Drifting In Shadows, Waiting For The Storm

10.

Finally they came up for air, panting. Monroe's hands were resting on the soft material of the washed-out jeans, holding them very close together. His fingers played their own little melody as they caressed the firm behind.

Mine!

The possessive thoughts rose unbidden and he closed his eyes, trying to even out his breathing, trying to actually breathe.

Slow down, Monroe told himself. One wrong step and things would blow up craptastically in his face. Keep it together, control, steady control. Don't lose it. He's not a blutbad. He wouldn't be able to take it.

"You're thinking too much," the Grimm told him, a smile in his voice.

"You're not giving this enough thought," he replied, voice choked.

"Really? Because you're a man or because you're a blutbad?"

Monroe shuddered.

"I'm bisexual, Monroe. Have always been. Juliette knew. I loved her. Like you loved Angelina. I didn't want a man in all that time, though I looked. Like women look at other men and can appreciate them. Or men can appreciate a good-looking woman." Nick's voice was intense. "Juliette knew my preferences for both genders. I never made a secret of it. I could have fallen for another woman, but you… I fell for you. This started a while back and it has only grown. And don't you think I haven't read about blutbaden?"

"The books," he said numbly, still trying to wrap his head around the 'I fell for you' part of Nick's speech.

"Yep. Quite detailed books."

"Books can't tell you everything, Nick.

He fell for me. For me!

Monroe was unable to understand that. By human standards he wasn't drop-dead gorgeous. Angelina had been all over him for reasons only another blutbad would understand and he wouldn't have been a hot-blooded blutbad if he hadn't been all over her. She was a strong, beautiful woman. Any blutbad would want to have her.

She had chosen him.

Now Nick had told him in so many words just the same.

He fell for me, Monroe thought again.

It was as good as the three-words-confession to a blutbad.

He ran his hands over Nick's body. It was wonderful, intoxicating, and it was bittersweet. It was purely Nick in his openness, his silky feel, where he brushed over exposed skin, his delightful warmth, and it was his pain and desperation. The scent of the Grimm invaded his senses, made him crave more.

Crap, this wasn't going well. This was taking a unfuckingbelievable fast flying leap out the window!

"I'm not that naïve. I'm not that easy. This… I made up my mind about it a while ago, decided that if I got the chance, I'd take it. I want you, Monroe."

"Nick…"

"I know what you are. I've seen you wolf out. And I'm still here."

He swallowed. Of course Nick knew. The Grimm knew. And he had no idea what Grimms had collected about his kind in the past. Someone could have written down the Mating Habits of the Wild Blutbad in Nature and drawn little porny pics, too.