Chapter summary: Sometimes real life gets in the way of what you want. Will Nick get to have fun with his zauberbiest again? Suffice to say, no one can accuse him of not trying.
Sean is in for a surprise and maybe he will learn that sometimes a bit of teasing can be just as exciting as the real thing.
Ties That Bind You:
Nick pulls into a parking space a few streets away from Renard's condo and gets out of his charger. It is just half past eight and the reason for visiting his superior at home is intriguing to say the least. He walks the rest of the way, straining his senses to make sure nobody is following him, and cannot help an excited grin stealing onto his face.
So what if work has been a bitch to get through for more than one reason... and if I am the slightest bit unsteady on my feet? I am about to have another fuck date with my Captain.
He licks his lips in anticipation. Their arrangement until now has been... exciting... mind blowing... one time never like the other. The Grimm in him yearns to play with the powerful 'biest.
Oh and how powerful he is... 6'4'' of rippling muscle and perfect control. And then seeing him come undone... loose his careful countenance.
GRIMM GRIMM GRIMM
The door to Renard's flat is opened and the man himself appears in the doorway.
Holy gorgeous God. Oh yes, I know why I am doing this. And he is still wearing his tie... the pale blue one.
"You look like shit, Burkhardt, sure you are up to sex?"
Right to the point and not molly-coddling anyone. Nick shrugs, wicked grin belying his next words:
"You are such a charming man, you know?"
"And yet you seek my bed."
A superior smirk, ghosting over the Royal's lips as he rakes his eyes over every inch of his Detective.
Oh, Burkhardt may look a bit worse for wear but he is definitely a handsome little devil. Apropos devil... it seems the Grimm is aiming for sass tonight...
"Really? I do not remember ever seeking your bed, Sir. The first time it was your office chair, then it was the kitchen table and last time it was that spot of forest floor."
Before Renard can reply, Nick catches him by his beautiful tie and pulls him into a searing kiss.
"You are smelling of sweat." Renard sneers once they have broken the kiss. Oh yes, the Prince of Portland is very particular about personal hygiene. Nick is unconcerned, though, he can read him quite well by now. For one he notes smugly, that the ever composed Royal is slightly out of breath, and for another, Renard hasn't moved away from him one inch.
"Sorry about not smelling like a flower. I am Detective not Captain, I have to put in a bit of legwork to get paid."
The effect of Sean's impressive glare is slightly diminished by being pulled into the flat by the very same man.
"I should make you shower."
"If you can afford to wait the time?"
Renard has more self-control than most. At least he looks like he has thought about it for all of two minutes before replying.
"Oh, why waste the water."
"That's what I thought."
The Captain takes his wrist then – noting his slightly elevated pulse but taking it for excitement (which is partly true) – and resolutely pulls him along in direction of his bedroom. Nick isn't complaining. He might feel a little feverish and wobbly legged but that's no reason to whine about it to Renard. Sooner he would drop dead than do so, in fact, and Renard will rut him into the mattress, anyway, so why jeopardize a perfect opportunity for mind blowing sex?
GRIMM GRIMM GRIMM
Sean strips Nick off his jeans and boxers with a few brisk movements, leaving him naked waist down and pushing him onto the bed face first. Nick actually chuckles at the 'biest's eagerness, no matter how well disguised under quick efficiency and a cool demeanor it may be. He leans up on his elbows, throws a look over his shoulder and quips: "Shirt?"
Sean wants to growl at how promising and downright sinful the devious Grimm can make that one word sound, but he hides behind heaving a put upon sigh.
Oh, by all means. There are definitely worse things than stripping Nick Burkhardt off his shirt and, while at it, exploring and marking a fair bit of that delectable neck and throat.
He climbs onto bed with the languid, graceful movements of a powerful hunter, crawls up, feels Nick shiver under him, and stops only when his knee rests up high between Nick's legs. His voice is deep and husky as he says:
"Very well, you asked for it."
Just like this he rips apart the black shirt and is prepared to dive in and thoroughly mark his Grimm, but the sight of him makes the zauberbiest stop short.
„What happened to your shoulder?"
„Errr…."
He assumes to be facing a wound of some sort and, honestly, to call it treated would be a gross overstatement of things as well. There on Nick's right shoulder is a large gauze pad – messily taped on, bled through almost entirely but dried now – hiding the result of what's most likely been another harebrained foray into Grimm world.
That is not to say he takes Nick for a fool or someone incompetent, it is only that sometimes he throws himself into trouble before thinking about any of the consequences.
With little compassion and completely ignoring Burkhardt's yelp he rips off that sorry excuse for a wound covering and finds a puffy red, definitely infected, large bite mark underneath.
„Nick, where did you get that wound?"
Renard makes sure to put enough ominousness into his tone to put his Detective on alert. He is annoyingly unaffected by it.
„Oh, a klaustreich bit me. Are you going to fuck me now, or what?"
"Or what, indeed. That wound is badly infected! Really, it is a wonder you are not…!"
A short pause and Nick is sure his Captain is just pinching the bridge of his aristocratic nose, at least if his long suffering sigh is anything to go by.
„Ah, I should have known. Looking like shit, sweating... Burkhardt, you are an idiot for not getting this treated sooner."
Renard's glare is punishing, and, yes, this time he has looked behind himself.
"It happened only last night, okay?"
"This is the equivalent of a giant cat bite. Everyone knows those are among the most easily infected animal injuries!"
Sean contemplates his options and comes to the conclusion that leaving this unattended simply won't do... no matter how much he wants to take his Grimm right then and there. Foregoing long speeches, he puts hand on Nick's neck.
"Umm, what are you doing?"
"Feeling your temperature."
That's as deadpan as it will ever get. Nick twists his head around, inadvertently dislodging Renard's hand from his overheated skin.
"And that although I am sweating as you pointed out so nicely earlier? Why, I didn't know you cared, Captain."
"Shut up and keep still or it will be a thermometer shoved up you ass."
His neck is grabbed again but Nick cannot help teasing:
"If you incorporate that into the right context I am open to try."
"Yes, and, that dangerous wish aside, you are also sporting quite a fever."
"You are evading the question."
"First of all, you didn't pose a question and secondly, I am the Bastard scion of a royal family, evasiveness is practically my middle name."
"Just another tactic of evading my... comment. And anyway, you said you like my skin all hot and pliant, so why are we still wasting time with the medical stuff instead of starting in on the interesting things?"
"I am not about to reward your stupidity. Now don't complain and stay where you are."
With a put upon sigh Nick lets his head flop back down on the pillow. He listens to Sean moving through the house – Grimm hearing can do that for you – quiet and measured as his movements are. He doesn't know what the Royal is up to but he knows that he would like to have sex right about now.
So what if I have an infected wound? I have morpha... morphall... well, the regeneration thingy Monroe likes to wax on about at the worst of times.
"Whatever you do, don't move." That is Renard from directly beside him and, although he would never ever admit to it, his sudden reappearance has startled him a tiny bit.
Huh, must have spaced out for some time. It's all his fault. He makes me think about sex all the time. Wait, he told me not to move. Why did he...?
Some liquid is poured onto his wound. He takes a moment to register that and then:
Oh fuck, fuck, fuck! This is burning like an effing bucket of acid!
"Bloody, fucking hell! Are you completely out of your mind, your Highness?!"
Cursing violently and using every ounce of self-control, that once has been applied to his mind-to-mouth-filter, for biting back tears, he makes to rise from bed. His ascend is short lived for Renard's large hand clamps on the back of his neck, pushes him back down and keeps him in the exact same position as before with startling ease.
"I said, don't move."
This is ground out with a certain amount of exasperated testiness.
"I didn't know you were gonna pour acid over my back!" Nick snipes back through gritted teeth.
"You are exaggerating."
"You are a bastard."
"And yet I am treating your wound. Where does that leave us?"
"I'll give you that... but you are holding me out on sex."
"Hmm, we'll see about that later. Now lie still. The potion has not yet stopped smoking so it hasn't finished its work."
"Yeah well, that's so fucking reassuring... and it doesn't hurt at all."
Nick mumbles, voice thick with sarcasm but also sounding fatigued.
GRIMM GRIMM GRIMM
"Up you get. You're not sleeping on my bed, when you're sweating like that."
"I am sleeping?"
"You are not up to sex, that much is clear."
"Why don't we try it out and see what comes off it?"
"No."
"Spoil sport."
"Little runt. Now get up, lazy ass."
"Hey, I'm sick!"
Nick can very well imagine the zauberbiest's raised eyebrow, expressing 'Honestly, Burkhardt?' clear as day.
"You were rather ignorant of the fact not five minutes ago, so quit whining."
"I am not whining."
"That lies in the eye of the beholder. Now sit up."
Nick harrumphs against the bedspread but sits up. At least that liquid from hell has finished trying to eat through his shoulder and right now Sean's capable hands are on him, applying a tight bandage to his shoulder with quick efficiency. He will freely admit that the Royal's attempt shows a mite bit more skill than his own hasty one has done.
Maybe that's the reason, why he is doing as he has been told, and for once holds still instead of squirming. Or maybe...
"Such a good boy." Some velvet has slipped back into the zauberbiest's voice. Nick shivers in response and bites back a moan.
"I could make you cum with only my voice, couldn't I?"
Definitely amused, the Bastard!
"Probably."
"Let's keep trying that one for another time. Now on to the guest room with you. I'll show you the way."
Reluctantly Nick swings his legs over the edge of the bed to follow his Captain toward the door. Maybe he can persuade him to have sex once they have arrived in the other room. With that in mind he gets up...
and is glad for the thick rug in Renard's luxurious bedroom as his legs buckle right under him. The Captain turns as if warned by a sixth sense and catches him around the waist before he can face plant completely.
"See? Idiot."
Everything after that is rather hazy not to say deepest black.
GRIMM GRIMM GRIMM
Nick wakes up on a bed (presumably in the guest room), covered with thick blankets and a little fuzzy headed. He sits up gingerly and spots a glass of water and two white tablets on the nightstand just as the objects of his desires reenters the room and regards him out of hooded green eyes.
Nick finds much to his dismay, that he is slower on the uptake than the last time he has been awake.
"Whazzit? Aspirine?" He asks, words jumbled somehow, pointing at the pills.
Renard looks down on him as if he were a particularly simple specimen of ameba.
"Hell, no! One does not take aspirine when sporting injuries prone to bleeding. Honestly, how did you survive that long?"
Nick smiles ruefully, in face of Sean's obvious agitation he just cannot help it.
"Monroe says it's been sheer luck, Hank says my devilish good looks are aiding me... I tend to it being a set of extraordinary skills."
A chuckle from the Grimm, that takes any seriousness out of his words and makes Sean secretly melt (a tiny little bit).
"I tend toward what the blutbad said. Oh, well. Hank's assertion may bear a kernel of truth as well."
"Did you just compliment my looks?"
"Don't let it get to your head."
"So, what about sex now?"
"Horny teenager. Take your pills."
Nick complies.
"Done."
He looks up at the zauberbiest expectant.
"You are sporting a fever. We are not going to have sex tonight."
"Because of the sweating? You realize that I tend to get sweaty when we are having sex?"
He shows a teasing smile that is just this side of patronizing. It riles Sean up, although he doesn't show it.
"That is different and no, that is not the reason. By all means, come back tomorrow evening, if you want to get fucked, but now you will take yourself off to bed (That impossible Grimm has looks honestly hopeful.)... your own bed. Don't think about coming to work tomorrow either, and get that wound looked at by a doctor!"
Seeing that he won't get sex tonight Nick sports a cross of a glare and a pout, that is just this side of adorable... and something Sean will never admit to having thought about, not even under torture.
"And what shall I tell them? I got bitten by a giant cat?"
"I am sure you can think of something, Detective. I have found you can be quite resourceful, if need be."
His smirk is somewhere between smug and smoldering. It is clear that he thinks of their last rendezvous in the forest. Nick's good mood is instantly restored.
Honestly, that man!
"I try my best. Anyway, I'll be off then. How late it is, anyway?"
"Four in the morning."
"What? That means I slept for nearly seven hours!"
"You didn't sleep. Thanks to your idiocy you were plain dead to the world. And I will call you a taxi. I won't have you causing a car crash because you thought driving in your state as clever as not treating a klaustreich bite."
When Nick rises to his feet this time, he is steady enough. He steps up to the zauberbiest, slips his hand around his neck and pulls him down into a last passionate kiss. When they break off Renard's pupils are satisfyingly dilated.
"Why, I didn't know you cared. How sweet of you."
He gets into his boxers and jeans with leisure, making sure to provide his boss with a good view.
GRIMM GRIMM GRIMM
While the devilishly good looking Grimm saunters off in direction of the living room as if he had never been afflicted by an infected wound, Sean wants to pounce on him and make him submit for being teased that way. He opts for following the impossible man out of the room instead.
There's time to take revenge tomorrow evening when I take apart my Grimm until he doesn't know where there is up and where is down. My Grimm? Where the hell did that come from? Oh whatever... Being a possessive bastard does that to you. Yes, that is the reason and nothing else.
GRIMM GRIMM GRIMM
At the door Nick turns one last time, tongue darting out to wet his lips in an unconscious gesture, that together with his half-dressed state (yes, the shirt has been a case for the rubbish bin), puts Sean's self-control to a severe test.
"Good night, Sir. I'll definitely be back tomorrow evening..."
He steps out into the hall, throws a last mischievous look over his shoulder and adds:
"...if I can make the time."
The zauberbiest scoffs at his Detective's level of sass, outwardly unaffected and presenting a stony facade. Inwardly... oh, well.
No, Sean Renard, you will not stake your claim by taking him right here out in the corridor! You simply will not!
"Be sure to do as I told you, then maybe I will let you in, when you wait outside of my doorstep tomorrow."
That damn knowing twinkle, which lights the Grimm's eyes, makes Sean's insides turn to mush. Not that he would ever show that. They go separate ways without another word. It's simply how it works for them.
GRIMM GRIMM GRIMM
Next up: Flexing Your Ties