Fic: Breeding (Grimm, Nick/Monroe, FRAO)

[kathierif_fic]

Title: Breeding
Fandom: Grimm
Pairing: Nick Burckhardt/Monroe
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: not true, not mine, not...er...anything?
A/N: Written as a reply to this prompt on the grimm_kink. 4583 words. Hello, new fandom...

Warnings: knotting

Summary: Knowing he can't get Nick pregnant doesn't stop Monroe from trying.



Knowing he can't fuck Nick until his seed takes hold, until he can watch his belly swell with a child or two, is something that should make this less appealing.

He's a blutbad, it should be ingrained in his genes, in his instincts, to procreate and to have as many children as his mate can carry. He should be looking for someone perfect and fertile, someone like Angelina, with strong hips capable of bearing strong children.

He shouldn't be so besotted with this clueless and inexperienced Grimm, with wide grey eyes and windswept hair and a teasing grin to kill for.

But then, Monroe thinks distractedly as he runs his fingers gently down to the small of Nick's back, using his grip to pull him close, his instincts and genes should also make him hunt people down, kidnap little girls in red jackets and prepare them with a sprig of parsley between their little white teeth. There simply is no room for wiederblutbaden in the fantastic world of instincts and genetics, it seems.

An involuntary shudder races down his spine at the mental image, and he presses himself against Nick's lithe body and buries his nose at the juncture between neck and shoulder to let Nick's smell drive those thoughts away.

"Hey, you okay?" Nick murmurs. His voice vibrates through Monroe's body, together with the small pinpricks of pain where Nick's fingers tangle in his hair and tug slightly.

"Yeah," he growls back and squirms his fingertips under the waistband of Nick's pants, to tease along the edge of his underwear. "Why?"

Nick opens his mouth to answer, but Monroe doesn't let him. "Do you have a problem with the fact that I'm going to drag you to my bedroom and fuck you?" he asks, his fingers twitching lower and pressing between Nick's ass cheeks. His hand is still separated from Nick's skin by a thin layer of cotton, but the brief and teasing touch is enough to send the blood up into Nick's face.

He blushes so prettily, Monroe thinks as he watches Nick's eyes go soft and wide at his words, pretty enough that he has to lean down, tilt Nick's chin up and press their mouths together in a deep kiss.

A soft sound escapes from Nick's throat. Monroe doesn't need to ask him again if he wants this. He can smell it on Nick's skin, can taste it on his tongue.

Nick wants this.

Nick is aroused by the idea of Monroe fucking him.

He's eager for it.

Monroe growls a little and pulls back, to look at Nick's flushed face again while his fingers start to unbutton Nick's blue dress shirt. He starts at the bottom and works his way up, the material soft under his fingertips.

Nick doesn't hesitate and reaches for Monroe's sweater, grips its hem and pulls it up, to his armpits, where he is stopped in his action because Monroe can't stop touching Nick long enough to allow his sweater to be pulled over his head, not until Nick's shirt is fluttering to the ground and he is yanking impatiently at Nick's black t-shirt.

Nick arches both eyebrows, and Monroe kisses him again before forcing himself to step back so that they both can take care of their own clothes.

Nick's skin is soft under his hands. Even the few scars he has, from his job and from being a Grimm, are softer than expected, and Monroe runs his fingertips across them before brushing them down, to Nick's stomach.

His plan is to go straight for the button of Nick's jeans, wrestling the pants open and down his strong legs, but somewhere along the way, he gets distracted by the thought of a belly, round and hard and pregnant, of a baby growing because he put it there.

It's just a split second, barely enough for Nick to notice that his attention shifted, before he shakes his head and bites softly at Nick's shoulder, to focus. His teeth are blunt and human, hardly the sharpest weapon at his disposal, and he tries to keep the bite light and teasing.

"Something's with you tonight," Nick manages to say before Monroe drops to his knees and pulls his jeans down. The sight of the blutbad nuzzling against his dick, more than half-hard under the thin cotton of his boxer briefs, makes him shut up, makes him swallow audibly, as if he realized just now that Monroe is potentially capable of hurting him, of causing a lot of harm.

As if he has forgotten that Monroe is a blutbad.

His choice of underwear, Monroe thinks, confirms that his Grimm has forgotten about the fact that they should be enemies. The bright red cotton is a lovely contrast to the pale skin of Nick's stomach, and for the split part of a second, Monroe imagines him with a sprig of parsley between his teeth.

The moment is gone as quickly as it came. Monroe doesn't try to linger on the thought. He knows by now that he can't make his instincts all go away, can't stop himself from reacting to the bright splash of color in his vision.

What he can do is not acting on those impulses.

He rubs his cheek against Nick's dick for a moment before climbing back to his feet and pulling Nick close with a hand pressing against the back of his neck.

The kiss is all teeth and the sharp sting of biting, hot and wet and a fight for control and power. It leaves Nick's lips swollen and tender, and Monroe's tongue sneaks out, to lick along Nick's bottom lip for a brief taste of blood right under thin skin.

Nick is young. Nick is strong and healthy. He is a perfect choice for a mate; a perfect choice to breed.

Monroe grins, showing the edges of his teeth while taking a step back, away from Nick's alluring warmth and welcoming body.

"Run," he murmurs. His voice is almost a purr, deep and full of arousal.

Nick blinks at him, blinks at his own body - naked except for his underwear - and something like understanding flashes in his eyes.

There isn't a lot of time to enjoy it. Nick whirls around on his heels and races up the stairs.

Monroe watches him, watches strong muscles move under pale skin, before he starts to take off his own clothes. He tries to be methodical and careful about it, tries to suppress the wild shaking of his hands and the excited hitch in his breathing and his heartbeat.

He only gives in to his instinct to chase when he is naked.

He knows Nick won't leave the house. He won't make it easy on Monroe, but he won't leave the house. They tried that once, Monroe chasing him into the park and catching him there, but having sex on a bed of pine needles is not what Nick's body is made for. Monroe has given up on chasing Nick under the silver light of the full moon or any of the old clichés, because no matter how strong those instincts are, the instinct to protect Nick and keep him safe and comfortable is stronger, and the moonlight is overrated and oldfashioned anyways.

Closing his eyes, he follows his nose, up the stairs and through every room. Nick's smell is a heady mixture of adrenaline, arousal and amusement, and the air is heavily saturated with it.

Monroe growls when he doesn't find Nick immediately, but his ears and his nose are sensitive enough to pick up the soft moan.

He growls again and stalks toward his closet. Flinging the doors open, he doesn't expect Nick to be on him so suddenly, arms and legs tangled around Monroe's body, tripping him up and making both of them crash to the ground. Monroe can taste blood on his tongue, his own blood, and Nick is kneeling on his wrist, pinning it down to the ground. He is grinning triumphantly, a bright flash of white teeth above Monroe.

Monroe hasn't been this aroused in a long time, not even with Angelina. He can feel it pulse just under his skin, threatening to break through and completely overwhelm him in a way he hasn't allowed since before he became a wiederblutbad.

Nick has the training of a cop, knowing how to immobilize a person, but Monroe has the strength of a blutbad on his side and the fact that Nick isn't willing to hurt him. It's not that hard to break out of his hold and sit up, to pull Nick close against his chest, rub both hands against his ass and kiss him until he is pliant in Monroe's arms, arching his back and pressing himself more firmly against the hard length of Monroe's body.

Monroe slips the fingers of his right hand under Nick's underwear, into the crease of his ass, and rubs them across the little hidden opening he finds there. The sound that escapes Nick at the caress goes straight to Monroe's dick and makes it twitch, and he pushes the cotton down Nick's legs as far as he can and gives him just enough room to kick them off.

"Come on," he says hoarsely. "Bed." His instincts are bubbling up again, threatening to boil through his skin, and he doesn't know how to hold them back.

He doesn't know if he wants to hold them back. After all, he isn't planning on putting parsley between Nick's teeth this time.

He just needs to fuck him.

To breed him.

To fill him up with his seed until it takes, until...

His thoughts stop at that point, and he drags Nick over to the bed. He doesn't let go of him, keeps his fingers right there, pressing against Nick's hole without pressing in, keeps his other arm wrapped firmly around Nick's waist as he deposits him in the middle of the bed and lets go of him just for long enough to snatch the lube from the drawer.

He growls quietly, a sound that comes from deep within his chest, and leans up, caging Nick in with his legs and arms but giving him enough room to roll over, to his stomach.

As much as he wants to see Nick's face when he pushes into him, and as much as he is certain that he can hold Nick's legs up and apart for this, he knows that it will be more comfortable if Nick is on his hands and knees for this, for both of them.

This isn't going to be one of those in-and-out fucks that are over in half an hour or less. This, he knows, deep in his gut where his instincts live, will take some time.

This time, he is going to fuck Nick properly, even if it takes all night long.

His hands are still shaking when he kneels up and reaches for the lube, when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the small of Nick's back. Nick's skin tastes of salt and a hint of danger, but nothing like a female blutbad. The difference is almost startling, almost enough to make Monroe stop, but then Nick arches his back and mewls, his voice rough and pitched like a female in heat, desperate and needy, and Monroe kisses him again and drips lube onto his hole.

The sheets are going to be a mess, a small part of his mind reminds him. It sounds almost gleeful. Monroe slides his fingers through the slick liquid and circles Nick's opening a few times before pressing just the tip of a finger in.

It's tight and hot and perfect. Monroe groans as he pushes his finger slowly deeper, giving Nick just a few moments to get used to the penetration before he seeks out that little spot that makes Nick try to spread his legs farther apart, makes him push back against Monroe's fingers impatiently, not-so-silently begging for more.

He's sending out all the right signals, Monroe thinks, dizzy with lust and arousal and need, even if he doesn't know he's doing it. Nick is innocent, unaware of a lot of details of the creature world even with Monroe's careful coaching and the help of the books his aunt left him and that he has squirreled away somewhere. Most of the time, he gives the impression of not really knowing what he is doing, and his habit of trying to talk first before killing any creature has started to get known. Monroe really hopes that it won't come back to bite him in the ass, because as far as he is concerned, Nick's ass is his to protect now, and wiederblutbad or not, nobody messes with his mate without losing at least an arm or a head or something.

Besides, it's a beautiful ass, pale and firm and round, and right now, it is begging Monroe to push more than just a finger into it.

Who is he to deny Nick that?

The second finger slips in alongside the first, carefully stretching the tight muscle. Monroe drips more lube over his fingers, over Nick's hole, until he's slick with it and it's running down his thigh.

Yep, the sheets are definitely a mess, even before either of them has come.

Monroe waits until the clench of muscles around his fingers relaxes. In the meantime, he entertains himself by smoothing his thumb along the rim of Nick's hole, dragging the pad of it along the nerve endings hidden in the skin there and distracting Nick from the burn of the stretch.

Nick whimpers and presses himself back. The arch of his spine looks almost painful. He has his arms wrapped around a pillow and is trying to muffle the sounds he is making by biting down on the soft fabric.

A blutbad would already be covered in feathers at this point, but Nick's blunt teeth can't rip the pillow apart, for which Monroe is secretly a little thankful. It means less time spent cleaning up the bedroom the morning after.

"Another?" he asks, his third finger already teasing the rim of Nick's hole before the word left his mouth.

"Please," Nick groans. "Please..."

Tight heat envelops Monroe's fingers, and he pants out a groan and rests his forehead against Nick's back, gentle pressure that would keep a female blutbad docile and from going too crazy with lust. The goal isn't to hurt his partner, it's to fill him with come and the hope for a baby.

Not that it's going to work with Nick, unless there's something about Grimm biology that he isn't aware of.

Something that Nick isn't aware of.

Still, it never hurts to double-check.

"I want," he growls into Nick's skin, "I want to fuck you. I want to breed you properly, want to put so much of me in you, want you to take it all."

Nick's breath hitches.

"I want to fuck you open and fill you up and stay there until your stomach is heavy and swollen and round and perfect."

Precome starts to slick down his erection at his words and the images that come with them, and he has to clench his teeth to keep his own arousal under control.

Nick groans.

"If you're trying to knock me up, we'll be here for a long time," he manages to say. His voice is hoarse, and he cranes his neck to look over his shoulder at Monroe's face.

"You have a problem with that?" Monroe asks and twists his fingers against Nick's prostate, just to see his eyes roll back in his head.

"My boss might," Nick forces out after a moment.

"Your boss isn't here right now." Monroe twists his fingers again and rubs them against Nick's soft inner walls. "For which I'm eternally thankful, I might add."

Nick grins at him. "In that case," he declares and manages to spread his legs a tiny little bit more, "go ahead."

"You sure?" Monroe bites his lip. "About the getting pregnant thing? There's nothing in your Grimm anatomy that we lowly creatures were never meant to know?"

"I'm pretty sure, yeah." Nick's voice is getting a little edge of impatience. "But if you want to stop so I can go and check Aunt Marie's books, you just have to take your fingers out of my..." He groans, interrupting himself with it, when Monroe slowly drags his fingers out and away.

"Really?" he gasps. "You want me to check?"

"I want you to stay exactly like this so I can fuck you," Monroe hisses at him and coats his erection with lube. It's shockingly cold against his overheated skin. "Stopping now, I swear, no amount of Pilates could stop me now, not when you look like this."

Nick grins over his shoulder. He is flushed, his eyes half-closed, and he looks entirely too pleased with himself.

Monroe grabs his hips and pulls him backwards, onto the wet and glistening tip of his dick. Nick buries his head in the pillow again, muffling the sounds of pain and arousal he can't hold in. Monroe's gaze stays on him, on the ripple of muscles up his back, the clench of fingers in the pillow, the twitch of the rim of his hole clamped tight on his dick.

"Let me in," he whispers. "Just relax, I've got you." He reaches up, to rub his palm soothingly over Nick's spine. "I've got you, you're safe."

He keeps up a steady stream of noise, and slowly, almost reluctantly, Nick relaxes around him, and he can slowly push more of his dick into Nick's body, until his groin is pressed tight against Nick's ass and his thighs rub against Nick's.

That's when he pauses to sweep his hand up Nick's side.

"Hey," he murmurs and licks the sweat off of Nick's shoulderblade. "Hey."

Nick's breathing is still ragged, but Monroe doesn't smell distress on him. He still waits a long moment, his hands sweeping soothingly along Nick's body, teasing a nipple, dipping briefly into his belly button, grazing the heavy length of his cock, petting the inside of his thigh where the muscles quiver under his touch.

"Hey," Nick finally murmurs back and tilts his head on the pillow, exposing the long line of his throat to Monroe's eyes.

A hot wave of arousal and possessiveness sweeps through him at the sight. Nick isn't aware of what he is doing, he tells himself firmly. He's naive, too naive for a Grimm, he doesn't know what this means, this gesture of submission, together with the position he is in right now.

He simply doesn't know.

"Move," Nick orders, his voice rough and steely. There is nothing submissive about the way he bucks his hips, about how he tries to make Monroe to give him what he wants, and it only helps convincing Monroe that Nick doesn't know what he just offered.

It doesn't stop him from wanting to bite down, keep him docile and submissive while he fucks him, teeth clamped around skin and bones and muscles with the taste of blood filling his mouth.

The taste of blood filling his mouth is his own, his teeth tightly clamped down on his own tongue to stop himself from doing exactly that. He is sure that Nick wouldn't take it favorably if he bit down now, if he bloodied him up and left scars on his back and neck.

Slowly, he starts to move, pulling out and pressing back into that tight heat. Nick moans, a beautiful sound that shivers through Monroe's ears and down his spine, and he picks up the pace.

Soon, he is fucking Nick at an almost brutal pace, hard and unrelenting, pushing in as deep as he can. Nick's moans slowly start to turn into sobs, and one of his arms starts to sneak down, toward is own cock.

Monroe growls and pushes his hand away before Nick can wrap it around his own flesh.

"Let me," he murmurs and swipes his tongue along the red and hot edge of Nick's ear. "Please, let me. Let me take care of you."

He's almost ready to let go, almost ready for it to happen, and he suddenly aches deep inside, wanting it so badly he hurts.

He fucks into Nick again. "Let me," he says again, begging, but he doesn't care. All he cares about is Nick making a sound that, with a lot of imagination and good will, can be interpreted as consent.

He wraps his arm around Nick's waist and hauls him up, into his lap. One hand sneaks down, to Nick's balls, and rolls them gently before he takes Nick's cock in hand. It's hot and hard and already slick with pre-come, almost jumping in his grip.

Pressing his mouth against Nick's shoulder, he breathes damply as he starts jerking Nick slowly.

"I want," he says, his breath coming in short gasps between the words. "I want to come in you, Nick, want to let myself swell up and fill you up for hours now, but..." he licks a wet stripe across the nape of Nick's neck to his other shoulder. "It's your choice. If you don't want me to, say now before it's too late."

Nick suddenly clenches tightly around him, and Monroe forgets all his good intentions about not biting him at the sensations caused by that action. His teeth dig into Nick's skin, still blunt and human, but he knows that can change any second now.

"Tell me," he demands and twists his wrist, to rub the tip of Nick's cock. "Can you take more? Do you want to take more?"

"Yes," Nick sobs out. "Yes, yes, please, Monroe..." He twists and squirms, trying to pull Monroe deeper in his body. His hands are on Monroe's skin, blunt nails scratching and slipping against slick sweat, but Monroe doesn't even feel it.

He wraps his forearm around Nick's stomach, to hold him in place, and lets go of that part of his iron control. It's not easy. It's as if he's been holding on with his fingertips until they are stiff and unresponsive, trying not to swell up before, trying to act thoroughly human when all he really wanted was this.

His hand flies along Nick's flesh, squeezing gently around the tip and smoothing precome down the shaft. The smell of Nick surrounds him, overwhelms him, and then Nick is coming, a choked sound escaping him, and Nick's body tightens around him.

It is what triggers the knot at the base of his dick to finally swell, his control once again broken by Nick's actions.

Monroe can't find it in him to be annoyed. Not this time, not when it feels so good to let himself do it.

Nick makes a faint sound of pain and protest as he grows sensitive. Monroe gentles his touch on his dick but doesn't stop, and he doesn't ease the grip he has around Nick's middle.

Nick's breath hitches again with something like pain. Monroe dips his head down and kisses the bitemarks visible on his shoulder in apology, trying to distract him.

"Oh." Nick shifts slightly, pulling against the knot and wincing at the wide stretch. Monroe is still holding him tight, and there is nothing he can do to escape from the burn, nothing at all. He can just lie there, sprawled across Monroe's lap, and try to breathe through it.

"That's good, that's great, you're doing great," Monroe murmurs against his shoulder. "You're so beautiful like this, all mine."

"Ow." Nick takes another deep breath and slowly releases it. "Is it always like this?" he then asks.

"I don't know," Monroe admits and shivers as a slow wave of arousal rolls through him and he starts to come. "You want to try and find out?"

Nick grimaces. Monroe knows it even without seeing his face. "I don't know," he admits hesitantly before trying to shift again.

"Don't do that," Monroe hisses and tightens his grip on Nick again. At this pace, he's going to leave bruises, not that he cares too much. "You'll only hurt yourself."

Nick stills, and after a moment of bliss, Monroe starts to shift them back to the mattress, lying down on their sides and trying to get comfortable while he still comes.

"So..." Nick says after a moment. He sounds entirely too awake for a man who just had an orgasm, Monroe thinks fondly, and he sounds as if he has questions and wants to take advantage of the fact that Monroe can't get up and leave now.

Sneaky Grimm.

"So?" he asks back and runs a palm across Nick's stomach, rubbing soft warm skin and brushing against coarse dark hair.

"You can't get me pregnant," Nick says after a moment.

"I hope so," Monroe grunts.

"And you're still trying," Nick points out.

For a split second, Monroe debates if he should argue the point, but then he realizes that his hands are still petting Nick's flat stomach.

"Obviously," he says.

Nick is silent for a moment.

"How long is this going to take?" he finally wants to know and twists his head to the side again, to look at Monroe's face.

"Depends," Monroe murmurs and noses along his throat before kissing him there. "Half an hour, an hour, rarely longer, except if you want to go again. We can do this all night."

"Aunt Marie's books said the same," Nick offers and squirms carefully, to get into a more comfortable position.

Monroe slides an arm under Nick's head and snorts. "You looked up blutbaden sex habits?" he asks, trying to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

"No," Nick murmurs. "I looked up blutbaden mating habits. The books says there's a difference."

"There is," Monroe says and exhales sharply as realization hits. "You've been doing this on purpose," he says. "The whining. The mewling. The posturing. The gestures of submission." He shakes his head. "You've been setting me up. You've been playing my instincts against me."

Nick grins over his shoulder, stretching his neck and offering it up to Monroe again. "Did it work?" he asks.

Monroe retaliates by biting at his shoulder. "I'm trying to breed you, aren't I?" he replies and belatedly drags the blanket up over them.

Nick laughs and snuggles back against his chest. "You are," he says, satisfaction filling his voice.

Monroe shakes his head as another wave of arousal rolls through him. He reaches up and brushes Nick's hair back.

"Don't do that again," he says. "Talk to me, man. You don't know what you're doing." A million thoughts race through his brain, threatening to destroy the mood, but Nick simply shrugs one shoulder and kisses the arm under his head.

"I knew what I was doing," he protests. "I checked everything, and I trust you."

His declaration leaves Monroe speechless, and he simply curls himself protectively around Nick's body and pets his stomach until Nick dozes off.

"Just be careful what you're doing," he whispers, careful not to wake Nick. He'll have to sit him down in the morning, and won't that be a sight to see, and will have to make it clear that Nick should stop playing with fire, especially blutbaden fire.

"I don't want you to end up with a sprig of parsley between your teeth," he adds, and it's the closest to I love you he's ever come.

~end