#These fools and their fucking witty humor at odd times lol

[evilfloralfoolery]

Nothing Like a Hot Shower

Just a short bunch of indulgent porn here. Grimm is soaking wet from the rain and suffering. Indigo has a few ideas for a cure.

Before Grimm was a mercenary of sorts, he was a cop. He retired early, but every now and then, he goes back to help out with things. I started writing an arc where that happens. Maybe I just like hot buttered cop porn.

Indulgent NSFW purple prose nonsense.

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“Indy.” 

An insistent knock upon the door and a tired declaration.

“I forgot my fucking keys.” 

Of course he had. Given the way Grimm had dashed out into the creeping grip of impending evening, it was a wonder he had remembered anything at all. 

“Coming!” Indigo calls from the living room. 

He hurriedly shuffles to the door, nearly losing a slipper in the process.

The audacity.

After unlatching the useless chain, he forces the deadbolt open with a grunt. Damnable wooden door. Grimm really should fix the thing.

“My apologies, I was reading in the. . .”  

His words trail into stunned silence. Grimm isn't just wet. He's positively soaked, his dark length of hair a pitiful reminiscence of a ponytail that clings to his back in listless disarray, uniform saturated to near black.

“My goodness, come inside this instant!” Indigo grabs him by the utility belt and all but jerks him across the threshold.

“Fucking useless tracking that guy in this shit.” Grimm gestures to the pelting rain, annoyance creasing his features. 

Indigo nudges the door shut with his foot and it creaks into compliance. “Indeed.” 

He stops fighting with re-engaging the wretched lock when Grimm's shaky but sharp catch of breath diverts his attention. 

“Huuuh. . .! UHCHISSH! UHSSCH! UHCHIISSCHHU!!” 

Grimm's broad shoulders shudder and flinch, one hand half-heartedly clamped over his mouth and nose.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

Indigo lays a gentle hand upon his back, wincing at just how cold the fabric is to the touch. “Bless you, love.” 

“Thank you.” Grimm's gratitude is intertwined with a weary exhale, softening the words to a near whisper. 

“Off with those wet clothes immediately.” Indigo tugs at one dripping sleeve.

That delectable mouth curves into a smirk. “Can't wait to get me naked?” 

“Honestly, Grimm.” 

He unbuckles the heavy utility belt laden with multiple guns and other hardware and hands it over to Indigo, who does a double take. The thing must weigh fifteen pounds at the very least. Hard to imagine sprinting through the city streets with such a monstrosity.

The uniform follows, accompanied by the Kevlar concealed beneath it. Boots and belt. And the pants, after a brief struggle to practically peel the things away from Grimm's thickly muscled thighs. 

Great gods, the man is stunning, even when spent and freezing.

“Hhh-huuuh! UHSSCHU! –GKSSSHH!!” 

And even more so whilst doing that. 

“Bless you,” Indigo says with such nausea-inducing sweetness, he nearly rolls his eyes at himself. “Shower. Now, Grimm.” 

“Fucking bossy,” Grimm says, but the words are affectionate rather than chastising. 

He also does as Indigo requests (or orders) and saunters into the bathroom, dropping his boxer briefs somewhere along the way. 

A positively wrenching “HUH’AHSSSCHH-UU!” echoes in rough desperation from the rather impressive bathroom acoustics and Indigo steps up his pace. 

Grimm has already turned on the shower, the steam just beginning to rise as he fights with the hair tie.

“Goddamn it,” he mutters in a voice thick with growing congestion.

“Allow me.” Indigo crosses the distance that separates them to aid his amusingly cross partner.

Gentle fingers manipulate his damp hair into submission, freeing it to tumble past his shoulders in a tangled nest of darkness.

“I rather fancy your hair pulled away from your face,” Indigo says. “It has gotten quite long.” 

“Yeah?” Grimm sniffles and snatches a handful of tissues from the box near the counter. “Looks better when it's not wehhh-huuuh!” His features cinch into urgent helplessness and his expression crumbles. “UHH’CHISSSHU!  HH’GISSCH!  UHHGKSSSCHHiuu!’

“Into the shower with you.”  Indigo half-shoves the other man towards the sliding glass door and Grimm glances over his shoulder, hair sliding down his back.

“Wanna join me?”

That coy expression combined with his insistent sniffling and darker pitch to his voice is enough to drive Indigo mad.  

Before he can negotiate the pros and cons of disrobing himself yet again, his treacherous hands have already begun the process of unbuttoning his pajama top.  

Gods be damned.

At least Grimm has stepped beneath the hot spray, water streaming off of every plane of his body in a manner that is somehow most obscene.  Indigo follows suit and slides the glass door shut.

Grimm’s massive hands land on either side of his waist and pull him close with an indecent slap of naked skin-to-skin contact.

“You miss me?”

Indigo winds his fingers into Grimm’s saturated hair and grips a handful.  “Perhaps.” 

A low chuckle. Calloused fingers running over his bare skin.  

“Remind me, what rank have they assigned you?”  Indigo traces a lazy path down Grimm’s chest, stopping short at the space just below his belly button.

“Captain,” Grimm says.  “Pissed a lot of people off.”

“Captain first or surname?”

Hands squeeze his sides and Grimm rolls his hips in a suggestive manner just enough to elicit an involuntary shiver from Indigo. “Captain Amadis.” 

“How very official and imposing,” Indigo says.  

“Uh huh.”  Grimm leans down to nuzzle his chin, nips at the fragile pulsepoint near the base of his throat.  

“Well, Captain Amadis.” Indigo brushes a clinging strand of dark hair away from the edge of his lips.  “Are you, perhaps, going to conduct a search of my person?”

One eyebrow arches high.  “That depends.”  Grimm’s voice drops to the darkest gravel it can muster.  “Are you concealing any weapons?”

Indigo’s hand slips below the threshold of Grimm’s hips and wraps around him with a decisive squeeze.  “I see that you have chosen to open carry.” 

Grimm’s laugh is a resonant ringing within the confines of the shower.

“Hmmn, well.”  Grimm dips his head, lips pressed against the shell of Indigo’s ear.  “Guess I’ll just have to frisk you.” He walks Indigo backwards until his back connects with the warm marble framework. “Don’t resist.”

Capable fingers run the length of his sides, delving lower and lower still, probing his shower-warmed skin with tactile precision.  The simple act of Grimm’s skilled touch is enough to quicken his breath, to ignite a slow, roiling burn within him, to–

The hands cinch tight upon his hips and Grimm’s breath hitches into a sharp, unhinged gasp, leaving his touch intact, but turning his head at the very last second.  

Partially. 

“Huuuh . . .! UHCHISSHHu! UHHCHIISSHHUU! Huuhh!---AHSSCCHHIIUUH!” 

He holds nothing back, his thick frame shuddering, translating through Indigo’s entire body like a seismic shock.  

“Hnnh, bless you . . .” Indigo barely manages with such a markedly indecent groan that Grimm recovers himself with a smoldering smirk of a smile. 

“Thank you,” he says, sniffling in a most audaciously liquid manner that is counterpoint to Indigo’s vocal betrayal. “Now come here.” 

Grimm gathers him into his embrace and hoists him to a greater height, using the wall as a counterbalance to plunder Indigo’s entire being in every way he can muster.  

Mere moments pass before Grimm’s carnal attentions provoke an equally unadulterated response, and Indigo is more than a little grateful for both the stability of the wall behind him and his partner’s capable grip upon his body.  

He sinks his hands into Grimm’s damp hair, gives the dark locks an authoritative jerk, and Grimm is sent tumbling after him into the heated abyss.  His bonded mate may have a monopoly on Indigo’s libido with a liberal use of his odd predilection, but Grimm himself certainly has his own weaknesses. 

Gradually, the racing of his heart subsides and his breathing begins to normalize as Grimm sets him gently on his feet, arms settling around his shoulders.

“Good goddamn.” Grimm runs a hand through his hair, slicking it away from his face.

“Indeed.” Indigo leans into his embrace and happily indulges in the close, intimate contact of skin against skin.

Perhaps a second shower had not been such an arduous affair after all.