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Deepest Desires | Sean Renard | Grimm

Part 1 | Part 2 - Comming soon

One or more parts will contain:

Warnings/ Tags: SMUT[NSFW], smut, minors DNI, established relationship, p in v, creampie, a little rough, Cunnilingus, consensual!, hes a big man, orgasm denial, one orgasm after another.

Summary: A potion puts you and the Captain in a bit of a predicament. Will you be able to save him from the evil spell, before time runs out? (He spends most of the time tied up. )

Word Count: 8,003

Not my gif, if its yours and you would like me to remove it just ask <3

The bell atop the door chimed softly as you stepped into the shop, a sound you had not expected to hear again for quite a while. The air was thick with the familiar scent of aged paper mingled with an array of spices and herbs, some recognisable, others lost to memory. Wooden shelves, bowing under the weight of countless books and jars, lined the walls, casting long shadows across the worn wooden floor beneath the dim glow of hanging lanterns.

Your gaze settled on the familiar silhouette of Rosalee, who leaned casually against the counter at the back, absorbed in a book. Her dark hair fell like a curtain around her face, and the gentle lamplight glinted off her round spectacles. She looked up, a little startled by the noise, having been so engrossed in the book that the sound of the bell at this late hour had made her jump. The cozy warmth of the shop provided a stark contrast to the chill of the night's air, and for a moment, you felt as if you had never left this quiet corner of the world.

“We’re clos-“ she started before her features twisted into a look of confusion. “Why are you here, shouldn’t you be back in Europe by now?” She asked, dropping the page she had been holding and moving to walk around the counter.

You were breathing hard, and her confusion quickly turned to worry as she stepped toward you. She stepped closer, her hand instinctively reaching out to brush your hair aside, revealing a bruise blooming just above your hairline. Tilting your head back, she examined your face; you hadn’t dared to check your reflection before entering, yet the sharp throb from the blow you had suffered lingered, echoing through the hours since it happened. In the brief time you had been apart, everything had spiralled into chaos, and you desperately hoped she could provide the help you so urgently needed.

“What happened?” Her expression turning fierce, her Wesson self flashing across her face for a moment with the sudden change of emotion.

She stole a glance over her shoulder, as if anticipating someone to burst through the door of the shop at any moment.

“Yeah, I have a little bit of a problem,” you started, placing your hands on your hips and taking a breath, not really sure how you were going to explain the situation to her. You weren't entirely sure that you genuinely understood it yourself. “Is Monroe here? I could really use his help with something, and then I’ll explain to you exactly why I’m not where I am supposed to be.”

“Right, he’s secured to the chair, but look, I promised I’d go help Nick with something.” Monroe placed his hands on his hips and looked from Rosalee to you. “I can get him over here if you want to make this a team effort?”

Then he looked at Captain Sean Renard, the imposing figure now tied to a wooden chair that creaked under his weight. He didn’t move. His head had fallen forward, obscuring a face that was usually so composed, so commanding. It was a stark reminder of the chaos that had unfolded. Monroe and you had been forced to haul him into the shop, grappling with the bulk of the unconscious man and hauling him into the Spice Shop. Rosalee stood to one side, her brow furrowed with a mix of trepidation and determination. The air in the room hung heavy with tension. This was bad.

“You should go,” Rosalee said with a nod and a small smile, a determined look taking over her features. “We can handle this.”

“You sure, this seems like something we should all help with, I mean a love spell on the Captain. That’s really gonna suck, how are you going to explain it to him when he wakes up?”

“He already knows, he’s the one who came to me about it. Hell, it was his idea for me to knock him out.” You folded your arms and shot a sideways look at the Captain.

“Damn, I bet you enjoyed that.” Smirked Monroe.

“Come on now, don’t say things like that. You should really get going; you can’t keep Nick waiting. It might be important,” Rosalee spoke gently, her gaze softening.

Monroe chuckled, a roll of his eyes indicating he knew he was being mildly reprimanded, but also that he wasn’t truly sorry for his comment. “Alright, alright,” he conceded, waving a hand dismissively.

With one last look at the Captain, who shifted ever so slightly in his sleep, Monroe turned to leave.

You heard the bell jingle, signifying the three of you were now alone in the shop. It was quiet, it had already been late by the time you had arrived. You glanced down at your watch, it was nearing ten pm. You should have been back in England this time last night.

“I should lock the door,” Rosalee said, her voice barely above a whisper as she moved towards the door frame. Her footsteps were quiet on the creaky floor, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts no doubt racing through her mind. The weight of the situation seemed to press in around the room, thick and tangible, as her fingers hovered over the door handle.

“Leave it," you interjected, startling her slightly. "There’s the closed sign on the front, right? If this goes bad, we’re going to need Nick and Monroe here ASAP, and I’m not sure if I want a locked door between them and us.” Your voice was steady, but beneath it lay a current of underlying tension. The open door was a lifeline, a connection to support and safety.

Rosalee paused, her brow furrowing in contemplation. "Yeah, but what if someone comes in and sees the police captain tied to a chair in the back of my shop?” Her voice held a tinge of worry, an understandable concern given the bizarre tableau that lay behind you.

“Well, we can just say it’s his kink,” you laughed, your attempt at humour lightening the mood for a fleeting moment. Your comment earned you a slight smile from her, a brief respite from the gravity of the situation.

“You do not say that,” came Sean's voice, suddenly cutting through the semi-darkness like a sharp blade slicing through silk. The two of you turned toward him, his jaw clenched, an unmistakable scowl etched onto his features.

The room hummed with tension, the air charged as his icy gaze flickered between both of you, a mix of incredulity and simmering irritation in his intense eyes. For a heartbeat, the room held its breath, as if anticipating the storm that could follow in the wake of Sean’s displeasure. Yet, even in his current state, there was a peculiar spark of humour in his eye. Sean, despite everything, seemed poised to navigate this ordeal with his characteristic blend of severity and unexpected wit.

Sean parted his lips just slightly, rocking his lower jaw from side to side, and for a fleeting moment, guilt washed over you at the memory of how hard you had struck him. A faint bruise was beginning to blossom at the edge of his jaw, a visible mark of the confrontation that had just transpired. It was a stark reminder of the violence that had been done, and for a fleeting moment, you couldn't shake the dread of him somehow overpowering the restraints binding him to the chair. Your gaze fell on Sean once again, studying him with a mix of curiosity and concern. It was indeed a weird sight, the imposing figure of the Captain, usually so commanding and confident, now utterly helpless, tied to a chair. There was something about it that stirred something within you—a strange allure in seeing such a strong man so utterly vulnerable.

“Oh good, you're awake.” you muttered, stepping towards him, Rosalee following you. “Now you get to tell her what you told me.”

“That was one hell of a right hook.” He glanced up at you for a moment before shifting his focus to Rosalee.

“He's lucid?” She asked, looking at you wide-eyed.

“Ugh, yeah. Why?”

“Love spells typically make people entirely infatuated with the person they have been cursed to obsess over. Typically, as it gets stronger, they begin to lose their faculties to the point where they’re unable to so much as string a sentence together.”

“Well, maybe it works differently for him as he’s a Royal half-breed or something?” You leant against the bench, folding your arms, looking Sean up and down.

His expression was anything but amused, likely a reaction to your flippant remark about his birth status. A pang of sympathy tugged at you; he looked worn out, more so than you'd ever seen him in the months you've known him. Beads of sweat began to form on his brow, a sign that the spell or potion he'd been given was taking its toll. You understood the gravity of the situation. There was no pleasant or straightforward resolution to this situation, and it certainly wouldn’t resolve itself on its own. Time wasn’t on your side.

Rosalee recognised the gravity of his predicament, realising it was more urgent than she had first thought.

“Right, before we do anything we need to figure out what someone has given him, how potent it is and how long since he ingested it. We will have no hope of curing him until we figure out what the hell is wrong with him.”

“So this somewhat feels a little bit like conventional medicine.” You muttered as she handed you a heavy book.

She dismissed you with a glance and shifted her attention to Sean.

“What exactly are you feeling?” She inquired, opening her book, glancing at the page before turning her gaze back to him.

He cast a glance at Rosalee, then turned to you before tightening his jaw, remaining silent.

“Did you not hear her, if we don’t know what this is, we can’t fix it.” You stated, stepping next to her and scowling at him.

He let out a deep sigh, his eyes falling to the floor as he chewed the inside of him cheek. “I don’t know. It’s just when I’m not around her, it almost feels painful. It started just like a dull ache when you miss someone, but over the last two days it has got so intense that I almost feel robbed of air when I don’t have her in sight.” He stated, not meeting the eyes of either of you.

The way he was acting amused you a little, here he was the Bastard Prince, who was usually so imposing and confident. Tied to a chair, unable to look you in the eye. There was something about it that stirred something within you. You liked seeing such a strong man so utterly helpless, no, you liked seeing Sean Renard tied to a chair.

You turned your gaze toward Rosalee, who seemed blissfully unaware of the amusement you found in the situation. Instead, she was engrossed in her book, her hand skimming rapidly across the pages before she flipped to the next one, continuing the motion with a determined efficiency. A scowl marred her features as she studied the text, which set your teeth on edge. You had hoped for a straightforward solution. You had been hoping that this would be a simple fix, maybe someone yourself or Nick had some dealings with that was left unhappy. Perhaps someone who wanted to inconvenience you a little, but by the looks of things, I was a little more complicated than that. Or perhaps just someone who had it out for the police captain, he must have made a fair few enemies in his line of work.

“What else is there?” Rosalee inquired, glancing up from her book, her expression a mixture of expectation and urgency.

“What do you mean by that, 'what else?'” Sean responded, his voice tinged with irritation. His scathing glance flicked to Rosalee before his focus shifted to you, a silent demand for clarity embedded in the depths of his gaze.

Rosalee met his eyes with unwavering resolve. “You need to tell us everything, Sean. Every little detail, no matter how insignificant it might seem to you. We’re grasping at straws here, and anything might be the key to unraveling this mess.”

She turned back to her book, scanning the pages with diligent determination, the sound of rustling paper punctuating the tension in the room. You could almost see the gears turning in her mind, fitting puzzle pieces together in an intricate attempt to uncover the truth.

Sean sighed, seemingly weighing his words with the same careful precision as someone picking their way through a minefield. His gaze softened, the irritation giving way to a flicker of resignation. The truth, however small, was what they needed, and behind his initial resistance, he knew it.

“There’s… a lot,” he began, hesitantly, his voice subdued, “but I’ll tell you what I can. I know that my family is behind it, and that they most certainly don’t care if I die. That they have power and money at their disposal, so it is likely complicated and an expensive potion.” He shrugged his shoulders.

He didn’t seem overly bothered by the potential death he was facing down, and you couldn’t tell if he genuinely didn’t care, or he was just brilliant at hiding it.

Rosalee let out a deep sigh and then turned back to the previous page of her book. This was definitely worse than you thought it would be, if his family were behind it, then there might be the risk that Rosalee couldn't undo whatever spell or potion had been placed on him. You chewed at the inside of your cheek, your body ached, and you wanted nothing more than to collapse into the little bed that Rosalee had set up in this little room. That wouldn't be of any assistance, and you didn’t know how much longer Sean would be able to control himself. Even though he was a half-Zauberbiest, he was strong. You were sure if you would be able to get him back into the chair if he managed to escape from it.

“Tell her what you told me at the airport.” You said putting down the book Rosalee gave you.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes darting between you and Rosalee, yet he chose to remain silent.

“What happened at the Airport?” Rosalee questioned looking from him to you.

“Just watch,” you said, turning from the two of them and walking from the back room to the front of the shop.

The second you left the room, you could hear Sean grunt in pain, you gave it a few seconds before you walked back into the room. Sean was red in the face and slightly more sweaty than he had been when you had left him.

“It physically hurts him when you walk too far from him?” Rosalee glanced down at her book before lifting her gaze to meet yours.

“Yep, he damn near passed out when he found me at the airport. The further I go, the more it hurts and as far as I can tell, it's getting worse.” You took a deep breath and leant back against the table.

“I am assuming you didn’t come here straight way, then, if it hurts him that much just for you to be in a different room?”

“Nope, he said that he could figure out what it was and well that was yesterday. I persuaded him to come here.”

“And he’s tied up…because.”

You gestured toward the bruise blossoming on your forehead. In turn, Rosalee cast a disdainful glance at Sean, her scowl deepening.

“I didn’t mean to.” He reasoned. “I don’t know what this feeling is, but it is intense, the idea of her being anywhere but right here with me, well, it. It makes me violent.”

“He didn’t mean to, I just tried to leave the room and well you saw how much that hurt him, so he stopped me.”

“You’re lucky you’re a Grimm, I doubt that anyone else would have been able to manhandle a Hybrid Royal here without serious injury.” She clutched the book she was holding against herself and then looked at you with a sorry expression.

“Can we hurry this along, I do have work to get back to.” Stated Sean, the irritation evident in his voice.

“Right,” Rosalee started, letting out a sigh and turning back to him. “What are your feelings?”

“What are my- what do you mean?” He asked looked at her, a confused scowl twisting his features.

“How do you feel about her, what is the key emotion? Hate, anger, obsession, love?”

There was a flicker of something in his eye as spoke the last word, but it was gone in little more than a blink of an eye. Slow enough for you to detect, but not slow enough for you to decipher.

“I don’t know, all I know is if I am not near her, it’s like my body is on fire.”

Rosalee looked to you and then back to him, before stepping towards the bookshelf. She placed the book she was holding on the small table to her left, and then pulled another book from the shelf. Shuffling through the pages, she frowned at it before replacing it on the shelf and pulling out another. You watched her in silence until her expression changed as she read the fourth book she had pulled from the shelf.

“It could be a strong obsession potion, I don’t think it’s anything to do with love. He wouldn't be able to string a sentence together.” She turned to you and looked up from the book.

“Great, now how do I make him less obsessed?”

“With another potion,” she smiled.

* Forty-five minutes later, you were staring down into the pot on the portable stove top Rosalee had put on the table in the middle of the room. Arranged on the table was a wild assortment of things, some of which you could name and others you couldn’t even attempt to pronounce the word scribbled onto their aged labels. Some aromas coming off the items were pleasant, most, however, were not.

“I don’t have to drink this, right?” You asked, looking down at the gloopy, disgustingly thick brown goo she has spent so much time concocting.

“No, but you do have to put your blood in it and then hold the pot while he drinks it.” A smile played on her face and the two of you glanced at Sean.

He had been quiet for most of the time, only making a noise when you went to move out of the backroom into the front of the shop to collect one of the things on Rosalee’s list. Forgetting for a moment how he reacted when you moved out of sight.

“You sure you want to try this?” Whispered Rosalee, low enough that Sean likely wouldn’t hear. “I mean, having a Royal slash Police Captain fiercely protective of you might be fun.” She smirked.

She always had an opinion about the two of you, firmly convinced there was something brewing between you both. Regardless of how much you insisted you wouldn’t touch the man even if he were the last one on earth, there was an undeniable spark in her smile that made you certain she didn’t believe you.

“Behave, him freaking out and writhing in agony when I leave the room isn’t any use to me at all.”

“Well, you could have worse people obsessed with you.”

“Having Zauberbiest obsessed with me is really not something I want to deal with right now. You know, being a Grimm and all, I doubt that will really work out all that well.”

“Okay, okay…” she grabbed your finger and poked it with a needle.

You winced as she squeezed it, drops of your blood falling into the liquid. To your surprise, the brown sludge turned a colour that more closely resembled a strawberry milkshake.

“Oh, that sucks, I was enjoying the idea of him slurping down the nasty stuff.”

“I can hear you, you know.” Muttered Sean.

You turned to see him glaring at you, those dark eyes looked you up and down before he clenched his jaw again. He looked a little worse than he did before the two of you started. You could see his chest rising and falling fast, as though he had just finished running. And he was a little sweatier.

“It’s still going to taste pretty awful,” Rosalee remarked as she carefully poured the potion into a glass. “But it should do the trick and cure him.”

“Should?” You raised your eyebrow as she handed you the glass. “What do you mean should?”

"Well, if it is an obsession spell, then it will get rid of it," she explained confidently.

“And if it isn’t?” You glanced down at the liquid, grimacing as you caught a whiff of it.

"It won’t do anything, and we will be back to the drawing board," Rosalee added with a resigned sigh.

You raised your eyebrows and let out a sigh, turning to Sean. Despite the weariness that clung to him, he was undeniably captivating. His strong jaw and intense eyes drew you in, even more so now with that unguarded look. His gaze held an energy that seemed to spark and flicker, revealing a depth of emotion that was difficult to ignore. In that fleeting moment, even tied to a chair, his presence was utterly magnetic, imbued with a rugged charm that was impossible to resist. Stepping forwards, you watched as he visibly relaxed a little.

“It’s getting worse, isn't it?” You asked.

You watched his Adams apple bob in his throat as he swallowed and nodded at you. “Yeah.”

“Well, let’s hope this works.” You stated stepping forwards and placing your free hand on the back of his head, your other hand holding the glass, moving it to his lips.

He grimaced at the smell, his nose wrinkling in distaste, but sealed his lips to the glass as you began to tilt it. The liquid sloshed as it met his mouth, and he drank quickly in big gulps, determined to get it over with. A brief choke caught him off guard, his throat bobbing uneasily, but he pressed on, swallowing the strange concoction as fast as he could manage. When the glass was finally empty, he exhaled in relief as you pulled it away, releasing your gentle grip from the back of his head. A moment's pause allowed him to catch his breath, the tension in his muscles loosening with each passing second. Hopefully, this would put an end to whatever the hell was happening to him.

He pulled a face and looked up at you, you laughed and he frowned. Carefully, you raised your sleeve and wiped the milkshake like moustache the potion had left on his upper lip. You then joined Rosalee, who had sat down on the edge of the bed a little off to Seans right. Placing the glass on the bedside table, you looked at her.

“How long is it going to take for this thing to work?” you asked, your voice tinged with both curiosity and impatience as you looked Sean up and down.

“I don’t know, I say we give it five minutes and then test it. If it’s working, then you should be able to walk out of the room without him writhing in agony.” Rosalee replied, her tone measured and hopeful.

You put your head in your hands and let out a deep, exasperated sigh. It felt like you were running on fumes, the stress of the last day weighing heavily on your shoulders. The whirlwind of emotions and tension had taken its toll, leaving you feeling drained and weary.

“You don’t happen to have any aspirin, do you, my head is killing me,” you said, your voice tinged with pain as you pinched the bridge of your nose.

Rosalee smiled and nodded before getting up and disappearing out of the room. She came back a few minutes later with a glass of water and something that definitely was not aspirin. You looked down at the root looking thing in her hand and then back up at her.

“It will work better than aspirin. You chew it slightly, then swallow.” Rosalee smiled and nodded reassuringly.

You eyed her suspiciously but took the root, chewed it a few times and then swallowed, taking a mouthful of the water to wash away the slight tangy bitterness of the root.

Then you stood and moved towards Sean. He visibly relaxed once more as you got a little closer, your presence easing the pain he was feeling. Gently, you placed your hand on the back of his head and helped him to drink the water. When he finished, he nodded at you in thanks, a silent acknowledgment of the comfort your closeness brought.

“I guess it didn’t work?” You whispered, chewing the inside of your cheek as he shook his head.

“So it’s not an obsession potion.” Stated Rosalee, picking at the dry skin on her bottom lip.

“Not a love potion and not an obsession potion, I really think we are running out of options here.” You stated stepping away from Sean.

He grunted, and the two of you turned towards him.

“And time.” Said Rosalee as you watched the vein in Seans neck poke out as he clenched his jaw and started at the ground. “You stay close to him, there’s no point in putting him through more pain than he needs, we will figure this out.”

She disappeared back into the front of the shop, and the soft, familiar sound of the ladder being wheeled along the shelves reached your ears. Carefully, you stepped closer to Sean. It was becoming clear that being more than a few feet away from him was starting to affect him, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly with each step you took towards him.

“What the hell is this?” You asked out loud, looking at him relax increasingly with every step you took closer to him.

As you stood in front of him, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours. He shrugged, tilting his head back and taking some deep breaths, relieved the pain was somewhat eased up a little.

“If it was getting this bad, you really should have mentioned something.” You continued looking down at him and crossing your arms.

He let out a small laugh, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. His smile was cocky, revealing a flash of his straight, white teeth. The lines around his eyes and mouth deepened with his expression, adding a certain warmth to his face.

“You look like a school teacher scolding me.” He mumbled, adjusting in the seat a little.

You were about to quip something back, but Rosalee burst into the room.

“I have something!” She announced, brushing the items on the table out of the way with her forearm and thumping a heavy book down on the table.

“A cure?” You asked, stepping away from Sean, which drew a pained grunt from his lips.

You shot him an apologetic look and stepped closer to him.

“No, but it should buy us, if we’re lucky, another day to figure out what the hell is wrong with him.” She didn’t look up from the book, just hurriedly started grabbing ingredients.

She had been working in silence for a little more than ten minutes, her focus unwavering as she hurriedly prepared the items she needed to brew the potion. You could hear the soft clink of glass bottles and the rustle of parchment as she gathered her ingredients with practiced ease. Despite your curiosity, when you'd gently inquired about the concoction she was preparing, she had merely shushed you, too absorbed in her work to spare you a glance.

Left to your devices, you began to pace around Sean. The invisible tether binding you to him meant you couldn't move more than three feet away, so you resorted to a slow, rhythmic pacing back and forth behind him. The space felt much like a cage, limiting and unyielding. Each step was careful and measured, a dance you were forced to partake in as you both waited in the small, tense room. The repetitive motion became both a comfort and a reminder of the strange predicament you now found yourselves entwined in.

“Can you please stop that.” Sean, glanced back at you over his shoulder.

Stopping, you turned to look at him.

“No.” You stated and turned and began pacing again.

"Please," he implored softly, his voice carrying a surprising note of vulnerability that caught you off guard.

Turning to look at him, he was still looking at you over his shoulder. He looked more tired than he had when the two of the two of you had arrived. Whatever the potion or spell was, it didn’t look as though he had all that much time left.

“I don’t think I have ever heard you use that word before.” You smirked, shaking your head at how pathetic the word sounded coming out of his mouth.

"Well, extreme circumstances," he shrugged, his tone casual as he tried to downplay the situation with a hint of resignation.

There was something about him, even though he was sweating and looked as though he was uncomfortable, he didn’t seem as uptight as he usually did. There wasn’t the same sense of superiority as he typically had lurking around him. It was as though the carefully crafted shield of charisma and sarcasm was starting to falter.

"I can’t move more than three feet from you, without you writhing around in agony and forgive me, but I don’t really want to stand there and stare at you. I’m tired, and my legs hurt," you said, your voice a mix of exasperation and defeat.

"Then why are you pacing?" he asked, a curious blend of irritation and genuine interest lacing his words.

"It makes them hurt less," you explained with a resigned sigh.

"Come here," he instructed, a gentle yet firm command in his voice.

"I'm already here, like I said, no more than three feet," you replied, a hint of frustration tinging your words.

He glanced over his shoulder once more, his large green eyes unexpectedly gentle. With a subtle tilt of his head, he urged you to shift to a spot where he wouldn’t have to exert himself so much to catch your gaze.

With a deep sigh, you turned to face him. His gaze tracked your movements.

"What do you want, another glass of water?" you asked, your voice laced with a mix of curiosity and gentle teasing, trying to lighten the mood a little.

"Sit on my lap," he said with a surprising nonchalance, the words slipping out as if it were the most natural request in the world.

"What?" you replied, eyebrows raised, the suddenness of his request catching you completely off guard.

"Sit on my lap. Your legs hurt, but you can’t be more than a few feet from me. Sit on my lap, then your feet won't hurt, and I won't be in pain. It’s starting to become insufferable," he explained, his expression sincere, devoid of his usual scowl.

“Well, I can just sit over there.” You replied, gesturing to the bed about five feet away. “It would just hurt you, not me.”

“Please.” This time it sounded more like he was begging than pleading.

“There it is, that word again.” You laughed, folding your arms.

“Hey Rosalee, how long is this going to take?” Sean asked, looking past you and over to your friend.

You glanced over your shoulder at her, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration as she carefully measured a fine, dark powder in a worn metal spoon. The steam from the pot curled upwards, a swirling dance against the warm light of the room. With a steady hand, she poured the powder into the cauldron of bubbling liquid, its surface hissing in protest.

“Uh, if I get this right, it should be ready in about ten minutes.” She didn’t look up from her books as she spoke.

“You want to pace around for another ten minutes?” He inquired, his head tilting ever so slightly to one side.

You shut your eyes, releasing a long, exasperated breath before opening them again to find his green gaze upon you.

“Fine.” You said, shaking your head in disbelief and turning and sitting on his lap.

“I said sit, not perch.” His voice was low and commanding, you could feel his breath on the back of your neck.

You rose and then sank back down, pressing against his solid form. Instantly, the ache in your feet and legs dissipated, relieved now that they no longer bore your weight. Yet, your mind began to betray you; his sturdy presence, anchoring you, sparked a flurry of thoughts. You wondered what it would be like if he weren’t bound to the chair, how it might feel to have him lean into you, enveloping you in his embrace. You envisioned the sweetness of his lips against your neck, a gentle touch that lingered on your skin.

“Who would have through that a little over two months ago, you were trying to kill me.” His voice once again low, this time there was a hint of something else in it, something that you were starting to figure out the meaning of.

"Well, I am a Grimm, but now we only kill the terrible ones. And as far as everyone is concerned, you’re one of the bad ones," you replied, your voice level and calm, despite the tension in the room.

“So, I’m the reason you came all the way over here?” You felt him move slightly under you.

“You already know the answer to that question, Sean. Now, how do you think someone got you to drink the potion?” You asked trying to sit as still as possible, attempting to figure out if this was more or less uncomfortable than standing.

“I don’t know, in my coffee perhaps or one of the snacks I keep in my drawer,” Sean mused, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

“You keep snacks in your drawer?”

"Long hours and I can’t always be bothered to make dinner when I get home," he admitted with a shrug, a hint of tired resignation in his voice.

You raised your eyebrows, forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t see the expression on your face.

“It's done,” stated Rosalee, turning around, her eyes falling on the two of you. “Did it get worse?”

You jumped up from his lap and turned to look at him.

“Yeah, a little bit, I can’t move more than three feet from him without him complaining about it.”

“This should help.” she moved forwards and handed you a small vial filled with a green liquid that looked as though she had just bottled up swamp water.

“Is it a cure?” Sean asked, his eyes fixed on the vial in your hand, a grimace tugging at his lips as he considered the murky liquid inside.

“No, but it should buy me some time to figure out what the hell you are infected with and how to cure it.”

“Does that mean you can untie me from the chair?” He looked from you to her, his expression hopeful.

"Yep, it will dampen the negative effects of whatever it is you have," she reassured, her voice steady and confident as she met his gaze.

You shrugged and turned to him, and pressed the vial to his lips as he tilted back his head.

“How long does this one take to work?” you inquired, your brow furrowed with a hint of concern.

“Should just be moments, move in the direction of the door.”

You eyed her a little suspiciously before taking a step away from Sean, he looked you up and down but didn’t writhe around in pain. Cautiously you took another step, again nothing. After a few moments, you had made it all the way into the shop and out of sight.

“You can come back in now, I think we have more than confirmed that it works.” Called Rosalee.

You sighed and moved back around the counter into the back, where Rosalee was leaning against a table and Sean was still tied to the chair.

“So how long is this going to work, I’m looking forwards to spending a little time away from him.” you addressed Rosalee, not looking at Sean while you spoke.

“Well there's the catch, it will give us about a day give or take. But the further you are from each other, the shorter the time will be.”

“So there is no hope of me getting a hotel for the night and spending a little time forgetting about this whole thing?” you asked, your tone edged with frustration and longing for a momentary escape.

"No you need to stay together, this is the sort of potion that only works the once, so if the two of you could give me as much time as you can to figure this out the more likely he will live through this," she explained, her tone urgent yet calm.

“You should stay with me until we have this figured out.” Sean interjected.

You turned to him, the reality of his situation washing over you like a cold wave. For a moment, you had almost forgotten that he was still tied to the chair, a powerful figure reduced to a position of helplessness. Sean met your gaze with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Raising your eyebrows, you felt a mixture of disbelief and reluctant understanding. There was no way you were going to argue your way out of this one; the urgency in Rosalee's voice rang too loudly in your mind. It was as if the room had narrowed down to just the two of you, the air thick with unspoken thoughts.

With a reluctant sigh, you folded your arms, aware that your disagreement would lead nowhere. Instead, you shifted your focus to Sean, taking in the way his brows knitted together with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. There was something poignant about seeing him there, a man typically full of authority now trapped in this bizarre situation. It was eye-opening, and as much as you wanted to dismiss it all, a part of you was curious about what it meant for both of you moving forward.

* He pulled his suit jacket off with a fluid motion, the fabric slipping off his shoulders and landing on the chair next to his chest of drawers with a soft thud. As he moved, there was an effortless grace to his actions, honed from years of command. He sat down on his bed, the mattress shifting slightly beneath him, and began to unbutton his shirt.

With each button he deftly released, the fabric parted to reveal the defined contours of his chest, a blend of strength and vulnerability. He paused for a brief moment, his hands lingering on the last button, as if contemplating the transition from his polished, professional facade to something more raw and exposed. Finally, he let the shirt fall away, the material cascading down until it lay crumpled at his side, leaving him clad only in pants, showcasing his muscular physique.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked, folding your arms and looking at him with the most disapproving look you could muster, doing everything not to look at his toned chest.

You had thought once or twice about what was beneath the immaculate, expensive suits he strutted around in. Not once had you imagined him to be so muscular and tanned. His physique was striking—a testament to strength and discipline. His shoulders were broad, tapering down to a well-defined chest and abs that rippled with each breath he took. Warm, golden skin hinted at time spent under the sun, contrasting sharply with the refined suits he usually wore.

“I’m going to take a shower, and then I’m going to bed.” He finished with the buttons, pulling his shirt from where it was tucked into the waistband of his trousers and pulling it off, throwing it to the floor.

Then he stood and unbuckled his belt, the sound of the metal clinking breaking the heavy tension in the air. With a single, fluid motion, he pulled it out of the belt loops, demonstrating an undeniably captivating casual confidence. You weren’t entirely sure how to react; you wouldn't ever admit you were a little impressed, maybe even turned on by the sight. The way his muscles flexed as he moved, combined with the confidence radiating from him, felt almost electric.

He tossed the belt aside, and as he did, your gaze unintentionally traced the sleek lines of his physique, the way the fabric of his pants hugged his form just right. There was a raw, primal energy at the moment that drew you in, igniting a flurry of emotions you never expected to feel.

"Damn it, I need to get some air," you muttered under your breath, feeling a little overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation. You moved to leave, but a firm hand grabbed your arm, halting your escape.

The grip wasn't painful, but it was firm enough to communicate a clear message: he wasn't going to let you leave that easily. The warmth of his fingers lingered on your skin, a reminder of his hold on you. It was a strange mixture of emotions that surged through you at that moment, uncertainty, frustration, and perhaps even a hint of something akin to attraction. The entire situation was far more complicated than you could have ever imagined, and as you looked back at his unwavering stare, you knew that things were only just beginning to get interesting.

“You know what Rosalee said, the closer we are, the more time she has to come up with a solution.” His voice was low but not threatening, he was behind you, but you could feel how close he was to you. Smell his aftershave, one step back and you would be pressed against him.

“What, you want me to shower with you?” You retorted, delivering the jab with a thinly veiled layer of annoyance while maintaining a playful edge. Your words were punctuated with the crisp sound of your footsteps echoing as you took a few steps away from him.

Being close to him felt overwhelmingly intense, as if an invisible force was drawing you towards him. It was something beyond logic, almost primal in its allure. It was wrong, he was a Wesen and you were a Grimm. The only emotion you should harbour was disdain, yet your body defied your mind, betraying you in ways you struggled to understand.

He shrugged his shoulders, the muscles of his body flexing. You tried not to look, but the glint In his eye intrigued you.

You let out a deep, exacerbated sigh and moved past him to sit on the bed, lying back and staring at the ceiling. The room was filled with the low hum of city life outside, a contrast to the thick tension inside. A few minutes later, the sound of the shower starting in his ensuite broke the silence, a rhythmic patter that seemed to echo your racing thoughts.

After a little while, you stood up, unable to shake the restlessness that clung to you. You wandered over to the large chest of drawers opposite his bed. It was an ornately carved piece, its craftsmanship a testament to a bygone era. Probably ancient and expensive, the rich wood gleamed under the soft light, a stark contrast to the sleek, modern lines of the condo. Everything around you felt slightly out of place, as though the furniture had memories of a castle's long-forgotten halls.

Slowly, you meandered to the window, pressing your forehead against the cool glass as you gazed out over the dark cityscape. The little lights dotted across the towering buildings surrounded you, the only signs of life in a city cloaked in shadow. It was a panoramic view that stretched out endlessly, reflecting the myriad of emotions swirling within you, a reminder that despite the darkness, life continued on.

As you turned back into the room, a soft rustling caught your eye. On one side of the bed lay silk pyjamas, meticulously folded, their sheen catching the ambient light. They seemed entirely in character for him, luxurious, understated elegance. But at the same time, the thought of him stripping off his suit and climbing into bed in silk pyjamas amused you.

You lingered a moment, absorbing the air of intimacy they suggested, before the sound of water ceasing pulled your attention. A sudden quiet took the room, amplifying the creak of the bathroom door as it opened.

“You sleep in silk pyjamas?” You asked, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth as you gestured towards the neatly folded ensemble on the bed.

You looked up at him, and the smile on your lips faltered slightly. He moved toward you with a measured calm, a towel slung low at his hips. His physique was striking, a testament to both discipline and natural grace. His abs were perfectly defined, each muscle sculpted with precision, leading down to the unmistakable V line that vanished beneath the fabric.

His skin, still glistening with droplets from the shower, seemed to glow under the soft light, highlighting the golden hue of his complexion. The sight of him walking so confidently, the play of muscles beneath his skin, was undeniably captivating, an electric mix of elegance and raw power that left an unexpected flutter in your chest.

He shrugged. “What would you prefer I sleep in?” he asked, a cocky nonchalance lacing his words.

You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks as you realised you had been caught staring. Embarrassment flooded over you, making it suddenly difficult to meet his gaze. Your eyes darted around the room, settling on anything but him, while a flurry of confusing feelings stirred within you.

“Just put some clothes on, I’ll be just outside the door,” you managed to say, keeping your voice as steady as possible. You walked past him, feeling his eyes on you, and sensed the warmth of his gaze following you as you stepped out of the room.

You closed the door and leaned against the wall, pressing your back to it and letting out a deep, long breath. This wasn’t like you, never had a man so completely disarmed you without even trying. Your thoughts were a jumble, a mix of surprise and undeniable attraction. Rubbing your eyes, you heard the door open. Turning, you saw Sean standing next to you, having decided to put on only the pyjama bottoms. His chest was bare, revealing the same captivating allure that left you flustered moments ago.

“I thought you said you were going to sleep?” You sighed.

“I figured that you might want to shower too. I laid some clothes out on the bed for you, and there’s a clean towel in the bathroom,” he said, his voice easygoing yet considerate. He moved to the wall across the corridor, leaning his back against it as he folded his arms. “I’ll wait here, you know, keeping a short distance between us and all.” His casual posture matched the familiar warmth in his tone, making the situation feel surprisingly normal amidst the chaos that had made up the majority of your evening.

You nodded, walked back into his room and closed the door. This was turning out to be quite different from what you had imagined.

The bell atop the door chimed softly as you stepped into the shop, a sound you had not expected to hear again for quite a while. The air was thick with the familiar scent of aged paper mingled with an array of spices and herbs, some recognisable, others lost to memory. Wooden shelves, bowing under the weight of countless books and jars, lined the walls, casting long shadows across the worn wooden floor beneath the dim glow of hanging lanterns.

Your gaze settled on the familiar silhouette of Rosalee, who leaned casually against the counter at the back, absorbed in a book. Her dark hair fell like a curtain around her face, and the gentle lamplight glinted off her round spectacles. She looked up, a little startled by the noise, having been so engrossed in the book that the sound of the bell at this late hour had made her jump. The cozy warmth of the shop provided a stark contrast to the chill of the night's air, and for a moment, you felt as if you had never left this quiet corner of the world.

“We’re clos-“ she started before her features twisted into a look of confusion. “Why are you here, shouldn’t you be back in Europe by now?” She asked, dropping the page she had been holding and moving to walk around the counter.

You were breathing hard, and her confusion quickly turned to worry as she stepped toward you. She stepped closer, her hand instinctively reaching out to brush your hair aside, revealing a bruise blooming just above your hairline. Tilting your head back, she examined your face; you hadn’t dared to check your reflection before entering, yet the sharp throb from the blow you had suffered lingered, echoing through the hours since it happened. In the brief time you had been apart, everything had spiralled into chaos, and you desperately hoped she could provide the help you so urgently needed.

“What happened?” Her expression turning fierce, her Wesson self flashing across her face for a moment with the sudden change of emotion.

She stole a glance over her shoulder, as if anticipating someone to burst through the door of the shop at any moment.

“Yeah, I have a little bit of a problem,” you started, placing your hands on your hips and taking a breath, not really sure how you were going to explain the situation to her. You weren't entirely sure that you genuinely understood it yourself. “Is Monroe here? I could really use his help with something, and then I’ll explain to you exactly why I’m not where I am supposed to be.”

* “Right, he’s secured to the chair, but look, I promised I’d go help Nick with something.” Monroe placed his hands on his hips and looked from Rosalee to you. “I can get him over here if you want to make this a team effort?”