A/N: This is an addendum to Chapter 61 of my third story in the Sweaters Series: If You Want to Destroy My Sweater.
For it to make sense, don't read this until after you've read Chapter 61! Spoilers will occur otherwise!
This is a third-person narrative, which is different from my usual first-person POV. The problem with first-person is that it doesn't give the readers the opportunity to see into the minds of the other characters. While I enjoy writing from Renée's POV, it lacks depth sometimes, so I've come up with this as a solution. If it's received well, perhaps I may write more separate chapters like this in the future. Hopefully the readers like it. Guess we'll see!
After the Red Ropes Fell: Monroe's Story
(Addendum to Chapter 61 of If You want to Destroy My Sweater)
As Renée closed the bedroom door behind her, Monroe dug his hands into his hair, tugging roughly. How could he have been this stupid? Red rope. Red fucking rope! It was too overpowering. He'd hurt her really bad. And even though he'd bitten way too deeply, she'd held it all in. Why couldn't she just be open with him and tell him she was in pain? She wanted to make sure he was okay, that's why. She was so bent on everyone else's needs, she'd hold in her own no matter how bad it was.
He'd give anything if she'd just let him take care of her the way a mate was supposed to take care of his wounded. He owed her that much to make up for this kinda terrible mistake. But she was scared of him doing that; not that she'd really admit it, but the fear that had come off of her the last time was so intense, almost nauseating in fact, and that was with her trying to relax. Man… If only she'd tell him the truth and not hold it in. At least her songs gave him some insight... Well, the rare times when he actually knew the song. There were so many hip-hoppy, newish, rubbish songs she listened to. She knew them all and that still bewildered him. But the song she was humming in the shower, he knew that one well. 'Love Hurts.' He scoffed aloud. Well that was a slap in the face. But he deserved much more than just a slap tonight. He hated himself for letting the wolf take that much control. It was like he wasn't even there.
That was the price he paid for Wieder. That murky, blackout feeling when the true nature hits after it's been kept dormant for a while. It had only happened to him a handful of times, but each one was like he was losing himself. He recalled being out in the woods with Angelina; after taking her down, the rest was a blur in his mind. He vaguely remembered the rabbit and the sex. Okay, he remembered the sex pretty well, but the hunt and the rabbit... No, it was like he wasn't really there anymore. The wolf was there.
He thought back to Renée. Tonight was supposed to go so differently. Everything else was perfect. She had lain there, stretched out across his bed the way he'd imagined it so many times in his head; tied down, submissive, and all his to do whatever he pleased. Hell, he'd gotten hard just smelling her arousal when he'd brought the rope out to show her. She wanted it, and that she was even a little into his kinky side, well that made him hard now just thinking about it again.
But no, red was wrong. He thought he could control it, thought that with her it would be different. After the woods in Kentucky, he felt he had it under control. But the red was right in front of him, burning into him like a thousand flames, pushing the wolf inside him to take over. Sometimes his instincts were just too intense. There wasn't enough Pilates, or drugs, or routines to take it all away. Not that he really wanted to usually. But tonight... tonight he wanted to control it. Show Renée that all the hard work and the promises about getting back on track had really paid off. Fuck, if that plan hadn't been blown out of the water. And now the things he wanted to try the most, the things that they had slowly been building toward, well those were blown up, too. Monroe shook his head. He'd be lucky if they weren't back to standard missionary with how tonight had turned out. That was if she'd want to have sex anytime soon after all this. He rolled his eyes at his stupidity.
After pacing the bedroom floor, Monroe stopped and looked at the door. Maybe if he just went downstairs, took Renée in his arms, and apologized profusely a few times more, then maybe she'd try this again sometime. White rope, blue rope… Hell, any other color, and it would've been fine. Why did he push for red? Fuck...
Monroe listened downstairs. She was watching TV. He smelled wine. Of course she needed a drink after that. Hell, he needed a few bottles himself. Better just let her have some alone time. Monroe decided she was doing better with all this than he was making it out to be. She didn't run out of the house, screaming. Hell, it wouldn't have been the first time someone did that. But no, he wasn't like that anymore. Even with his kink, he'd still reformed himself that much, at least. Blutbad females could take what he had to offer full force, but humans were different. He'd learned that the hard way… Well, rather they'd learned the hard way. But it wasn't impossible to bed a human. It took a few tries to get it right, but he'd figured it out. Thank goodness he had it down pat by the time he'd met Renée. But then again, Renée wasn't entirely human and she had Grimm blood.
Although he didn't know much about Grimms, except for the horror stories growing up, he knew they were strong. Warriors. Coupled with her healing Waldgeist abilities, Renée was one tough chick. Probably tougher than she even knew. But with him she held back. He liked that. She remained submissive even though if she really wanted to, she could probably kick his ass. That baseball bat proved she had the strength to do it. Her swing sure had packed one hell of a punch. He rubbed his lower back. Yeah, if she wanted to, she could hurt him. Monroe chuckled. She sure knew how to kick him where it hurt. Ironically, Nick's stupid book about his kind actually came in handy tonight. Monroe hadn't been lying to her. He had barely stopped, but if she hadn't kicked him, then it was quite possible he wouldn't have. He shuddered at the realization.
Going with the red was fucking ballsy, even for him. But if he had hurt her… Dammit! He couldn't live with himself if he caused her any more harm. Maybe Renée was right, maybe he needed to curb back the biting. God, but her blood did something to him. It wasn't quite human, but nothing like any Wesen he remembered from before either. It was unique and it was damn good. Maybe it was the combination of both sides, or maybe Grimm blood just tasted sweeter, given that they were natural enemies. He'd always had a penchant for Bauerschwein back in the day. They tasted pretty good, too. Either way, it was hard not to want to sample another taste, Wieder or not. That scared him a little.
He shook his head again as he sat down on the bed. Those thoughts were definitely not anything he needed to have. Man, he'd worked too hard to get to this point. And if anything, he didn't need to do something further that might hurt her. He loved her too much for that. Renée meant everything to him. She meant more than anyone had ever made him feel. Sure he cared, sometimes too much, for the ones that didn't deserve it, but with her he felt connected, body, mind, soul, and everything else that didn't have a name yet.
Monroe thought about all the times he could've lost her. The fucking Lowen, those damn Reapers, that bitch Waschbar… God there were too many to even keep track of. But when she was tied up in that mining tunnel, she was scared, like really scared. He'd never smelled fear and despair like that on her before, and he was pissed. It was all he could do not to kill that cunt of a Daemonfeuer the moment she showed herself. Damn, and to think he'd ogled her so many times while she danced half-naked on stage for him. There were plenty of entries in his journal about the things he had wanted to do to her. She had a nice, little ass, and damn, the way she moved had him ready to pounce. But when she'd hurt his mate, all those thoughts flew out the proverbial window. He was ready to rip her to shreds. Had it not been for Juliette sitting there as a witness, he would have. He'd pressed on everything he'd practiced to hold it in. He couldn't risk Nick's girlfriend seeing something like that. Oh man, she would've been scarred for life. Not that the whole kidnapping thing didn't do something to her already. Good thing that Daemonfeuer had killed herself. At least Karma had its perks.
Drawing out a heavy sigh, Monroe lay down on the bed. He thought about the good parts of the night. The way Renée had looked at him with those sexy green eyes when he'd straddled her. The flush of her cheeks, the way she arched her back when he'd tease her. And man, she gave in to the commands real quick. She was still a bit brash, but she could be taught to overcome that. He could teach her to give in a little more. She might even like it once he'd done it a few times. But damn, she was so wet tonight. He rubbed his cock through his jeans just thinking about how good she had looked after he'd torn off her clothes. God, that part was so awesome. He'd wanted to rip her clothes to shreds for such a long time. He figured getting a woman to sacrifice clothing was a next-to-none request, but it had only taken a small amount of coaxing to get her to comply. Too easy. She was so into it… before the biting, that is. Monroe growled a bit, tossing the bad thoughts of the night aside. No, she was into it. She was dripping wet, begging for him. A little bit longer and he would've had her doing anything he'd asked.
His cock stiffened even more and he unzipped his jeans as he stroked himself. Monroe played out the rest of the night in his mind as he worked his cock in his hands. Minus the biting, it would've been so good. God, he loved how responsive she was. He could just barely touch her and she was like putty in his hands. He went back to the thoughts of being inside her, deep thrusts and strokes of his cock surrounded by the heat of her pulsing pussy. Monroe was about to cum, so he slowed down again. He thought about the way her lips tasted as the smell of her vanilla swirled up his nostrils, mixed in with her lust. He worked his cock a bit faster as he inhaled. The scent of her was still in the bedroom just like she was right here with him.
He slowed once more. Monroe wanted to cum, but not yet. It was all about control. He thought about Renée's words. She wasn't too talkative, but when she'd say something it was always just the right thing. And the way she'd moan as she bit her lip. Man, that bottom lip of hers was such a dead giveaway. Even if the scent of her arousal hadn't hit him, that lip bite told him everything. But the thing that drove him barmy and wild up to the brink was when she would say that one word: Yours. God, that swelled him up to full Alpha right there. When she had said it the first time in the woods while they were in Kentucky, damn it was all he could do to hold back. She didn't know how difficult it had been for him to control himself as she kept saying everything he had wanted to hear. Monroe's cock bobbed in his hands as he stroked quickly. And when she had called him Mr. Wolf, fuck if he didn't wanna rip her clothes off right in her mother's kitchen. Oh, his inner wolf loved that just a bit too much. It was begging to take over, to take that sweet, little thing and show her what a wolf really was. He had let it come out in the woods, but he still had held a tight rein on the beast. That night was such a pinnacle moment for him. Monroe closed his eyes again. When he had his Little Red held tight against that tree, wearing that red thong he'd asked her to buy, and then some, ('cause she was definitely a pleaser) he knew he had her. That was the beginning, when fantasies were starting to manifest themselves. Superfluous ideas that he never thought possible suddenly seemed like a reality.
Monroe allowed himself to smile. It was his first real smile tonight since the whole biting thing happened. He concentrated on that wondrous word dropping off Renée's luscious lips. Yours. She was his, all his. He came fast and hard as the memory of her voice echoed in his brain. He jerked back into the bed, muscles contracting, heartbeat jolting up in his chest. He loved her. Man, did he ever.
As he relaxed a bit more, a bigger smile formed on Monroe's lips while he breathed in and out a few times. That woman did things to him. And smokin' hot didn't even begin to describe how sexy she really was; mile-long legs, a toned body, and breasts that made him lick his lips. Man, the things that body of hers did to him just weren't right. No one oughta be able to drive someone that completely crazy. Hell, she was sitting downstairs, and he was going bananas up in his bedroom from just the memories. She was like a walking, talking aphrodisiac.
But that only proved he had control. To keep going out with her all those times in the beginning and not try anything… Well, even the Dalai Lama would've had trouble holding back with a dish like Renée. But when she and Monroe got together, man, oh, man it was something out of this world. They were an exceptional match. Mating her was so right. He knew she was the one. Damn, but his mark would never stay long enough to show she was his. Monroe grunted at the thought. He didn't want to bite her like that again, not that she'd probably let him after tonight. Fuck... He hadn't thought about that either. He closed his eyes briefly. He wanted to do that right, too.
There weren't many traditions he could still hold on to after becoming Wieder, but this one... This one was important. Mating was significant to every Blutbad. It wasn't done lightly, and you needed to be sure if you were gonna take the plunge, so to speak. But with Renée he knew. Every part of him wanted to claim her, and he'd been feeling that long before he'd ever even kissed her, crazy, but true. And after all the waiting, he'd still managed to botch it up. That night in the rain outside her house, he should've just gone with his gut and taken her out to the woods. Last full moon of the season. Done it right... But no. He still hadn't done the other part yet. The big part.
Monroe ran a hand through his hair. Renée deserved something more than just the words, 'I love you.' He wasn't used to being a romantic guy, so all these gestures were kinda foreign. Sure he pulled them off well. Just like with anything else, he'd studied the modus operandi of romance. He knew enough from books and movies how to do it, but he was a bit awkward in his approach. Angelina didn't need romance. A few bottles of whiskey and she was ready for anything. But she was also good at ripping his heart out and stomping it on the ground. He growled again. Not a good example. No, Renée was different. She was a wine and roses kinda woman. So far he'd hit all the points. Not that he minded so much, but she sure had that fairy tale, happy ending thing stuck in her head. But could he really play that role? Be the hero? Working with Nick and fielding that whole do-gooder approach was hard enough, but to be someone's dashing, handsome prince? Ha! Yeah, that just wasn't his bailiwick.
Ever since they'd returned from Kentucky, Monroe had been doing a little reading on Renée's astrology mumbo jumbo. He didn't believe in it for a minute, but even he had to admit that Leos were an interesting species. Most of the things listed about their personality fit his Renée to a T. Of all the things he'd read, romance was prominently up there as a big, number one, crucial, crux thing for female Leos. They needed the romantic, sweep them off their feet, ride off into the sunset shindig, and they needed it in a grandiose, Scarlett O'Hara kinda way. (No wonder she had badgered him to watch that movie. He was getting the picture now.) So, even though Monroe had planned on just telling her how he felt when they came home to Portland, he knew that if he just blurted it out, she'd expect something more. He could do it up big. Take her out, put on a show, if that's what she needed. So far he'd tried to set up the perfect scenarios, but damn if something hadn't happened each time. He was getting frustrated with all these failed attempted for the perfect evening. He huffed out a sigh. But he had more plans in store for her. They couldn't all get messed up, right? No one was that unlucky. Once he said those words, then everything else would come together. He wanted to give her what she deserved. She deserved for it to be perfect. Something she could tell her friends about, and they'd be all green with envy. Leos seemed to like that, too. He'd make it perfect, just for her. Leo was a needy sign, but admittedly the rewards were kinda awesome.
Renée had shown him time and time again how loyal she was. She'd risked her own life for his. Imagine, a Grimm risking their life for a Wesen. But that was her way. Her heart was as big as her smile. She'd give him the moon and the stars if he asked. He knew that it sounded kinda sappy, but it was true. He'd never been with a woman that was so generous and kindhearted. Blutbad women were loyal, but they were ruthless about it. Renée wasn't like that. Now if he could just get her to trust him. Monroe grumbled as he thought about all the secrets she was still keeping from him. He wasn't dumb. He knew she was keeping things, big things. To think it took her three weeks just to share that she knew what he was. Man, that night had been a killer. Well, almost literally. But even under duress, she was able to calm him down. Those few words went far. Man, but was it ever a shock. But she trusted him that night enough to open up. That whole week afterward she shared a ton of things. She'd share the rest, he was certain. That was something he was gonna have to work on with her. But tonight had really fucked that up, too. 'You know, it's okay to trust the Blutbad who almost murdered you in his bed.' Yeah, that was gonna go over well. Monroe punched his mattress a time or two as he growled.
While he had been looking up Leos, he had glanced over the traits of Scorpio, too. Just for perspective was all. Things like dark sexual tendencies, heavy brooding, jealously, and violent tempers weren't too far off base. But if she knew all that, then maybe she knew he liked things a little different in the bedroom. Maybe that's why she acted the way she did with him; letting him hold her down, take control. But if he was going to keep it up, he'd have to put a lock-down on the other instincts.
The wolf wanted so much more. He hated feeling there was a duality to his nature, but to him there really was. He had worked on his id to be a clockmaker and a man, but there was that latent Blutbad nature coursing through him all the time, wanting him to give in to who he really was. The routines kept him in check, and for a few years he hadn't had any urges. Things had been solid before he'd met Nick. Not that he wanted to blame the dude, but that was the start of the decline. Sleep schedules shifted, Pilates schedules had been interrupted, and even breakfast time had changed quite a bit since the Grimm had come into his life. Then adding Renée to his schedule had perpetuated the mess his once solid routine had become. The only downfall to his perfectly-timed routine was that it was perfectly-timed for a party of one. He wasn't a party of one anymore. With Nick and Renée he'd become a slightly more macabre version of Three's Company. But now everything was amiss and the urges were surfacing again. Lately, he wanted to answer that Blutbad call, and had done so a few times too many. But if he let it take over, there would be no turning back, and consequently there would be no way he would be able to continue being with Renée. No, his love was more important than that. So, he'd give up the biting, the nicknames, and even the woge for a while if that's what it took to maintain control. He'd give it all up to keep her safe. Anything to prevent ever hurting her again.
Love was what he wanted, and he wanted her. When he first saw her he knew. He'd never tell her that. Love at first sight? Come on! If he thought that other thing was sappy, hell, this would make him lose his Alpha card for sure. But it was true. He had told her the truth when he'd left her hotel room that first night. He sat in his VW, fighting with himself to just go back in, pound on the door, take her in his arms, and … Well, he probably would have scared the shit out of her. But the way it had worked out had been better. Too bad he had to wait all those months for her to come back to him.
Monroe thought about Renée's universe theories. He liked that about her. He had his own theories about Karma and the universe, but she really believed it a hundred percent. She'd said that cuckoo of hers was the universe pushing them back together. Universe or not, it sure was a wonderful time piece, in more ways than one. It had reunited them, sure, but it was so much more than that. Monroe was starting to give up on finding someone when she happened to step onto his porch that day. He hadn't told her that either. Honestly he wasn't sure how she'd take it. But he was grateful every day that she had chosen him from the sparse listings of clock repair guys in Portland. He oughta send the Portland Yellow Pages a thank you card sometime. Who knew that ad would ever be worth so much?
He went to the bathroom, cleaned himself and zipped up. There was a drop of blood on the sink. Renée's blood. He didn't have to question it. The smell alone told him immediately. He reached for a tissue, wiping it away as he sighed. Throwing the tissue away, he washed his hands and stared at his reflection.
"Dude, what are you doing?" Monroe asked himself candidly, as if he was expecting a response.
He straightened his back and squared himself as he shook his head. Yeah, maybe that damn astrology book was correct. He was definitely brooding. His forehead was jutted out, and the deep creases were prominently staring back at him, showing his age. He waved it off, turning abruptly and walked back into the bedroom.
Plopping down on the bed, Monroe rolled over and pulled his journal from his nightstand drawer. He'd been thinking up here in his bedroom way too long. He needed to write some of this stuff down. When Reynaldo had suggested he keep a journal all those years ago, he'd laughed at him. Ten years and sixty-two journals later, he was a little grateful for the idea. Writing had become an important, daily outlet to his transformation. Some entries were a few meager sentences, while others took up twenty pages or more. He'd recently read over his earlier journals from when he first started his Wieder path. All the obstacles that had blindsided him and the mistakes he'd made so early on were all there in black and white. No, the wolf may want to come back, but Monroe knew he needed to keep doing what he thought was right. All these recent slip ups didn't mean he had failed, it just meant he had to try harder.
He held the journal in his hands, thumbing through a few pages until he reached the next blank sheet. Tonight he'd write about living out some of his fantasies with Renée that he'd only been able to write about in the few months prior. Damn, he was getting hard again just from the mere thought. He scowled. That wasn't him this time. That was most definitely the wolf. After seeing the blood in the bathroom, he wasn't interested, but the wolf had more of a proclivity for that sort of thing.
He glanced down at his zipper. "You've had enough," he said in a low tone. The words were more for the wolf than for his cock, but one of them was listening because things settled down below and he let out a breath.
Monroe went back to his journal. He'd chronicle this just like he had everything else with her. First came the good parts. The good parts were always easy to write about. Next were the obstacles. Well, tonight the pages would be full of those. Lastly, he'd write about the hard parts. All the fears, anxieties, worries, goals, and all the crap he hated about his true nature would tie everything up. That was where it got too difficult to continue sometimes. No, tonight he'd suck it up and write it all out. This was just another thing he'd learn from later on. In a few years he'd read back on this night and laugh that he was ever this stupid. Yeah, that was how he was gonna think about it tonight.
A/N: Whew okay! So we stepped into Monroe's mind a bit here. It gives some perspective and some hints about future chapters. Like it, hate it? Comment and let me know. This is my first attempt at writing third-person, so I'm kinda feeling iffy about this approach.
As always thank you for reading! (: