FIC: "Marking His Territory." Grimm. Eddie Monroe/Nick Burckhardt. NC-17.
Title: Marking His Territory
Fandom: Grimm
Pairing: Eddie Monroe/Nick Burckhardt
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Even though he knows he shouldn't, Monroe can't help wanting to hunt.
Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters or world. Just play in them for amusement, not profit.
Notes: Written for yuletide 2011 for HYPERfocused. The fic is also posted to the AO3 here.
Monroe’s hands shook as he swept the splinters of the shattered cuckoo clock into a pile that went into the trash. The clock could have been the one that his great grandmother brought over with her from Germany, the one that would call out the hours as she spun tales of wild forests and mountains rough with rock and sparkling with snow. Maybe it he’d been holding it in his hands, he could have calmed the rage, could have stopped himself before destroying it. Instinct was a difficult burden to fight. Some times more than others.
Sometimes it mattered more than others.
If he’d been able to center himself around Angelina, Hap would still alive. He’d scrubbed the entry a half-dozen times, but the scent of Hap’s blood still lingered. Monroe sat heavily on the sofa, nursing a bottle of beer. All it took was a few swallows of hard liquor, the scent of a female’s desire, and the challenge she threw in his face, and he’d run off eager as any dog who slipped his master’s leash.
And it felt so fucking good. That was the hell of it. Shedding conscience and civilization, letting go to hunt and fuck with abandon. Was he pounding into Angelina from behind, making her whimper and growl while the Bauerschwein put bullets into Hap’s chest?
Monroe put the beer down as his fist clenched around the bottle. He didn’t want to wind up picking glass shards from his hand if it shattered in his grip. He leaned his head back against the sofa. He wasn’t sure who he hated more: Angelina for tempting out his Blutbad side or himself for giving in to her.
A quick series of knocks on the door had him tense, then groan. He didn’t have many visitors, and it was a bit late for polite company, which only left one possibility.
“Nick.” Monroe said the name even before he’d fully opened to door to see the Grimm fidgeting on his porch. “Dude, this is not a good time.”
“I know. I know.” Nick held up his hands, and then somehow managed to squeeze into the house, even thought Monroe thought he was doing a pretty good job of blocking the doorway.
“Sure. Come on in. Make yourself comfortable. Would you like a beer? Some bratwurst?”
Nick smiled as if the offer were genuine. “A beer would be great. Thanks. I’ll grab one.” He headed toward the kitchen.
Monroe sighed. Having a Grimm with shaky boundary issues make himself at home in your home was not necessarily a good thing. Though it did beat having said Grimm trying to skin you for a rug.
By the time Monroe got to the kitchen, Nick had the fridge open. He was bent over, no doubt considering his choice in beer, while Monroe was considering how nicely Nick’s jeans hugged his ass.
“This is awesome, Monroe. I seriously owe you.”
The soft growl that Nick was babbling over startled Monroe almost as much as the way his cock twitched and stirred as he thought about sinking his teeth into the nape of Nick’s neck.
“Our fridge has been fucked up for days. And Juliette called some repair guy with truly staggering butt-crack cleavage to work on it, and he was.... Ummm....”
Oh, this wasn’t good. The part of Monroe’s brain still capable of higher reasoning was fading as his body tensed. Nick would be tighter than Angelina. Monroe wondered if forcing Nick to surrender would feel as sweet.
“...Well, not the sort of person who felt comfortable working for...someone like me.” Nick straightened, beamed at the cold bottle of beer. His smile faded as he saw Monroe’s face shift. “Monroe, dude....”
The bottle slipped from Nick’s fingers, shattered on the floor as Monroe grabbed him, shoved him against the wall. He wrapped an arm around Nick’s waist, holding him, pulling that tight ass back so he could rub against it.
“Monroe, what the fuck?” Nick shoved against him. “Get the hell off of me.”
“Shut up.” His fingers itched to twitched as he reached for Nick’s fly, jerking his hand back to go for Nick’s gun instead. He freed it, slid it along the counter, out of both of their reaches.
Monroe growled, low and dangerous, before nipping sharply at the nape of Nick’s neck. Nick yelped, then struggled in earnest as Monroe tugged his jeans open and shoved them and his underwear down. He leaned in to breathe in the scent rising from Nick’s skin. “You smell good.”
Nick shook his head, jerked his hips back when Monroe’s hand closed around his cock. He made a soft sound deep in his throat as that nudged Monroe’s erection into crack of his ass.
“That’s right. Surrender.” Monroe grinned, stroked Nick’s cock, which twitched several times, struggled to harden. He raised a hand to his mouth, slicked up a finger, then slipped it between Nick’s cheeks and into his heat. Fuck, but he was hot. Hot and so fucking tight. It wasn’t until Monroe’s finger curled, rubbed against the right spot that Nick’s cock began to harden. Monroe kept his brushes light, teasing, slow. He liked feeling Nick melt into them, struggle to get free, then melt again.
This was as good as chasing Angelina through the park, catching her, wrestling, then letting her free to continue the chase. It was the same game. Catch, release. He wondered if Nick realized that his worked his hips, made soft, needy sounds when Monroe was rubbing.
He slid two more fingers into Nick, groaning at the jolt of satisfaction he felt as Nick whimpered. He felt Nick’s pulse hammering in his neck when he brushed his lips against it.
“I’m going to fuck you.” The words came out with a soft growl. Even though Nick shook his head, his back had arched, belly lowered to take Monroe’s thrusts. “Have you ever been fucked up the ass before, Nick?” He groaned as Nick shook his head, tightened around his fingers. “Good. I’ll make sure you remember it.”
They were both going to. Monroe was certain of it in a way he was certain of few other things in his life. Tomorrow, Pilates might not be enough to tame the need to run. His music might not be enough to soothe the urge to hunt. His collections of treasures and trinkets might not be enough to remind him of his humanity might.
But tomorrow, he’d still smell Nick on his skin, still harden at the thought of the desperate cry Nick made when he thrust into him that first time.
Monroe realized, even as Nick struggled slightly, he should slow down, but a dark need uncurled in his gut. He’s a Grimm. He can take it. He bit down hard on Nick’s shoulder, shivered at the flash of satisfaction he felt as Nick’s body tightened. He will take it.
Deeper. Monroe fought to get deeper with each thrust. He wrapped his arm more tightly around Nick’s waist to pull him back into his thrusts. That must have changed the angle enough to have Nick shuddering and groaning and gripping Monroe tight enough-and fuck was that ever nice--for him to want to make sure there was never a time Nick didn’t smell like him, to make sure anyone who thought about intruding on his territory would know to stay away. To make sure that Nick always remembered who he belonged to.
As Monroe’s thrusts grew more urgent, Nick started making startled cries that sounded like equal parts pleasure, pain, and surprise at how good both felt.
“You’re so hot. Hot and tight.” Monroe nipped at Nick’s neck, murmured in his ear. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t move, can’t sit, can’t breathe without feeling me inside you.”
Monroe couldn’t say if it was the words or the fucking or both that make Nick stiffen as his hips jerked. Twice. Monroe groaned as Nick tightened around him. His cock twitched as he breathed in the scent of Nick’s come, Even though Monroe wanted to let Nick pull him over with him, he gritted his teeth, fucked him harder until Nick was shuddering, choking on broken cries.
Mine Monroe snarled. “You’re mine.” He wasn’t even sure he spoke aloud until Nick nodded, and if it wasn’t for his sensitive hearing, he never would have heard Nick’s whisper.
“Yours....”
Heat flashed through Monroe’s body as his balls tightened. He just had time to bury himself in Nick before he came.
Monroe leaned into Nick, holding him trapped between himself and the wall. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. Long enough for Nick to stop shivering, for his own cock to soften inside Nick. Long enough for them both to be uncomfortable, and still he didn’t want to move.
Nick was quiet, too quiet. No babbling. No idiot questions. Just silence.
Oh, hell. I’ve fucked up. Monroe was reasonably sure that “fucked up” didn’t even begin to cover situations like this. Was there a tactful way to say, I’m sorry. I didn’t plan for us to spend this time with various parts of my anatomy up your ass. Hey, let’s have another beer.?
Are you going to leave too, or just Grimm-out on me and make sure this never happens again? wasn’t much better as a conversation starter, and honestly, Monroe wasn’t sure which he was more scared of: Nick’s words or his silence.
Nick groaned softly as he squirmed, turned to face Monroe. Spikes of sweaty hair clung to his face. His skin was flushed; his eyes, dark. His arms wrapped loosely around Monroe’s waist as he rested his head on Monroe’s shoulder. His breath was warm against Monroe’s neck.
Fuck. Monroe’s arms tightened possessively around Nick, who moaned softly. The soft growl that rose in Monroe’s throat more for the dark outside his house and the creatures who called it home.
This Grimm is mine.
Fandom: Grimm
Pairing: Eddie Monroe/Nick Burckhardt
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Even though he knows he shouldn't, Monroe can't help wanting to hunt.
Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters or world. Just play in them for amusement, not profit.
Notes: Written for yuletide 2011 for HYPERfocused. The fic is also posted to the AO3 here.
Monroe’s hands shook as he swept the splinters of the shattered cuckoo clock into a pile that went into the trash. The clock could have been the one that his great grandmother brought over with her from Germany, the one that would call out the hours as she spun tales of wild forests and mountains rough with rock and sparkling with snow. Maybe it he’d been holding it in his hands, he could have calmed the rage, could have stopped himself before destroying it. Instinct was a difficult burden to fight. Some times more than others.
Sometimes it mattered more than others.
If he’d been able to center himself around Angelina, Hap would still alive. He’d scrubbed the entry a half-dozen times, but the scent of Hap’s blood still lingered. Monroe sat heavily on the sofa, nursing a bottle of beer. All it took was a few swallows of hard liquor, the scent of a female’s desire, and the challenge she threw in his face, and he’d run off eager as any dog who slipped his master’s leash.
And it felt so fucking good. That was the hell of it. Shedding conscience and civilization, letting go to hunt and fuck with abandon. Was he pounding into Angelina from behind, making her whimper and growl while the Bauerschwein put bullets into Hap’s chest?
Monroe put the beer down as his fist clenched around the bottle. He didn’t want to wind up picking glass shards from his hand if it shattered in his grip. He leaned his head back against the sofa. He wasn’t sure who he hated more: Angelina for tempting out his Blutbad side or himself for giving in to her.
A quick series of knocks on the door had him tense, then groan. He didn’t have many visitors, and it was a bit late for polite company, which only left one possibility.
“Nick.” Monroe said the name even before he’d fully opened to door to see the Grimm fidgeting on his porch. “Dude, this is not a good time.”
“I know. I know.” Nick held up his hands, and then somehow managed to squeeze into the house, even thought Monroe thought he was doing a pretty good job of blocking the doorway.
“Sure. Come on in. Make yourself comfortable. Would you like a beer? Some bratwurst?”
Nick smiled as if the offer were genuine. “A beer would be great. Thanks. I’ll grab one.” He headed toward the kitchen.
Monroe sighed. Having a Grimm with shaky boundary issues make himself at home in your home was not necessarily a good thing. Though it did beat having said Grimm trying to skin you for a rug.
By the time Monroe got to the kitchen, Nick had the fridge open. He was bent over, no doubt considering his choice in beer, while Monroe was considering how nicely Nick’s jeans hugged his ass.
“This is awesome, Monroe. I seriously owe you.”
The soft growl that Nick was babbling over startled Monroe almost as much as the way his cock twitched and stirred as he thought about sinking his teeth into the nape of Nick’s neck.
“Our fridge has been fucked up for days. And Juliette called some repair guy with truly staggering butt-crack cleavage to work on it, and he was.... Ummm....”
Oh, this wasn’t good. The part of Monroe’s brain still capable of higher reasoning was fading as his body tensed. Nick would be tighter than Angelina. Monroe wondered if forcing Nick to surrender would feel as sweet.
“...Well, not the sort of person who felt comfortable working for...someone like me.” Nick straightened, beamed at the cold bottle of beer. His smile faded as he saw Monroe’s face shift. “Monroe, dude....”
The bottle slipped from Nick’s fingers, shattered on the floor as Monroe grabbed him, shoved him against the wall. He wrapped an arm around Nick’s waist, holding him, pulling that tight ass back so he could rub against it.
“Monroe, what the fuck?” Nick shoved against him. “Get the hell off of me.”
“Shut up.” His fingers itched to twitched as he reached for Nick’s fly, jerking his hand back to go for Nick’s gun instead. He freed it, slid it along the counter, out of both of their reaches.
Monroe growled, low and dangerous, before nipping sharply at the nape of Nick’s neck. Nick yelped, then struggled in earnest as Monroe tugged his jeans open and shoved them and his underwear down. He leaned in to breathe in the scent rising from Nick’s skin. “You smell good.”
Nick shook his head, jerked his hips back when Monroe’s hand closed around his cock. He made a soft sound deep in his throat as that nudged Monroe’s erection into crack of his ass.
“That’s right. Surrender.” Monroe grinned, stroked Nick’s cock, which twitched several times, struggled to harden. He raised a hand to his mouth, slicked up a finger, then slipped it between Nick’s cheeks and into his heat. Fuck, but he was hot. Hot and so fucking tight. It wasn’t until Monroe’s finger curled, rubbed against the right spot that Nick’s cock began to harden. Monroe kept his brushes light, teasing, slow. He liked feeling Nick melt into them, struggle to get free, then melt again.
This was as good as chasing Angelina through the park, catching her, wrestling, then letting her free to continue the chase. It was the same game. Catch, release. He wondered if Nick realized that his worked his hips, made soft, needy sounds when Monroe was rubbing.
He slid two more fingers into Nick, groaning at the jolt of satisfaction he felt as Nick whimpered. He felt Nick’s pulse hammering in his neck when he brushed his lips against it.
“I’m going to fuck you.” The words came out with a soft growl. Even though Nick shook his head, his back had arched, belly lowered to take Monroe’s thrusts. “Have you ever been fucked up the ass before, Nick?” He groaned as Nick shook his head, tightened around his fingers. “Good. I’ll make sure you remember it.”
They were both going to. Monroe was certain of it in a way he was certain of few other things in his life. Tomorrow, Pilates might not be enough to tame the need to run. His music might not be enough to soothe the urge to hunt. His collections of treasures and trinkets might not be enough to remind him of his humanity might.
But tomorrow, he’d still smell Nick on his skin, still harden at the thought of the desperate cry Nick made when he thrust into him that first time.
Monroe realized, even as Nick struggled slightly, he should slow down, but a dark need uncurled in his gut. He’s a Grimm. He can take it. He bit down hard on Nick’s shoulder, shivered at the flash of satisfaction he felt as Nick’s body tightened. He will take it.
Deeper. Monroe fought to get deeper with each thrust. He wrapped his arm more tightly around Nick’s waist to pull him back into his thrusts. That must have changed the angle enough to have Nick shuddering and groaning and gripping Monroe tight enough-and fuck was that ever nice--for him to want to make sure there was never a time Nick didn’t smell like him, to make sure anyone who thought about intruding on his territory would know to stay away. To make sure that Nick always remembered who he belonged to.
As Monroe’s thrusts grew more urgent, Nick started making startled cries that sounded like equal parts pleasure, pain, and surprise at how good both felt.
“You’re so hot. Hot and tight.” Monroe nipped at Nick’s neck, murmured in his ear. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t move, can’t sit, can’t breathe without feeling me inside you.”
Monroe couldn’t say if it was the words or the fucking or both that make Nick stiffen as his hips jerked. Twice. Monroe groaned as Nick tightened around him. His cock twitched as he breathed in the scent of Nick’s come, Even though Monroe wanted to let Nick pull him over with him, he gritted his teeth, fucked him harder until Nick was shuddering, choking on broken cries.
Mine Monroe snarled. “You’re mine.” He wasn’t even sure he spoke aloud until Nick nodded, and if it wasn’t for his sensitive hearing, he never would have heard Nick’s whisper.
“Yours....”
Heat flashed through Monroe’s body as his balls tightened. He just had time to bury himself in Nick before he came.
Monroe leaned into Nick, holding him trapped between himself and the wall. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. Long enough for Nick to stop shivering, for his own cock to soften inside Nick. Long enough for them both to be uncomfortable, and still he didn’t want to move.
Nick was quiet, too quiet. No babbling. No idiot questions. Just silence.
Oh, hell. I’ve fucked up. Monroe was reasonably sure that “fucked up” didn’t even begin to cover situations like this. Was there a tactful way to say, I’m sorry. I didn’t plan for us to spend this time with various parts of my anatomy up your ass. Hey, let’s have another beer.?
Are you going to leave too, or just Grimm-out on me and make sure this never happens again? wasn’t much better as a conversation starter, and honestly, Monroe wasn’t sure which he was more scared of: Nick’s words or his silence.
Nick groaned softly as he squirmed, turned to face Monroe. Spikes of sweaty hair clung to his face. His skin was flushed; his eyes, dark. His arms wrapped loosely around Monroe’s waist as he rested his head on Monroe’s shoulder. His breath was warm against Monroe’s neck.
Fuck. Monroe’s arms tightened possessively around Nick, who moaned softly. The soft growl that rose in Monroe’s throat more for the dark outside his house and the creatures who called it home.
This Grimm is mine.