Disclaimer: See initial chapter.
A/N: Slash, just in case you didn't notice it...if you were squinting maybe or the sun was getting in your eyes.
Monroe's toweling his hair off as the doorbell rings, and his dick swells in anticipation of tonight's visit from a certain, well-rested Grimm. It's been almost a month since their last dinner, the one he insisted upon, and a full two weeks since their ordeal with the crazy in the woods.
His heart flutters in his chest as he opens the door. He hastily stuffs the towel beneath the coat-rack and offers Nick a broad smile. Nick thrusts flowers at him and offers him a bottle of red wine. If Nick's nervous, it doesn't show, but Monroe knows his own hands are trembling as he takes the flowers and the wine, and places them on the table where he's already laid the food out.
Nick clears his throat as Monroe sits down across from him. The set-up is almost the same – candles, food, wine – but something about tonight is different. There's something stirring in the air – anticipation, hunger, lust and something that Monroe doesn't dare even think lest he jinx it.
"So, Monroe," Nick says, his eyes are twinkling, they're closer to silver tonight, the light of the candle makes them look devilish, "tell me," there's a hint of mirth in his voice, "what's your favorite color?"
Nick isn't outright laughing, but the ways his lips are twitching tells Monroe that laughter is imminent. He isn't sure how to feel about it. Yeah, he'd meant it when he'd said it all that time ago, but now, now he wants so much more from Nick. He isn't sure how to word any of it, and his mouth feels dry, so he concentrates on the question his eyes locked on Nick's.
The candlelight sways, making the color of Nick's eyes flicker as the light dances across them. They're gray-blue now. His heart thumps in his chest, and in the next heartbeat, he's reaching across the table, grasping Nick's hand, his eyes begging permission, and then he's drawing Nick's hand to his mouth, planting a kiss on the juncture where thumb meets hand.
Nick's breath catches in his throat, and he leans closer. Unmindful of the full plate of food, the candles and the wine, he reaches out, and touches Monroe's lips as they hover over his upturned palm, letting his hand rest on the curve of Monroe's cheek.
"Gray-blue," Monroe answers without hesitation.
Nick's eyes darken in confusion, his lips turning up in question, "But, I thought your favorite color was red."
"Not anymore," Monroe says, and with a lust-filled growl, he pushes aside the pesky dinner trappings, making room for the both of them on the dinner table.
He wasn't hungry for food anyway, and judging by the guttural moan coming from the back of Nick's throat as his hands slide beneath the Grimm's blue shirt, that wasn't what Nick had come over for either.
It's isn't until after their second course that things move into the bedroom, and Monroe's quite thrilled to find that the Grimm's stamina is similar to that of his own. That, and he doesn't mind being topped by Nick, and Nick doesn't seem to mind being topped by him.
"Time for dessert?" Nick mumbles some indeterminable time later, his lips brushing against Monroe's chest, causing him to shiver.
They're a downright tangle of limbs amidst his once pristine white sheets. There's a distinctly briny aftertaste cloying the air between them – sweat-glistened skin, slick and sticky. Nick's head is resting within the hollow of his neck; his fingers are tracing idle patterns into Monroe's belly, causing the muscles beneath them to tense.
"Dessert?" Monroe raises an eyebrow, and Nick lifts his head, pushing himself up on one elbow so that he can look into Monroe's eyes.
The light of the moon, streaming in through the top of the curtains, catches his eyes, casts them in an ethereal glow. They're a deeper blue than Monroe's ever seen them and, as he rolls Nick onto his back, his hands on either side of the Grimm's head, knees astride the slighter man's waist, he says, "I've changed my mind, it's blue."
The confusion is clear in Nick's eyes, the way his brow furrows, and Monroe laughs, nipping at the Grimm's lips as he asks, "What's blue?"
"My favorite color," Monroe supplies. "And now, I believe there was a question of dessert?"
Nick's eyes widen, his pupils dilating in anticipation as Monroe shifts the attention of his gaze to a much lower region of the Grimm's body. All thoughts of color fade to the background as Monroe concentrates on the one thing that matters in the here and now, making sure that his Grimm is happy.
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