Disclaimer: I don't own "Grimm" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: I recently got into "Grimm" and fell in love. This was mostly inspired by season one & two. Honestly, I am not sure how this happened. I was originally writing something about Monroe saving Nick and then this turned into an entire thing were Nick is honestly probably dying and still manages to have time to be a sexual deviant, discovering stuff about himself while Monroe is trying to make sure his Grimm doesn't die.

Warnings: bamf!monroe, injury, blood, gore, violence, animal traits, blood drinking, scenting, language, flirting, hurt and comfort, frottage, mild sexual content.

Gloaming

Blood welled up between his fingers as he pressed down on the wound. Sucking in a pained hiss as he stumbled backward. Knife falling out of his hand as the Gurtrungmbarg's venom started working almost instantly. Shaving off any precious advantage they'd gained in the ambush as the wesen hissed. Licking his bloody fangs as he slithered forward, about to-

Monroe's enraged roar echoed suddenly off to his right. Blurring past him as he stumbled and fell on his ass in the dirt. Trying to keep his eyes focused on the writhing mass of Blutbadden and Gurtrungmbarg as they crackled saplings and flung sod and undergrowth in all directions.

He'd never seen Monroe lose control before. He'd seen the aftermath of the goons that'd tried to kill Monroe and his Aunt Marie in the hospital basement. But this was different. He was seeing it, first hand. Monroe even looked different. He was woged out, but this time his clothes were straining to hold him. Claws and fangs sharper than he'd ever seen them - canines so long they slipped passed his lips.

Monroe skidded in the dirt, swiping out with his claws when the Gurtrungmbarg's tail whistled through the air above his head. Watching Monroe's face ripple as his claws found their mark. Tugging him forward with the force behind the tail-swipe as the Gurtrungmbarg hissed furiously. Dark blood staining it's scales and dripping from Monroe's claws as the blutbad ducked out of a range again, dragging strips of scaly-skin stuck in his claws across the dew-slick grass.

He tried to say something. Maybe Monroe's name. But he didn't know anything had left his lips until familiar red eyes turned towards him. His vision blurred, then refocused. Shaking away the double vision. Trying to find purchase in the crumbling soil as he struggled to drag himself out of range.

But then Monroe was there- towering above him. Protecting him. Shoulders hunching threateningly as he planted his feet and snarled challenge. Looking decidedly animal as the blutbad bared his teeth in a vicious growl and lunged the same moment the Gurtrungmbarg did. Burying his teeth in the scaly wesen's neck and refusing to let go. Slowly crushing its windpipe as the big snake lashed blows in desperation across the blutbad's back. But Monroe didn't move. He didn't even make a sound, save for the vicious- bone-deep snarl that turned muffled, slick with blood and venom the deeper his fangs sunk into the Gurtrungmbarg's flesh.

The crack of the snake's neck breaking made him smile dizzily. Proud in a lush, overly familiar way as Monroe howled out a victorious note. Something that kind of made him want to crawl into the blutbad's lap and stay there forever. Wherever he was.

Gravity coughed. Hiccupping strangely underneath him as he rolled onto his belly. Pressing his forehead into the loamy soil as he tried to stop the world from spinning. Injured arm burning as he kept it tucked against his ribs. Tasting the mould of last years green on his tongue as he dragged his head to the side. Breathing labored and thready. So grateful he was finally laying down he decided he never wanted to move again.

The ground was good.

Yeah. Good.

There was even space for Monroe to-

His eyes drifted closed, only to open them again with a jerk when a spray of dirt splattered across his skin as the blutbad skidded to a stop in front of him. Gripping him by the jacket collar and manhandling him upright as his head lolled sloppily.

"I told you to wait for me," Monroe growled, blood smeared thick down his face. A heady counterpoint to the bits of flesh stuck underneath his claws. Filling the air with an oily stink that threatened to turn his stomach. But instead of puking all over Monroe's jacket, all he felt was appreciative awe. Ignoring the way the blutbad was sniffing madly, zeroing in his wounded arm. Clawed fingers peeling his away gently to get a better look.

"That was hot," he commented loosely. Because it seemed important to show his appreciation somehow. Tongue making a mess of the syllables as the poison slushed thick through his blood stream. Remembering belatedly that it did something kind of horrifying to your insides if you couldn't flush your system with the anti-toxin. Which not even the trailer had been able to provide. "You saved me, M'nroe."

Something told him he should be more concerned about that part. The one where all the racks of potions had come up empty and there was nothing but a vague description in the books. Instead, he reached up and brushed his thumb clumsily along the ridge of Monroe's pronounced brow. Still mostly woged out as the blutbad blinked down at him. His other form still managing to communicate surprise before the man shook the shift away. Save for his eyes. They stayed the same color as the blood still slick between his teeth.

He liked that.

Another blutbad would have probably licked it away. Growling in appreciative submission and interest until they were either chased off or given permission to go further.

His head lolled. Monroe had killed to protect him - to save him. And if he'd been able to move more than his hands at this point, there was a part of him that could actually see the allure. Wondering if Monroe would appreciate the gesture or if that was even something he wanted...from him.

Or maybe that was the venom talking.

It was honestly hard to tell these days.
He was supposed to feel guilty about that too, he figured. Monroe worked hard to stay on the wagon. He'd read everything his Aunt's trailer had on blutbadden - twice. So, he had a good idea just how much self-control Monroe had to use each and every day just to keep to his principals.

He also knew, if not belatedly, why it had taken Monroe so long to warm up to him in the beginning. He'd barged into the man's life and home and made himself a fixture. Their lives growing so dependent on the other that it hadn't taken long for Juliette to tell him to choose. He hadn't said anything. But that'd apparently been enough. And Monroe had been there too. Texting him at odd hours, just because he knew he was awake, working on a case or staring at the ceiling. Keeping him fed when he forgot to eat. Until, eventually, enough of his things made it into Monroe's guest room for him to finally put the house on the market and move into the room across from Monroe's that felt more like home than anything probably ever had.

"Nick? Hey, look at me. Oh, shit. Did she get you? The venom is- Nick? Nick?! Fuck!"

Things got weird after that.

Or at least weirder than normal.

But like a distant, if not sloppily overenthusiastic observer to what was going on around him, he just took it as it came. Completely unconcerned when Monroe used his claws to shred his jacket and shirt sleeves into fluttery strips of blood-slick fabric. Cradling him against his chest as the familiar sound of frantic babbling crested like a series of extremely comforting waves. Softening him until Monroe was the only thing in the world that could possibly keep him upright. Safe.

He was actively aware of the moment Monroe looked down at him, eyes red. Saying something about getting the poison out. Features shifting as the man's nose drifted down the inner of his wrist. Looking almost like he was about to-

"Nick, I'm sorry- I have to. Don't hate me. Please don't hate me, but- Oh god. I can do this. I can do this. I have to do this. I-"

He cried out, back arcing, when Monroe's fangs broke new ground. Warm lips sealing around the wound as the man's throat convulsed through a swallow. Then another. And another. And-

He groaned.

First it was in pain.

But that faded pretty quickly.

Because somehow he could feel pleasure curling in his gut. Stirring sluggishly as Monroe's grip on him tightened. Growling audibly as he deepened the bite, swallowing every other breath. Eyes tightly closed like even now he was holding himself back. Keeping his darker parts leashed as he made what was perhaps the most meaningful sacrifice he could think of. Risking everything he'd worked so hard to be to save his life.

Again.

He hummed deep in his throat. Squirming lightly as he imagined what those lips could do around his cock rather than the wound. Thoughts giddy and spiralling out on him as Monroe made a whimpering sound and inhaled audibly. Scenting the air and looking down at him with blown pupils like he could tell exactly what he was thinking.

He could come like this, untouched and half-hard. It wasn't as embarrassing a realization as he figured it should be. Body too busy trying not to die to fully commit to anything other than breathing. No matter how strangely good it felt.

He watched Monroe through sleepy slits. Lids heavy and warm as a trickle of blood beaded at the corner of the blutbad's lips. The entire thing host to an airy, dream-like quality that made even the dusty twilight seem magical somehow.

Distantly, a passage from one of the crumbling old books in the trailer came back to him. Something about blutbadden being immune to most toxins. With their saliva having enzymes to disinfect and aid in the healing process. A reason why many would lick their wounds to clean and heal them faster. Often negating the need for medical attention entirely. Which could explain what Monroe was doing. Probably.

Huh.

He figured his ancestors had never seen that particular twist coming.

A blutbad saving a Grimm.

Now that was his kind of fairy-tale.

Progressive, but still with a surprise twist to the ending.

Monroe ducked his head. Hiding himself in the crook of his elbow. Either unaware or unable to help himself from rutting into the plush of his ass as he drank from him. Filtering out the poison with every swallow. Coaxing it from spreading any further and swallowing it down like it was nothing.

'And yeah,' he thought muzzily, head spinning as he rocked his hips. Instinctively seeking friction but finding none. 'He wanted that too.'

Actually, it was more than that.

He wanted to see.

"Hey..." he murmured, scratching his hands through the blutbad's thick hair when it seemed like the man was slowing down. Pulling away slightly - as if to scent him - before dipping back down to the wound to take another half-dozen pulls. Tongue teasing the ragged edges of broken skin that'd long since gone numb. "M'nroe...hey?"

He smiled drowsily when Monroe finally looked at him. Human save for crimson eyes and a thick, canine tongue as the man lapped lazily at the wound. Like the poison was probably gone but he couldn't bring himself to pull away just yet.

He traced his thumb over the blood slick of the man's lips as Monroe canted his head. Murmuring encouragingly – without words – until Monroe was butting into the press of his hand with a needy, animal sound. Looking a little bit lost as he stared back at him with red eyes that were nothing more than blown pupils at this point. Cock hard as a rock as it pressed insistently into the small of his back.

"There you are..." he purred happily. "There you are."

He stretched. Not feeling as heavy as he had at the start, but still unsteady as Monroe rumbled out a warning sound. Grinning up at him as he ignored it and deliberately ground his ass into the man's lap. Teasing the hardness he found there with a singlemindedness he would have probably been ashamed of any other time.

"You did so good," he praised. Understanding in some level how serious this was. Knowing what kind of control it must have taken for Monroe to do what he'd done. He couldn't take that back. Nor could he help it if there were any consequences. But he could give him this. He wanted to give him this. Because maybe this was the right time after all. The moment he'd been waiting for to change everything or maybe just nothing.

"Let me give you what you need," he coaxed. "I want to... with you... please?"

Monroe made a high sound, deep in his throat. Shuddering above him like he was desperately trying to keep himself on that same tight leash he always did. Regardless of how much the circumstances had changed. Regardless of what he'd done for his sake. Regardless of the fact that he'd kind of had a thing for him for a long time and-

Oh.

Had he just said all that out loud?

He must have, because Monroe's eyes were wide. Nostrils flaring like he could scent out the truth- and honestly maybe he could.

"Nick, oh fuck- you're impossible," the man bit off, red eyes flashing. One hand coming down to rest on his hip. Innocent in its own right - to keep him still - only neither of them were about to let it stay that way.

He jiggled his hips invitingly, forcing the issue until Monroe snarled. Whining out a defeated, hungry sound before all that tightly wound self-control just snapped and suddenly he was surging up. Using him as the blutbad's cock rubbed against the crease of his cheeks. Man-handling him in every way he'd asked for as Monroe's hips bounced him into the press of his chest. Keeping him there, safe, as he chased his heat.

It didn't take long.

Both of them were too keyed up on adrenaline and need. A mess of fiction and heat through two sets of clothes as Monroe sunk his teeth into his shoulder and howled out an almost pained sounding note before coming in his own slacks. Lips rouged red with his blood as Monroe's head tipped back. The sharp of his teeth feral and animal in everyway he didn't know he liked until right then.

He hadn't come.

He doubted he could get hard if he tried.

But he still felt the same blanket of satisfaction settle around him regardless. Smiling into the forest canopy as Monroe's head thudded back against the tree they were using as a brace. Breathing hard.

"If you regret this in the morning I'm going to kill you," the man mumbled into his throat. Nibbling bites that would mark later, blooming into a string of bruises he'd get the mickey taken out of him for at the precinct.

He just grinned, figuring that was fair. Head lolling pleasantly against Monroe's chest as he blinked slowly. He'd never really appreciated just how solid Monroe was until he was the only thing holding him up. Feeling soothed on a level that had remarkably little to do with-

God, he was tired.

"Nick?"

Some time must have passed between then and now because when his eyes snapped open, Monroe was stuffing him into the back of his car. Eyes guilty and pained. Chin and throat still stained a pretty crimson as the overhead lights flicked on.

It was the kind of look that made him realize he couldn't leave it there. Not when Monroe was looking at him like that. He had to tell him. He had to make him understand what he felt so obviously. What he hoped the next few days, weeks, months, years might look like if only-

"It looks good on you..." he managed, voice hoarse like he'd been screaming.

"What does?" Monroe asked, reaching over him and buckling his seat-belt with a grunt. Jacket collar dragging pleasantly down his skin as his lashes fluttered at the feel. Strapping him in as the man's knuckles dragged against his lap. Wrestling with shoulder strap for a long, awkward moment as the pause came full circle.

"My blood."

He didn't know it was the right thing to say until Monroe exhaled sharply through his nose.

"Jesus Christ, Nick."

He just grinned up at him, loopy, light and pleased, as Monroe rolled his eyes and shook his head. Like he was impossible and stupid and he had no idea why he put up with it. Yet still dipping down to nuzzle his cheek anyway.

"We're talking about this later," the man told him firmly when he opened his mouth to protest. "After you've a couple dozen blood transfusions and maybe a CAT scan. What? Don't look at me like that. I just want to be sure."

He was released from the hospital the next day with twelve stitches, a sling and a little bottle of antibiotics. Monroe was there every step of the way. Shadowing him out the doors, into his car, up the porch steps, all the way into his bed. All with little to no explanation attached. Tucking him into sheets that smelled like him as he fell asleep before the man could even ask what he wanted for lunch.

He woke up later, surrounded by just over two hundred pounds of snoring, protective blutbad. Grinning up at the ceiling as Monroe woke up slowly, nosing into his throat and snorting unhappily at the lingering hospital smells. Shifting carefully until he was pressed along the line of his back. Curved around him as Monroe rumbled happily, sinking his nose in his hair. Too tired and blissed out to get self-conscious when he reached back and scratched his fingers down the man's scalp. Pulling out a deep sound that definitely wasn't human.

He just smiled into the pillows, stitches throbbing.

It took a while for him to actually get the right words out.

"I'm sorry," he rasped. Finally articulating everything he'd meant to say out in the woods. Because apparently words were hard when you were poisoned and possibly bleeding to death.

"Don't be," Monroe answered, feeling him lift his head as he kept his eyes on the wall across from him. Still at the tipping point between embracing the emotion for what it was and shying away from it. Part of him scared of the fall-out, even now. "I wouldn't have done anything different."

Something told him he wasn't just talking about tonight.

And yeah-

He closed his eyes. Not knowing he needed to hear exactly that until it was loose and circulating in the air above their heads. Freeing and pleasantly heavy. Thinking back to the moment in the woods where it'd all been so painfully- amazingly clear. Feeling a bit stupid for not seeing this was what they'd been working up to all this time.

"I meant it, you know. All of it."

The soft of Monroe's knuckles brushed gently over the sling before he answered. Mimicking the way his tongue had lapped at the wound the night before. Recreating the moment, only a thousand times better now that he was awake and fully present.

"I know, now go back to sleep."

He made a face into the pillow. Wanting to argue that he'd slept enough, but his lids still lowered anyway. Falling asleep as Monroe carded his fingers through his hair. Too tired to call him on the sleepy noises he huffed into his neck as Monroe followed him down.

He had a feeling the next few days were going to be interesting.

He couldn't wait.

A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think.

Reference:

- gloaming: twilight; dusk.