Grimm Fic: I Can’t Change the Way You Think (But I Can Put My Arms Around You)
Title: I Can’t Change the Way You Think (But I Can Put My Arms Around You)
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Nick/Monroe
Spoilers: None
Content Notice: Dub-con, bloodplay
Word Count: 1,800
Summary: Nick has just risked his life, and it doesn’t sit well with Monroe. Monroe must show him what that means.
A/N: Fill for this prompt on the Grimm Kink Meme. Title is a lyric from the song “Protection” by Massive Attack.
----
Nick huddled against the passenger side door of his own car, flinching at every turn Monroe took, but keeping his eyes on the road in front of them. Though outwardly calm, he knew Monroe was angry with him, at a level he’d never before witnessed. His anger was almost a physical thing, trapped in the car with them both, and Nick irrationally thought that if Monroe spoke, it might actually materialize and pounce on him, eat him whole. Because he knew he deserved it.
The SUV shuddered to a halt in front of Nick’s house and Monroe sat hunched forward - hands wrapped so tight around the wheel that his knuckles were white - and breathed through his nose.
“Monroe -“ Nick began, but he opened the door and stepped from the car, closed it quietly with both hands, and walked into the house. Nick thought that maybe his silence was worse than any shouting could ever have been.
Nick sighed and got out of the car, moving slowly up the walk towards the front porch. He wasn’t entirely convinced his ribs weren’t cracked, but he didn’t want to go to the hospital either. Right now, he just wanted a beer and his bed, and he didn’t know how long it’d be until he saw either one. Because right now, he needed to deal with his pissed-off lover, who he could see pacing the floor in the front room, throwing murderous glances at the open front door.
“Can I explain?” Nick began, turning to close the door, but his words were cut off as Monroe rushed him from behind. “Oof!” he said as the breath was knocked out of him as Monroe slammed his body against his; he flinched when his knee, shoulder, and chin made contact with the door. “Monroe!” he gasped, pressing his hands against the door, trying to get some leverage to throw the blutbad off, but Monroe’s bulk held him down, held him fast.
Monroe growled in his ear, but it was unlike any of the sounds Nick was used to hearing him make; it came from deep in his chest, and made his entire body vibrate. Nick turned his head to speak, but Monroe lowered his own and sank his teeth into the tender spot where shoulder met neck, and even through his shirt Nick could feel them pierce his skin. Nick struggled, but Monroe only bit harder, bearing down on him with all of his weight, making it impossible for him to move, think, breathe. Nick eventually ceased struggling, but still Monroe remained clamped onto him, another growl issuing from within him, warning Nick of the futility of any attempt to toss the blutbad off.
Nick could now feel Monroe’s hard-on, thick and insistent against his hip, and he suddenly understood. He’d taken on a jagerbar, and it had not gone well, and this meant he’d crossed a line somehow, had activated some inner protective pack instinct in Monroe that he had only glimpsed before. Monroe was acting out, needed to express his dominance or control, and Nick knew there was going to be no reasoning with him. Not now. So he physically schooled his body to relax against the larger man, letting his head drop back and baring his throat, and at last Monroe released him.
Nick closed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, “Monroe -“
But Monroe was not ready to talk; instead he put his hands on Nick’s shoulders and spun him around, slammed him back up against the door. His eyes were flat, burning red, and the expression on his face made any other words Nick might have to say die in his throat. He had his fists clenched in the collar of Nick’s shirt, and suddenly tore it open, the buttons making tic-tic-tic noises as they hit the hardwood floor and bounced away. Monroe’s left hand fell to Nick’s jeans and tugged at the wasitband; Nick’s hips pumped forward involuntarily and he gasped. So this was what he’d need. Fine.
Monroe undid the buttons, crouched down, pulling the jeans to the floor as he did, then stood quickly, towering over Nick and breathing heavily. The cool air of the house settled against Nick’s bared chest and groin like a momentary whisper, but when he looked up and into Monroe’s eyes, tried to establish some sort of connection with him, the blutbad’s focus was anywhere but Nick’s eyes. Soon his hands were in Nick’s hair, clawing, clutching, and then his mouth was covering Nick’s, the kiss punishing, bruising, a collision of teeth and lips and tongue. Nick pulled his chin down, trying to take a breath, but Monroe’s tongue followed, filling his mouth, taking control. Nick’s dick jumped as Monroe’s thigh pressed between his legs, and his lover released him slightly, only to kiss a rough trail down his throat. He growled as he sucked at the deep bite there; Nick could feel the slide of Monroe’s lips against the slick blood that had been spilled there, felt a trail of it oozing sluggishly down his shoulder. Monroe pulled back suddenly, and there was blood on his lips, in his beard.
Nick recoiled at the sight, but Monroe kissed him roughly again and he was soon tasted the coppery tang of his own blood. He tried to speak, palms on Monroe’s chest, but the blutbad grabbed both his wrists and raised them above his head, slamming them against the wall and holding them there, fast, with his left hand. He reached down and undid his own pants with his other hand then, and Nick realized his breathing was now coming in ragged, whimpering gasps.
“Hey,” Nick said gently, trying once more to get Monroe to look at him, but Monroe kissed him roughly instead, his eyes closing as he began to thrust his hips against Nick desperately, his cock pushing clumsily against Nick’s . “Monroe!” Nick said into his mouth, and finally managed to turn his own head away. When Monroe opened his eyes again, they were back to their usual brown, and swimming suddenly with tears. He braced his hands on the wall on either side of Nick.
“I’m sorry, so sorry,” Monroe moaned.
“It’s OK,” Nick said, leaning forward, pressing his forehead against his collarbone. “Shh, it’s OK.”
“No.” And even as he said it, Nick could hear the desperation and fear in his voice, feel the strain and tension in his back as he finally held himself in check.
“Come on,” Nick murmured, pulling Monroe’s head to his shoulder and holding it there. “Come on, come on,” he whispered into his ear, knowing something must be done to relieve the tension, and letting his hand drift down between them. When he took Monroe’s cock in his hand he gasped, but was soon pumping against Nick’s hand, his movements almost subdued now, though no less urgent.
Now when Monroe placed all of his weight on Nick, it was not at all to control him, but because he couldn’t quite hold himself up. “I gotcha,” Nick said, bracing his legs even as he jerked Monroe harder. “I gotcha, baby. Come on.”
With a shudder and a gasp, Monroe came in his hand at last, his head buried in Nick’s shoulder as he sobbed through it. When it was over, Nick eased the trembling man to the floor, where he sat with him against the wall, stroking his hair and making calming noises.
“You know, this over-protective, pack leader mentality of yours has got to stop,” Nick said gently when the shaking had stopped.
Monroe stiffened. “That jagerbar would have killed you.”
“That’s funny, because it looked like she was about to kill you.”
“And so you step in front of her?!” Monroe sat up. “That was supremely stupid, Nick, even for you.”
“That’s not fair,” Nick protested, but Monroe talked right over him. “When I saw her throw you across that clearing, like you were nothing - less than nothing - I thought that was the end, Nick. I thought she’d killed you.”
“I know-”
“But I don’t think you understand. I don’t think you know what it means to me to see you in danger all the time. ”
“This is my job, Monroe, I’m a cop. And it’s also now my destiny or whatever bullshit term you want to use, because I’m a Grimm on top of that, and I’m not going to shy away from fulfilling either obligation. I think you know me better by now than to ask me to do otherwise.” Monroe scoffed and rolled his eyes, but Nick took his chin in his hand and forced him to look at him. “And did it occur to you at all what seeing 500 pounds of pissed off bear coming after you does to me?” he asked quietly. “It would kill me if you were hurt, absolutely kill me.”
Something in Monroe softened then, and he relaxed. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head, shuddered. “I guess we both have to deal with our over-protective sides.”
“Well, some of us have thousands of years worth of evolution to contend with, so slip-ups are to be expected, I suppose,” Nick said with a smile and a shrug. He winced as the movement pulled at his shoulder.
“Shit, I’m sorry about that,” Monroe said, “look at what I did to you.” He thumbed at the tender flesh gently.
“I’ve got worse things to contend with, like the hits my wardrobe has been taking.” He got to his knees and struggled to stand, hampered by the ruined pants tangled around his ankles. “Hey, help me up?”
Monroe rose and pulled Nick to his feet effortlessly, and Nick was reminded again how strong his lover was, and how lucky he was to have all of that on his side. He winced again. “I think that jagerbar may have cracked a few ribs. But you - you maybe need to go wash up some. You look like an extra from an episode of True Blood or something.”
Monroe put a hand to his face, felt the congealing blood coating his beard, and flinched.
“The biting is sexy, the blood - not so much next time, OK?”
“Sure, sure.”” Monroe nodded. “Wait, there can be a next time?”
----
Thank you for your time.
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Nick/Monroe
Spoilers: None
Content Notice: Dub-con, bloodplay
Word Count: 1,800
Summary: Nick has just risked his life, and it doesn’t sit well with Monroe. Monroe must show him what that means.
A/N: Fill for this prompt on the Grimm Kink Meme. Title is a lyric from the song “Protection” by Massive Attack.
----
Nick huddled against the passenger side door of his own car, flinching at every turn Monroe took, but keeping his eyes on the road in front of them. Though outwardly calm, he knew Monroe was angry with him, at a level he’d never before witnessed. His anger was almost a physical thing, trapped in the car with them both, and Nick irrationally thought that if Monroe spoke, it might actually materialize and pounce on him, eat him whole. Because he knew he deserved it.
The SUV shuddered to a halt in front of Nick’s house and Monroe sat hunched forward - hands wrapped so tight around the wheel that his knuckles were white - and breathed through his nose.
“Monroe -“ Nick began, but he opened the door and stepped from the car, closed it quietly with both hands, and walked into the house. Nick thought that maybe his silence was worse than any shouting could ever have been.
Nick sighed and got out of the car, moving slowly up the walk towards the front porch. He wasn’t entirely convinced his ribs weren’t cracked, but he didn’t want to go to the hospital either. Right now, he just wanted a beer and his bed, and he didn’t know how long it’d be until he saw either one. Because right now, he needed to deal with his pissed-off lover, who he could see pacing the floor in the front room, throwing murderous glances at the open front door.
“Can I explain?” Nick began, turning to close the door, but his words were cut off as Monroe rushed him from behind. “Oof!” he said as the breath was knocked out of him as Monroe slammed his body against his; he flinched when his knee, shoulder, and chin made contact with the door. “Monroe!” he gasped, pressing his hands against the door, trying to get some leverage to throw the blutbad off, but Monroe’s bulk held him down, held him fast.
Monroe growled in his ear, but it was unlike any of the sounds Nick was used to hearing him make; it came from deep in his chest, and made his entire body vibrate. Nick turned his head to speak, but Monroe lowered his own and sank his teeth into the tender spot where shoulder met neck, and even through his shirt Nick could feel them pierce his skin. Nick struggled, but Monroe only bit harder, bearing down on him with all of his weight, making it impossible for him to move, think, breathe. Nick eventually ceased struggling, but still Monroe remained clamped onto him, another growl issuing from within him, warning Nick of the futility of any attempt to toss the blutbad off.
Nick could now feel Monroe’s hard-on, thick and insistent against his hip, and he suddenly understood. He’d taken on a jagerbar, and it had not gone well, and this meant he’d crossed a line somehow, had activated some inner protective pack instinct in Monroe that he had only glimpsed before. Monroe was acting out, needed to express his dominance or control, and Nick knew there was going to be no reasoning with him. Not now. So he physically schooled his body to relax against the larger man, letting his head drop back and baring his throat, and at last Monroe released him.
Nick closed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, “Monroe -“
But Monroe was not ready to talk; instead he put his hands on Nick’s shoulders and spun him around, slammed him back up against the door. His eyes were flat, burning red, and the expression on his face made any other words Nick might have to say die in his throat. He had his fists clenched in the collar of Nick’s shirt, and suddenly tore it open, the buttons making tic-tic-tic noises as they hit the hardwood floor and bounced away. Monroe’s left hand fell to Nick’s jeans and tugged at the wasitband; Nick’s hips pumped forward involuntarily and he gasped. So this was what he’d need. Fine.
Monroe undid the buttons, crouched down, pulling the jeans to the floor as he did, then stood quickly, towering over Nick and breathing heavily. The cool air of the house settled against Nick’s bared chest and groin like a momentary whisper, but when he looked up and into Monroe’s eyes, tried to establish some sort of connection with him, the blutbad’s focus was anywhere but Nick’s eyes. Soon his hands were in Nick’s hair, clawing, clutching, and then his mouth was covering Nick’s, the kiss punishing, bruising, a collision of teeth and lips and tongue. Nick pulled his chin down, trying to take a breath, but Monroe’s tongue followed, filling his mouth, taking control. Nick’s dick jumped as Monroe’s thigh pressed between his legs, and his lover released him slightly, only to kiss a rough trail down his throat. He growled as he sucked at the deep bite there; Nick could feel the slide of Monroe’s lips against the slick blood that had been spilled there, felt a trail of it oozing sluggishly down his shoulder. Monroe pulled back suddenly, and there was blood on his lips, in his beard.
Nick recoiled at the sight, but Monroe kissed him roughly again and he was soon tasted the coppery tang of his own blood. He tried to speak, palms on Monroe’s chest, but the blutbad grabbed both his wrists and raised them above his head, slamming them against the wall and holding them there, fast, with his left hand. He reached down and undid his own pants with his other hand then, and Nick realized his breathing was now coming in ragged, whimpering gasps.
“Hey,” Nick said gently, trying once more to get Monroe to look at him, but Monroe kissed him roughly instead, his eyes closing as he began to thrust his hips against Nick desperately, his cock pushing clumsily against Nick’s . “Monroe!” Nick said into his mouth, and finally managed to turn his own head away. When Monroe opened his eyes again, they were back to their usual brown, and swimming suddenly with tears. He braced his hands on the wall on either side of Nick.
“I’m sorry, so sorry,” Monroe moaned.
“It’s OK,” Nick said, leaning forward, pressing his forehead against his collarbone. “Shh, it’s OK.”
“No.” And even as he said it, Nick could hear the desperation and fear in his voice, feel the strain and tension in his back as he finally held himself in check.
“Come on,” Nick murmured, pulling Monroe’s head to his shoulder and holding it there. “Come on, come on,” he whispered into his ear, knowing something must be done to relieve the tension, and letting his hand drift down between them. When he took Monroe’s cock in his hand he gasped, but was soon pumping against Nick’s hand, his movements almost subdued now, though no less urgent.
Now when Monroe placed all of his weight on Nick, it was not at all to control him, but because he couldn’t quite hold himself up. “I gotcha,” Nick said, bracing his legs even as he jerked Monroe harder. “I gotcha, baby. Come on.”
With a shudder and a gasp, Monroe came in his hand at last, his head buried in Nick’s shoulder as he sobbed through it. When it was over, Nick eased the trembling man to the floor, where he sat with him against the wall, stroking his hair and making calming noises.
“You know, this over-protective, pack leader mentality of yours has got to stop,” Nick said gently when the shaking had stopped.
Monroe stiffened. “That jagerbar would have killed you.”
“That’s funny, because it looked like she was about to kill you.”
“And so you step in front of her?!” Monroe sat up. “That was supremely stupid, Nick, even for you.”
“That’s not fair,” Nick protested, but Monroe talked right over him. “When I saw her throw you across that clearing, like you were nothing - less than nothing - I thought that was the end, Nick. I thought she’d killed you.”
“I know-”
“But I don’t think you understand. I don’t think you know what it means to me to see you in danger all the time. ”
“This is my job, Monroe, I’m a cop. And it’s also now my destiny or whatever bullshit term you want to use, because I’m a Grimm on top of that, and I’m not going to shy away from fulfilling either obligation. I think you know me better by now than to ask me to do otherwise.” Monroe scoffed and rolled his eyes, but Nick took his chin in his hand and forced him to look at him. “And did it occur to you at all what seeing 500 pounds of pissed off bear coming after you does to me?” he asked quietly. “It would kill me if you were hurt, absolutely kill me.”
Something in Monroe softened then, and he relaxed. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head, shuddered. “I guess we both have to deal with our over-protective sides.”
“Well, some of us have thousands of years worth of evolution to contend with, so slip-ups are to be expected, I suppose,” Nick said with a smile and a shrug. He winced as the movement pulled at his shoulder.
“Shit, I’m sorry about that,” Monroe said, “look at what I did to you.” He thumbed at the tender flesh gently.
“I’ve got worse things to contend with, like the hits my wardrobe has been taking.” He got to his knees and struggled to stand, hampered by the ruined pants tangled around his ankles. “Hey, help me up?”
Monroe rose and pulled Nick to his feet effortlessly, and Nick was reminded again how strong his lover was, and how lucky he was to have all of that on his side. He winced again. “I think that jagerbar may have cracked a few ribs. But you - you maybe need to go wash up some. You look like an extra from an episode of True Blood or something.”
Monroe put a hand to his face, felt the congealing blood coating his beard, and flinched.
“The biting is sexy, the blood - not so much next time, OK?”
“Sure, sure.”” Monroe nodded. “Wait, there can be a next time?”
----
Thank you for your time.