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The familiar, frantic pounding on Monroe's door was the last straw. His day had been hectic to say the least. He had run around downtown Portland trying to gather pieces for a rare clock he was fixing for a high profile client. It was going to be the biggest pay day he had seen in a while and he didn’t want anything to go awry. The rest of his evening was spent hunched over his work bench fixing said clock, his muscles aching and his patience worn thin to a single, fraying thread. As the knock came Monreoe had just plopped himself onto his couch trying to take a much needed breather. He looked over at one of his clocks, 10pm. With a sigh he begrudgingly rose from the couch and stomped to the door, his boots that he hadn’t taken off all day thudding on his hardwood floors. Monroe yanked open the door to find, of course, Nick standing there, breathless and looking like he'd just wrestled a Hundjäger; which, for all Monroe knew, he had.
"Monroe, thank God," Nick started, already pushing past him into the house heading towards the kitchen. "I've got a situation. It's a Siegbarste, and I think it's hiding out in the industrial park-"
"No." Monroe all but grunted out, as he followed his friend.
Nick stopped flipping though the pages of his ancestors book that he had already ungracefully dropped onto the table. He turned, a confused look on his face. "No? What do you mean, no? Monroe, people are going to die unless I figure out how to kill this thing!"
"I mean no," Monroe said, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. His voice low, the usual placating, helpful tone was gone, replaced by something cold and sharp. "Do you know what time it is? Do you know that I have a life, a business, and a need for a break? A need that is constantly interrupted by you?"
Nick blinked and his eyebrows pulled together, taken aback, "Whoa, okay. I know it's a little late, but this is important."
"It's always important!" Monroe's voice rose, the suppressed anger finally boiling over. "Every single time, it's life or death. Every single time, I'm supposed to drop everything because your Grimm duties are calling. You barge into my house whenever you feel like it, I buy you Wesen crap which you don’t pay me back for, I get beaten up, shot at, and nearly eaten by Wesen I've never even heard of, all so you can play hero!"
He took a step forward, and for the first time, Nick looked a little wary, his hands up in a surrender. "Monroe, calm down."
"Don't tell me to calm down!" Monroe snarled, and in a blur of motion, he was on Nick. He slammed the detective back against the wall, the impact rattling the picture frames. Nick grunted, his eyes wide with shock as Monroe's forearm pressed firmly against his throat, pinning him in place. "You use me, Nick," Monroe hissed, his face inches from Nick's. He was fully woged, his eyes glowing with fury. "You think because I'm a 'good Blutbad' that my time, my safety, my life doesn't matter. You just show up, demand my help, and I'm supposed to say 'how high?' Well, I'm done. I am so fucking done."
Nick struggled slightly, his hands coming up to grip Monroe’s arm, but Monroe held him there tightly. He was stronger, faster, and fueled by months of resentment.
"You want my help?" Monroe growled. "You're going to pay me back. For everything." As Monroe's rage-filled words washed over him, he caught it. A sudden, sharp scent cutting through the anger. It was coming from Nick. It was the smell of fear, yes, but something else too. Something warm, musky, and undeniably aroused. Nick's pupils were blown wide, his breathing shallow and quick. He wasn't just scared. He was turned on.
Monroe paused, a predatory smirk slowly replacing his snarl. The scent grew stronger. Nick liked this. He liked being overpowered, liked being held down and put in his place. "Well, well," Monroe purred, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. He leaned in closer, his nose almost touching Nick's. "Look at you. All that time you were ordering me around, and this is what you really wanted."
Nick swallowed hard, the motion pressing his throat against Monroe's arm. He didn't deny it. He couldn't not with his own sent keen to Monroe’s powerful nose.
"You owe me, Nick," Monroe whispered, his breath hot against Nick's ear. "You owe me for every late night, every lie I had to tell, every bruise I've gotten for you. And I'm going to collect. Starting now." He released the pressure on Nick's throat and in turn grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back. Nick gasped, a mix of pain and pleasure in the sound. Monroe dragged Nick away from the wall by his hair. Nick's hands came up to Monroe’s wrists grappling for purchase, his feet stumbling awkwardly trying to balance himself as Monroe led him to the living room.
He pushed Nick down to his knees in front of the couch, releasing the fist he had clenched in Nick’s raven hair and then took a seat, echoing where he had been earlier trying to relax. Nick looked up at him, his face flushed, his eyes dark with a need he'd clearly been hiding for a long time.
"You've taken my help for free long enough," Monroe said, undoing his belt with a sharp, metallic sound. "Time to pay up. Open your mouth." Nick's tongue darted out to wet his lips, and opened his mouth as instructed. Monroe fisted his hand in Nick's hair again, pulling Nick’s face closer to his half hard cock. This wasn't a request. It was a debt being paid in full, and as Nick's warm, willing mouth closed around him, Monroe decided that maybe, just maybe, all those late night calls wouldn't be so bad after all. Not if this was the payment.
Monroe's grip in Nick's hair tightened, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he became fully hard in Nick’s perfect mouth. He then set a demanding rhythm. There was no gentleness in it; only the raw, pent-up frustration of years spent holding back from his natural instincts. It wasn’t just about Nick anymore. Monroe needed this more than he ever knew. Nick, for his part, didn't fight it. He took it, his hands coming up to rest on Monroe's thighs, not to push away, but for balance. His eyes were squeezed shut, his brow furrowed in concentration, a faint, desperate sound escaping his throat each time Monroe pushed deeper. The scent of Nick's arousal was overwhelming now, a thick, intoxicating cloud in the room that fueled Monroe's own desire. This was power. This was control. This was the opposite of every time he'd been woken from a dead sleep or dragged into a fight he wanted no part of. Here, on his knees, Nick wasn't the detective in charge. He was just a man, giving Monroe exactly what he was owed.
"Look at me," Monroe commanded, his voice rough.
Nick's eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused, but they locked onto Monroe's. The vulnerability in them, the complete surrender, sent a jolt straight through Monroe. He slowed his movements, making each thrust deliberate, forcing Nick to feel every inch, to acknowledge who was in control of this moment.
"You like this, don't you?" Monroe growled, the words a harsh accusation. "All that time acting like you had it all together, you just needed someone to put you in your place."
A choked whimper was Nick's only reply, his fingers digging into Monroe's jeans. The sight was intoxicating. A Grimm, the slayer of monsters, completely at his mercy. Monroe could feel the tension coiling in his gut, the heat building to an unbearable peak. With a final, deep thrust and a guttural cry, he found his release, shuddering as the last of his anger and frustration drained away, leaving only a profound, possessive satisfaction. He pulled back, breathing heavily. Nick stayed on his knees for a moment, head bowed, gasping for air. A thin string of saliva and cum connected his swollen lips to Monroe's waning cock before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Monroe tucked himself back into his jeans, the sound of his zipper loud in the sudden silence. He looked down at Nick, who was still kneeling on his floor, looking wrecked and utterly compliant. The anger was gone, but in its place was a new, dangerous hunger. He reached down, grabbing Nick's arm and hauling him to his feet. Nick stumbled, his legs unsteady.
"We're not even," Monroe said, his voice low and firm. He pulled Nick close, their faces inches apart. "That was just the down payment. Now, you're going to my bedroom. And you're going to keep paying me back until I say the debt is cleared. Understand?" Nick nodded, his eyes wide and dark with anticipation. He didn't say a word, just let Monroe lead him down the hall and up the stairs, a willing captive ready to settle the score.
Monroe didn't bother with the light. The pale moonlight filtering through the blinds was enough, casting long shadows across his bedroom. He shoved Nick through the doorway hard enough to send him sprawling to the floor. Nick landed hard on his hands and knees, the impact knocking the breath out of him. He stayed there for a moment, his head bowed, a picture of submission. Monroe stood over him, a looming silhouette. He nudged Nick's hip with the toe of his boot, Nick’s breath catching. Monroe kicked the smaller man in the ribs making him lose balance and collapse fully onto the floor. Nick rolled over onto his back, his gaze floating up to meet Monroe’s. He took in his dominating stance and glowing red eyes. A pleased shiver runs down his spine as he lets out a soft moan.
"Look at you," Monroe said, his voice dripping with contempt. "The big, bad Grimm, on my floor like a stray dog." He slowly lowered his foot, pressing the sole of his boot firmly against his jean clad crotch. Nick let out a sharp hiss, his hips jerking involuntarily. Monroe could feel the hard ridge of Nick's erection straining against the denim. He applied more pressure, grinding down just enough to make it painful. "You're getting off on this, aren't you?" Monroe sneered. "Being treated like dirt. All that time you were swaggering around, acting like you were in charge, and this is what you really wanted. To be put on the floor and used." He lifted his foot slightly, then brought it down again in a sharp, deliberate nudge. Nick moaned, a broken, humiliating sound. His hands were clenched into fists on the hardwood floor, but he made no move to escape.
"Pathetic," Monroe whispered, circling around him like a shark. "You're so desperate for it you can't even hide it. Is this why you kept coming back? Not for help, but hoping I'd finally get tired of your shit and do this? Hoping I'd treat you like the little bitch you are?" He stopped at the top of Nic’s head watching him tremble on the floor. He looked ready to come before Monroe had even really touched him. "Strip," Monroe commanded. "Take off your clothes. Now."
Nick slowly sat up, hands shaking as he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, his movements clumsy and awkward. He shrugged it off, letting it fall in a heap beside him. Next came his jeans, he laid back down on the cold unforgiving wood floor. He struggled with the belt, his fingers clumsy with shame and arousal, finally managing to undo it and shove the denim down his legs. He kicked them away, leaving him in just his boxers. His cock jutting out, hard and leaking a wet patch onto the black fabric.
Monroe kicked the discarded clothes aside. "All of it," he ordered.
With a final, shuddering breath, Nick hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down. His cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach. He laid there not daring to move before Monroe told him to. He was completely naked and felt so exposed, the cool air doing nothing to soothe the burning heat in his skin.
Monroe walked over to Nick’s side and examined him with satisfied awe. Nick’s pale skin contrasted with the angry red tip of his cock, his breath coming out shallow, his ribs flaring with each exhale. He noticed the slight tremble that seemed to travel throughout his body, almost like the anticipation of what Monroe was going to do was already too much. Reaching out with the toe of his boot he traced the line of Nick's jaw with the leather. He could feel the man beneath him, in every sense of the word, lean into the touch.
"Good boy," Monroe murmured, the praise sounding like an insult. "Now crawl to the bed."
Nick didn't hesitate. He rolled back over getting on all fours just like the dog Monroe had compared him to. He lowered his head, his cheeks burning with a mixture of shame and a dark, thrilling anticipation. He moved forward on his hands and knees, the short distance to the bed felt like the longest, most humiliating journey of his life. He could feel Monroe's eyes on him, a heavy, predatory gaze that made his skin prickle and his cock ache. When he reached the edge of the bed, he stopped, waiting for his next command. Monroe walked up behind him, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He didn't touch him. He just stood there, letting the silence stretch, letting Nick's eagerness build to an agonizing peak.
Then he spoke, his voice a low, cutting whisper."Up on the bed. Face down. Ass up."
Nick scrambled to obey, his movements clumsy. He positioned himself as ordered, his face pressed into the cool sheets of Monroe's bed, his hands gripping the comforter on either side of his head. He was completely exposed, vulnerable, his ass presented in the air. He could hear the rustle of clothing behind him, the sound of Monroe discarding his own jeans and shirt. The bed dipped as Monroe knelt behind him. A rough hand landed on his ass, squeezing hard enough to make him flinch.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," Monroe said, his voice thick with pleasure. "Bending you over and showing you what happens when you take advantage of someone." He delivered a sharp, stinging slap to Nick's ass. Nick cried out, the sound muffled by the bedding. The pain was sharp, but it was followed by a wave of heat that pooled in his groin. "Count them," Monroe commanded, delivering another slap to the other cheek.
"T-two," Nick stammered, lifting his head away from the firmness of the mattress.
"Wrong. We start at one. And you'll thank me for each one."
SMACK. "One! Thank you," Nick gasped. SMACK. "Two! Thank you."
Monroe continued, his hand landing with methodical precision, turning Nick's skin a fiery red. Each strike was a payment, a penance for every late-night call, every broken promise. With each slap, Nick's voice grew more ragged, the words blending together until he was just a whimpering, grateful mess on the bed. He kept counting but even as the words left his lips he had no idea really how many blows he endured. Finally, Monroe stopped and Nick let his face fall back down into the plush plaid comforter. His ass was throbbing, a dull, heated ache that radiated through his entire body. He felt Monroe shift behind him leaning off the bed. He dared to peek out leaving a wet patch behind from his tears. He watched as Monroe riffled through his bedside table one handed, a small grunt escaping his tormentor as he found what he was looking for. The soft click of the lube cap seemed to echo in the quiet.
Monroe poured the jelly over three of his fingers and pressed one to Nick's entrance. Internally he was hesitant, a small piece of sanity coming back to him if he should really be doing this.
"Please," Nick begged, the word torn from his throat. With that Monroe’s hesitation vanished, replaced with all consuming hunger and lust. ‘Mine’ his mind all but screamed.
Monroe leaned over him, his chest pressing against Nick's back, his lips brushing against his ear. "You don't get to ask for anything," he growled. "You just take what I give you. And you're going to take all of it." He slowly pushed inside, almost whimpering at the tight heat to echo Nick’s own blissful noise. He worked the single digit in and out slowly. Although he hadn’t been too kind to his friend tonight, the least he could do for him at this moment was to prepare him properly. A second finger joined once he felt Nick could handle it, soon followed by a third. He splayed his long fingers and stared entranced as he watched Nick’s hole open wide just for him. Monroe thrust his fingers back into Nick and curled, managing to hit that special bundle of nerves. Nick gasped and his hips jerked forward then back trying to fuck himself on Monroe’s fingers to hit his prostate again.
“Oh God- Please-” Nick choked out. He didn't know if he was begging for mercy or for more. Large drips of precome left his untouched cock staining the bedspread.
Monroe withdrew his fingers, Nick groaning at the loss. He slicked up his large member and with one brutal thrust, he buried himself inside Nick. Nick screamed, his body arching off the bed as he was split open. Even with the amount of preparation he wasn’t prepared for how thick and massive Monroe’s dick really was.The pain was blinding, intense, but it was laced with a shocking, undeniable pleasure. This was what he owed. This was what he deserved. And as Monroe began to move, hard and unforgiving, Nick finally let go, surrendering completely to the punishment, the humiliation, and the raw, possessive ownership of the man he had so carelessly used.
Monroe set a punishing pace, each thrust a forceful reminder of every time Nick had taken him for granted. He wasn't making love; he was claiming, marking his territory inside the Grimm’s body. The room was filled with the harsh sounds of skin slapping against skin, the creak of the bed frame, and Nick's broken, ragged sobs of pleasure and pain. Monroe fisted a hand in Nick's hair, yanking his head back, forcing his spine into an agonizing arch. "Who do you belong to, Nick?" he snarled, his voice a guttural growl right next to his ear.
"You!" Nick cried out, "I belong to you, Monroe!"
"Damn right," Monroe grunted, releasing his hair only to grab his hips, pulling him back to meet each brutal thrust. He reached around, wrapping his hand around Nick's neglected, weeping cock. Nick bucked violently, a choked gasp escaping him."You don't get to come until I say so," Monroe commanded, his grip tightening at the base in emphasis. Then he began to stroke him slowly, a maddening, teasing rhythm that was completely at odds with the ferocity of his hips. "This is my cock. This pleasure is mine to give. Understand?"
"Yes! God, yes, I understand- Monroe- fuck-" Nick babbled, his mind dissolving into a haze of sensation. He was being used from both ends, completely at Monroe's mercy, and the utter dominance and degradation of it was the most potent aphrodisiac he'd ever known. He was just a hole, a toy, an instrument for Monroe's satisfaction in this moment
.
Monroe could feel his own release building, the familiar tightening in his balls. He wanted to draw this out, to make Nick suffer, but the sight of the powerful Grimm utterly broken and begging beneath him was too much. With a final, possessive roar, he slammed deep one last time, spilling himself into Nick's body. He laid over Nick’s back covering him, hands on top of Nick’s as he laced their fingers together. He stayed there for a moment, panting, his weight pressing Nick into the mattress. Then he slowly pulled out, leaving Nick feeling empty and dripping. He wasn't done. Not even close.Monroe flipped Nick over onto his back with a rough shove. Nick lay there, sprawled and boneless, his chest heaving, his face streaked with tears and sweat. His cock was still rock hard, flush against his stomach, leaking onto his skin.
Monroe looked down at him, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "Look at the mess you've made," he said, gesturing to his lower half, "Clean it up." He watched as Nick sat up, chest heaving with desire. "Lick it up. Every last drop."
Utterly humiliated but beyond the point of refusal, Nick obeyed. He bent his head, his tongue tentatively reaching out to taste himself and Monroe’s cum. He was disgusting. He was depraved. And he had never been more turned on in his life. Once he was done, Monroe pushed him back against the pillows. He then straddled Nick's chest, his spent cock just inches from Nick's face. "Now you're going to get me hard again," Monroe said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "And when I'm ready, you're going to ride me until I'm satisfied. And then, maybe, I'll let you come. The debt isn't paid until I say it is."
Nick's jaw ached, but he didn't dare stop. He worked Monroe's cock with a desperate, fervent energy, using his tongue and lips to coax it back to life. The taste of himself, of Monroe, of their combined exertion was a constant, a shameful reminder of his position. When Monroe was fully hard again, he pulled away, leaving Nick gasping on the pillows.
"On top of me," Monroe ordered, lying back on the bed. "Now."
Nick hurried to comply, his muscles protesting. He straddled Monroe's hips, reaching back to line up the still-slick head of Monroe's cock with his entrance. He sank down slowly, the burn of penetration making him let out a breathy groan. This time, he was the one setting the pace, but it was under Monroe's watchful, commanding gaze.
"Ride me," Monroe commanded, his hands gripping Nick's hips, guiding his movements. "Take what you need, but know that it's still mine."
Nick began to move, lifting himself up and then slamming back down, taking Monroe as deep as he could. The angle was different, hitting new spots inside him that sent sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. He was putting on a show, performing for the man who owned him at this moment and maybe forever. His own cock bounced against his stomach, still painfully hard, begging to be touched, for release. Monroe watched him, his eyes dark with lust and power. He reached up, pinching one of Nick's nipples hard, then the other, making him cry out. "You look so good like this," Monroe murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "Using my body to get yourself off."
He could feel Nick's control fraying, his movements becoming more erratic. "Please, Monroe... please let me come," Nick begged, his voice a broken sob.
Monroe considered it for a moment, drawing out the agony. Then he wrapped his hand around Nick's cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. "Come for me, then," he commanded. "Come all over me."
That was all it took. With a strangled cry, Nick's orgasm tore through him, his body convulsing as he spilled himself over Monroe's chest and stomach. The clenching of his muscles around Monroe's cock was enough to trigger his own third release, and he emptied himself into Nick with a deep, satisfied grunt.
For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing. Nick collapsed forward, his head resting on Monroe's shoulder, utterly exhausted. The anger, the aggression, the brutal energy that had fueled the encounter seemed to drain out of the room, leaving behind a profound, weary silence. Monroe shifted slightly, his arms coming up to wrap around Nick's back. The grip was no longer punishing, but gentle, almost tender. He stroked Nick's sweat-slicked hair, his touch soft.
"Hey," Monroe whispered, his voice finally sounding like his own. "You okay?"
Nick nodded against his shoulder, too tired to speak. The humiliation and shame were still there, a lingering buzz beneath his skin, but it was now mixed with a strange sense of peace, of rightness.
Monroe gently rolled them onto their sides, facing each other. He reached out, his thumb gently wiping a tear track from Nick's cheek. "I... I didn't mean to get that carried away," he said, a hint of the familiar, apologetic Monroe creeping back into his tone. "I was just so angry."
"I know," Nick rasped, his voice hoarse. "I... I think I needed you to be."
Monroe studied his face, his expression softening. The predator was gone, and in his place was the friend Nick had always known. "The debt's cleared, by the way," he said with a small, tired smile. "We're even."
Nick managed a weak chuckle flashing one of his incredulous smiles. "Good to know." He hesitated but then added, "Monroe... you can call me for help too. For anything. Anytime. No matter what."
Monroe's smile widened. He leaned in and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to Nick's forehead. "Yeah," he said softly. "You too, man. You too."