![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kathierif_ficTitle: Ruby Slippers
Author: kathierif_fic
Fandom: Grimm
Pairing: Monroe/Nick, implied Nick/others
Rating: FRAO
Spoilers: Episode 1x10, particularly Monroe’s and Nick’s conversation.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Transformative work. Look, I learned a new word.
Warnings: prostitution
Summary: Monroe did the king a favor; the least Renard can do is take care of his injuries. 3774 words.
Author’s Notes: written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
au_bingo, prompt “sex workers”. Title taken from a song by Katzenjammer.
The doorbell rang.
It jarred Monroe out of his painful haze with enough force to send a twinge of pain through his aching ribs, and he bit back a growl as he stiffly moved toward the door.
Whoever dared to interrupt him in his very many and important task of lying on the couch and whimpering in pain was in for a world of hurt, he thought grimly, especially if it was that blutbad beta delivering the mail.
He came to a shuffling stop behind his door and sniffed the air carefully before turning the key and yanking the door open with as much force as he dared. The smell had told him that the person standing in front of his door was male and younger than him, barely more than a pup.
It still didn’t prepare him for how young the kid really looked, with his dark hair falling into his forehead and his long lashes and the ripped jeans and the leather jacket. He wore a cocky grin and a bright red shirt that was clinging to his chest.
Monroe found himself swallowing instinctively.
If he hadn’t already felt so miserable, his ribs hurting and his muscles sore from the fight last night, he would have laughed. Instead, he just pulled his eyebrows up and wrapped his arm protectively around his ribs.
“Hi. I’m Nick,” the kid introduced himself. “My Lord Renard said you have a job for me.”
Renard had promised to send someone special when Monroe had called him to tell him about the Reaper attack, but Monroe hadn’t expected it to be a kid. Nick was probably just a courier, paid to get Monroe a little plastic baggy filled with powdered human liver or kidney or something else that would take care of the pain and get Monroe back to his feet and out to patrol the borders. Everybody knew that Renard had a special arrangement with the geier.
“Yeah?” Monroe said expectantly, but he took a step back and let Nick enter his house. Protected by the king or not, there were business transactions that shouldn’t be done out in the open, where everyone and their dog could listen in.
Nick just gave him another grin as he squeezed past Monroe and wandered nonchalantly into the living room, as if he’d been there often enough to know his way around, displaying a quiet kind of confidence Monroe usually associated with people who had power and knew it.
He frowned and turned to close the door behind Nick. One careful sniff revealed that the kid was alone, but it never hurt to be careful, especially now, with the reapers trying to breach their borders and take over the kingdom.
“So what…” Monroe stopped himself mid-sentence as he stepped into his living room and almost stumbled over a pair of worn boots, his eyes glued on Nick who was calmly taking off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.
“What are you doing?” he yelped.
Nick gave him another of his cocky grins and took a step closer, putting him right into Monroe’s personal space.
“I’m doing exactly what the doctor ordered,” he purred and slid his palms up Monroe’s chest, gentle over his cracked ribs but firm enough not to tickle, and to the collar of his flannel shirt.
Monroe flinched. “Really, what?”
Nick’s lithe body pressed himself against Monroe. He smelled seductively good, Monroe thought, and it was almost enough to make him dizzy with sudden and unexpected want.
It had to be that red shirt, he decided. The red shirt had this effect on him. It had nothing to do with the way this pup was rubbing against him.
Reaching out, he grabbed Nick’s delicate wrists with both hands and pulled him away.
“Really, why don’t you explain to me what you’re doing?” he asked gently.
Nick blinked and looked at him with wide eyes. “What does it look like?” he asked back.
“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me? All I asked for was some ground liver or something.” Monroe dared to release Nick’s wrists and took a step back.
He had whined and complained all the way through his report, he remembered, a hint of guilt creeping into his thoughts. Renard had listened to him with unexpected patience, interrupting him only a few times and gently steering him back to the fact that yes, Monroe had stopped a few reapers from creeping into their territory, and he had paid the price in blood and ribs.
Nick grinned sharply. “You killed three reapers last night,” he said.
Interestingly, he knew about what had happened. Monroe frowned. Not many humans were aware of the existence of wesen, based on the fact that their tiny minds couldn’t comprehend the truth, but this kid Renard had sent him apparently did.
And he was aware of the political implications of Monroe’s actions.
He was also still busy trying to get out of his clothes.
“What are you doing?” Monroe asked faintly.
Nick’s smile shifted, from the self-assured smirk into something softer, something more gentle.
“Look at me,” he ordered. “Look at me. You know what I am.” There as a quiet intensity in his eyes that seemed to make him glow from the inside, made him look more mature than his years.
Monroe flinched back, violently enough to make his ribs protest with sharp pain that almost made him double over breathlessly.
“You’re a…you’re a Grimm.”
Renard had sent him a Grimm. Renard wanted him dead. His own king, whom he had served so faithfully, had sent him the boogeyman, to kill him.
Nick nodded. He lowered his lashes and rounded his shoulders slightly, and in front of Monroe, he turned from the monstrous creature every wesen feared back into the kid with the cocky grin and a really nice chest.
“I am,” he said and bent down, to retrieve a strip of condoms and a packet of lube from his pocket. “And you know about the power of my body.”
Monroe inhaled. Nick’s smell was masculine, tinged with pheromones – artificial pheromones, he realized, masking his natural smell, it was no wonder he hadn’t immediately recognized him as Grimm. He also smelled of cheap coffee and simple soap, and Monroe shook his head to clear it from the sudden spike of arousal.
He wanted this kid. He didn’t care if it was artificial want, caused by the pheromones, or if it was a natural reaction, but he wanted. He ached, not the dull throb of pain he’d struggled with all day, but a deep, aching want that was reverberating through his bones.
He wanted to make that kid his, use his body, and he knew that this wasn’t an urge that had come from within himself.
It was the pheromones. The kid – or Renard – wanted the kid to sleep with him, to use his body and the power it possessed to heal him.
He had asked for ground liver, and he had received a live Grimm. It was, he thought, like asking for a band-aid to take care of a ripped-off limb and receiving the magic powder that would make said limb grow back.
And suddenly, he knew who he was dealing with.
“You’re the Kessler kid,” he stated. “Marie’s. You’re the king’s pet.”
Nick glanced down, his smile freezing for a second. “Nephew,” he corrected easily. “And yeah, Renard’s taken me in after she died.”
Only Renard was crazy and daring enough to take a Grimm into his household and make him work for him, Monroe thought, dizzy once again. Human body parts, both fresh and dried, had always been a staple in wesen medicine, but a Grimm’s body…
And Renard had sent his pet Grimm to him, Monroe, to take care of the injuries he’d suffered in the line of duty. A sliver of pride shivered deep in his chest for a moment, until he ruthlessly pushed it away.
The kid looked far too comfortable with his role to do this the first time. He was probably making his rounds, like a hooker sent out to work the streets by his pimp.
“How’s this gonna go?” he asked, his voice hoarse. Sweat was starting to prickle his palms and down the length of his spine.
Nick grinned. “Whatever way you want this to go,” he said. “You can fuck me, if you want. You just need to make me come – either on your injured ribs, or in your mouth. Whenever and in whatever way you like.” He lifted his hand, stopping Monroe from speaking. “No knotting, and no lasting scars, that’s all.”
Monroe licked his lips. It sounded easy enough, and the rules left enough wriggle room for him to enjoy what he was doing.
Renard had sent him his Grimm. He still couldn’t believe it.
“Shall we go to the bedroom, then?” Nick asked and grinned at him again.
Monroe swallowed. “Can I kiss you?” he asked and took a small step closer to Nick.
Nick shrugged. “If you want.”
Monroe wanted. He reached out with clumsy fingers, grabbed a fistful of hair, and pulled Nick into a series of soft kisses that progressed from a soft brush of lips on lips to deep, wet, filthy kisses that left Monroe breathless and with the blood rushing loudly in his ears.
“Bedroom?” Nick asked again. “I’m sure your ribs would be more comfortable there.”
His fingers were back on Monroe’s chest, unbuttoning his shirt and running along the arch of his ribs, feeling for the injuries with quick, gentle touches.
“Come on,” Monroe said and turned, to climb the stairs that led to his bedroom.
Nick followed him on quiet, quick feet, close enough for Monroe to feel his body heat through the red shirt and to hear his breathing. Nick kicked the door shut behind himself and grinned at Monroe through his lashes again. “Have you thought about how you want me?” he asked.
It shouldn’t sound so hot, Monroe thought. It should sound ridiculous, and he shouldn’t do this. He should sit this kid down and feed him a sandwich and maybe make him jerk off into a cup, which would have the same effect as this thing they were apparently going to do here only with less complications.
And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from shivering in delight at Nick’s words.
“I want to fuck you,” he admitted, his voice rough and hoarse. “Can I?”
Nick shrugged again and started to strip off his jeans. “Sure,” he said. “How do you want me?”
Monroe’s mouth was suddenly too dry to answer.
“Ride me?” he managed to force out after what seemed an eternity, his attention still focused entirely on the angles of Nick’s body, his flat stomach, the muscles of his ass as he twisted around to look at the bed behind himself, the gentle curve of his dick where it rested against his thigh.
Nick licked his lips. It was too quick, too nervous to be intentional, but it still made Monroe’s blood tingle in his veins.
“Get on the bed,” Nick ordered and bent down, to pick up his pants and pull a packet of lube from the pocket. He’d also brought the condoms and was now setting them out on the edge of the mattress.
Monroe shook his head dazedly.
“Not so fast, man,” he said and reached for Nick. “Are you in a hurry? Do you have someplace else to be?” He couldn’t help but feel an edge of jealousy at the thought and quickly tried to curb it. Nick wasn’t his, and it wasn’t up to him what the kid did and with whom.
Nick grinned up at him and tilted his head invitingly. “I have all the time in the world, Monroe,” he replied. “All day, if you need it.”
Monroe growled hungrily and kissed him, his tongue plunging deep into Nick’s mouth and chasing his tongue, rubbing against the dull, hard edge of teeth, while his hands brushed down Nick’s sides, learning the shape of his body with his fingertips alone.
Nick gave as good as he got, always careful of Monroe’s cracked ribs. He leaned into Monroe’s caresses with an almost submissive ease, only to nip at his lip or tongue teasingly and pulling back again, hinting at the possibility of a chase without ever leaving Monroe’s embrace. It was exciting and arousing, and Monroe almost forgot about his ribs when the throb and coiling heat of arousal in his balls became more and more evident.
“Damn, you’re good,” he groaned.
Nick stilled for a nanosecond. “Thanks,” he then said with a grin that was as fake as the pheromones on his body. “Just doing my job.” He took the sting out of his words by reaching down and tightening his hand on Monroe’s dick, which was already hard and wet at the tip.
Monroe bit his lip until he tasted blood. It had been a stupid thing to say, and he wasn’t quite sure if he was supposed to apologize or simply continue. The raging heat that had threatened to consume him was cooling down a little, and Monroe took a deep breath and pulled Nick down, onto the mattress, with him.
His ribs protested sharply, but Monroe ignored them in favor of settling Nick on top of him, his legs spread around Monroe’s hips and his back arched as he leaned down for another kiss.
Monroe knew what was going to come next. His cock twitched at the thought, and he groaned quietly as he started to fumble for the lube. It took him a while to feel its edge under his fingertips, and then, he almost pushed if off of the bed before managing a good grip on the slippery package.
Nick pulled away from the kiss with a smile. “Let me,” he said and sat up, his ass pressing teasingly against Monroe’s groin.
Monroe handed him the lube and watched with hungry eyes as Nick ripped the package open and poured the lube onto Monroe’s twitching stomach.
“Cold,” he hissed, but Nick only laughed and swiped his fingers through the mess until they were slick enough.
He leaned up, away from Monroe’s dick, and reached behind himself.
“Hey, wait.” Monroe licked his lips. Watching Nick open himself up promised to be a treat, but Monroe still didn’t think it was the right thing to do. After all, the goal was to make Nick come, not to give Monroe a show. “Let me.”
“It’s okay,” Nick said, his smile more genuine. “You’re injured. Just lie back and enjoy the show, okay?” His eyes fluttered shut as he pushed his fingers into himself, and he bit his lip briefly, as if he needed to distract himself from the small pain of stretching himself open.
“You look amazing,” Monroe murmured. He hesitated for a split second and then placed his hands on Nick’s thighs, massaging the muscles he could feel shift under the soft, vulnerable skin and wandering higher, over the crease of thigh and groin and to Nick’s half-hard dick. He closed his fingers lightly around it and rubbed his thumb over the tip, steadily increasing the pressure until Nick made a faint sound at the back of his throat and pushed subtly into his grip.
“That’s it,” Monroe murmured. His voice was startingly loud in the quietness of the room. “You like that, don’t you?”
Nick huffed out a laugh and arched his back. “I do,” he admitted. “Do that again?”
Monroe did.
Nick’s flesh hardened in his grip, and Monroe swiped his thumb over the tip just to see Nick’s lashes flutter and hide his eyes, and to feel the heat of the blush on his cheeks when Nick bent down to kiss him again.
By the time Nick straightened again, Monroe was hard enough to pound nails, and he had to close his eyes and just breathe shallowly for a moment when Nick rolled the condom down his dick and smeared lube over it, to stop himself from coming prematurely. It wouldn’t be a problem – he knew he could get hard again in short time – but it still would be embarrassing.
Nick rose up and positioned himself.
“Ready?” he asked, his hands braced on Monroe’s shoulders, as far away from his ribs as he reasonably could.
“Shouldn’t I ask you that?” Monroe quipped, and then, all words were driven out of his mind when Nick slowly lowered himself down and tight, slick heat surrounded Monroe.
He didn’t know how much time had passed until he could open his eyes again and look up at Nick, Nick who was sitting there, a grin on his face as he watched Monroe struggling with his self-control while his internal muscles twitched and trembled around Monroe’s cock.
“Good?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, he started to move, setting an easy rhythm. He obviously knew that blutbaden tended to have a lot of stamina and could fuck for hours if the opportunity arose, and he looked as if he was settling in for the long haul, picking a pace he could maintain for a while.
Monroe had no choice but to watch him, watch the muscles twitch under his smooth skin, watch as he tossed his head back, exposing the long, vulnerable line of his throat, watch his fingers clench against Monroe’s stomach when he sunk down, taking Monroe’s cock deep into his body. He couldn’t do much more than pant, watch, and press his hand against the sticky mess of drying lube on his stomach, covering as much of his palm as he could, and close it around Nick’s cock again, stroking in what was approximately the same rhythm Nick had set.
His other hand was free to roam across Nick’s body, brush against his collarbone, his bottom lip, dip down to cradle his balls gently and roll them, reach beyond them to the place where Nick was spread open around him, tease along the rim with gentle touches, pull away and stroke along one powerful thigh to the back of a knee, slick with sweat and Nick’s natural smell.
“I want,” he managed to gasp after a while, when the silence became too much, pressing down around them and magnifying the slick sounds of their bodies sliding together, “I want to make you come like this, just seeing you let go, and then, I want to keep going until you’re hard again so I can suck you off, have you looked into a mirror lately, Christ, you’re gorgous…”
Nick laughed, a broken, short sound of arousal and amusement, and picked his pace up slightly.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
For a long, breathless moment, Monroe felt as if he was flying, weightless and perfect, all his worries and troubles far, far away as he was alone in a world with Nick, and then, orgasm overwhelmed him and he came, in long, twitching spurts that made him cry out and curl up, muscles straining as his body attempted to bury itself in Nick and never come out again.
Blood rushed loudly in his ears as he collapsed back onto the sheets, his heart hammered against his cracked ribs as if it wanted to break out, and for a long moment, he thought he didn’t get enough air into his lungs and was suffocating.
Coming back to himself was a slow process, but somewhere along the line, he realized that this wasn’t over yet.
He still needed Nick to come.
Grinning sheepishly, he tightened his grip on Nick’s cock and started to stroke, gentle at first and then faster when it was obvious that Nick could take it, that he needed it that way.
“That’s it, look at you,” Monroe whispered reverently. “So beautiful, all flushed and red for me, that’s a good boy.” He brushed his free hand over Nick’s chin and dipped two fingers into his mouth, to let Nick curl his tongue around them and suck at them.
“Are you close? Yes you are, I can smell it on you. You want to come. I want you to come,” he continued.
Nick groaned around the fingers in his mouth and arched his back, and then, he broke, hot white liquid splashing across Monroe’s chest and stomach. Monroe gentled his grip, but he kept stroking until he was certain that Nick didn’t have anything else to give, and only then did he let go to lick his fingers clean.
The lube tasted horrible, an artificial flavor that couldn’t dampen his arousal as he laved at his own hand and the salty liquid clinging to it.
Nick chuckled as he watched him.
“Feel better yet?” he asked, stretching his arms over his head and carefully pulling away from Monroe.
“I don’t know,” Monroe admitted. “I’ll let you know when I can feel my toes again.”
Nick laughed and stood. “You do that,” he said before having Monroe show him to the bathroom. He wiped himself down quickly, efficiently, like a man who had done this often enough to have a routine, and then started to collect his clothes and put them on.
“I’m serious,” he murmured as he kneeled down on the edge of the bed, dressed again. The red shirt he’d never really taken off smelled like him now, like Monroe and like Nick, a clean, musky scent Monroe really liked a lot more than the artificial hormones Nick had been doused with when he’d arrived. “Let me know if it worked.”
He dipped down for a brief, dry kiss, a brush of lips against lips, and then, he stood, saying, “I can let myself out. Get well soon, Monroe.”
Monroe tasted a different set of pheromones and herbs, and then, his head was swimming and he fell asleep without being able to say a single word of protest against being drugged against his will.
When he woke up, hours later, the sun was already setting. He was wrapped into a blanket, a glass of water was sitting on his bedside table.
Groaning, he sat up. His ribs felt definitely better, and he knew that the pounding headache he was feeling right now were the result of the sleep potion Nick had managed to give him.
Sneaky Grimm.
Monroe shook his head. He’d never thought he’d ever meet one, much less meet one and live to tell the tale, but there was something about Renard’s pet Grimm, and he couldn’t shake the vague feeling that it wasn’t the last time they’d met.
He was looking forward to the next time.
~end.
Author: kathierif_fic
Fandom: Grimm
Pairing: Monroe/Nick, implied Nick/others
Rating: FRAO
Spoilers: Episode 1x10, particularly Monroe’s and Nick’s conversation.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Transformative work. Look, I learned a new word.
Warnings: prostitution
Summary: Monroe did the king a favor; the least Renard can do is take care of his injuries. 3774 words.
Author’s Notes: written for
au_bingo, prompt “sex workers”. Title taken from a song by Katzenjammer.The doorbell rang.
It jarred Monroe out of his painful haze with enough force to send a twinge of pain through his aching ribs, and he bit back a growl as he stiffly moved toward the door.
Whoever dared to interrupt him in his very many and important task of lying on the couch and whimpering in pain was in for a world of hurt, he thought grimly, especially if it was that blutbad beta delivering the mail.
He came to a shuffling stop behind his door and sniffed the air carefully before turning the key and yanking the door open with as much force as he dared. The smell had told him that the person standing in front of his door was male and younger than him, barely more than a pup.
It still didn’t prepare him for how young the kid really looked, with his dark hair falling into his forehead and his long lashes and the ripped jeans and the leather jacket. He wore a cocky grin and a bright red shirt that was clinging to his chest.
Monroe found himself swallowing instinctively.
If he hadn’t already felt so miserable, his ribs hurting and his muscles sore from the fight last night, he would have laughed. Instead, he just pulled his eyebrows up and wrapped his arm protectively around his ribs.
“Hi. I’m Nick,” the kid introduced himself. “My Lord Renard said you have a job for me.”
Renard had promised to send someone special when Monroe had called him to tell him about the Reaper attack, but Monroe hadn’t expected it to be a kid. Nick was probably just a courier, paid to get Monroe a little plastic baggy filled with powdered human liver or kidney or something else that would take care of the pain and get Monroe back to his feet and out to patrol the borders. Everybody knew that Renard had a special arrangement with the geier.
“Yeah?” Monroe said expectantly, but he took a step back and let Nick enter his house. Protected by the king or not, there were business transactions that shouldn’t be done out in the open, where everyone and their dog could listen in.
Nick just gave him another grin as he squeezed past Monroe and wandered nonchalantly into the living room, as if he’d been there often enough to know his way around, displaying a quiet kind of confidence Monroe usually associated with people who had power and knew it.
He frowned and turned to close the door behind Nick. One careful sniff revealed that the kid was alone, but it never hurt to be careful, especially now, with the reapers trying to breach their borders and take over the kingdom.
“So what…” Monroe stopped himself mid-sentence as he stepped into his living room and almost stumbled over a pair of worn boots, his eyes glued on Nick who was calmly taking off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.
“What are you doing?” he yelped.
Nick gave him another of his cocky grins and took a step closer, putting him right into Monroe’s personal space.
“I’m doing exactly what the doctor ordered,” he purred and slid his palms up Monroe’s chest, gentle over his cracked ribs but firm enough not to tickle, and to the collar of his flannel shirt.
Monroe flinched. “Really, what?”
Nick’s lithe body pressed himself against Monroe. He smelled seductively good, Monroe thought, and it was almost enough to make him dizzy with sudden and unexpected want.
It had to be that red shirt, he decided. The red shirt had this effect on him. It had nothing to do with the way this pup was rubbing against him.
Reaching out, he grabbed Nick’s delicate wrists with both hands and pulled him away.
“Really, why don’t you explain to me what you’re doing?” he asked gently.
Nick blinked and looked at him with wide eyes. “What does it look like?” he asked back.
“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me? All I asked for was some ground liver or something.” Monroe dared to release Nick’s wrists and took a step back.
He had whined and complained all the way through his report, he remembered, a hint of guilt creeping into his thoughts. Renard had listened to him with unexpected patience, interrupting him only a few times and gently steering him back to the fact that yes, Monroe had stopped a few reapers from creeping into their territory, and he had paid the price in blood and ribs.
Nick grinned sharply. “You killed three reapers last night,” he said.
Interestingly, he knew about what had happened. Monroe frowned. Not many humans were aware of the existence of wesen, based on the fact that their tiny minds couldn’t comprehend the truth, but this kid Renard had sent him apparently did.
And he was aware of the political implications of Monroe’s actions.
He was also still busy trying to get out of his clothes.
“What are you doing?” Monroe asked faintly.
Nick’s smile shifted, from the self-assured smirk into something softer, something more gentle.
“Look at me,” he ordered. “Look at me. You know what I am.” There as a quiet intensity in his eyes that seemed to make him glow from the inside, made him look more mature than his years.
Monroe flinched back, violently enough to make his ribs protest with sharp pain that almost made him double over breathlessly.
“You’re a…you’re a Grimm.”
Renard had sent him a Grimm. Renard wanted him dead. His own king, whom he had served so faithfully, had sent him the boogeyman, to kill him.
Nick nodded. He lowered his lashes and rounded his shoulders slightly, and in front of Monroe, he turned from the monstrous creature every wesen feared back into the kid with the cocky grin and a really nice chest.
“I am,” he said and bent down, to retrieve a strip of condoms and a packet of lube from his pocket. “And you know about the power of my body.”
Monroe inhaled. Nick’s smell was masculine, tinged with pheromones – artificial pheromones, he realized, masking his natural smell, it was no wonder he hadn’t immediately recognized him as Grimm. He also smelled of cheap coffee and simple soap, and Monroe shook his head to clear it from the sudden spike of arousal.
He wanted this kid. He didn’t care if it was artificial want, caused by the pheromones, or if it was a natural reaction, but he wanted. He ached, not the dull throb of pain he’d struggled with all day, but a deep, aching want that was reverberating through his bones.
He wanted to make that kid his, use his body, and he knew that this wasn’t an urge that had come from within himself.
It was the pheromones. The kid – or Renard – wanted the kid to sleep with him, to use his body and the power it possessed to heal him.
He had asked for ground liver, and he had received a live Grimm. It was, he thought, like asking for a band-aid to take care of a ripped-off limb and receiving the magic powder that would make said limb grow back.
And suddenly, he knew who he was dealing with.
“You’re the Kessler kid,” he stated. “Marie’s. You’re the king’s pet.”
Nick glanced down, his smile freezing for a second. “Nephew,” he corrected easily. “And yeah, Renard’s taken me in after she died.”
Only Renard was crazy and daring enough to take a Grimm into his household and make him work for him, Monroe thought, dizzy once again. Human body parts, both fresh and dried, had always been a staple in wesen medicine, but a Grimm’s body…
And Renard had sent his pet Grimm to him, Monroe, to take care of the injuries he’d suffered in the line of duty. A sliver of pride shivered deep in his chest for a moment, until he ruthlessly pushed it away.
The kid looked far too comfortable with his role to do this the first time. He was probably making his rounds, like a hooker sent out to work the streets by his pimp.
“How’s this gonna go?” he asked, his voice hoarse. Sweat was starting to prickle his palms and down the length of his spine.
Nick grinned. “Whatever way you want this to go,” he said. “You can fuck me, if you want. You just need to make me come – either on your injured ribs, or in your mouth. Whenever and in whatever way you like.” He lifted his hand, stopping Monroe from speaking. “No knotting, and no lasting scars, that’s all.”
Monroe licked his lips. It sounded easy enough, and the rules left enough wriggle room for him to enjoy what he was doing.
Renard had sent him his Grimm. He still couldn’t believe it.
“Shall we go to the bedroom, then?” Nick asked and grinned at him again.
Monroe swallowed. “Can I kiss you?” he asked and took a small step closer to Nick.
Nick shrugged. “If you want.”
Monroe wanted. He reached out with clumsy fingers, grabbed a fistful of hair, and pulled Nick into a series of soft kisses that progressed from a soft brush of lips on lips to deep, wet, filthy kisses that left Monroe breathless and with the blood rushing loudly in his ears.
“Bedroom?” Nick asked again. “I’m sure your ribs would be more comfortable there.”
His fingers were back on Monroe’s chest, unbuttoning his shirt and running along the arch of his ribs, feeling for the injuries with quick, gentle touches.
“Come on,” Monroe said and turned, to climb the stairs that led to his bedroom.
Nick followed him on quiet, quick feet, close enough for Monroe to feel his body heat through the red shirt and to hear his breathing. Nick kicked the door shut behind himself and grinned at Monroe through his lashes again. “Have you thought about how you want me?” he asked.
It shouldn’t sound so hot, Monroe thought. It should sound ridiculous, and he shouldn’t do this. He should sit this kid down and feed him a sandwich and maybe make him jerk off into a cup, which would have the same effect as this thing they were apparently going to do here only with less complications.
And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from shivering in delight at Nick’s words.
“I want to fuck you,” he admitted, his voice rough and hoarse. “Can I?”
Nick shrugged again and started to strip off his jeans. “Sure,” he said. “How do you want me?”
Monroe’s mouth was suddenly too dry to answer.
“Ride me?” he managed to force out after what seemed an eternity, his attention still focused entirely on the angles of Nick’s body, his flat stomach, the muscles of his ass as he twisted around to look at the bed behind himself, the gentle curve of his dick where it rested against his thigh.
Nick licked his lips. It was too quick, too nervous to be intentional, but it still made Monroe’s blood tingle in his veins.
“Get on the bed,” Nick ordered and bent down, to pick up his pants and pull a packet of lube from the pocket. He’d also brought the condoms and was now setting them out on the edge of the mattress.
Monroe shook his head dazedly.
“Not so fast, man,” he said and reached for Nick. “Are you in a hurry? Do you have someplace else to be?” He couldn’t help but feel an edge of jealousy at the thought and quickly tried to curb it. Nick wasn’t his, and it wasn’t up to him what the kid did and with whom.
Nick grinned up at him and tilted his head invitingly. “I have all the time in the world, Monroe,” he replied. “All day, if you need it.”
Monroe growled hungrily and kissed him, his tongue plunging deep into Nick’s mouth and chasing his tongue, rubbing against the dull, hard edge of teeth, while his hands brushed down Nick’s sides, learning the shape of his body with his fingertips alone.
Nick gave as good as he got, always careful of Monroe’s cracked ribs. He leaned into Monroe’s caresses with an almost submissive ease, only to nip at his lip or tongue teasingly and pulling back again, hinting at the possibility of a chase without ever leaving Monroe’s embrace. It was exciting and arousing, and Monroe almost forgot about his ribs when the throb and coiling heat of arousal in his balls became more and more evident.
“Damn, you’re good,” he groaned.
Nick stilled for a nanosecond. “Thanks,” he then said with a grin that was as fake as the pheromones on his body. “Just doing my job.” He took the sting out of his words by reaching down and tightening his hand on Monroe’s dick, which was already hard and wet at the tip.
Monroe bit his lip until he tasted blood. It had been a stupid thing to say, and he wasn’t quite sure if he was supposed to apologize or simply continue. The raging heat that had threatened to consume him was cooling down a little, and Monroe took a deep breath and pulled Nick down, onto the mattress, with him.
His ribs protested sharply, but Monroe ignored them in favor of settling Nick on top of him, his legs spread around Monroe’s hips and his back arched as he leaned down for another kiss.
Monroe knew what was going to come next. His cock twitched at the thought, and he groaned quietly as he started to fumble for the lube. It took him a while to feel its edge under his fingertips, and then, he almost pushed if off of the bed before managing a good grip on the slippery package.
Nick pulled away from the kiss with a smile. “Let me,” he said and sat up, his ass pressing teasingly against Monroe’s groin.
Monroe handed him the lube and watched with hungry eyes as Nick ripped the package open and poured the lube onto Monroe’s twitching stomach.
“Cold,” he hissed, but Nick only laughed and swiped his fingers through the mess until they were slick enough.
He leaned up, away from Monroe’s dick, and reached behind himself.
“Hey, wait.” Monroe licked his lips. Watching Nick open himself up promised to be a treat, but Monroe still didn’t think it was the right thing to do. After all, the goal was to make Nick come, not to give Monroe a show. “Let me.”
“It’s okay,” Nick said, his smile more genuine. “You’re injured. Just lie back and enjoy the show, okay?” His eyes fluttered shut as he pushed his fingers into himself, and he bit his lip briefly, as if he needed to distract himself from the small pain of stretching himself open.
“You look amazing,” Monroe murmured. He hesitated for a split second and then placed his hands on Nick’s thighs, massaging the muscles he could feel shift under the soft, vulnerable skin and wandering higher, over the crease of thigh and groin and to Nick’s half-hard dick. He closed his fingers lightly around it and rubbed his thumb over the tip, steadily increasing the pressure until Nick made a faint sound at the back of his throat and pushed subtly into his grip.
“That’s it,” Monroe murmured. His voice was startingly loud in the quietness of the room. “You like that, don’t you?”
Nick huffed out a laugh and arched his back. “I do,” he admitted. “Do that again?”
Monroe did.
Nick’s flesh hardened in his grip, and Monroe swiped his thumb over the tip just to see Nick’s lashes flutter and hide his eyes, and to feel the heat of the blush on his cheeks when Nick bent down to kiss him again.
By the time Nick straightened again, Monroe was hard enough to pound nails, and he had to close his eyes and just breathe shallowly for a moment when Nick rolled the condom down his dick and smeared lube over it, to stop himself from coming prematurely. It wouldn’t be a problem – he knew he could get hard again in short time – but it still would be embarrassing.
Nick rose up and positioned himself.
“Ready?” he asked, his hands braced on Monroe’s shoulders, as far away from his ribs as he reasonably could.
“Shouldn’t I ask you that?” Monroe quipped, and then, all words were driven out of his mind when Nick slowly lowered himself down and tight, slick heat surrounded Monroe.
He didn’t know how much time had passed until he could open his eyes again and look up at Nick, Nick who was sitting there, a grin on his face as he watched Monroe struggling with his self-control while his internal muscles twitched and trembled around Monroe’s cock.
“Good?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, he started to move, setting an easy rhythm. He obviously knew that blutbaden tended to have a lot of stamina and could fuck for hours if the opportunity arose, and he looked as if he was settling in for the long haul, picking a pace he could maintain for a while.
Monroe had no choice but to watch him, watch the muscles twitch under his smooth skin, watch as he tossed his head back, exposing the long, vulnerable line of his throat, watch his fingers clench against Monroe’s stomach when he sunk down, taking Monroe’s cock deep into his body. He couldn’t do much more than pant, watch, and press his hand against the sticky mess of drying lube on his stomach, covering as much of his palm as he could, and close it around Nick’s cock again, stroking in what was approximately the same rhythm Nick had set.
His other hand was free to roam across Nick’s body, brush against his collarbone, his bottom lip, dip down to cradle his balls gently and roll them, reach beyond them to the place where Nick was spread open around him, tease along the rim with gentle touches, pull away and stroke along one powerful thigh to the back of a knee, slick with sweat and Nick’s natural smell.
“I want,” he managed to gasp after a while, when the silence became too much, pressing down around them and magnifying the slick sounds of their bodies sliding together, “I want to make you come like this, just seeing you let go, and then, I want to keep going until you’re hard again so I can suck you off, have you looked into a mirror lately, Christ, you’re gorgous…”
Nick laughed, a broken, short sound of arousal and amusement, and picked his pace up slightly.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
For a long, breathless moment, Monroe felt as if he was flying, weightless and perfect, all his worries and troubles far, far away as he was alone in a world with Nick, and then, orgasm overwhelmed him and he came, in long, twitching spurts that made him cry out and curl up, muscles straining as his body attempted to bury itself in Nick and never come out again.
Blood rushed loudly in his ears as he collapsed back onto the sheets, his heart hammered against his cracked ribs as if it wanted to break out, and for a long moment, he thought he didn’t get enough air into his lungs and was suffocating.
Coming back to himself was a slow process, but somewhere along the line, he realized that this wasn’t over yet.
He still needed Nick to come.
Grinning sheepishly, he tightened his grip on Nick’s cock and started to stroke, gentle at first and then faster when it was obvious that Nick could take it, that he needed it that way.
“That’s it, look at you,” Monroe whispered reverently. “So beautiful, all flushed and red for me, that’s a good boy.” He brushed his free hand over Nick’s chin and dipped two fingers into his mouth, to let Nick curl his tongue around them and suck at them.
“Are you close? Yes you are, I can smell it on you. You want to come. I want you to come,” he continued.
Nick groaned around the fingers in his mouth and arched his back, and then, he broke, hot white liquid splashing across Monroe’s chest and stomach. Monroe gentled his grip, but he kept stroking until he was certain that Nick didn’t have anything else to give, and only then did he let go to lick his fingers clean.
The lube tasted horrible, an artificial flavor that couldn’t dampen his arousal as he laved at his own hand and the salty liquid clinging to it.
Nick chuckled as he watched him.
“Feel better yet?” he asked, stretching his arms over his head and carefully pulling away from Monroe.
“I don’t know,” Monroe admitted. “I’ll let you know when I can feel my toes again.”
Nick laughed and stood. “You do that,” he said before having Monroe show him to the bathroom. He wiped himself down quickly, efficiently, like a man who had done this often enough to have a routine, and then started to collect his clothes and put them on.
“I’m serious,” he murmured as he kneeled down on the edge of the bed, dressed again. The red shirt he’d never really taken off smelled like him now, like Monroe and like Nick, a clean, musky scent Monroe really liked a lot more than the artificial hormones Nick had been doused with when he’d arrived. “Let me know if it worked.”
He dipped down for a brief, dry kiss, a brush of lips against lips, and then, he stood, saying, “I can let myself out. Get well soon, Monroe.”
Monroe tasted a different set of pheromones and herbs, and then, his head was swimming and he fell asleep without being able to say a single word of protest against being drugged against his will.
When he woke up, hours later, the sun was already setting. He was wrapped into a blanket, a glass of water was sitting on his bedside table.
Groaning, he sat up. His ribs felt definitely better, and he knew that the pounding headache he was feeling right now were the result of the sleep potion Nick had managed to give him.
Sneaky Grimm.
Monroe shook his head. He’d never thought he’d ever meet one, much less meet one and live to tell the tale, but there was something about Renard’s pet Grimm, and he couldn’t shake the vague feeling that it wasn’t the last time they’d met.
He was looking forward to the next time.
~end.