There's no denying the attraction. It sprang out of hatred and somehow blossomed into tolerance and then turned into a bad case of lust. I love Bill Compton, I lust after Eric Northman.
I've had his blood. I dream of him nightly and I know that Bill can feel it. When I have these dreams of the Viking, I wake up soaked in sweat, my center wet with release and still longing. I've never had sex with him in reality but my heart is heavy with guilt. To think about is just as bad as doing it. I've cheated in my mind and in my heart a thousand times.
I can feel him when he thinks about me. I can hear him faintly, calling my name and coaxing me closer. He knows what he's doing, he's drawing me in, sweet honey to my craving mouth. Bill makes love to me, Eric will fuck me. I've never been fucked. I want to be, even though just thinking the word makes me blush neon.
I dream about how it will be. I'll bet that he takes me to his home. No strike that, Eric would have a lair because he is a villain. Villains have lairs. There will be no words, our mouths will be too busy. Our bodies will speak for us, totally in tune. His deep blue eyes will burn me like fire and his hands will most certainly leave scorch marks on my skin.
He'll be rough. I want it rough. Bill is gentle, Bill takes his time and gives me the deep, meaningful looks while he slowly guides himself into me. Eric will rip my clothes off, bite my bra in two and shred my panties. Then he'll hitch my leg up and ram his gracious plenty into me so hard that he'll make me yelp. And I'll love it. He'll lift me up to the right height and his thrusts will be feral, untamed. His fangs will be out, long and dangerous and he'll scrape those across my skin, drawing tiny beads of blood. Bill bites once and feeds lightly. There is no fangplay, it's predictable. Not that its not incredible, but Bill isn't wild, he doesn't seem dangerous anymore. I could come just from thinking about how unpredictable Eric is. Fucking him could be the last thing I ever do and that really gets me off for some reason.
I'll come pretty quickly but Eric won't give me a chance to recover. He'll flip me around and shove my face into the wall, pushing into me roughly from behind. I'll probably be panting like a dog at this point, begging him to push my limits. I can't imagine that I will have limits with Eric. Bill loves the missionary position and thats about it. I'm far too shy to ask him for variety. I won't have to ask Eric. Somehow he will just know, and he won't ask for permission.
His hands will be on my hips, pulling me into the thrusts as I push hard against the wall to gain some leverage. The sounds he will make will be animalistic, raw and loud. But we'll be in his lair, where no one can hear. My sounds will match his in type but not volume. Bill doesn't even breathe during sex but talks incessantly, telling me how much he loves me, how beautiful I am. Sometimes I want to scream at him to shut up and fuck me, but he would be totally aghast at hearing those words from me. I am a lady and he expects me to act as such, even in the bedroom. I imagine the look on his face would be the same as when he was attacked and turned. One of disbelief and shock. Eric would relish hearing me say those things, would follow my lead and pound into me even harder. He would roar like a lion as he came and then he would bite and feed. His fangs would lead me to another orgasm and I wouldn't be able to stand anymore.
Eric would carry me to his bed to continue. Bill would have long ago insisted that I take my vitamins and get some rest. One shot is all you get from Bill. Eric would just be getting started. I imagine that my thighs would cramp from having to spread so wide to accommodate Eric. He's tall and broad, the physical opposite of Bill. I would probably do my best to throw my legs up his chest, he'd get deeper inside of me that way and have more leverage to thrust. His face would portray animalistic heat and unadulterated lust. Bill's expression is always hovering around worried, like I'm a fragile doll that will disintegrate under the slightest pressure. Eric Northman will try to break me and will be totally turned on by my responses. I would urge him to push harder, go faster, bite deeper.
Eric would look in my eyes but it would be sheer heat that he communicated, not the concern I would see in Bill's face. I can imagine him running his rough tongue down my leg as she rammed into me like a jackhammer. It wouldn't surprise me one bit if he withdrew from me and applied that tongue elsewhere, making me scream in ecstasy. Bill would never and again, I cant bring myself to ask for it. I can only imagine that Eric would be the Gold Medalist if oral sex were a sport. Bill most likely finds the idea of oral gratification untoward.
Yes, with Eric it would be a no-holds-barred sexual smack down, compared to Bill's afternoon-tea dalliances. So here I am, back in my bedroom as the sun rises, having spent another predictable night with the vampire I love. I can feel his disappointment at my thoughts of Eric but I know he will never say a thing about them. As I drift off to sleep, I can hear a voice with an indistinct accent calling me, beckoning. I know it's only a matter of time before I turn to him. My heart wants Bill, but my body craves Eric. What sense is there in fighting a losing battle?
The End