1
It was brutal; agonising, exhausting and often-times left her heart bruised and bleeding, but – never once did she want to change a thing.
There were no hard or fast rules, but there were unspoken agreements and a spoken one too: communication, an absolute must. But, for the most part, it was natural and instinctive, entirely emotional. Often it depended on who showed up first.
Sookie tried to maintain an equality within it all, but she knew, truthfully, that Eric had the best of her attention and affection, but only because he was there, not because she loved him more. Bill could be absent for weeks. But when he returned, to her, the reunion was deliciously sweet.
Sookie wanted a threesome but she knew it would never happen. She was grateful enough that the men had agreed to her proposal. A threesome with them both would probably end with her being pulled about like a rag doll, both desperate to prove themselves. They had nothing to prove to her, although she would admit, only to herself, that they each had abilities that the other lacked.
Bill was so romantically attentive in bed. He was courteous, considerate and thoughtful, where Eric was intuitive, spontaneous and playful. Eric liked to play in bed, he liked to tease and taunt and laugh, he liked to encourage and reward her. Bill preferred to love in bed, to hold and have and cherish, he adored and attended to her each whimper.
Bill could be rough. He could be dominant, but he preferred not to – Bill was an old-fashioned lover boy. Eric was adventurous and excitable and brought different ideas and emotions to each encounter; it was fun for him. Of course, Sookie enjoyed both approaches – however, she was a lucky enough girl that she'd never had a sexual experience that she hadn't liked.
Fangtasia was closed on Monday and Tuesday nights – so, unless Bill was scheduled to return from something somewhere, Eric was, more often than not, there, either at Merlotte's or her house.
He would waltz in, hair slicked back, a dangerous smile licking at his lips, dressed for sex, make lascivious remarks until she would oh-so-sweetly kiss him before she rode him dumb and blind. Then, he'd curl into her and tell her stories to make her smile, blush and cry. He'd dance with her, make her laugh; he'd make her know how much she was loved, which was the greatest thing.
They didn't always have sex. Sookie had two men on her hands and there was no doubt in her mind that they each had other partners too. But their relationship was not founded on sex – it was built from love and need, a desire to trust and learn and know, optimism and strength. It wasn't about sex, but she liked it when it was.
Sookie had never told Bill, although she suspected he had known, but she and Eric had been together before.
She had never meant for it to happen, but that's how she and Eric happened. It was natural, easy, thoughtless and gorgeously fun. She had regretted it to the extent that she hated herself for cheating on Bill, but she was a grown woman and she could've stopped at any time – she'd wanted Eric, she'd had Eric and she couldn't really regret that.
Sookie walked into his hotel room, her mouth hot and throat dry with the words: Godric has passed. She stepped towards him cautiously and carefully, conscious of the anguish and loss gripping him, and knelt down to his level, one hand grazing his knee.
"I'm so sorry, Eric," she spoke softly and kindly, overwhelmed with a once unfathomable caring for him. She wanted to ease as much pain from him as he would let her hold; she wanted to hold him. "Godric has passed."
Eric dropped his head and his body vibrated with silent cries, the energy of his frustration sparking off him in hot bursts. Blood splattered his hands, clasped before him. He sobbed like the emotion was being choked from him.
Sookie wrapped her arms around him and held him tighter than she thought she could, pressing her face into his hair. It was like trying to calm an erupting volcano.
Eric's cries gradually calmed and slowed. The blood dried on his hands. He wrapped his arms around Sookie and pulled her hard onto his lap, burying his head in her shoulder.
"I have a lot of love for him," he confessed. There was a pause while the words hung, hot and unbearable, in the air, then: "What do you do?"
Sookie caressed his head, surprised at her own gentleness and willingness. "You keep loving him and missing him and hurting and, one day, the hurting won't be so bad."
Eric raised his head and looked into her eyes for the first time. The dark blood crusted around his lashes made his eyes bluer than she could've believed – the Bon Temps summer sky, newly blossomed wild blue flax could not compare. His expression was clear – for once, she did not fear any motive behind his eyes. He was lost in this new world, without his maker, innocent and afraid as a child, unsure in his footsteps where to walk now that his father would never guide him again.
Eric grabbed her arms and pulled her mouth to his for an instant. The kiss was hard, desperate and unkind, a frantic need to reconnect to a world that suddenly felt so foreign and uncertain. Sookie pulled away and saw the sincerity in his eyes – fear and need – and she wanted all of it, she'd never wanted someone so badly near her.
Sookie ran her hand across his cheek and kissed him, softly and sweetly, a kiss that said 'I see you' and 'I hear you' and 'I know you' and meant it. She kissed him with the desire he'd lit in her heart, the compassion she carried so naturally and the attraction she felt as a woman to a man; she kissed him with all she could and hoped he felt it.
Eric's hand travelled around her back, one hand reaching up to tug at her hair, the other moving downwards to grope her ass. His hands were hard and eager, touching and tugging and groping and grabbing; she whined. He pushed her around, down on the couch, so that he knelt above her, studying her and licking his lips.
Sookie let her hands lie on either side of her head, a subtle show of her submission to him. Eric needed this, he needed to feel real and present in this post-Godric universe – and she could offer him some comfort, some temporary love and a little attention.
Sookie turned her head and offered him her neck.
Eric gazed at her throat hungrily, smiled at her predatorily; his fangs clicked down sharply and he licked them for her benefit. She hated to admit that it made her hot.
Eric leaned down and licked her throat, his tongue tracing from her pulsing vein to her temple, to her ear. Sookie gasped as his tongue followed the shell of her ear before dipping inside, making her shiver like a leaf in the breeze.
"Ahhhhh," she breathed.
Eric chuckled and kissed down the length of her throat, the kisses firm and dry. She arched her back as he trailed down her chest, between her breasts, and stopped. His hands pushed the thin cotton of her dress up – exposing her thighs, her underwear and her stomach. He delved down, kissing hotly and wetly across her stomach and dipping his tongue into her navel. Sookie squirmed, her hands ratting themselves in his hair, tearing uncaringly.
She could feel his teeth pulling at her underwear. She looked down and gasped at the sight; Eric holding the elastic band of her underwear between his teeth, grinning like a cat with a bird in its teeth.
"Ohhhh my God," Sookie whimpered deliriously. Her head fall back on the couch as Eric ripped her underwear with his teeth.
When Eric went down on her, all she could think was that he had done this before, maybe a million times over. It was deliciously, deliriously and disgustingly perfect; he concentrated, he followed her unspoken instructions and carried out her silent commands. All she had to was react to what he did to her, which was oh-so-bittersweet.
Sookie could taste sugar in her mouth it was so good, it made her sweat bleed sweet. Her body was turned and tightened like a coil and then it was bathed in wondrous coolness; the waves came and went, she'd burn so hot the air felt acidic and then disappear somewhere glorious and good. It was so, so fucking good.
Eric worked her clit, his tongue gentle and rough and his timing and motion so precise – it wasn't his first time at the rodeo. His fingers teased her, rubbing on her from the inside, making her convulse and cry single tears. He would bite her thighs, nibble sweetly on her lips, keeping things irregular enough so that she couldn't ride the sensations directly to her orgasm.
But, eventually, he relented and used his thumb to rub her clit while his tongue played in her ear and his hands groped her breasts. Sookie could feel everything building hotter and tighter and stronger and then her body coiled too tight for her to breathe before it all released and she was swept away in a bliss that belonged to no-one but herself. Sookie loved the power in an orgasm.
Bill was incredible, dynamic and deeply sweet in bed but no-one could make her cum as well as Eric. Naturally, Sookie surpassed the both of them where her own body and her own needs were concerned – but Eric was so fucking close.
Afterwards, Sookie turned to face Eric on the couch, their noses pressed together. Her body ached with pleasure, her pussy especially sore, used and abused so fantastically. But she wanted him.
Sookie kissed Eric, her mouth open and hungry, their tongues stroking together and hands meeting across their bodies. Eric petted her neck, his other hand on her breast, curiously weighing and releasing. Sookie ran her fingers threw his hair, soothing him, as she groped downwards for his cock, rubbing hot and heavy against her thigh.
His cock was a gracious amount. Thinner and longer than Bill's, she used both hands to tug and tease the thick shaft and thicker, sensitive head. Eric grunted and groaned until he couldn't, when he began to whimper and pressed himself harder into her hand, squeezing her breast and begging for his release.
"Please, Sookie. Please, please, please . . ." He could be so polite when he tried.
"Tell me."
"Please, Sookie. Please, I want to cum. Let me cum. Sookie."
Sookie did. She turned her attention to the wickedly sensitive head of his dick and suddenly he was spurting hot, heavy ropes of cum across her hands and stomach, sighing painfully long against her neck, his entire body melting like butter in a frying pan.
"Fuck, Sookie. I love you."
Sookie was, by no means, a fool. She knew that Eric didn't love her, she knew that he wanted her desperately and wholeheartedly and that was enough for then. Sookie didn't always need, nor want, love.
Sometimes Sookie just wanted Eric. She wanted something different, something unfamiliar and strange and good. Bill made her feel beautiful and whole and loved, but sometimes she needed to feel dark and dirty and dangerous in a night bright with danger.
She and Bill had had an argument. A pointless, stupid argument that she didn't care about, but she used it as permission to see Eric. She purposely wore shorts and a loose t-shirt, her hair untidily pulled into a knot, so that he knew she didn't care, because she didn't. What went on in his head was meaningless to her, all she needed was his body.
She walked into Fangtasia, casually wearing an expression of abject boredom and disinterest, and stalked into the office, where she found Eric behind his desk. He wore a dark tracksuit and was half-heartedly immersed in inventory. He didn't look up.
"Sookie. What brings you to our neck of the woods?"
She shrugged. It frustrated her that he didn't just climb all over her. She wanted him to want her more than she wanted him. She wanted him begging and pleading for her attention. She didn't want to have to ask, or even lift an eyebrow. She wanted him to make it easy, because if she made an effort, then she had to accept responsibility too.
Sookie hated to hurt Bill, who loved her more than the moon and the stars that kept his night alive. She didn't yet care for Eric, who was tall and beautiful and excited her but there was nothing meaningful between them. He was a great cock and an incredible fuck. Bill was her heart in its entirety.
Eric raised his head and stared at her. He knew exactly what she wanted. "Ask."
Sookie's mouth set in a concrete frown.
"Ask and I will do anything for you."
Ultimately, Eric lacked the resolve that she had and stood up, stalked toward her and raised her into his arms, kissing her until all the breath was drawn from her lungs and a faintness overcame here.
"Mmmmm," she offered in encouragement as he sat her on his desk and spread her legs. He came to stand between her spread thighs, rubbing his angry erection against her, running his hands across her back and into her hair and cupping her high breasts excitedly. She pressed on his head and he knelt before her, taking her thigh into his mouth and threatening to bite.
"Tell me, Sookie."
This was before Sookie appreciated his games, his want for fun and play and full active participation in the bedroom. This was before Sookie appreciated Eric.
"Shut up, Eric," she told him, forcing his mouth between her legs.
Sookie had not let Eric fuck her because she didn't want him to have that part of her yet, but she did go down on him and would admit that it made her feel fucking sexy to have a vampire Viking sheriff whining beneath her mouth and hands like a sweet bitch.
She took him into her mouth, teasing and wetting him with her pink tongue, which curled around each vein and laved the smooth, taut skin. She sucked on the head and sides, relished the firmness, rolled the taste around on her tongue. She sucked him deep into her throat, gagging on the head and coughing on the shaft, feeling sluttish and hot.
Eric ran his hands through her hair, pulling and grabbing and groaning as she pleased him. He liked to fuck her mouth and she liked to let him because she liked to feel like a whore sometimes. In these moments, she wasn't sweet Southern belle Sookie Stackhouse but a woman lost to her base need.
She was a woman who would open her throat and let a man batter it with his cock until he couldn't hold on another second and shot thick and hot into her mouth, on her tongue, across her face and breasts, sometimes her pussy, anywhere she'd let him. She was a woman who would wipe herself clean and then go home to make up with her perfect boyfriend.
"Sookie."
Sookie wrapped her around his broad shoulders, placed her face in his shoulder and inhaled him - earth, smoke, blood and cinnamon. He smelled warm and strong - a good man who loved his girlfriend and would sacrifice his life for hers, but she missed the scent of Eric, who forever smelled like he'd come running from the ocean.
Sookie shook the thought from her head and kissed Bill with all the love and eagerness of someone with a fuck-up on their hands. "Bill," she murmured against his lips. "I'm so sorry. I don't want to fight. I love you." She kissed him with the hope and desperation of someone who needed forgiveness.
Bill brushed her hair from her face, held her tightly and told her: "I don't want to fight either. I love you, Miss Stackhouse. Will you forgive me?"
"Of course. Will you forgive me?"
"There's nothing to forgive."
Bill carried her upstairs and she hated herself so deeply that she could only think of clawing her skin into thin strips and watching the black poisonous blood pour from inside her. Instead, she allowed Bill to writhe pathetically under her hands, allowed him to present himself as the awkward, apologetic boyfriend, while she shifted into something dominant, strong and aggressive.
Sookie held Bill down on the bed, her hands pressed into his shoulders, her eyes drilling into his as she decided how she wanted to be.
She tied his hands to the bedframe with leather shackles and blindfolded him, she watched his body become scared and electric, excited. Bill could play too.