Fic: Enchanting Hands
Title: Enchanting Hands
Fandom: Grimm
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Summary: pre-slash set during Tarantella. Nick's POV in the kitchen while Monroe is making those sausages.
Word Count: 244
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own words.
Nick couldn’t quit staring at Monroe’s hands. Those soft-looking, smooth, long fingered hands opening the spice bottle and turning the lever of whatever that sausage making device was called. He had noticed earlier how enticing Monroe’s hands were, but now there were forearms, not that Monroe hadn’t possessed forearms before, but now they were visible, his sleeves pushed back to his elbows so they wouldn’t get stained with whatever Monroe stuffed in the sausages. Did he buy every blood-colored fruit and vegetable in the produce section? Because seriously. It looked like a slaughterhouse in here. Yet now Nick didn’t really notice so much what the kitchen looked like, because Monroe’s hands were suddenly the most fascinating, sexiest body part he had ever seen, and he wanted to suck on his fingers from nail to knuckle, lap at his palms and kiss his wrists, continuing along that enticing vein on the side of his right forearm up to his elbow until his pale skin was flushed from the scrape of Nick’s teeth and the suckling of his lips and Monroe gasped, his eyelids drifting shut, begging Nick to continue his appreciation further south.
Nick shook himself when the refrigerator door snapped open. The Spinnetod. Right. There would be no finger sucking or sucking of anything else for that matter. Except, maybe later. Once he got this killer off the streets. Monroe might be interested. You never know.
Though Nick was still not touching those sausages.
Fandom: Grimm
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Summary: pre-slash set during Tarantella. Nick's POV in the kitchen while Monroe is making those sausages.
Word Count: 244
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own words.
Nick couldn’t quit staring at Monroe’s hands. Those soft-looking, smooth, long fingered hands opening the spice bottle and turning the lever of whatever that sausage making device was called. He had noticed earlier how enticing Monroe’s hands were, but now there were forearms, not that Monroe hadn’t possessed forearms before, but now they were visible, his sleeves pushed back to his elbows so they wouldn’t get stained with whatever Monroe stuffed in the sausages. Did he buy every blood-colored fruit and vegetable in the produce section? Because seriously. It looked like a slaughterhouse in here. Yet now Nick didn’t really notice so much what the kitchen looked like, because Monroe’s hands were suddenly the most fascinating, sexiest body part he had ever seen, and he wanted to suck on his fingers from nail to knuckle, lap at his palms and kiss his wrists, continuing along that enticing vein on the side of his right forearm up to his elbow until his pale skin was flushed from the scrape of Nick’s teeth and the suckling of his lips and Monroe gasped, his eyelids drifting shut, begging Nick to continue his appreciation further south.
Nick shook himself when the refrigerator door snapped open. The Spinnetod. Right. There would be no finger sucking or sucking of anything else for that matter. Except, maybe later. Once he got this killer off the streets. Monroe might be interested. You never know.
Though Nick was still not touching those sausages.