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



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.”



                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.”



                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.”


                “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.”



                “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.



                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.



                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.”


                “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.



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


                “You have extra clothes here.”


                “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)
5 Truths + 1 Dare (5+1 fic)
Rated T


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."


"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.


"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."


"Truth or dare?"


"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."


"Truth or dare?"


"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.


"Truth or dare?"


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?"


"Oh. Sorry."

"Me, too."

"There was also…eh, never mind."


"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.


"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)
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.


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.


                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.”



                “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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February 2013

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