrapped it around myself. I laid down on the sofa and curled up. There was no way that I was going to sleep alone in my big empty house tonight. The sounds of the cello record lulled me to sleep.

                I woke up, but not where I fell asleep. I was in the guest room instead of on the sofa. I rolled over and stretched, looking around. There were sounds of movement coming from down the hall so I got up to explore. Monroe was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, cracking eggs into a frying pan. I stood back for a minute just watching him. He must’ve known I was there; he stopped what he was doing and turned around.

                “Hey.”

                “Hey.” I walked into the kitchen. “You’re home early.”

                “Yeah, we cut it short – a bunch of people didn’t show up.”

                “Oh.”

                “You sleep here all week?”

                I shook my head. “Just last night.”

                He nodded and flipped around the contents of the frying pan. He poured two mugs of coffee and sat them on the table. Soon he was setting plates on the table and flipping an omelet onto each one. He sat down across from me and sipped his coffee.

                “You want to talk?”

                “You remember Jen? She’s Bud’s friend.”

                “The one that always gives you a free doughnut, yeah.”

                “She was involved in a case. A skalengeck was killing wesen he deemed “unwothy.” I was too late. He shot her. I tried to save her. I tried so hard...but I couldn’t save her.”

                “Nick, you can’t save everyone.” There was a softness in Monroe’s voice I’d never heard before.

                “I know.”

                We finished breakfast in silence. I did more of pushing food around my plate than actually eating. He disappeared for a minute and returned with some clothes. He handed them to me and shooed me off down the hall. I showered, letting the warm water soothe the aches and pains that had surfaced overnight. I got out and dried off. His towels smelled like him; it was comforting. I sat on the edge up the tub, wrapped up in the towel. A knock on the door pulled me out of the thoughts.

                “You ok in there?”

                “Yeah. Fine.”

                I tugged on the clothes Monroe gave me – jeans and boxers I’d forgotten I left here and one of his shirts. The shirt was a little big, but it felt good, like I was wrapped in a never ending Monroe hug. I stepped out of the bathroom and almost ran into the attic steps. Monroe had one of those attics with the pull-down stairs that hide above the hallway ceiling.

                “Come on.” He tugged on my shirt, pulling me up a step.

                I followed him up into the attic and back a few feet. We sat down next to an unmarked cardboard box. He took a deep breath before unfolding the flaps of the box. I watched him, hands shuffling through the contents, brow furrowed, jaw clenched. He pulled out a few photographs, a pressed flower, a copy of The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe, and a lilac-colored sweater. The photos were of a couple – early twenties. The guy looked a lot like Monroe.

                “Her name was Erica.” He holds the sweater, stroking it with his thumb. “She was the love of my life. I had every intention of proposing to her.” He paused for a while before continuing. “She worked at the corner store to help pay for school. I would go and pick her up every night and drive her home. One night I was running late – Hap and I were running through the park doing our usual stupid shit. I got there and some guy was at the counter; he was giving her a hard time. Next thing I know, he’s pointing a gun at her. I don’t remember much after that. I know I ran inside, tackled him. He shot her before I could get to him. She died that night in the hospital.”

                “What happened to the guy?”

                “He was found guilty, sent to jail. I knew some people back then…one morning the guards found him in his cell, ripped apart.”

                “I’m sorry.”

                “So am I.”

                We sat up in the attic for a while, in silence. I thought about Juliette and how glad I was that she just left. I don’t know what I would have done if she would have died at the hands of a wesen. Losing a friend is one thing, but losing Juliette probably would’ve killed me.

It was early afternoon when we finally came down. We sat around for a while, watching dull daytime television, before deciding to go out. We went down town and mulled around a few antique shops and a used book shop. We stopped in a coffee shop for lunch before driving even further out of Portland. Neither of us had any kind of destination in mind, we just drove. Before I knew it, it was six o’clock and we were just outside Seattle – I hadn’t even remembered crossing over into Washington. I did doze off for a little while. We stopped in a few more shops before heading into a diner for dinner.

“Would I sound crazy if I said I wasn’t sure I wanted to go back?”

“Not in the slightest,” he answered.

“Do you ever feel stuck?”

“Only every day.”

“Sometimes it’s hard trying to balance cop life and grimm life. I keep thinking that maybe if I was more of a grimm I could have saved Jen. Ya know?”

“Yeah. I think it’s admirable, though – you being more of a cop. You’re a good guy, Nick, everyone sees it.”

“Before she died…she thanked me.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know.”

And that was that. We didn’t ever talked about Jen, or Erica, again. After dinner we started back for Portland, arriving at Monroe’s house sometime after ten. I didn’t bother going home, just crashed in his guest room. In the morning I did finally go home. I made a few calls – one of which was to a realtor. I decided to put my house on the market – I needed to move on, let go.

XXX

The house sold in mid-October. I bought an apartment that was a five minute walk from Monroe’s house and a ten minute drive to work. The things I had filled the small space well, giving it a cozier feel than that big house ever had – even before Juliette left. Monroe, of course, helped me fill any empty space with antiques and books and even a few clocks.

Things got better; it got easier balancing both of my lives. Monroe was obviously a wealth of support. As time went on, Monroe and I became even better friends. He became a lot more willing to tag along to hunt wesen with me. He got me to start eating a little more veggie-friendly. He even played his cello for me – after a lot of begging, that is.

XXX

                We were sitting on the sofa watching The Shawshank Redemption and demolishing a veggie-lovers pizza and a six-pack of Guinness. Maybe it was the beer getting to me, but I could have sworn that we kept getting closer to each other. By the time Tim Robbin’s character was crawling out of the sewer pipe, our shoulders were touching. I could feel my heart starting to race. When I turned my head to look at him, he did the same. Our faces were close, maybe a few inches apart at most. There was a part of me that wanted to close the gap, but the other part wanted to run away. I did the latter. I grabbed the plates and ran into the kitchen, immediately regretting my decision.

                Monroe and I had been spending a lot of time together, and I really enjoyed it. I was starting to think that maybe some feelings had surfaced. I just kept finding myself wanting to spend more and more time with him, wanting to go out to dinner with him, wanting to take him antiquing. I wanted him.

                When I went back into the living room, I sat on the other end of the sofa, keeping my distance. The movie was still playing, but I more or less just stared the screen rather than actually watching. I leaned over, laying my head on the arm of the sofa, and pulled my feet up on the sofa. I curled up, arms folded across my chest, and stayed like that until the credits started to roll.

                “Hey, uh, I’m gonna go. Got a gig pretty early tomorrow. I’ll text you or something.” Monroe got up and headed towards the door.

                “Oh, ok. Yeah, text me.” I was barely up to see him out when he was shutting the door.

                As I watched the door shut, my heart whined. I wanted to reach out for him, grab him, pull him close, and never let go. I turned off the television and the lights and wandered to my bedroom. I dug through my drawers until I found that shirt of Monroe’s that I was still borrowing. Well, actually I was keeping it. I was pretty sure he had forgotten I had it. It didn’t smell like him anymore, but that was ok. I stripped down to my boxers and pulled on his shirt. It still felt good, like a big, perpetual Monroe hug. I crawled into bed, curled up, and started counting sheep. I wondered, for a moment, about the possibility that I might sleep better if I had someone to share this too-big bed with. The last sheep I remember was 28 (which is Monroe’s birthday).

XXX

                I stood at Monroe’s door, a six-pack of Guinness in one hand, and a bag of veggie-friendly Thai food in the other. I was attempting to knock when the door opened and Monroe greeted me with a smile – which was nicer than his usual snark. He grabbed the bag of food and walked into the kitchen. I ditched my boots and coat at the door before following him. We ate in the living room, so we could watch the Star Warsmarathon that was on – we were both pretty big nerds. Somehow we ended up shoulder-to-shoulder on the sofa again, but this time I wasn’t going to run away. Being so close to Monroe made me feel all warm and fuzzy. I know that it’s totally cliché, but it’s the truth.

                The credits began rolling and Monroe stood up. He went to step away, but I grabbed his sleeve. He looked down at me, brow furrowed.

                “Monroe, can we talk?”

                His expression softened and he sat back down. “About…?”

                “Us.”

                “Us?”

                “Yeah. It’s just that…” I paused; I hadn’t really thought about how this conversation was going to go. “I want there to be an ‘us.’”

                “Um…ok…” His face was all scrunched up.

                I sighed; he obviously wasn’t getting the point. I leaned in and pressed our lips together. It was weird and his beard was kind of itchy, but it was nice. He kissed back, somewhat. I pulled away, already knowing my cheeks had turned crimson.

                “Oh…us.”

                “Oh no. You don’t feel the same. Shit! I’ve ruined everything. Oh god, I am so sorry Monroe. I’m just…I’m gonna go.” I got up, practically jumping off the sofa, but I was pulled back.

                Monroe had grabbed my sleeve – just as I’d done to him – and pulled me back, practically in his lap. One hand reached up, cupping my jaw, and gently pulled my face back to his. Our lips met again and I could feel him smile into the kiss. He kept one hand on my jaw and the other he wrapped around my waist, pulling me as close as I could get. I could feel my body relax; I breathed a sigh of relief.

My hands fumbled with his shirt, trying to undo all the buttons of his flannel. It felt like a lifetime had passed by the time his flannel was thrown to the side. The rest of our clothes were shed much faster and soon it was all skin on skin.

“M-Monroe…bed?”

He nodded and we quickly made our way down the hall, falling into bed, bodies never parting. Our lips met again, hungry and passionate. Our tongues danced – a battle for control that I quickly lost. This aggressive Monroe was a turn on. He knew all the right buttons to push and knew exactly what I wanted and needed. He nipped at my skin, paying special attention to my neck and collar bones. It felt so good; I knew all coherent thought was about to leave me. His skin was tacky with sweat as I ran my hands over all the skin I could reach. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer.

Our bodies moved together, every thrust driving me crazy. I moaned his name and I heard him growl. Fuck. I could feel my body tremble. More, more, more. Our eyes met, he stared down at me; a ring of red around blown pupils. Monroe nuzzled the crook of my neck, his beard tickling in the best way. His teeth – all of a sudden much sharper – grazed my skin. I fisted my hands in the sheets and tried to bite back my moans. Then I felt it – he bit me. His teeth sunk into the delicate skin of the crook of my neck. He was marking me, claiming me. It actually made my heart flutter.

He ran his hands over my chest, stomach; one hand wrapped around my cock. Fuck! Oh fuck! My hands moved from the sheets to Monroe, grabbing at him, just wanting to touch, to feel. With every thrust I was getting closer and closer. I heard a growl rumble in his chest and when Monroe howled I let go. I cried out his name; orgasm hitting me like a freight train. I clung to him, never wanting to let go. We laid in bed, panting, tangled up in each other. I stole one last kiss before laying my head on his chest and letting myself drift off into sleep.

XXX

                I woke up with Monroe’s arms wrapped around me, which is a pretty great way to wake up. I lifted my head just enough to see the time; it was only six thirty. Soft snored slipped past Monroe’s lips; he looked so peaceful when he was trying to sleep. For a while I just watched him, his chest rising and falling. I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to waking up like this every morning. I laid my head back on his chest and let myself fall back asleep.

When I woke again, I was alone in bed. The smell of pancakes quickly hit me and I followed it out of the room and down the hall. I grabbed my boxers from the living room, slipped them on, then walked into the kitchen. Monroe was standing over the stove, clad only in pajama pants.

                I leaned against the counter. “Morning.”

                “Morning.” He smiled and flipped a few pancakes on a plate and handed it to me.

                I sat down at the table, slathered some butter and syrup on my pancakes, and did my best to avoid the awkward morning-after conversation. I knew it was coming and to be honest, I was petrified. It might actually break my heart if he wanted us to be some kind of one-time thing. He hadn’t said anything after I told him I wanted there to be an us, just kissed me.

                “We should talk about last night.” I couldn’t read him like I usually could – it made me nervous.

                “Yeah, I-I um…” Of course I was at a loss for words.

                “I never really gave you a reply after you told me how you felt.” He paused, sipping his coffee – no doubt stalling. “I really like you, Nick, more than I ever thought I would…or could…”

                “But...?”

                “No buts. I like you and I want to be with you. I should’ve told you last night but I just got so caught up in the moment.”

                I smiled and knew a blush was taking over my cheeks. “So…”

                He let out a small chuckle. “So…”

                “Does that make us boyfriends or something?”

                “Or something…”

                “Hey!”

                He just laughed.

                “Let’s go out tonight, Monroe. Just you and me. Maybe dinner and a movie.”

                He nodded. “Or…we could stay in. I could cook you a delicious meal, open a nice bottle wine, we could watch a good movie – something better than those ho-hum blockbusters the cinema’s showing this week – and uh…maybe recreate part of last night.” He smirked.

                “Yeah, I think your idea sounds much better.” 

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)

                The sheets were damp and sticky against my skin. I felt the barely-there touch of my lover. His usually white-hot body felt ice-cold. I grumbled as I sat up in bed, rubbing at my eyes. I tried to recall last night’s events with no such luck. My head throbbed and my muscles ached.

I turned on the lamp and my heart sank. The sheets were soiled with blood – thick and crimson. Nick was still, his chest barely rising or falling. I turned his body towards me and gasped. His eyes were shut, lips tinted blue. There were scratches and gashes over his chest and abdomen and there was a gnarly bite at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Oh no. I listened closely; he was barely breathing. I gently shook him and called his name. His eyes opened weakly; he caught my gaze. The musky scent of fear quickly filled the room; it was almost too much.

“You…you did this to me…” His eyes turned glossy and his cheeks became tear-soaked. Then, as his eyes closed, his breathing halted.

No! No, Nick! No! I cupped his face with both my hands; he was so cold. I ducked my head down, pressing my forehead to his. I couldn’t stop the tears that began flowing. I slammed my eyes shut and everything went black.

When I opened my eyes I was laying back down, a warm body nestled against my side. I sighed. It was just another nightmare. Nick wiggled around a bit, trying to get closer. I lifted the sheet – which was blood free – and looked over his body. He was unmarred, save for a love marks. I pressed a kiss to his temple and lay back down.

“’Ro, what’re you doing? It’s…three in the morning.” He nuzzled my jaw.

“N-nothing.” I laid there, staring at the ceiling. “Just, uh, can’t sleep.”

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
Rating: M
Pairing: Hank/Juliette
Words: 902
Tags: Cheating, Sexual Content
*For my friend Bri
**I don't own Grimm
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He had just gotten in his car when his cell started to ring. The ID read Nick (home).

                “Hey, man, what’s up?”

                “Hey, Hank…it’s Juliette.”

                “Oh, hey. Everything ok?”

                “I just wanted to know if Nick was with you.”

                “He’s not – he left about an hour ago. Didn’t say where he was going, but I figured he was going home. Guess not.”

                “Nope.” She sighed. “You hungry, Hank?”

                “Starving.”

XXX

                She greeted him with a hug, just as she always had. They’d known each other for a while – since she and Nick started dating – and she’d always been fond of him, considered him a friend. He followed her to the table and sat down as she poured two glasses of wine. The table was already set, waiting for a guest that would always be too late.

                “So what’s going on, Jules?” He’d called her that for the last two years – since the first time Nick landed in the hospital. Hank had been there to comfort her that first time and every time since.

                “I’ve eaten dinner alone every night this week.” She stared down at her plate, almost embarrassed.

                “I had no idea.” He shook his head, having a hard time believing his best friend and partner could be like that. Hank had always thought of Nick and Juliette as the perfect couple – a couple that he hoped he could be like through all four failed marriages. He had no idea where Nick could be, what he was doing, or who he was with. It made him angry.

                They finished dinner, chatting about anything that would keep her mind off the situation. She told him about the dog with a broken leg that she set earlier that day and the little boy who hugged her in thanks. She brought them dessert in between talking about cats and football. Juliette had grown up very close to her father, who taught her about the game, and still called him every Sunday night after a game.

                After dessert, Hank helped Juliette with the dishes – he washed, she dried them and put them away. They found their way to the sofa and tuned into a Redskins game. When halftime came around she was curled up next to him, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Her phone buzzed on the coffee table – she had a text from Nick. Caught a lead. Not sure when I’ll be home.

                “Nick?”

                “Yeah.” She tossed her phone back on the table and tried not to think about him.

                They stayed on the couch, snuggled together, for the remainder of the game. The 42-14 score in favor of the Redskins curled her lips into a hint of a smile. She turned off the tv and sat up. Their faces were close and getting closer until their lips met. The kiss was needy and desperate with the tiniest hint of desire. She leaned back, pulling him with her, until she lay on the sofa staring up at him. Hands tugged at clothes and soon it was skin-on-skin. Lips met, tongues danced, hands explored new territory. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist. She needed to be touched, needed to be close to someone, needed to be loved. And right now, Hank was what she needed.

                “Hank…” She looked up at him in a heavy-lidded gaze. “I need you.”

                He gave her exactly what she needed; he’d been doing it longer than either of them realized – years. Their lips met again, hungry and desperate for intimacy. It wasn’t long before he was thrusting into her, moans and cries of passion filling the room. Her nails scraped down his back; she cried out his name. His thrusts sped up and they were both practically panting. He brushed a piece of hair from her face and kissed her. She cried out, her orgasm hitting her hard and fast. He wasn’t far behind, moaning her name as he came.

                They laid on the sofa together, wrapped in each other’s arms. He kissed her neck and she let out a soft coo. She should probably feel guilty, but she doesn’t. She should feel scared that Nick could walk in any minute and find his girlfriend and best friend, naked on the sofa, tangled together. She didn’t. She did feel bad, a little. It probably was a mistake, but as Hank stroked her cheek, nothing else mattered. She felt whole, sated, loved.

                “This was probably a mistake,” she whispered, moving her body closer to his, curling to fit snuggly against him.

                “Yeah.” His voice was soft. He tangled his hand in her hair and pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. “I should probably go.”

                She nodded, but neither of them moved. Eventually they shuffled around, pulling clothes back on. She walked him to the door and he stole one last kiss. She peered out the window, watching his taillights disappear down the road. She leaned back against the door as a few tears rolled down her cheeks.

                She wouldn’t tell Nick and neither would Hank. She didn’t know why, but she would stay with Nick. She’d try to make it work. At least until he missed another dinner. Then she’d invite Hank to dinner again. She’d live this lie because it had become her life. But really, they were all living a lie – they just didn’t know it yet.


lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
Rating: M
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Words: 1937
Tags: A/U, Sexual Content
*Inspired by two friends from tumblr
**I don't own Grimm
-----

 I rode down the path deep into the woods that sat on the edge of town. I saw the little shack I was searching for and hopped off my horse. I looped Maggie’s reins around a slender tree next to the deputy’s horse, Sugar. I approached the house cautiously; word was there were a few skalengecks inside brewing moonshine. When I got to the door I poked my head in; deputy already had them cuffed and ready to go. I holstered my weapon and walked inside.

                “Deputy Griffin.” I nodded.

                “Sheriff Burkhardt.”

                “What do we have here?”

                “Couple guys brewin’ some moonshine.”

                I shook my head at the two men. “Thought you two would know better – that’s three strikes. Let’s take ‘em in, Deputy.”

                We rode back into town to the sheriff’s station and locked away our two outlaws. We decided to let them sit there while we figured out what we’d do with them. Hank and I walked down to the saloon to grab a couple ales. There was a cute little blonde – who Hank eyed-up every time we came in – working the counter.

                “Hey there, Deputy Griffin.” She smiled at him.

                “I told you Miss Adalind, you can call me Hank.”

                She blushed and fetched us both an ale. There was something about her that hit a nerve, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I drank my ale and focused on the music coming from the other side of the saloon. There was a man playing the cello – he was there most nights. I don’t know much about music, but I reckon he’s pretty good. He was also a handyman around town. Name was…Monroe. He’d come in a time or two to fix the cell doors. Someone sat down next to me – it was the town vet.

                “Hey there, Sheriff Burkhardt.”

                “Hello, Miss Juliette. You mind comin’ by tomorrow afternoon and takin’ a look at Maggie’s back hoof? Think she stepped on something today.”

                “Not a problem.” She smiled.

                Word was she fancied me a bit. She was nice enough and beautiful, too, but she just didn’t do it for me. My attention went back to the cello player. He looked up and smiled at me. I felt my cheeks heat up. I cleared my throat and excused myself – said I was calling it an early night.

                I strolled down to my house and welcomed the silence. It was a small place – no need for anything bigger. I kicked off my boots and hung my hat on a hook. I stripped off the rest of my clothes and let them rest in a heap on the floor of the bedroom. I pulled on some cotton pants and an undershirt. I poured myself a glass of whiskey and settled in for the night. I was half asleep when there was a knock on the door.

                “Good evening, Sheriff. Hope you don’t mind me stoppin’ by.”

                It was the cello player from the saloon.

                “Um, no, not at all…Mr. Monroe, was it?”

                “Just Monroe, sir.”

                “Sir was my father, please call me Nick.” I extended a hand to him; he gave it a firm shake. “Drink?”

                “Thank you.”

                I handed him a glass of whiskey and poured myself another. I invited him to sit down. We were a bit close on the small sofa. I didn’t mind, though. I could smell him – musk, wood, smoke, and just a hint of cinnamon. I finally got a closer look at him, too. He had this ruggedly handsome thing going on. Bright chocolate-colored eyes looked back at me. I wondered what his beard would feel like against my skin. Stop – the sheriff can be fancying the handyman.

                “If you, uh, don’t mind me asking, Monroe, why’d you come over here? Don’t you have a wife to get home to?”

                “No, sir…uh, Nick. I just…wanted to know how those cell doors are holdin’ up.”

                “They’re holdin’ up just fine. Think our roof might need some fixin,’ though.”

                He nodded. “I can come by day after tomorrow.”

                “Great. Are you playin’ tomorrow night?”

                “Sure am.”

                “Can I ask you something?”

                “Course.”

                “Saloon pay you well?”

                “Enough to keep some food on the table.”

                “Good.”

                “Night, sheriff.”

                I watched him walk out the door. That was weird…but not unwelcome. I made a note to talk to the saloon owner – Mr. Renard – about giving Monroe a little raise. He was much too good to be getting paid enough.

I crawled into my big empty bed and laid there thinking about how nice it’d be to share the space with someone…perhaps a tall, flannel-clad, cello-playing handyman. Yeah, that’d be real nice. Someone to keep warm with on those cold December nights that were coming up. Someone to come home to. Monroe crept his way into my dreams all night long.

XXX

                I got to the saloon early – wanted to make sure I got a nice seat to watch Monroe play from. He was chatting some guy; I could just make out what they were saying.

                “Why’s he wear so much red?”

                “I don’t know, Hap. Maybe he likes it.”

                “Well, I heard his clothes are stained with the blood of the outlaws he’s killed.”

                I had to stifle a laugh. Oh lordy, that friend of his wasn’t too bright. Good guy though – never had him in the station. I turned my head just enough to see them. A petite brunette walked up to them.

                “Hey there, Butch, Sundance.” She nodded to them.

                Monroe frowned, but the other man – Hap – smiled.

                “Hello, Miss Rosalee.”

                She smiled at Hap and walked over near where I was sitting. I turned my attention to my ale.

                “Sheriff Burkhardt,” she greeted me.

                “Ma’am.”

                “Rosalee Calvert. In town visiting some old friends.” She nodded to where the two men sat.

                “Nice to meet ya.” I tipped my hat.

                “I saw you eyeing-up Monroe.”

                “What?” I could feel that damned blush heading to my cheeks again.

                “Don’t worry: I won’t tell anyone. You should say something to him, though.” Her voice was soft, quiet.

                “Sheriff can’t be chasing the handyman around.”

                “It’s not a chase if he wants to be caught.” She flashed a smug smile. “Night, Sheriff.”

                I watched her leave the saloon. When I looked back to Monroe, our eyes met and he quickly turned away. I sighed. That woman was friends with him, so she had to be right. But what if she isn’t? Maybe I’ll say something after he they’re through playing for the evening.

XXX

                He was walking down the road when I caught up to him. He was kicking a stone along the way, looking less than thrilled.

                “Hey, Monroe, wait up!”

                He stopped and turned around. I saw why he seemed down – there was a bruise starting to darken around his eye.

                “What happened to you?”

                “Don’t worry about it, Sheriff.”

                I stepped closer, putting a hand on his shoulder. He pulled away, turned, and started walking. I frowned and followed him.

                “Monroe, seriously. What happened?”

                “There was a fight – a really quick one – behind the saloon.” He kept walking as he talked. “Guy came up, hit me, and that was that.”

                “Why’d he do it?”

                He just shrugged.

                I stepped in front of him and he stopped. “I know what you are.”

                He furrowed his brow. “Um…”

                “You’re a blutbad.”

                He looked at me, wide-eyed and mouth agape.

                “I’m a Grimm.”

                “A sheriff and a Grimm? That legal?”

                I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna kill ya. I like you.”

                “Oh.”

                “You like to come over for a drink?”

                “Uh, sure.”

XXX

                “You want some ice or somethin’ for that eye?”

                “Nah, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

                “You seem real nice, can’t imagine why anyone would wanna hit you.” I poured whiskey into two glasses and handed one to him.

                He shrugged. “Just some fuchsbau that don’t like what I am.”

                “There some fuchsbau-blutbad rivaly I don’t know about? Kinda new to the Grimm thing.”

                “Not exactly.”

                I raised a questioning eye brow but he didn’t go on; I didn’t push it any further. “You play cards?”

                “From time to time.”

                “Wanna play a game of poker?”

                “Stakes?”

                “If I win…I get a private show. If you win…what do you want?”

                “Um…drinks are on you tomorrow night.”

                “Deal.”

XXX

                “Aces beat Jacks.”

                “You win. Let me get my cello.”

                He stood up and stepped towards the door where his cello case sat. I got up and grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

                “That’s not the, uh, kind of private show I wanted.”

                I stood up on my toes – he was a good five or so inches taller – and pressed my lips to his. I pulled away and looked up at him, hoping I didn’t make a mistake.

                “That’s why he hit me.”

                I thought for a second. Oh.

                “Well that’s the first and last time. The sheriff won’t have that petty hoopla in his town.”

                He smiled and then leaned to capture my lips. I fisted my hands in flannel shirt and pulled him closer. Our bodies were pressed together; my arms wrapped around his neck, his worked their way around my waist. I took a step back, pulling him towards the bedroom; he got the idea. I bent a little and picked me up; I wrapped my legs around his waist. We pulled away just long enough to shed our clothes and then we were back on each other. He pushed me back on to the bed. I could see the hunger in his eyes – they flashed red. We wrestled for control; I eventually gave in and let him pin me. He laid between my legs, our hips pressed firmly against each other. His fingers were wrapped around my wrists which laid on either side of my head.

                His lips moved over my jaw and down my neck. He nipped at my collar bones and I couldn’t quite stifle my moans. ­I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer. He loosened his grip on my wrists and I moved my hands to his chest, caressing bare skin.

                “So you’re a handyman and a cello player…what else can those hands do?”

                “I’ll show you.”

                He moved his hand down my body and wrapped his fingers around my very hard dick. The touch of his hand made me tremble. He sped up the pace of his strokes and my body writhed under his. He nipped at the sensitive spot right below my jaw and it drove me wild. There was enough coherent thought left in my mind to reach my hand down and return the favor. He moaned, though it was more of a growl. His mouth found mine and our tongues began to dance.

                I moaned his name as I came, my hips bucking up towards him. I kept my hand going as fast as I could, though the strokes became sporadic. He sank his teeth into my shoulder as he came. Oh god, it felt so good. He rolled off of me and I used the corner of the bed sheet to clean off my hand and stomach. I tucked myself to his side and threw an arm over his chest.

                We just laid in bed for a while, stealing kisses. I ran my fingers over his chest, drawing small circles and random patterns. It was nice, lying in bed with someone – I hadn’t realized how lonely I’d gotten. Apparently being with the sheriff wasn’t very appealing.

                “Guess I should’ve asked for a private show sooner.”

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)

Rating: T
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Words: 790
Tags/Warnings: Brief sexual innuendo
*inspired by my headcanon that Mornoe loves pudding.
**I don't own Grimm
-----

Monroe had made a too-fancy dinner, bought expensive wine, and even lit candles – that was the first time he fed Nick. Nick was the one to suggest dinner. Monroe had been excited that he’d get to spend some non-grimm time with his friend. He was wrong – Nick brought up geiers and asked about human organs. Of course, Monroe got way too in depth and started talking about testicles and wesen-enhancement of the sexual nature. Even before that, Monroe had chided him for not knowing what his favorite color was. What an ass, he thought. Dinner ended with them finishing the wine and Nick going home. Monroe was left in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes, wondering why he couldn’t just be normal.

The second time Monroe fed Nick, they were eating croissants and drinking coffee in the park. Of course Nick had to mention the irony of them going for a walk in an off-leash dog park. Monroe growled, totally not amused – he let it go, though. Nick got a call from Hank, informing him of a new lead, and Monroe snuck the last croissant from the bag. Nick actually did apologize for having to leave. Monroe was left in the park, sitting alone on the bench with his coffee.

Monroe made Nick with a homemade pizza for his birthday – that’s the third time Monroe fed Nick. Nick was genuinely surprised, he never really celebrated his birthday. Monroe had also gotten him a gift – a few sketch books, those fancy art pencils, and some other miscellaneous art supplies to help add his own touch to the grimm books. They demolished the entire pizza, a six pack of Guinness, and a good portion of the chocolate cake Monroe also made. For the first time in too-many years, Nick had had a perfect birthday.

The next time Monroe fed Nick, it was Chinese take-out after burying a few reapers. It was a celebratory dinner of sorts for them. They’d sent the heads of two reapers back to their HQ. By now they had become really close, and Monroe didn’t even mind when Nick reached over and stole some veggie lo mein right form his container. Monroe just tossed a fortune cookie at his friend, hitting him in the cheek. Nick furrowed his brow, but unwrapped and ate the treat. He read his fortune: expect a surprise from someone you love.

The fifth time Monroe fed Nick, it was Christmas dinner. Monroe hadn’t had a family dinner in years – since he’d reformed. With Aunt Marie gone, Nick didn’t have anyone to have a holiday dinner with. Monroe invited him over, and he gladly accepted. They didn’t have a traditional Christmas ham, instead they had vegan salmon. Nick actually didn’t mind – Monroe was a great cook and dinner was delicious. They even exchanged gifts. Nick bought Monroe a new watch and a few books he had his eye on. Monroe, of course, bought Nick more art supplies. Nick had taken to painting lately even sold a few – one to Monroe who hung his over the fire place. They ended the night with eggnog and cookies.

There was one time when Nick tried to feed Monroe. It was a disaster to say the least. Monroe was knocking on the door about the same time Nick was running for the mop. He ran passed the door, opened it, and kept running. Nick had tried to make ravioli, but the pot boiled over. He was so worried about cleaning up the water that he hadn’t noticed the burn on his hand. Monroe helped him clean-up and even bandaged his hand. By the time they returned to the kitchen, Nick decided to give up on dinner and they ordered a pizza. Nick was upset, all he wanted was to treat his friend to a nice dinner, and he’d messed it up. As they were eating the pizza, Nick jumped off the sofa, remembering one part of dinner he hadn’t messed up – the pie. He comes back into the living room, pie in one hand, plates, forks, and a knife in the other.

“I forgot – I made pudding pie!”

“I love pudding!” Monroe’s eyes were as big as his face. He wouldn’t admit it, but you could bribe him to do anything with pudding.

As Nick was walking to the sofa, he tripped over the area rug. He fell onto the sofa and dropped the pie in his lap. Way to go, real smooth, he thought. He tossed the plates and silverware onto the coffee table and sighed.

Monroe reached over, and scooped up some of the pudding from Nick’s lap with his finger. Nick just stared at him as he sucked his finger clean.

“I told you I loved pudding.”

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)

Grimm fic
Nick/Monroe
Rated M for language
I don't own Grimm.

-----

 

                There was heavy knocking on Monroe’s door. He grumbled all the way down the stairs – it was too damn early for this.

                “Good lord, Monroe, open the damn door!”

                He yanked open the door and growled at the man standing on his porch. Nick pushed his way in as usual, except this time he practically shoved Monroe out of the way. With glowing red eyes, Monroe grabbed his friend by the arm and slammed him against the wall, snarling mere inches from his face.

                “What the hell is your problem?”

                “I don’t fucking know!” Nick yelled at him. “One minute I’m chasing this witch down an alley, the next I’m just so fucking angry!” He jerked out of the other man’s grip and stomped into the living room. “I came here because I figured you could help.” He was still yelling.

                “Can you just bring the tone down a little?” With a shake of the head, Monroe retracted back to his human façade. He plopped down on the sofa next to Nick. “Did you drink or eat anything you shouldn’t have? Did she throw something at you? Anything out of the ordinary?”

                “No.”

                “Are you sure?”

                “Don’t you think I would know? Jesus! I need help! Fucking help me, Monroe!”

                Nick was so angry and worked-up he was practically panting. His hands were balled into fists and if he clenched his jaw any harder his teeth would shatter. He started pacing the room and Monroe just sat there watching. Every so often, Nick shot an angry look towards the sofa. His nerves were about to explode; his body shook. Monroe left the room to grab a few beers and handed one to Nick when he returned.

                “Why do you buy this fucking microbrew? It’s great and all, but it’s so expensive. Clocks can’t rake in that much dough.”

                Monroe sighed. Patience, he thought, Nick isn’t himself. “You just said yourself that it’s great.”

                “How fucking long am I gonna be like this man? I can’t go back to work like this! You need to do something!”

                “You can’t go home like that either.” Monroe sighed. He doubted anything would be in Nick’s grimm books. He thought about who he could ask, but he couldn’t come up with a name.

                “She’s gone, Monroe! It doesn’t matter what I go home like – there’s no one there to see me!”

                Monroe sat there in shock, he hadn’t known.

                “Yeah, she’s gone.” There was more disgust than anger in his voice. “She just packed her shit and left. She left me. Do you know what that feels like? I feel like shit! I chased away the only women that I ever…that’s ever loved me!” Nick hurled the bottle to the floor, shards of glass hit his legs. “You know what – good for her! She deserves better than me!”

                Monroe furrowed his brow; he watched the angry tears flow down his friend’s cheeks. “I-I know what’s wrong with you.”

                Nick turned his head so fast he practically gave himself whiplash. “What? You know? Tell me!”

                “She – the witch – put a truth spell on you. Except…instead of just making you truthful, she made you mean. Which is weird…I don’t know why she would do it.”

                “Does it fucking matter why? How do we fix it?”

                “You have to let it run its course. Could be a day, could be a week.”

                “Jesus Christ, Monroe! I can’t live like this! Going around yelling at people what I really think!”

                Monroe walked out of the room without saying anything. He returned holding a broom and dustpan. He went to sweep up the shattered bottle, but Nick smacked the broom from his hand.

                “Dude, come on.”

                “No! You’re gonna stand there and listen to me! You keep saying how we’re not really friends, that we don’t know anything about each other. Well, shut up and listen! I was born in Rhineneck, New York. My parents died in a car accident when I was twelve, which I just learned totally wasn’t an accident. My mother was a grimm and apparently had the coins of Zakynthos in her possession. Marie came and took care of me until I was 18. She pretty much disappeared after that. I was a criminal justice major. After graduating from the academy, I moved to Portland. I’ve been here since, obviously working as a cop. And to be fucking honest I’m not sure I like being a grimm!”

                “You have to get something out of it.”

                “Yeah, I got you.”

                Monroe frowned at him, not entirely sure if that was a compliment or not.

                “That was a fucking compliment man! Am I just that much of an asshole? You can’t even tell when I’m trying to be nice?”

                “It’s kind of hard when you’re yelling at me!” His voice rose with the last three words.

                Nick was holding his second beer, but not for long – he threw it down on the floor with his last bottle.

                “Knock it the fuck off, Nick! I get it, you’re under some angry truth spell, but you don’t have to come over here and wreck my shit!”

                “There we go! The big bad wolf has come out to play! Mr. Control has left the building.”

                Monroe snarled at him, eyes glowing red, nails sharpened to claws. He knew this wasn’t Nick, but damn it, it was infuriating! He turned his head; right now he couldn’t bear to look at his friend. He really was starting to lose his cool – he just had the rug steam cleaned.

                “What’s wrong, Monroe? You finally gonna freak out, do exactly to me what you’ve been waiting for. What a normal blutbad would do? Do it! Put me out of my fucking misery.” Nick was yelling at the top of his lungs – it was a wonder none of the neighbors had called the cops. “Please, Monroe.” He grabbed the blutbad’s hand and put it to his throat. “Do it.” His voice was low and harsh, with a hint of desperation. “Because I have nothing. My girlfriend left me. I’m in love with someone I can’t have. Not to mention, those reapers are never going to stop coming for me!” Nicks fingers were wrapped tightly around Monroe’s wrist.

                Monroe looks into his friend’s eyes. He had no idea what Nick had been going through. He felt bad, really bad. “Do you want to talk about it?” He spoke softly, reclaiming his hand, human features coming back.

                “I am talking – well, yelling – about it.” He leaned forward, covering his face with his hands. He stood back up, slamming his fists to the wall. “Why do you help me, man? I’m a total dick! I’m always dragging you into dangerous situations. Shit, man! You’ve almost died because of me. How can you even stand to be in the same room with me?”

                “Believe it or not…” His voice was oddly calm. “…you’re my friend. That was my own dumbass fault for going out there alone. You told me not to, but I didn’t listen. Besides, I like helping – gives me something to do. If it weren’t for you, I’d be sitting in here, all alone, working the clocks. Somehow you’ve managed to become kind of an integral part of my life.”

                “You know what, Monroe? Fuck you! You walk around her wearing those stupid sweaters – that actually look really good on you – and giving me advice. You’re always there for help when I need you. And here you are now, still being nice to me when I’m yelling at you, cussing like a fucking sailor!” Nick was starting to feel panicky. “What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you love me back?” His voice cracked.

                Nick fell to the floor, tears pouring from his eyes. His breathing was heavy from being so worked-up and yelling everything. He was exhausted. Just like that, the spell wore off. Unfortunately, that was the only thing that was gone. The tears, the feelings, the broken glass – it all still remained. He held his head in his hands and just sobbed. He rocked back and forth, shaking. Monroe sat down on the floor next to him, wrapping his arms around his slender frame and pulling him close. For a second he tried to fight it, tried to push him away, but he gave in. Nick sobbed into Monroe’s sweater, fisted his hands in it. Seeing his best friend come undone like that made Monroe lose it – tears rolled down his cheeks.

                “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He spoke softly, barely audible over Nick’s sobbing. “And I do love you.”

                Monroe had figured it out. Nick had run into a kupplerin – a matchmaker of sorts. They were notorious for hitting people with love spells and truth spells and making it all kinds of terrible. Case in point: yelling, swearing, crazy-man Nick Burkhardt.

                Monroe just held onto Nick as tightly as he could. They sat on the floor until Nick calmed down a little. He wasn’t sobbing as much, just softly crying. Monroe stood and pulled Nick up with him. He led his friend down the hall to the bedroom. Monroe tugged off Nick’s jacket and boots. He pulled his friend to the bed and curled his body around Nick’s slender frame. Nick held on to Monroe’s hand all night, gripping harder every so often just to feel the touch.

                The sun was peeking through the blinds when they woke up. Monroe was up first; he listened to the steady pace of Nick’s breaths. Nick woke up with a huff and tried to pull Monroe closer. Monroe practically blanketed his body over the other man. Nick was still shook up from the previous night; his trembling body was proof.

                “M-Monroe…” Nick’s voice was soft, just a hair louder than a whisper. He turned so they were chest-to-chest.

                “Hmm…?” Monroe re-laced his fingers with Nick’s.

                There was a low whine in Nick’s throat.

                “What’s wrong, Nick?” Monroe’s voice was heavy with worry.

                He spoke softly – throat sore for the previous night’s yelling. “About last night…I’m sor–”

                “Shh. Stop. You don’t have to apologize. That wasn’t you last night.”

                Nick nodded, nuzzling his face on Monroe’s sweater. “Everything I said…was true.”

                “I know.” He ran a hand through the other man’s dark hair, staring into his grey eyes.

                “That’s not how I wanted to tell you.”

                “I know.” He nodded.

                “How much do you hate me right now?”

                Monroe leaned forward, pressing his lips to Nick’s. He brought his hand up to cup Nick’s cheek. Nick still clung to Monroe, holding on for dear life.

                “I could never hate you. Ever.” Monroe kissed him again. “I love you.”

 

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
Grimm
Nick/Monroe - established relationship
Just a cute little piece I put together for one of my favorite days - May 4th Star Wars day!
A/N: I don't own Grimm or Star Wars. This is unbeta'd.

-----

"Monroe! I can't believe you've never seen Star Wars" I was dumbfounded. "It's a classic! Not to mention my favorite movie!" I looked over at him and he just rolled his eyes at me.
"Dude, it's just a movie."
My eyebrows were raised so high the were practically hovering over my head.
"Just...a...movie?!"
"You, uh, might want to pick your jaw up off the floor."
I glared at him as I poured melted butter over a bowl of freshly air-popped popcorn.
"Chill out, man, we're gonna watch it."
"Yeah, yeah, let's go."
I grabbed the bowl, Monroe grabbed the beers, and we settled down on the couch.
We snugged throughout the movie and it seemed like he was paying attention and actually liking it. I could have sworn I heard a hushed awe when the ewoks showed up. I glanced over at him and for a second, he kind of reminded me of Chewbacca. 
One hundred and twenty-one minutes later the credits started rolling and I turned off the movie. When I looked over at him his eyes were about three times their normal size. I couldn't help but giggle.
"You, uh, might want to pick your jaw up off the floor."
"He turned his head slowly, big chocolate-colored eyes met mine.
"That...was...awesome!"
"Told you so!"
"Alright, alright. So you have decent taste in movies, I'll give you that." He leaned over and kissed me. "So, you wanna have a lightsaber fight?"
"Is that...did you just use a Star Wars euphemism?"
He grinned.
"If I didn't already love you before, I definitely love you now!"
lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
Grimm
Nick/Monroe/Rosalee
Rated M for sexy time

This is the first request I've gotten.
I really enjoyed writing this.
Nick/Monroe/Rosalee is my new OT3.

This is a fill for a request from the lovely moon_blitz who always takes the time to comment on fic :)
I hope you like it and I hope it's what you wanted!
This is my first attempt at writing a threesome!

As always, this is unbeta'd.
Sadly, I don't own Grimm.

-----

                Rosalee knocked on the front door, smiling at the stained-glass wolf window. It had Monroe written all over it. The door opened and she was greeted by a familiar face.

                “Hey, Rosalee. Monroe isn’t here right now.” Nick had been staying with Monroe for the last few weeks – since he left Juliette.

                “Good. I came here to see you.”

                “Um, ok. Come in.” He stepped aside and let her in.

                She followed him into the living room and sat beside him on the sofa.

                “Monroe’s birthday is tomorrow.”

                “I know,” he replied. As if he’d forget he best friend’s birthday. “I got him a pocket watch.” The perfect one he’d spent the last two months searching for. “What’d you get him?”

                “That’s the thing. I have a proposal.”

                “Ok…I’m listening…”

                She blushed a little. “I want to give him something he’ll never forget.”

                Nick wasn’t sure where she was going with this.

                “It’s ok if you say no, but I was thinking we’d have a threesome.” She got a little fidgety. “It’s just that it feels like there’s a little sexual tension – maybe a spark – between Monroe and I. And you two…there’s so much sexual tension there I’m surprised anyone else can fit in the room with you two.”

                He scrunched up his face. Sexual tension, he thought, between Monroe and me? Good, I’m not imagining it. “I-I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His voice cracked near the end.

                Rosalee just shook her head at him. “So…?”

XXX

                Monroe yawned as he walked through his front door. He expected to see Nick sprawled across the sofa, but it was empty. Weird, he though. He sniffed the air; Nick was home and someone else. Lilacs and jasmine…Rosalee. He set down his tool box on his work bench, hung up his coat, and kicked off his shoes. He followed his nose upstairs and stood outside his bedroom door. He could hear their stifled giggles. I swear to… He opened the door and there they were on his bed. Nick was sitting near the edge, donning only a pair of red boxer briefs. Rosalee was further up on the bed, leaning against the headboard, wearing a little red nighty. They were both smirking at him.

                “Happy birthday.” Nick got up and walked towards Monroe, running his hands down the taller man’s chest.

                “Uh…” Monroe was completely dumbfounded.

                “We thought we’d give you something special.” Rosalee put emphasis on the last word.

                Monroe opened his mouth to stay something but nothing came out. Nick pulled him towards the bed and pushed him down. Rosalee crawled up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and nibbling his ear; he whimpered. Nick straddled his lap and started kissing his neck.

                “G-guys…”

                Nick pulled back, looking startled. “Do you not want this?”

                “I, uh, yeah of course I do. But…”

                “So do we,” Rosalee whispered.

                Nick started unbuttoning Monroe’s waistcoat and dress shirt. Rosalee nipped at his neck. He turned his head and met her lips. Nick undid the last button and ran his hands down Monroe’s bare chest. Rosalee slid them off and tossed them aside. She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his back; he leaned into her touch. Nick’s hands went to work on Monroe’s belt and jeans. Rosalee pulled Monroe back so he way lying down. She bit her lip as she looked down at him. Monroe looked up at the two of them who looked back, pupils blown, wanton smirks plastered on their faces. Nick crawled off Monroe and laid next to him, pulling him into a hungry kiss. Rosalee tugged at Monroe’s jeans; he let her pull them off.

The alpha wolf in Monroe was having a bitch fit – he was supposed to be the one in control. He didn’t care, though, he liked the attention. It had been far too long since Monroe had felt like he was wanted. And now he had two people that were practically throwing themselves at him.

Rosalee laid down on Monroe’s other side, her hand disappearing beneath his boxers. He moaned against Nick’s lips. Nick bit at Monroe’s bottom lip before brushing it with his tongue. Monroe admitted the other man’s tongue entry, they battled for control of their kiss, both refusing to back down. Then Monroe noticed Rosalee’s kisses moving from his neck down his chest, his abdomen. She tugged off his boxers and she pressed her warm, soft lips to the head of his dick. A growl rumbled in his chest when she took all of him in her mouth.

Monroe whined when Rosalee let him slip from her mouth. She worked her way back up his body. She whispered in his ear, “I want you to fuck me, Monroe.”

Nick smirked and whispered to Monroe, “and I’m going to fuck you.”

The red was seeping into Monroe’s eyes. Rosalee pulled away. She scooted up the bed and got on her hands and knees and Monroe finally noticed she wasn’t wearing panties. Nick pulled away next, pulling off his boxer briefs and tossing them across the room. Monroe crawled up behind Rosalee. He slid his hands under her nighty; she sat up and let him rid her of it. She bent back down, waiting for him to mount her. Nick tossed a condom at the other man and grabbed a bottle of lube for himself.

Monroe kissed down Rosalee’s spine before pushing in to her. She let a soft moan escape her lips – it went right to Monroe’s dick. He was thrusting into her when he felt another body behind him. Nick ran his hands up and down Monroe’s sides. He lubed up one finger and pressed into Monroe, who moaned, pushing further into Rosalee. Nick moved his finger in and out, enjoying every little noise that came from Monroe’s mouth. He added another finger and quickened his pace. When Nick added a third finger, Monroe howled. Soon Nick was positioning himself behind Monroe, pushing his cock into the other man’s ass.

It took them a little while to get a steady pace going. Their thrusts had all started out jerky and sporadic, trying to figure out who should move when. When they got it together, the room was filled with moans and growls and even another howl or two. Rosalee’s hands were fisted in the sheets, he head leaning back as far as it could go. Monroe’s teeth brushed over her delicate skin. He bit down on the crook of her neck, not hard enough for a claim mark, but hard enough for one hell of a hickey. Rosalee bit her lip, holding back a moan. Her orgasm was quickly approaching. Monroe felt her clench around him as she orgasmed. Her arms were shaky and as soon as Monroe pulled out, her arms gave out and she laid down. She rolled over beneath him and stared up at him. Her face was flushed, eyes were heavy-lidded.

She watched the two men above her, Nick still thrusting into Monroe.

“Fuck him…harder, Nick.” Her voice was low; her breathing was heavy.

                Monroe stifled the whine building in the back of his throat. Rosalee ran her hands over Monroe’s chest, his stomach. She pulled the condom off, tossing it on the floor, and started stroking his dick. Nick’s pace quickened and his thrusts were becoming jerky again; he was so close. He came moaning Monroe’s name. Rosalee gave Monroe’s cock a few more strokes and he was coming, too.

                Nick pulled out and collapse on the bed, as did Monroe. Nick curled up against the other man’s back, planting kisses on his neck and shoulder. Rosalee curled up against Monroe’s chest, wrapping an arm around his waist. The three of them laid there, tangled up in each other. Monroe let out a content sigh. The last thing he thought before falling into the depths of sleep was best birthday ever.

 

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
                 Monroe grumbled as he padded across the living room to the front door. He already knew it was Nick – who else would come knocking after midnight? He opened the door and the grimm barged in – as usual – pushing past the blutbad without so much as a ‘hello.’

                “Dude,” Monroe groaned.

                “She said no. Then she left.”

                This so wasn’t what Monroe wanted to talk about right now. Or ever, really.

                Out of nowhere, the grimm wrapped his arms around the taller man. Normally, Monroe would’ve objected to the contact and pushed Nick away. But it almost felt like Nick was shaking, just barely. So Monroe wrapped his arms around the Grimm and pulled him close. Monroe really was a good friend.

                “You want a beer?”

                “No thanks. Maybe some tea?”

                “You want tea?”

                Nick nodded into Monroe’s shoulder.

                “Ok, then, I’ll get the kettle.”

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
Grimm
"Not So Bad"
Drabble
A/N : Sadly, I don't own Grimm or any of the characters.

In which Nick and Juliette break up after she says no and, of course, Nick finds some solace in Monroe.

-----

                “I can’t believe she said no.” Monroe handed a beer to the mopey grimm sprawled out on his sofa.

                “I probably should’ve seen it coming.” Nick took a sip. “She didn’t even pull the whole ‘it’s not you it’s me’ thing. She flat-out said it was me. Ugh. I suck.”

                “Bullshit! You’re a great guy! You and I both know that. Sure, things have been rough for you guys lately, but isn’t that what love’s about: jumping those hurtles together. I don’t know man. Maybe I just don’t understand relationships. All I know is that you’re a great guy and she was crazy to let you go.”

                “Thanks, Monroe.” Nick gave the blutbad a sad smile.

                Monroe nodded, smiled. He sipped his beer and tried to nonchalantly avoid eye contact. Maybe, he thought, that little speech was just a little too much. He blamed the beer.

                Monroe was staring at the television absent-mindedly. Nick was staring at Monroe – or more so at his lips wrapped around the head of his bottle of beer. Maybe this isn’t so bad, Nick thought.

                “You know, maybe that was the right thing to do. Break up.”

                “Huh?”

                “Maybe I should have listened to my Aunt Marie and broken things off with Juliette months ago.”

                Monroe nodded, unsure of how to respond.

                “She didn’t even look upset when she said no. It was like everyday conversation for her. Hey, you want a doughnut? Some coffee? By the way I can’t marry you and it’s all your fault. Cream? Sugar?”

                The blutbad was quickly getting uncomfortable. He’d never seen Nick like this. He didn’t much care for it.

                “You deserve better,” Monroe said softly.

                Nick looked at him quizzically.

                “I mean, she was nice enough when I met her…but you deserve…I don’t know…more than that.” A blush was starting to work its way across Monroe’s face and he hoped to hell that Nick wouldn’t notice.

                “Yeah,” Nick said, almost whispered, to himself more than anyone. “I do deserve better.”

                Of course the blutbad heard him. He gave Nick a look. It lasted barely a second, and wasn’t really much of anything – Monroe hadn’t done it consciously. But in that split-second look, he conveyed more to Nick than any amount of words could. The grimm couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly the look was, just that it was good.

                Yeah, Nick thought, this could be really good.

                


lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
Grimm
Nick (with some Monroe)
"Hurricane Drunk"
Rated T - Alcohol and Violence

A/N :: Sadly I don't own Grimm. Also, the title is that of a song by Florence + The Machine.

 
 
-----

"Near, far, wherever you are. I believe that the heart does go on..."

Any other time Nick would feel ridiculous about sitting on the middle of his living room floor blasting, and belting out, Celine Dion. But Juliette had said someday. She loved him and wanted to marry him someday. Just not today; when he could let her back in. Nick wondered when, if ever, that would be. There were tears building in his eyes, but he was determined not to let them go. He’d done enough of that listening to Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You.”

He’d been relentlessly staring at a photo of him and Juliette from last Christmas. He ran his fingers along the frame; it’d become sort of a soothing motion more than anything. It was like he could feel it – the overwhelming sadness slowly morphing into anger, rage. He cursed the photograph, or more so the woman in it. Then he let loose; he couldn’t hold it anymore. The photograph was sent flying across the room, the glass shattering when it met the wall. Nick stood up, stomping into the kitchen. He tore open the cabinet doors, looking for anything she’d left behind. There probably wasn’t much, he knew that. His eyes scanned the shelves. There: a coffee mug. He grabbed it from the cabinet and hurled it across the room. The smashing sound was satisfying.

Back to the living room he went. His breathing was heavy, almost panting. Rage coursed through his veins. Why was he so angry? She did say she loved him. She did say she’d marry him someday. But he was so adamant about having a concrete answer. It was either she’d marry him now, wear the ring he’d bought for her, pick out flowers and cake…or it was over – for good. Nick knew he was at fault for pretty much every problem in their relationship – he wouldn’t deny it – but love meant sticking side-by-side through anything, right? He clenched his jaw; hands were balled into fists. He searched the house for anything she’d forgotten, in hopes he could break it – just as she’d broken his heart.

Then he stumbled across the bottle of whiskey he’d stashed away. What a great idea that’d been, he thought. He smiled. Whiskey wouldn’t break your heart. Whiskey wouldn’t leave you all alone. Whiskey would warm you up when you needed it. Whiskey would make it all better.

The bottom of the bottle was getting closer. Nick tripped, tumbling to the ground. Juliette’s broken coffee mug broke his fall. He didn’t feel it. Whiskey’s good like that. He looked down at his hand with blurry, bloodshot eyes, and saw the blood. He watched the crimson goo flow from the three inch gash in his palm. He was amazed by it, hypnotized almost. He swore at his hand, told it to knock it the fuck off.

He rolled over on the floor; something pressed into his hip. Stupid phone. He pulled it from his pocket. He almost threw it, but some stupid little voice in the back of his mind told him not to. He sat there, staring at the phone, until he – completely on autopilot – dialed a familiar number.

“What is it now? Do you know how late it is?”

“Hello to you, too, Buddy.”

“Oh, dude, are you drunk?”

“As a skunk!”

Monroe sighed and shook his head. He hung up the phone and proceeded to grab his keys and head over to tend to his drunken friend. The blutbad cursed fate for throwing that stupid grimm into his life. He used the spare key Nick gave him and walked in to find Nick passed out on the kitchen floor. For a second, Monroe thought the worse. But then Nick jerked awake.

“Is that…blood?”

“Juliette did it!”

“Wha –” Then Monroe saw the broken mug and figured it belonged to Juliette and that’s what Nick was referring to. “You are an absolute mess, you know that right? And no blutbad in their right mind would help you.”

“Well, I guess ‘s good for me that you’re so weird.”

Monroe sighed, this side of irritated. “I’m going to let that one slide…for now.”

“Why’re you so good to me?”

“I keep asking myself the same thing. I have yet to come up with a good reason.” Monroe picked the drunk grimm up off the floor and carried him upstairs to the bathroom.

There was a washcloth next to the sink. Monroe picked it up, wet it, and tended to Nick’s cut. He kept shaking his head, thinking about how stupid the grimm was being. Monroe thought about his life before he reformed; all the drunken nights, the bruises, the cuts, running wild. He cringed. He knew Nick was nowhere near that, and there was no way Monroe would EVER let it happen either. He’d find a way to keep his stupid grimm safe. Monroe frowned at the gash as he covered it with gauze.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Nick shook his head.

“Let’s get you to bed, then.”

Nick leaned forward, resting against Monroe’s chest. It was sort of a thank you; it was all Nick could really manage right now. Hopefully when he sobered up he’d think to send Monroe a nice gift basket or something.

“Come on, you.”

Monroe lead Nick into the room and laid him in bed. He tucked the blankets around the grimm, who hummed – I guess that’s a ‘thank you,’ Monroe thought. Monroe shook his head one last time before sitting on down on the other side of the bed, watching Nick for the rest of the night.

“You owe me like 64 now,” Monroe whispered.

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
Grimm
Nick/Monroe
Rated G

A/N :: Sadly, I don't own Grimm.
-----

I was frantically rushing around in the trailer trying to tidy up. There were clothes strewn everywhere – the trailer was an absolute mess. I stuffed the food wrappers and take-out containers in a trash bag, walked out to my truck, and tossed the bag in the back seat. I went back inside and tried to cram all my clothes in the drawers under the bed. How in the hell did I make such a mess in two days? There was a knock on the door and I just about had a heart attack.

“Dude, it’s just me.” Monroe let himself in. “Are you…cleaning?”

“Yeah, you know…it just got kind of messy in here.”

“Oh.” Monroe sat down at the desk. He started peeking in the drawers.

“You are so nosey, man.”

“Come on, you got all this cool stuff in here.” He opened another drawer. “You sure do have a lot of snacks in here, too.”

“Um…wesen literature makes me hungry.”

“Why do you have clothes in this drawer?”

“Um…I-I…uh…”

“Wait a minute. Are you staying here?”

I sighed. The jig was up. “Yeah, but just for the past two days.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” I plopped down on the bed, feeling utterly defeated.

“What are you – oh…Sorry.”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Why didn’t you go stay with Hank? Or you could’ve come to my house. I have a guest room…not to mention running water and heat.”

“I don’t know. Everything’s just so complicated. This was just the first thing I thought of.”

“Well, get your shit together; you’re coming to stay with me.”

“Monroe, you don’t have to.”

“You’re right: I don’t. But I am, so let’s go.”

XXX

                “You want peppers in your omelet?”

                “You’re making me breakfast?”

                “Yes. Cheese?”

                “Um…yeah, both. Thanks.”

                “There’s fresh-squeezed orange juice in the fridge or there’s coffee brewing. Help yourself. Toast?”

                “Wow. Um, yes, please.” I poured myself some orange juice and sat down at the table.

Spending the night at Monroe’s house was like spending a night in a fancy bed and breakfast. There was this coziness here that – now that I think about it – was never in mine and Juliette’s house. It was weird; I never saw Monroe as being cozy.

                Monroe placed a plate in front of me. That was the best looking omelet I’d ever seen. He sat down across from me with his own plate and I smiled at him. This was nice; why did I even think I could live in that cramped little trailer.

                “Thanks, Monroe, for all of this.”

                “It’s no problem, really.”

                “This is delicious!”

“Thanks. So, I’m curious, how did you think living in that trailer was going to play out?”

                “I don’t even know. I figured if Marie could do it, so could I.”

                Monroe just shook his head at me. “Well, you’re welcome here as long as you need. I have to do some grocery shopping today, anything you want?”

                “Um…cheetos?”

                “Sure. Oh, I’ll go and get you a key made, too.” He seemed oddly cheery this morning.

                Monroe got up from the table and put his plate in the sink. I shoved the last bite of omelet in my mouth and handed him my plate. I offered to do the dishes but he waved me off. I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I just felt the overwhelming need to thank him. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug.

                “Um…”

                “Thanks, Monroe.” I let go of him and went to get ready for work.

XXXXXX


                “Hey, Nick. What’s up?”

                “Did you have anything planned for dinner tonight?”

                “Not really, no. I was just about to get up and rummage through the fridge for something to make us.”

                “Well, don’t worry about it. I’m going to pick something up. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes – just have to hand in my report. I’ll pick something up and then I’ll be home. Sound good?”

                “Sure. I’ll see you in a little while.”

                I hung up the phone, slipped it into my pocket, and then it hit me.

                Home?

                I’ve been staying with Monroe for the better part of a month. There hasn’t been any kind of discussion about finding a place or moving in or anything like that. Monroe had said that I could stay with him as long as I needed. To be honest, I really liked staying with him. I was in no hurry to find another place. I did my best not to seem like I was taking advantage of Monroe. I helped with dishes and cleaning. I took out the trash. I surprised him with 6-packs of microbrew and even a bottle of his favorite top-shelf red wine. I bought us dinner once a week. Maybe it’s weird, but it feels like home. Monroe feels like home.

                I handed my report in to the captain, grabbed my jacket, and headed to the parking lot. I decided to swing into our favorite pizza place and get a veggie pizza – Monroe’s favorite. I made sure to ask for extra banana peppers – again, Monroe’s favorite. While I waited for the pizza, I walked down the block and picked up a 6-pack. As I was walking back to grab the pizza I took notice of an antique shop. Somehow I’d never really taken notice of it. I dropped the beer off in car then walked across the street. It was small so I knew it wouldn’t take long to walk through. I was perusing some pocket watches; one of them caught my eye. It was white gold – at least that’s what the tag said – with the most intricate little designs engraved on both sides. I popped it open. The face was white gold with roman numeral made of a jade inlay. It was an absolutely gorgeous watch. Monroe must be rubbing off on me. I couldn’t help myself; I walked up the counter and asked the young woman if she could gift wrap it for me. Box in hand, I picked up the pizza and headed back to Monroe’s house.

                I climbed the porch steps, juggling the pizza and the beer – I slipped the gift box in my jacket pocket. I tapped on the door with my foot. Monroe opened it and grabbed the 6-pack, lightening my load. I did my best to keep the grin from my face – I really wanted to surprise Monroe with the watch. I set the pizza on the table and Monroe got the plates.

                He lifted the lid of the pizza box. “Veggie pizza with extra banana peppers?!” Monroe looked like a kid in a candy store. “Oh no, what do you want? Are we hunting a hungry pack of jägerbars or something?”

                “No, no. Nothing like that. I just…I know it’s your favorite.”

                “My favorite beer and my favorite pizza? What’re you up to grimm?”

                “It’s just a thank you. I know I’ve been here for a while. I really appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

                “You know, I like having you here.”

                “You do?”

                “Yeah. I actually wanted to suggest something.”

                “Ok?”

                “Maybe you could stay here indefinitely.”

                “Like move in? For real?”

                “Yeah.” Monroe nodded and smiled.

                “I’d love to!”

                “Earlier when you called about dinner…you said you’d pick up dinner and then you’d be home. I just…it really made me happy. I don’t know why. It’s probably dumb.”

                “No, it’s not dumb. After I hung up I was nervous that you’d be freaked out; I kind of said it without really thinking about it. But then I really thought about it and this really does feel like home.”

                We both smiled.

                “Oh, I got you something today. While I was waiting for the pizza I walked down to grab a 6-pack and I passed an antique shop. When I was walking around, I bought you something.” I handed him the box. “I hope you like it.”

                He pulled the ribbon off and set it on the counter. Then he pulled off the lid. I swear I saw tears welling up in his eyes. He smiled as he pulled the pocket watch out of the box. He held it in both hands, turning it over, popping it open, and thoroughly inspecting it. Then he looked up at me – he had the softest expression on his face that I’d ever seen.

                “You know how I’m always reminding you how many you owe me?”

                “Yeah. I think I owe you like 47.”

                “No you don’t.”

                “How many?”

                “Zero.” 

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
Grimm
Nick/Monroe
Sofa Dweller or the 5 Times Nick Slept on Monroe's Couch and the 1 Time He Didn't
Rated G

-----

                #1

The first time Nick fell asleep on Monroe’s couch, it kind of just…happened.
                “I am so sorry, Monroe. I always…” Nick yawned. “…drag you into shitty situations that you don’t deserve to be in.”

                “Dude, it’s fine. Seriously. In all honesty, I shouldn’t have been there – not alone, anyway. Besides, I’m a blutbad; I should be able to hold my own.”

                “What do I owe you now? Like 75?” Nick yawned again.

                “Yeah, something like that…”

                Their eyes were glued to the television screen, trying not to think about the evening’s prior events. They were slumped over on Monroe’s couch; ice packs and frozen bags of veggies covered their bruised limbs.

                “I’ve been thinking…and I want you to hear me out before you say anything. I know you said you’re fine living alone…but I can’t help but worry. When Stark broke into your house…what if something like that happened again? You’d be all alone…I guess what I’m saying is that maybe you’d be better off – safer – if you stayed wi–”

                Monroe looked over at Nick who was now sound asleep. The blutbad sighed. He gathered the icepacks and veggies and returned them to their home in the freezer. The walked back into the living room, picked up the blanket he kept over the back of the couch, and pulled it over the sleeping grimm.

                He shook his head. “Stupid grimm.”

 

#2

                The second time Nick fell asleep on Monroe’s couch, the blutbad really should have seen it coming.

                “Dude, I can’t believe you’ve never seen It’s a Wonderful Life.”

                “Not everyone loves Christmas like you do, Monroe.”

                “But it’s a classic!”

                Nick just laughed.

                They weren’t even half way through the movie when Nick’s snores started to drown out James Stewart. Monroe really should have seen this coming. He made a mental note that they should give Nick some of the new tea he had gotten – perfect for bedtime, the package boasted. He shook his head and tossed a blanket over his new sofa-dweller.

                “Goodnight, grimm.”

 

#3

                The third time Nick fell asleep on Monroe’s couch it wasn’t really weird anymore.

                “Did you try that tea I gave you?”

                “Yeah. It was pretty good, taste-wise. I got to sleep a lot easier, but I was still up early. I got up a few times during the night, too. It did help, though. Thanks.” Nick yawned. “I might have to invest in a real tea kettle and some more of that tea.”

                “Did you ever think about getting a new mattress?”

                “Well, that thing is…you need a bed for that.”

                “Umm…”

                “She took the bed. I had to get a futon.”

                Monroe shook his head. “Maybe you should look into getting a bed.”

                “I just had to…” He yawned. “…make it through this case. Then Renard promised a couple days off.”

                “Yeah…sure.”

                “What?”

                “I don’t know. It’s nothing. I’m just…I’m worried about you, man. I mean, we’re friends, right? So I care. You’re either sleeping only a few hours or passed out on my couch…and that’s if you sleep at all.”

                “I’m fine, Monroe. Really. You don’t have to worry.” Nick placed a reassuring hand on Monroe’s shoulder.

                Monroe shook his head, totally unconvinced.

                “Look, I’m going to go home. I’m going to make some tea. I’m going to drink said tea. Then I’m going to bed.”

                Nick went to get up, wobbled, and fell back down on to the sofa.

                “No. You’re staying here. I’ll go get you a pillow. I’ll put an extra towel in the bathroom; you can shower here in the morning. I’ll even make you some of my coffee and I’ll make you breakfast.”

                Monroe disappeared down the hall and then returned with a pillow, which he tossed at Nick. He grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and laid it over Nick.

                “Goodnight, Nick.”

                “G’night, Monroe.”

                Monroe shook his head at the grimm, but for some reason he couldn’t help but smile. Monroe knows this should be weird – a grimm sleeping on a blutbad’s sofa – but for them it was almost normal. Not 30 seconds later Nick was snoring – out cold.

 

#4

                The fourth time when Nick fell asleep on Monroe’s couch it was

                “I’m starting to think that the only four reasons you come over here. Number one: wesen information. Number two: beer. Number three: food. Number four: my couch.”

                “You’re couch is way more comfy than my bed.” Nick leaned over and rested his head on Monroe’s shoulder, nuzzling his sweater much like a cat would.

                “That thing you sleep on is not a bed. It is a futon. And why are you laying on me? What are you – stop that! Are grimms part cat?”

                “You’re comfy, too. And your sweater’s soft.” Nick yawned. He tucked his feet up on the couch and practically curled up against Monroe.

                “You know, having you around is like having a kid…or a puppy.” Monroe looked over at a now-sleeping Nick. A second later he heard him start snoring.

                Monroe sighed. He was actually kind of glad that Nick hadn’t heard that last comment. He’d never say it out loud – would even do his best not to think about it – but he kind of liked having the grimm around so often. He looked back down at the younger man, who looked peaceful, and for a split second he didn’t mind having Nick sleeping on him.

                When Monroe was sure Nick was deep asleep, he gently slipped out from under him, replacing himself with a pillow. He covered the sleeping grimm with a blanket – which had now become Nick’s blanket – and fled to his own, grimm-free bed.

 

#5

                The fifth time Nick fell asleep on Monroe’s couch he wasn’t alone.

                “Damn, that fuchsbau had one hell of a right hook.”

                “Here.” Monroe handed Nick an icepack. “Put this on your face.”

                “Do have any aspirin or some crazy herb that numbs pain?”

                Monroe rolled his eyes, pulled a beer out of the fridge, and handed the bottle to Nick.

                “Let me see.”

                Nick removed the ice pack; his eye was swollen and already all kinds of blues and purples.

                “So, doc, how ugly am I?”

                “I’m sorry, Mr. Burkhardt, you’re pretty freaking ugly.”

                “Hey!”

                “I’m just kidding. You’re only slightly unattractive.”

                “Oh, look! Return of the Jedi is on!”

                Nick snuggled up against Monroe’s side, which wasn’t weird anymore…well, maybe still a little. Monroe propped his feet up on the coffee table and leaned into Nick. By the time the ewoks came on screen both of them were fast asleep, cuddled together. Nick woke up just in time to see the credits role. He smiled when he realized the blutbad was still on the sofa – that was a first. Nick had to admit: he didn’t mind waking up next to Monroe. He pulled the usual blanket off the back of the sofa, covered them both up, and snuggled back up against the older man’s side.

                “Goodnight, Monroe,” he whispered.

 

+1

                “You know, Nick, you’re here a lot.”

                “Mhm.”

                “You have extra clothes here.”

                “Yep.”

                “Your smell is all over.”

                “I bet it is.”

                Monroe furrowed his brow and clenched his jaw. “You sleep on my sofa more than you sleep on your own bed.”

                “You said it wasn’t a bed.”

                “Not the point.”

                “Than what’s your point, Monroe?”

                Monroe turned, pulled Nick close, and captured his lips. It was sloppy and rushed, filled with the sexual tension that had been building since that first meeting when Nick shoved him against the wall. Monroe pulled away, his face flushed. Nick smiled. Finally, the grimm thought.

                “My point is: tonight you’re not sleeping on my sofa.”

                Nick raised a questioning eyebrow.

                “You’re sleeping in my bed.”

                They both smiled and then it was a race to the bedroom.

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
Grimm
5 Truths + 1 Dare (5+1 fic)
Nick/Monroe
Rated T
-----

-1-

It'd been an especially tough week on the grimm and his blutbad. Nick, as usual, got himself in over his head, and Monroe, as usual, had to come to the rescue. Currently they were sprawled out on the blutbad's sofa, sipping what Monroe liked to call a "quality brew." There were already a half dozen empty bottles on the coffee table; whatever made the bruises hurt even a little less. Nick swallowed the last sip from his bottle and groaned when he got up to fetch the next round. He plopped back down on the sofa, not realizing how close we was to Monroe, and handed over one of the beers. There was a dull sitcom playing on the tv, but neither of them were really paying any attention. They both were a little focused on beer and bruises.

"Truth or dare?"

"What?" Monroe shifted focus from his beer to Nick.

"Truth or dare? I'm bored, just pick one...please."

"Uhh…truth…"

"Hmm…so what happened in the woods with Angelina?"

"Dude, sore subject."

Nick just stared at him.

"Fine. We ate a rabbit. You already knew that."

"That's not what I meant."

"Too bad; I answered the question. You should've been more specific."

Nick's face turned grumpy – mad he was outsmarted.

-2-

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth," nick answered.

"Why'd Juliette break up with you?"

"She didn't…I told you…"

Monroe glared at the younger man.

"Fine. She did break up with me. She said she was tired of all the lies and secrets. She found the engagement ring I bought I her; said being a cop's wife wasn't in her future."

"Sorry, man."

"Probably for the better."

-3-

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Hmm…" Nick thought about the plethora of things he could ask Monroe; one thing kept bouncing around his brain. This could be bad, he thought. "What do you really think of me?"

Monroe practically choked on his beer.

"That bad, huh?"

"No. Y-you just caught me off guard. Umm…you're ok, I guess. Bit of a pain in the ass sometimes, but you're a good guy. Good company…even though you're always over here drinking my beer and eating my food. At least we've started talking about normal stuff. Oh, and you, uh, smell good."

"Oh, thanks…" Nick forced a small chuckle. "That was a lot less painful than I'd thought it'd be."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know…"

"I don't hate you, if that's what you're getting at."

"No, of course not."

-4-

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"You do know that this is truth or dare, not truth or truth?"

"Yeah, I know. I'm still going with truth."

"Fine." Monroe paused, he knew exactly what he wanted to ask. Something he'd been wondering, but felt weird asking. I guess now's my chance. "Why'd you offer to fight for me? You know, with the Löwen…"

Nick scrunched up his face – his normal thinking face. He really didn't have an answer; he didn't really know. Well, yeah he did. He sighed. "I don't know, man. I guess, I just thought it was the right thing to do. It's always my fault when you're in danger. I couldn't…" Nick swallowed hard. "I didn't want to lose you." He wanted nothing more than to just change the subject. He was thankful Monroe didn't push it any further.

-5-

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

Nick was starting to run out of questions. Hmm, he thought. He knew that Monroe had dated Angelina, but he couldn't help but wonder about the rest of the blutbad's love life. Why do you even care? Nick asked himself. Denial is just a river…

"Any other crazy ex-girlfriends…besides the wonderful Angelina?"

Monroe sneered at the extra little comment. He huffed, but decided to answer him anyway.

"Well, in middle school there was this girl, Natalie. She was my first kiss. Um…in high school, right before the wolf made its first appearance, there was Erica. She was…tall, dark hair, dark eyes, curvy. She was my first…you know…she moved to France after graduation. She was an amazing painter. She also had this weird obsession with skeleton keys. Then Angelina. Right after I started living the wieder lifestyle, I met this healer at a café: Tessa."

"What happened?"

"Angelina."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Me, too."

"There was also…eh, never mind."

"What?"

"You don't want to know."

"Sure I do."

Monroe downed the rest of his beer – rest being half of it – and then regretted letting anything slip. "There was…in college…it was mating season…we'd had a lot to drink…he was my roommate…"

Nick was surprised to say the least. He could feel a blush working its way onto his face; he sipped his beer, trying not to think of it as a big deal. Of course his mind started to wander – wondering what it would like having Monroe push him up against the wall, hint of claws digging into his skin, taking him from behind. Fuck, he thought.

-6-

"Ok, time to change the subject…truth or dare?" Monroe asked.

"Dare…and make it good."

That smell, Monroe thought, it can't be…

"I-I dare you to show me what you really think of me."

At first Monroe figured it was the beer, or maybe their most recent near-death experience. Hell, it could've even been Nick's break up – making his inner wolf go crazy for the new-found desperation. But when he was sure he smelled the scent of arousal filling the room, he didn't feel so out of line with his request. Nick began to crawl over to him; it reminded the blutbad of an animal stalking and approaching its prey. Monroe let a low growl slip out. Yeah, Monroe thought, I could be his prey.

Nick practically pounced on his blutbad – yes, his blutbad – capturing his lips in a hungry, long-awaited kiss. Monroe pulled on Nick's shirt in effort to pull him into his lap. It was frantic and sloppy – about eight beers worth. But it didn't matter to them; they both had wanted this for a lot longer than either would admit. Nick finally pulled away, allowing them both to catch their breath.

"Maybe I should've chosen dare sooner."

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
Grimm
Monroe/OFC
Stand alone piece
Rated M - Sexual Content
I own nothing but my ideas and my original character

-----

He had her pressed up against the wall; her legs were wrapped around his waist. He squeezed her thighs and kissed her neck. She felt his teeth brush her skin; she knew he was a blutbad but she didn’t care. It could be dangerous, yes, but she had all the faith in the world that he could keep control.

---ooOO0OOoo---

Her family had always been allies of magical creatures. They were creatures, themselves, but always kept a human façade. Her mother was a witch and her father was a healer. Her father died a few years back – killed by reapers for helping a blutbad one of the reapers left for dead. Her family had run an apothecary, and since her mother died – car accident – it was all hers. She’d seen almost every kind of creature come in seeking help, and she never turned one away.

---ooOO0OOoo---

                She remembered the first time she saw him. He’d come in bruised and beaten; she felt his pain as soon as he walked through the door. Reapers – he didn’t even have to tell her. She’d picked him out some herbal tea – good for relaxing the muscles – and some green tea/mint/aloe ointment to keep his cuts from scarring. She also grabbed a hot/cold compress – handmade from recycled material – that he could heat in the microwave or freeze in the freezer.

                “You might want to get some stitches for the cut on your cheek,” she’d told him.

                “Eh, I’ll be fine. Can’t exactly walk into the ER and say I got beat up by a gang of reapers.”

                “Come on.” She led him in to the back room and showed him to a chair. She cleaned the cut and grabbed a needle and medical thread. She told him to hold still, she’d done it a million times, but it always helped to be still. He noticed the precision with which her fingers moved. She was gentle and kind, relaxed – he could smell it. Her hands were soft and meticulous. Her pale green eyes kept their gaze on his cheek, pupils wide and focused. She had the typical eyes of a healer. Her dark hair fell in loose curls over her shoulders. She was absolutely beautiful; not the kind of woman a blutbad deserved, not even one as reformed as he was.

                She applied some aloe – fresh from an aloe plant – and a bandage. He followed her back out to the counter, watching her body almost glide across the shop. She was quite tall for a woman, coming up to his shoulder – maybe about five feet ten inches. Maybe a little giant in her bloodline somewhere, he thought. She handed him a canvas bag containing everything he’d need. He reached for his wallet but she shook her head.

                “For a handsome wieder-blutbad such as yourself, it’s on the house.” She smiled.

                He blushed. That didn’t happen often.

                “I hope I’m not crossing some kind of line, but would you like to have dinner with me?”

                He smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

She scribbled on a piece of paper, handed it to him, and told him to call her. She reminded him some warm milk and honey would complement the tea nicely.

“I’m River, by the way.”

“Monroe.”

---ooOO0OOoo---

                “Bedroom?” She whispered.

                “Yeah.” He carried her down the hall.

                He laid her down on the bed with the utmost care. Control, he thought, don’t scare her away. He was determined not to “wolf-out” as his Grimm friend had put it. He was confident he could stay in control; she made him feel warm and fuzzy.

                Her hands worked the buttons of his sweater, then his shirt; he shrugged them off. He moved a hand up her side, under her shirt. She sat up and let him pull her top over her head, revealing a black lace bra. His hands caressed her body, massaging her breasts. She ran her hands through his hair, down his chest, up and down his arms. She kissed him hard and forceful, tongue brushing his lips. Their tongues danced, battling for control.

Her hands made their way to his belt, his fly. Finally, he thought. The restriction had been killing him. He wiggled out of his jeans then flipped them so she was on top. She grinded down on him, feeling his growing enthusiasm. His hands rested on her thighs, squeezing them when her mouth moved to his neck. Her mouth moved on to his collar bones, nipping and sucking little red marks onto his skin. He flipped them over again so he was back on top. One hand explored her breasts while the other worked on the fly of her jeans. He pulled them off, revealing black lace panties. His eyes were overcome with a wolfy-red glow.  He knew it – he could feel it – but he put it in the back of his mind.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck as he nipped at hers, leaving the same little red marks she left on him. He could smell her arousal, but also her calmness. She wasn’t afraid he might lose it. She didn’t panic, or even tense, when she felt the pinch of his fangs on her neck. He noticed; it put him at ease. The red in his eyes faded back to brown. His fangs dulled back to human teeth. The claws that were starting to grow, stopped, and shrunk back to his normal chewed up nails. Any tension in his body dissipated…well except his throbbing cock…but there was a solution for that.

He slid a hand beneath her and unhooked her bra. He brushed his tongue over one nipple then the other; she moaned. The tickle of his beard on her bare chest made her giggle.  He smiled and moved back to her mouth. She grinded up against him, making him moan into her mouth. She moved her hand down and tugged on his boxers. He took them off and tossed them across the room. Her panties joined them not five seconds later. He slid a hand between her thighs, rubbing up her legs, and massaged her clit. She bit her lip, tossed her head back, and let out a primal-sounding moan. If that’s not the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, he though.

“Monroe, I want you to fuck me. Now.” Her voice was strained from the overwhelming lust.

He retrieved a condom from the nightstand, tossed the wrapper, not caring where it landed, and rolled on the rubber. He positioned himself above her, looking down at the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. Her smell was so intoxicatingly good he almost couldn’t handle it. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer. He slid inside her slowly, letting her get used to his size; it was no secret that male blutbadden were well endowed. She felt instant tension in her lower stomach, hot and unrelenting. He moved in and out of her, slowly, still letting her adjust. As their pace quickened, their moans got louder. Her nails scraped down his back, across his chest. That’ll leave a mark, she thought. She felt him pounding into her, her body flooded with hot passion.

His inner wolf was waiting, just below the surface. He growled the most inhuman, animalistic growl she’d ever heard; it was enough to send her straight over the edge. The pent up tension from down below erupted through her body: up through her arms – hands fisted in the sheets – and down through her legs – toes curled as tight as they could get. She moaned loud and cried out his name. He came fast and hard, slamming into her a few more times before his body gave out. He planted the sweetest, most tender kiss on her lips then rolled over next to her. He tied the condom and tossed it in the trash. She curled up against his side, her head on his shoulder. He ran his fingers through her hair a few times before he kissed the top of her head.

Had he known getting beat up by a gang of reapers would land him the best sex of his life, he’d have fucked with the status quo a lot sooner.

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