A/N: Hello, again. I've been meaning to get this story posted on here from the wiki and tonight my darling buddy Kristin Elizabeth (author of When Does it get Easier to be me?) gave me the push I needed, so thanks love. And I also have to thank her for being my original Beta for this story too.

So like Club Dead What If, this is another smut piece one shot of What If Sookie and Eric hadn't been interrupted by Mickey in Dead as a Doornail. This is after Sookie was shot in the library parking lot and has called Eric over to ask for his help with getting rid of Mickey for Tara's sake. In return Sookie has told Eric what happened between them when he had amnesia. The story opens with Charlaines words in italics.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy!

Recomended song (inspiration to this story) "Passenger" by The Deftones.

"A fairy," Eric said, the pupils of his eyes actually dilating. "Come here, Sookie."

Ah-oh. I might have over played my hand out of sheer irritation.

"No," I said. "I told you what you wanted, you did what I asked, and now you can go back to Shreveport and let me get some sleep. Remember?" I pointed to my bandaged shoulder.

"Then I'll come to you," Eric said, and he knelt in front of me. He pressed against my legs and leaned over so his head was against my neck. He inhaled, held it, and exhaled. I had to choke back a nervous laugh at the similarity the process held to smoking dope. "You reek," Eric said, and I stiffened. "You smell of shifter and Were and fairy. A cocktail of other races."

I stayed completely immobile. His lips were about 2 millimeters from my ear.

"Should I just bite you and end it all?" he whispered. "I would never have to think about you again. Thinking about you is an annoying habit, and one I want to be rid of. Or should I start arousing you, and discover if sex with you was really the best I've ever had?"

I didn't think I was going to get a vote on this. I cleared my throat. "Eric," I said, a little hoarsely, "we need to talk about something."

"No. No. No," he said. With each "no" his lips brushed my skin.

"Eric," I breathed, "please, don't do this. You don't know what you are doing."

Having to tell him about our time together, forced me to focus on exactly what I was trying to forget and my emotion was starting to build from it. I hated him for not remembering. I know it wasn't his fault, but I couldn't help it. He was still smelling me, almost breathing against my neck. A finger ran through my hair, tucking it behind my ear, and pulling it aside to expose my neck. I was already nervous, but my heart quickened pace at his touch from a confusing mix of fear and excitement.

"I know exactly what I'm doing," was his only reply. But he didn't, know. He was referring to my heightened fear and arousal. I was thinking about the feelings we had shared for each other. That he didn't know about. Because I hadn't told him that part yet. I had to say something now; I hadn't planned on this. Seeing him at random intervals was hard enough. To be in this position, physically, now, was almost painful. I can't deny my wanting him, but it was my Eric I was thinking about.

"I have to explain," I said with a little more strength in my voice. It didn't matter though. He moved away from my neck to look me straight in my face. He stared at me with hungry eyes, but not in the way Johnny was looking at Baby in Dirty Dancing. He had each of his hands on both of my knees. "Sookie," his voice was deep and quiet, serious. And I froze there looking in his cold blue eyes. He opened my legs, and as he moved his body between them to close the space between us, he said, "stop talking."

This was not a request.

I pressed my lips together, a bit irritated, and held my gaze to his. The seconds dragged on and he didn't move. Ok, were we having a staring contest? My lips twitched at that thought but only for a second, and I recomposed myself. I didn't want to lose this battle, though I was really starting to get intimidated. He was being so serious right now.

Finally he made a movement but not with his eyes. His hand moved and took hold of my right one, from the arm of the uninjured shoulder. Still looking at me, he raised my open palm up to his face, inhaled, and then followed with a brush of his lips to my inner wrist. Oh hell, he was teasing me, watching my eyes for my reaction. What was he trying to accomplish? I was too afraid to ask or even move.

He kissed my palm before setting my hand aside. He leaned into me, pressing his whole body against mine. I could feel through our clothing, all the muscles of his torso I had gotten to know so well. I remembered how his pale skin looked in the light on our first night together. I started to quiver but held strong. This time the corner of his mouth gave a small twitch. Great, he had sensed my body's response, and he moved his lips to hover in front of, what must have been just a centimeter, from my own.

He was testing me, to see if I would move in. Stay strong…Sookie, you can do this. I was breathing heavier now, but I didn't move. We were still looking at each other even though being this close neither of us was in focus to the other.

I gave a small sigh, a light exhale through my nose, to gently indicate my irritation. I didn't think it was enough of a reaction to disqualify my position in this game of vampire verses human. He pulled away some, enough for us to look at each other in focus again. One of his large hands came up to cradle my cheek and then it pushed back into my hair, and he proceeded to comb his fingers all the way through the length of it. I love having my hair touched; that was really unfair. Ref, I want to call a foul on this player. I didn't cave, but I didn't hold it together either. I had pushed a little against his hand when it was on my face and my eyes began to close when he stroked my hair.

I tried to recompose myself again but he knew he had one point on me. He was suddenly on his feet again and I hoped the game was over. He started to walk around my chair. I turned a bit to follow him before speaking. "Eric, let me—"

He cut me off. "Sookie, I told you, no talking." His voice was quiet but stern. He wasn't angry, but he was dead serious.

"But Eric, please," I rushed out, I had to tell him, but he hit me with that piercing gaze again, the 'I told you not to talk' look, so I shut up.

After a moment he said, "Yes or no, you once told me you trusted me? Do you trust me still?"

I was upset, tired, in physical pain and full of emotional distress. I hated him, but I didn't. I was so confused. Where did this Eric end and mine begin? But in regards to this question, I guess that didn't matter. The Eric I knew first, I had trusted and I did tell him that once before. I sighed; I had to be honest with myself as well as him.

"Yes, Eric, I trust you."

"Good. Now stay quiet," to which, he added, "please," knowing I would respond better to a polite word.

He was standing behind me now. He leaned over the chair, his head hanging over my left shoulder. I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was looking at the bandage that poked a bit out of my shirt. His hand rose and he tucked a finger under my collar, peaking under my clothing for a better look. I opened my mouth to protest, but zipped it when his head spun towards me and before he could remind me of his order. He looked back at the bandage. "Charles fails to protect you in your own home. Then you get shot in the middle of the day, in a public area." He paused. "This will not do." I wasn't quite sure if he was talking about the situations I had been in or the bandage.

Eric's other hand came around me, encircling me in his arms. Before I knew what was happening, he grasped the front of my shirt at the collar and tore it half way open. I wasn't totally exposed, I had a bra on, and the bandage covered a lot of me. And it wasn't as if he'd torn my shirt completely off, but I felt a little violated, and a little excited. Oh, damn it.

I tried to get up from the chair but he held me in place. The pressure his hand put on my shoulder hurt. "Ouch Eric," I yelled. "What are you doing?"

"I asked you if you trusted me," he said, perfectly calm. "You said yes. Now relax and don't move."

"Eric…"

"Sookie!" He was louder now.

After a sigh, I took a deep breath and attempted to remain calm. Softly, and feeling a bit defeated, I asked," Eric, please just tell me what you are doing."

"I'm going to heal you."

"No. Why?" My anger was up again and it was reflected in my voice.

"Sookie!"

I shut up. His volume was turning up for the second time, and I took another deep breath, and exhaled. I focused on his touch, his hands resting on my shoulders and just barely, wandering over my tense muscles. Carefully, he started to remove the tape and gauze. Finally he spoke after the bandage was all gone and he examined the wound. "You live within my Area. It's up to me to choose who receives my protection and how. I couldn't stop the bullet so I am doing what I can now. And before you protest about never asking for my protection, let me make it clear; that too, is my right as Sheriff to decide. You have done service to me, and so, fall under my safekeeping."

"Oh, so it's because I'm an asset?" I said under my breath, fully aware he could hear me. He glared at me out of the corners of his eyes, still cold.

"No," he said, with seriousness back in his voice. "Now lean back in the chair and be quiet."

I did as I was told. His face had that shut down flashing me an, 'I've made my decision and it's final' expression.

Eric softly laid a hand on my good shoulder and leaned his head all the way over the injured one. He placed his mouth on the wound and bit down gently to reopen it. It stung for a second then subsided. He drew the smallest amount of blood, just a few drops if I had to guess, and proceeded to lick at it.

To my surprise, relief and then annoyance; it actually felt good. It soothed the pain and I was able to relax more. Next, he bit open his wrist, and allowed his blood to drip into the opening in my flesh. I felt the effects immediately. All my pain and soreness was melting away. Eric gave his wrist a lick to stop the bleeding, and rested his hand over my healing skin.

I was relaxed now, leaning back in my chair with my eyes closed. I was feeling much better, though I was still a bit angry with Eric for what he just did. You know, I can heal perfectly fine on my own.

I was grateful, yet angry. I missed him, yet I hated him. I just wanted him. Ok, not relaxed anymore. His hand was still on my shoulder with fingers barely moving, touching my skin. I decided it was time for him to go before he made good on his threat to arouse me, since it was clear he wasn't going to kill me tonight.

I tilted my head back to look up at him. I opened my eyes and mouth to thank him for taking care of the Mickey issue and for healing me but could he please let me call it a night.

I didn't get the words out.

He was leaning over me from behind the chair still, and on opening my mouth, he seized it with his own.

Lips. Tongue. Fang.

He was kissing me upside-down. It was forceful and urgent, and it spoke to my inner debate of lust and anger. My focus ran in circles and landed on my frustration with the both of us and this emotional roller coaster. I bit down trying to close him out of the kiss. I caught his lip hard, and tasted a drop of his blood. It was sweet and tasted good; that got me even more upset.

Shit! I reached my hands up to his shoulders to shove him away, and he let me. I jumped from the chair and lunged for the door. The knob was in my hand, but Eric was already on me, his hand against the door keeping it closed.

"You will not run away from me. This habit of yours will stop." He grabbed my hand on the knob and spun me around to face him. He pushed me against the wall and pinned me there with his body. We glared at each other. His eyes were cold, yet fiery. He looked as frustrated and lust-filled as I felt. Oh yeah, I could feel it now, his hard desires pushing against my abdomen. He leaned his face into mine and ran his tongue across my lower lip.

"Tell me you want me," he spoke in a soft growl.

He started to kiss my throat with a hand braced on the back of my neck. His fingers tangled into my hair. I whimpered, "I don't want you," and then chocked on my own voice.

"Sookie, I can feel you lying to me. I know you want me to take you." He spoke the words into my ear, his lips just millimeters away. He brushed his cool tongue just below my ear, and I moaned, because I did want him. I wanted release; I wanted him all over me.

He hovered his lips in front of mine but didn't close the space. He was waiting for my answer.

I kissed him. One handed, I pulled his head to mine and kissed him. He responded without hesitation and pushed harder against me, I thought he might push me through the drywall. One of his hands crept up to my breast, pushing my torn shirt aside for access. Well he isn't wasting anytime. I hated myself for wanting him so bad. I hated him for knowing I would give in and I gave him a little jab in the ribs. He chuckled into my mouth and then continued to kiss me. I thought about how he had placed Charles in my house for my protection rather than as a favor for Sam and I jabbed him again, just a bit harder, for his manipulative ways. He grunted but we kept kissing each other. I thought about how he forgot our time, and I felt devastated. This was unfair, and I took it out on him, because it was the only place I could. I had no one to talk to about it, so I punched him as hard as I could.

This time he pulled away from me. I was crying but my eyes read anger not sadness. "Did you have something you wanted to say to me, My Lover?"

"You forgot!" I said with an edge in my voice and I reached to punch for a fourth time.

My hand stopped and Eric was flying backwards, pulling me with him. He landed on the bed with a thud and I crash landed on top of him. I sat up to get my bearings and reestablish my relationship with gravity. The second I could see straight again, Eric shredded the last of my shirt, and tossed it to the floor. He did the same to his own.

As if nothing had changed we kissed again, and I worked on the removal of my bra. I was struck with the thought of the first time Eric ever kissed me in Dallas, and he manipulated me to ingest some of his blood. I backed out of the kiss again, and stared down at him. He was angry too, though I didn't know why. Not being able to remember our time?

Flying again, Eric had us off the bed, and he stood me on the floor. He removed his jeans and I did the same. His body was perfect, chiseled, like he was made of marble. Chilled hands pushed me against the wall again and he dropped to his knees before me. One hand pressed against my stomach, pinning me to the wall, and with the other, he parted my legs, slipping two fingers inside me.

Eric's long fingers worked at half the rhythm my heart was beating. His head leaned forward and with the tip of his tongue he parted my lips and found my spot. His fangs grazed against the sensitive skin, cool and sharp but unthreatening. At each flick of his tongue, I would have slid, inch by inch, into a heap on the floor if he had not been holding on to me. He nipped at my inner thighs, pinching me with his teeth, but never penetrating or drawing blood. I wanted him to bite me, but he didn't. Instead, he picked up his pace to mimic the pulsing muscles that surrounded his fingers.

My knees trembled, and almost buckled, and his hand pressed harder into my stomach. His fingers were as adamant as his wet tongue, and my sighs and moans urged him on. My strength was failing. Eric freed his hand from inside me, brought it around to the back of one of my legs and hoisted it to rest my thigh on his shoulder. Now he had each hand on my sides, holding me up as I writhed with pleasure in his clutches. His tongue pillaged my sex, claiming it inside and out.

I whimpered, "Eric, I want you now," as I felt my release approaching, and Eric slowed his pace. I didn't have to look down to know Eric was just as ready as I was. My leg was lowered, and I found myself flying with Eric again, and quite unexpectedly, being thrust against the ceiling. I was on top of Eric but it was more like he was on top of me. The world had been flipped upside down but gravity didn't follow suit. He pushed into me and I cried out in pain, then pleasure, as I adjusted to his size once more.

He thrust deep and I pushed against him just as severely. Our bodies were clamped together. His arms wrapped under my arms, up my back, and his hands were on my shoulders to give him all the leverage he needed to pull me down on him as far as possible. My hands clawed at his back, groping to hang on for dear life as I floated on a wave of ecstasy, beyond the position I was with in the physical world. My legs, too, held him against me and our bodies began to slip as my sweat covered us with the building of my release.

I was remembering our first time and how he made me feel so special and so desired. I thought of how he stood up to that Were Amanda when she badmouthed me in Merlott's during the meeting of the Supernaturals after hours. I got lost in memories of our conversations too, but I was being drawn back to the present by Eric's kiss on my lips. No one ever kisses me the way Eric does and it always claims all my attention.

Our groans and screams might have been heard all around the other apartments and I was happy the rain was still pounding down outside. As my orgasm broke free I felt Eric release his and we fell from the ceiling, still engaged to each other. I'm sure it was Eric's good sense to have positioned us over the bed and not just dumb luck that we were. My adrenalin was at top performance with my climax and I felt no hint of pain at our fall. I was straddling him, his still hard cock still inside me, and I rocked against him slowly as we both finished.

I was panting like I just ran a marathon and I closed my eyes to focus on getting my body and breath under control again. Eric pulled me forward into his arms, pulled out and settled me along side him on the bed. I couldn't look at him. I was feeling a hint of shame at what we just did, but it was swirling with my contentment of released anxiety and anger.

Still looking down at our nude bodies entwined together I decided to speak. "Eric there is more you need to know, about what happened when you stayed with me." No words, no movement and no encouragement. I sighed and looked into his eyes. He was waiting for me to speak and for the first time since he healed me he had a faint smile and a look of warmth on his face. "I … I, well, w-we," I stuttered as I tried to figure out how to explain what we once felt. We had both agreed it wasn't love, but it was something like it. Would he even believe me? Will he even care now that he has had me? Shit, shit, shit.

"We cared about each other, didn't we?" I looked at him with shock and awe.

"What? How? … Yes, we did. Do you remember?" I asked in a small voice. I was so nervous from what he might say; I had no clue where this was all going to go. But he was still there, holding me, comforting me it seemed, as he stroked my hair which was intertwined with his own.

"No, I don't, but I could feel it, in you." He smiled deviously at me before continuing. "I could feel it in you while I assaulted you on the ceiling." I sighed at him, not taking this seriously and all I could do was look down again and feel used. He grasped my chin and forced my face to look at his. He kissed my lips with his own and said, "I can feel it every time I kiss you."