He woke with a start, ready to fight, senses immediately stretching to take in his surroundings, also taking stock of his body.

Broken bones, healing, grinding slightly against each other. Cuts and abrasions and bite marks. Wounds made by knives and talons and scythes. The latter ones hurt like a bitch and healed the slowest.

A hand touched his wrist and Renard just about caught himself from burying talons in soft human flesh. Fiery orange eyes met gray ones.

"You're safe," the Grimm only said, voice even.

He looked at the other man for a very long second, then relaxed marginally.

"Where am I?" he asked, voice rough.

"My home."

Renard's senses slowly filtered the information. Yes. Nick's home. Renard's territory. A safe and secure place. He had made it so, had made sure the Grimm was always safe when he was here. After Stark's attack, after Nick had landed in the hospital, just before the two men had gotten together, Renard had marked the house as under his protection.

Now he spent as much time here as he did at his own place. It was familiar ground, his scent everywhere, intermingling with Nick's, and he enjoyed the homey feel as compared to the cold functionality of the house he used as a cover for his mundane human life.

Finally he sank back. "My apologies," he murmured.

His body ached and he knew the injuries must have been a lot worse than he had thought if he was still not back in shape. There was a lance of pain from his back and that originated from his hidden wings. Two reapers had tried to cripple him by slicing into the large appendages with their weapons of choice.

They hadn't come far in their attempts and their body parts had littered the floor soon enough.

"No problem. You want something to drink?"

He took the offered bottle, the sweet taste of iced tea making him grimace. He knew the sugar was good for him, but it tasted vile.

"How bad?" Renard asked.

"Bad enough."

He studied the young features, the pale skin framed by dark hair, and Renard knew he had screwed this up just a little bit.

Okay, maybe more than a little bit.

Maybe a lot.

"Who took care of the bodies?" he wanted to know.

Usually he dealt with his own… garbage. Nick had never had to cover up death and carnage like that. He was a new kind of Grimm, the kind Renard had protected before the younger man had even gotten involved with him.

"Taken care of," Nick replied briskly. At Renard's silently quizzical look he added, "Sort of. Scavengers."

Ah. The regnant knew them. All kinds of low-life creatures scavenged on the dead and the dying. Like geier, like rodent wesen. He simply wondered when Nick had cultivated those kinds of contacts.

Maybe because he was the catch-and-release kind of hunter? Maybe he had claimed loyalties that Renard hadn't seen before? It was intriguing and he would dig deeper, find out just how Nick had pulled it off.

Amused gray eyes looked at him, the detective apparently very well aware of that train of thought.

"In my line of work I get to know… people," he answered the unspoken question. "Monroe knew some more and called for their help, too."

"The network you have is impressive."

"It's not a network." Nick shook his head and suddenly the young face was all-serious again. "Next time you want to play knight in shining armor, let the assumed damsel in distress know."

"It was a trap, Nick."

"Exactly."

"They would have killed you."

"You don't know that."

"Nick…"

The Grimm moved faster than Renard would have thought, straddling him, daring him. "I'm a Grimm, regnant," he stated coldly. "You once told me just what that means. I'm not a weak link!"

Renard placed a still-taloned hand on the slim hips. "No, you're not."

"We're in this together. You made it so, Sean! You wanted this! So work with it, not against me!"

"I can't let them kill you."

Nick leaned forward, anger swimming over his features. "I won't let them kill me. I'm not going to lay down and bare my throat."

Renard nearly dug his claws into the jeans-clad hips at the image. His eyes went to the pale column of flesh and the hunger came forth.

Nick leaned closer, smiling darkly. "You may be the most powerful creature in this territory, and it is your protectorate, Sean, and you claimed me, too, but it doesn't make you my boss when it comes to Grimm matters."

No, he wasn't the boss. He had no say in the matter. Police work, yes. Grimm? No. Definite no.

Grimms weren't to be controlled, whatever the ferat demanded. Whatever they thought was possible. You could guide them, but only where they wanted to go. Renard wasn't this Grimm's master and never would be.

And no, he wasn't turned on by the other man hovering over him.

Instincts begged to differ, ignoring the twinges of pain, the unaccustomed weakness.

It was like their mating, that unrestrained encounter of two predators, about to bind themselves to the other for life.

There was no doubt in his mind who would top who. And the challenge that the Grimm presented was an intoxicating thought.

He growled.

From Nick's expression he knew his eyes were changing. Fiery orange; molten fire.

Their mouths collided in a kiss that was far from gentle. It was possessive and spiraling out of control, like the whole encounter.

His inhibitions went out of the window fast when Nick gently bit his neck. He grabbed his future mate and pushed him against the wall, growling, pinning the Grimm's hands. He took in the scent, nostrils flaring, and he knew there was no hesitation, no fear, no second thoughts. Here was a ready offer, and he would take it.

Now.

The next thing he knew, Nick had pushed him against the wall and his mouth was thoroughly ravaged by the other man. Renard curled his fingers into the waistband of his future mate's pants, drawing him closer, his tongue battling against Nick's for dominance. His whole body was high strung, on the verge of overpowering the younger man, showing him what he was dealing with – what he was about to let go.

It was a primitive need, something from very deep inside him, something that targeted the Grimm as its victim, its prey, while also recognizing it as a fellow hunter and dominant male.

The regnant hissed, the lust for the other man growing in leaps.

They separated, breathing hard, eyes wild and dilated. A flush covered Nick's naturally pale skin and his hair looked unruly. He had never looked more desirable and a longing rose with the desire, a longing so primal it shut out everything else. Their bodies were pressed together and Renard's hands were splayed over the other's tight buttocks. Something seemed to fizz through him, sizzle along his nerves, settling way down south.

The regnant growled demandingly, wanting to be lose, to get what it needed.

Renard drew the Grimm into a searing kiss that grew more demanding with every second. He was acutely aware of Nick's body against his, so perfect, so familiar, but still very new and exciting. His desire rose several notches.

Thoughts collided with each other, tumbling around in his head.

They were still kissing, clawing at each other, then suddenly Nick tilted his head back and the primal side in Renard howled in triumph at the simple gesture of surrender. He felt rational thought blend into the background, instinct taking over, and the wildness was free. Raw need merged with primal power to mate.

He thought he heard Nick cry out with the same need, then he was drowned out by static as the regnant took a hold and claimed his mate.

"Stop trying to solve my problems, Sean!"

The sharp words drew the taller man out of the pleasurable thoughts of the final mating. Even today, months later, it was still something to jerk off to under the shower when Nick wasn't there. If he was, he liked to repeat that moment.

In detail.

And Nick never complained.

"No."

"What?"

"The reapers are my problem, too. As you so rightly said, it's my territory. I'm the Guardian. My protectorate, my responsibility. I keep Portland safe my own way."

Nick stared at him, face set. "Then bring me in on it. Leaving me out of the loop is only making it worse."

From where Renard was lying, it didn't look worse. It looked very… interesting.

"It's mostly politics," he said, slightly absent-minded as he took stock of his body.

He was weaker than normal, which made him about average human strength. The scars itched, the scabs were bothersome, and the broken bones, while healed, were tender. He wouldn't be able to go another round against a pack of reapers right now, but other physical activity wasn't off the table.

Not at all.

"I know you're a scheming bastard," Nick snarled. "I know you've been working behind the scenes. I know you think you can keep me out of it, but I'm not some prize to be claimed or a token of royalty or someone's possession, Renard!"

Ah, last name. His Grimm was pissed.

"You're a warrior, Nick, not a politician."

"So are you, your highness."

And didn't that sound like mockery?

Renard grinned, liking the wave of aggression and anger and lust. It was their definition, those opposing forces, those different views of the creature world, and still they had very much in common, not just physical attraction.

Speaking of which…

One hand brushed over the t-shirt covered chest, to the hem, then slipped underneath to encounter naked skin. The taut stomach fluttered under his caress and white teeth bit the lower lip, as Nick suppressed a sound of pleasure.

"You told me Grimms were once arbitrators," Nick continued, though his voice was laced with the echoes of want and lust Renard felt himself. "You said we weren't judge and jury, only the police. We were the profilers. It's what I do. I work with you, regnant of Portland, not for you or against you!"

And he slept with him. He didn't fuck, he didn't put out, he didn't sell his body for pleasure. Nick was strong and independent and no one's fool. He was a powerful and strong-willed equal, a worthy mate, his mate.

Renard smiled calmly.

"You're my boss at work," Nick whispered harshly. "But outside, when it comes to Grimm stuff, you're not! And you're not my protector!"

"I'll remember that," he rumbled.

tbc...