Drifting In Shadows, Waiting For The Storm

14.

The weekend turned out to be nasty weatherwise. Sleet and hail made it uncomfortable to be outside, and the iced over roads annihilated all thoughts of driving anywhere.
Not that either man wanted to.

Nick lay on the couch, comfortably watching a game, and Monroe was wrapping up two client projects to mail them the next time the weather let up and he could go to the post office.

"Could you draw me a picture of the regnant you saw?"

The sudden question had the blutbad look up from taping closed a box that contained a very expensive piece of antique clockwork.

"Why?"

Nick turned his head to look at him, the pale features thoughtful.

"Maybe he is in the books. Maybe under another name, I looked at so many different creatures, maybe someone drew him and just labeled him differently."

"Nick, I can barely draw a believable stick figure!"

"Then tell me."

"You can draw?"

He shrugged. "Seems to be a Grimm talent."

Monroe huffed a little laugh and put the box aside. "You have many."

"And you haven't complained so far," came the sly reply.

The blutbad walked over to the couch and, moving so lithely and fast it was clearly not human, straddled the supine man. Nick laughed and answered the kiss, an arm around the broad shoulder, pulling Monroe to him.

"You really want to see my art?" he teased.

"Hm, yeah." Nick reached up with his other hand, caressing his face. "Among other things."

"What does it take to sex you out?" came the grousing complaint.

"I'm young and virile. Get used to it."

Nick yelped when Monroe playfully nipped at his neck, tiny pinpricks of fangs showing. He bared his throat a little, just enough to get an interesting sheen of red, and the Grimm responded, eyes slate gray and challenging.

Monroe rumbled softly, brows drawn down, eyes intense. He pinned Nick's hands and attacked his mouth again.

Screw the drawing, Nick thought dizzily as he arched into the kiss. This could wait.

He couldn't.

The kiss turned into a battle of wills, for dominance, for more. Nick had grown pretty adept at sliding his tongue past the sharp teeth and the prickle of fangs was rather thrilling. He mock-struggled against the hold Monroe had on him and it resulted in an annoyed growl.

He grinned, rising to the bait, to the challenge, and the red eyes flared brighter. Nick raised his brows, a silent invitation and question in one, and Monroe shuddered.

"I want you," he said out loud.

It was like the final blessing and the blutbad took his mouth in a rough kiss, pushing forward, demanding, claiming.