A/N: I wrote this while listening to the live version of John Butler Trio's "Ocean." If you've never heard it, trust me, you should. Then imagine Eric playing it, and don't tell me you won't be a little weak in the knees.
Bliss
"You know," I began, looking over at him. He lifted his head to peek over my shoulder. I smoothed my hand over his bare thigh. "There's really only one thing that would make you more attractive."
"Am I not attractive enough already, my lover?" He asked, but I hadn't hurt his pride. Was that even possible? He grinned at me and tucked his arm around my waist. His fingers were soft and cool on my warm skin.
"You are…very. Don't get me wrong. I was just thinking. If you could do that…" I indicated the stereo. We were listening to a band that Amelia had gotten me into, the John Butler Trio. I'd been grooving my head to the music for most of the day. I couldn't stop listening to it. "If you could play like he plays, I would never be able to take my hands off of you."
"Really?" Eric cocked his eyebrow. God damn, he was beautiful.
"Really," I nodded. I was bobbing my head to another song. The music, the Viking, it was like a perfect moment in time.
"I've been around for a thousand years, my lover. What makes you think I can't?" He got out of bed. The low beam of the lamp left beautiful phallic shadows on his skin. I think I might have purred.
"Prove it," I grinned. Sly, Sookie. Really sly.
"I do not have an instrument."
"Amelia plays guitar," I smiled, triumphant. "You stay here, I'll go get it."
I got up and stumbled out of the room, patting him on the rear end as I went. He chuckled, and there was a deep rumble in his skin. Mm. If he could play guitar like John Butler and make love to me like Apollo, I really would never take my hands off of him. With that thought in mind, I took the stairs up to the second floor two at a time. Amelia was out for the night, probably with some new date. I yanked the guitar from its spot on the floor and raced back down the stairs.
Eric had pulled his pants back on. His tight backside looked even more beautiful in those pants of his, like a gift you have to unwrap. I think I might have salivated a little. I handed him the guitar. He took it from the case and sat down on the edge of the bed. I pressed myself against the wall to watch him. He laid the instrument across his lap and began to strum.
I closed my eyes. The bedroom filled with music. He never once looked up at me, not with the cockiness that he reserved for so many of his talents. Instead, he strummed. He made that guitar sing. My legs wobbled. My shoulders twisted and turned. My hips danced as though they had a mind of their own. My lower lip trembled. He never once sang, but I didn't need him to sing. I only wanted to hear him play.
His fingers had so many talents. I was more than impressed. I was intoxicated, blown away, outright amazed. The music picked up in rhythm. Stunned, I opened my eyelids half way to watch in amazement. My lips parted slightly and I let out a sigh of wonder. Oh God. If there was a way to orgasm to the sheer sound of music, I was getting there. From my throat, a tiny moan escaped. Eric never lifted his head. He knew I was enjoying it. I'm certain he knew. He never faltered and he never stopped. His hands flew over the strings, plucking and strumming, pulling at the natural sound of wood and metal and organic sinew.
I heaved a breath when it stopped. My knees wobbled and I slid down the wall. Breathless, I gazed up at him. Oh God. Oh god oh god.
"Am I more attractive now?" He smiled, setting aside the instrument.
"Mmmm…" was all I could manage to say.
