A/N: Happy April, friends! I've missed you. Be forewarned—lemons follow... (And thank you to the kind soul who nominated this little story for the Fanatic Fanfics Multifandom Awards! I was surprised and touched.)

Chapter 7

Despite my dislike of schmoozing, the Night Off gala had gone well. A few collectors had made purchases. A couple local art dealers set up meetings to see more of my portfolio, so I was extending my time in Nashville. It was the most successful opening I'd had, but I still felt kind of flat.

The week before, Pam had promised to drive down for the show. When she walked into the gallery the next day, I realized what I had been missing—encouragement from people I respected. Who actually mattered to me.

I embraced her with more enthusiasm than I had anticipated. "You're late," I teased.

She linked her arm in mine and sighed. "Let's get this aesthetic experience over with so we can get to the drinks."

We approached the front desk. The receptionist was staring at us, looking nonplussed. Pam noticed, of course, and stroked my arm gratuitously.

"Hi Jane—this is Pam. She's with me."

"Of course, Mr. Northman." She turned to Pam with a tight smile. "Enjoy the show."

"How could I not?" Pam enthused, running a hand down my back and squeezing my ass.

"Alright then!" I managed, steering Pam away. She gripped my arm and guffawed. "Could you cool it with that?" I said in a low voice.

"Don't you remember? Torturing your onlookers is my favorite hobby."

I walked Pam through the exhibit. She inspected each painting thoroughly. While fine art wasn't really her thing, I could tell she was enjoying herself.

"This is great. Your thematic concepts are much stronger now. I remember when your shows were a complete hodgepodge."

"Nothing like a Pam compliment to knock you down a peg."

"What? There was no critique there! Although now that you mention it, some of these buildings could use more precision…" Pam appraised.

"Last time I checked, nobody was using them for blueprints."

"Well, I'm impressed," she said as we finished our rounds. "I think you've earned a—what was it? A night off?"

"Oh my god, will you shut up?" I laughed.

She skeptically eyed a cowboy-booted pair of patrons in the gallery. "Shall we take in some more of the local color?"

"Is that a palette joke?"

Pam rolled her eyes. "You know it isn't."

We stopped back by the reception desk to make sure Jane could handle any client inquiries.

"Where to?" she asked, ignoring Pam who had seized my arm again.

I tried to disentangle myself. "My friend and I were just going to grab some drinks."

Jane seemed to have misread the vibe because she now looked rather hopeful.

"Oh! There's a great rockabilly place down the street," she offered. "I go there two or three times a week." I looked back at Pam who was giving me the same mute googly eyes as before. No help there.

"Sure. We'll head over," I said, hauling her away. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jane," I added, just to make sure the situation was clear.

Pam dropped my arm the second we were out of the gallery.

"Like shooting sexy little fish in a barrel," she cackled.

We walked into the honkytonk. The place was crowded, but we managed to squeeze into one of the small tables near the back. Jane was right—the music was good. I grabbed us a few beers, and clambered back to my seat.

Pam took a long swig. The room was loud—not exactly conducive to private conversation—but that was not going to stop her.

"So, tell me about this girl," she shouted.

I was taken aback. Relationship convos were not my strong suit. "Who, Sookie?"

"Who else, moron? Yes, Sookie! You promised me a blow-by-blow weeks ago. Spill."

"Um… Well, she's amazing."

"Uh huh. So you love her?"

It felt weird to hear the question at all, let alone screamed at me. My mind blanked. "Uh…"

Pam took one look at me and snagged a passing server. "Honey, we're going to need half a dozen whiskey shots." She turned back to me. "Explain yourself, player. You do or you don't. It's a simple question."

I shifted uncomfortably. "I don't have a ton of experience with this. We've only been dating a few weeks. How would I even know?"

"Well… the last time we talked, you were beating yourself up about little things you did, obsessively replaying every moment you'd spent together. You care about her feelings. You respect her opinion. From what I can tell, you want her on your jock all the time—"

"That's offensive!" I interjected.

"Am I wrong?" she challenged.

"No…"

"All right then. Eric loves Sookie. One thing down." Although she had stated it as fact, she waited, challenging me to deny it.

"Fine then—yes," I conceded, pleased and annoyed. Pam smiled in triumph. "If it's so damn obvious, why did you even ask?!"

"Excellent. New question. Does Sookie love Eric?"

"I legitimately don't know," I sighed, explaining the conversation we had a few nights before. Sookie wouldn't say that she missed me, but then told me about her intimate dream. I slammed back a whiskey shot. "What do you think? Is she into me or not?"

Pam looked at me blankly.

"Let's pretend you didn't just tell me she agreed that you were 'in her blood'—which, by the way, is the biggest fucking tell I've ever heard outside of a romance novel—and let me remind you: you're Eric Northman."

"You've said that before. I don't think that means what you think it means."

"I will elaborate!" she spoke over me loudly. "I saw girls in school who you barely knew watch you every day. They would shoot daggers at whoever else dared to glance in your direction. Me, for example. The receptionist at the gallery did the same thing today, in case you hadn't noticed." I had. "So there you are. You are not someone that people feel casual about, even if they're not already fucking your gorgeous ass." Pam stopped herself. "In a manner of speaking. I don't know what you guys are into," she winked.

I sighed and took another shot. "That's just it, though. I know this sounds conceited and whatever, but attention from girls is not a big deal for me. They don't love me. Not the real me, anyway. Right? Right?" Pam waited a beat before nodding softly. "So. What does the next level look like?"

She gave me a rare sympathetic smile. "I think you need go for it and find out."

We sat in silence for a long moment as Pam sipped her beer. I knew at this point that she was right, but I didn't know how to do it.

Pam changed tactics, lightening the mood. "If you need some incentive, I guarantee it'll make the sex better."

"One track mind," I smirked. "Besides, have you seen this body?" I gestured dramatically downward. "I'm pretty sure that would be impossible."

Pam threw her head back and laughed. "Now that's the Eric Northman I know and love."

I laughed, too, and stretched out my arm to embrace her. Things might not have been settled, but it felt great to be back with my friend.

And then I saw her. Like out of a freaking movie—the loud club goes silent, a gust of wind causes the hero to turn his head, the lights dim except for a tight spot on the heroine's face—I was drawn to her like magic.

Sookie.

I was so goddamn glad to see her, I didn't notice her emotional register at first.

Sookie stormed the table. Tiny, fiery, furious. She looked incredible. Heavy eye makeup, black leather jacket, tousled hair… It had only been a few days, but I wanted to smash the glasses off the table and lay her out in front of me.

It took me all of one second to realize why she was angry. I'd seen the look in Sookie's eye a hundred times before, just not on her. Sometimes I was able to talk Jason out of a fight, and sometimes I just had to get ready to drag him home after one. I'd already fended off one jealous Stackhouse in a bar this month, and I wasn't looking forward to a repeat performance. Time to deflect and defuse.

I didn't waste time with preliminaries.

"Pam," I said the second she arrived at the table. She stopped in her tracks, although her eyes still blazed. "Pam." I pointed idiotically to emphasize the point, repeating "Pam" again like a mantra. I had mentioned her to Sookie before, but I wasn't sure she was in a fit state to remember every random detail I'd ever spoken.

Sookie continued to stare at me, unreadable. A beat passed.

"This is Pam," I finished warily. A flicker of recognition passed over her face.

"Pam?" she finally muttered.

We weren't winning any elocution contests with this dialogue.

"Yep."

I watched her anger slowly deflate. On cue, Pam leaped into the fray.

"Lesbian best friend—pleased to make your acquaintance," she drawled, holding out her hand like a parade queen.

"This is Sookie Stackhouse," I started.

"—enraged heterosexual girlfriend," Sookie finished with a small smile.

"Genuinely charmed."

An uncomfortable pause followed. Pam looked delighted—she loved weird social situations. If it had been hard to talk one on one before, our three-person conversation didn't stand a chance. Sookie and I both tried to engage Pam at once.

"Sookie got a job offer yesterday—"

"How was Eric's show—"

"Good," Pam said just as Sookie replied, "True."

We paused again, trying to get back on track. Then Pam and I spoke over each other.

"The band sounds great—"

"When did you get into the radio business—"

This time we all laughed.

Pam smiled graciously. "I'm going to head to the bar and get us a pitcher. When I get back, we can start this whole jamboree over again." She bent down and whispered in my ear, "Round two." I felt more than saw Sookie bristle.

Sookie watched Pam walk away, her eyes tuned to her long legs and short black skirt. She turned back to me, her expression filled with conflict. The air crackled between us. I wanted to grab her hand, to stroke her hair, to kiss her, but even with the whiskey in my system, I knew the moment wasn't right.

"Thank you for coming down. I'm happy to see you," I said instead.

"Thanks." Awkward silence swallowed us again. "I'm still mad," she shouted over the music.

"I can see that."

"Pam's really pretty."

"I know," I laughed. It was the wrong thing to say. Sookie shut down again, and any mileage I had made up in the last few minutes fell away. She clutched her bag tightly and glowered in Pam's general direction.

It was a revelatory moment for me. First of all, seeing Sookie jealous was not a turn-off. It did not make me feel trapped or smothered, or any of the other things I'd heard men say about their girlfriends in the past. It didn't amuse me like it did with the receptionist, either. Sookie's jealousy was grounded in real feelings. I meant something to her. She wanted me. She wanted me to want her. Only her.

I realized too late that I was beaming at her. A blazingly wide, unmistakable grin. I couldn't help it. Her behavior, as contrary as it might seem, had cracked my heart open. All I wanted to do was spill my guts out, to tell her how much she meant to me, but one look at her face told me this wasn't the time or place.

I stood up quickly and took her by the arm. "Come with me," I whispered, steering her toward the back of the honkytonk. I didn't have a plan in mind—I just wanted to be alone with her somewhere quiet—but touching her had sent an electric shock through my arm. My feelings were already morphing into something darker, more urgent.

Hastily, I pushed us into one of the unisex bathroom stalls at the back of the building. It wasn't a glamorous setting, but it was private. She backed herself against the wall next to the paper towel dispenser, arms folded, one foot braced behind her. If she'd had a cigarette, she'd have looked like a fantasy female James Dean—I didn't stand a chance. It turned me the fuck on. She saw it in me, too, and gave me a strange look.

"What?"

I stared back at her, hungry and hard.

"You look weird," she frowned.

"And you look fucking beautiful."

That set her back a bit. She eyed me quizzically. "What are you thinking about?"

"Right now?"

"Yeah."

I went all in.

"How I want to strip you naked in this bathroom and slam my cock down your throat."

Something flared in Sookie's eyes. She looked up with a spark that I wasn't sure indicated desire or indignation. "I thought you were a feminist."

"I don't think those things are mutually exclusive."

While she gave me the small smile I had been hoping for, her mood shifted almost immediately. She brought her hands to her face and let out a heavy sigh.

I approached slowly. "Hey…" Sookie didn't offer anything, so I tried again. "What's going on?"

"I'm…I'm sorry, Eric." I started to stop her, but she waved me off. "No, no, I mean it. You didn't do anything wrong. You're fine. I'm just…"

"Angry—"

"Embarrassed," she said over me. This admission surprised me. "You're…you've been so chill about everything. From the very start. I'm sorry I freaked out. Let's just… We can just forget this ever happened."

Fuck no! my insides screamed. That was the last damn thing I wanted. Sookie's exclusive desire for me sent me over the moon.

"Are you kidding me? I get it. Pam's a fox, and I was all over her. She's my best friend, I haven't seen her in a while…" Sookie shook her hand to stop me. I tried to lighten the mood. "I don't want to think about what would have happened if the situation were reversed. I'll bet I'd make Jason look reasonable." She smiled a little. I advanced toward her.

"If you want me to want you, I do. I fucking do. If you want me to prove it, I will."

She paused for a long beat, looking past me, quiet and unreadable. Then she spoke.

"I do want that." She nodded, earnest and penetrating. She grabbed my t-shirt in both fists and pulled me toward her. "I do want you to prove it." She stared up at me seriously, her expression open and raw. If I thought I was attracted to her before, it was nothing compared to this. I gazed down into her face in wonder.

"Goddamn. I like you like this."

"Like what?"

"On edge," I finished, slowly tracing her jawline with my thumb.

Sookie took it like a challenge. She caught my hand, stilling the gentle touch and brought it behind her to cup her ass. Something in me snapped. I seized her to me and pushed up her skirt. She inhaled sharply as I found her lace underwear and slipped inside it. Hot and slick and wet. My cock leapt toward her. Not knowing if it was the right thing so much as the necessary thing, I made my move. She watched me, eyes blazing, as I slowly slid a finger inside her.

"You sexy motherfucker," she whispered, residual anger and current need bubbling around the edges, seizing me about the neck with both arms and crashing her mouth into mine.

I caught up to her immediately, wrapping my free arm behind her, running my hand through her long hair, down the curve of her spine, gripping her firm ass. With my other, I stroked into her, reveling in her breathless gasps against my chest. She clawed at my neck again, trying to bring me closer.

"Why are you so damn tall!" she growled, flipping me and smashing me violently against the wall. She ripped open my jacket, running her hands under my shirt, over my stomach, across my chest. Sookie was on fire and I loved it.

"This is mine," she whispered emphatically. I was used to appreciative stares, but this was new. The sense of possession by someone I wanted, someone I loved… it was gratifying and inflaming. I felt so ravenous I could eat her.

I dropped to my knees, rotating her again so her back pressed against the wall. I knew this was the reverse of what I told her I wanted, but I had been wrong. I ripped her underwear down her legs. My fingers pushed into her once more as I brought my mouth to meet her.

The sounds she let out, God, the sounds! My dick pulsed over and over against my jeans. Her fingers ran through my hair, nails in my neck, as she rocked against me.

"You're so good. You're so fucking good."

"Mmmm," I hummed, increasing the speed. She had to come soon or else…

"Oh my God. More, Eric, more."

"Anything," I whispered against her though I knew she couldn't hear me, gripping her ass tighter and tighter.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" she cried out as I felt her finally release.

I didn't allow her much recovery time. A minute later, I was up, an arm curled behind her back, crushing her against my length. I wanted her coming again now, and I wanted her on me.

I locked eyes with her.

"Only you," I vowed.

"Only ever me," she affirmed as she ripped open my jeans. It was what I had been waiting to hear. With a roar that sounded melodramatic even to me, I pushed her skirt up as high as I could, and hiked her up on to me.

She sank onto my length slowly, eyes wide, face flushed, hair a mess. I braced my arms against the wall, spread her legs over my arms, and thrust into her. She cried out.

"Tell me, Eric! Tell me what you want."

"I want to do this every day," I grunted with exertion.

"Sex in a public bathroom?"

I ignored it and continued, sweeping her along with my sensual onslaught. "Watch you take me in inch by inch." She groaned, riding me harder. "Feel your nails in my neck." She raked me with her teeth and I gasped involuntarily. "Hear you scream as you come." Sookie was almost crying with pleasure.

"You think that I'm chill about this? That this is easy? It isn't. I'm consumed by you all day." I slammed into her particularly savagely. "My cock wants you. My heart wants you. I want you."

I leaned into her neck and growled, "You're it, baby. And I want in."

She put her mouth to my ear and whispered purposefully back, "You got it."

I don't know if it was her admission, or the way her body shook as a new orgasm tore through her, but I was done. Finished. Destroyed in a blinding flash of light.

It took me several deep gasps before I even remembered where we were. I was fixated on Sookie's face. So beautiful, so right. The phrase I would do anything for her flashed through my head. And it was true.

We continued to stare at each other, foreheads pressed together. A few beats passed.

"So… we're good?" I ventured.

She laughed, breathless and exuberant. It was infectious. I joined in out of relief, out of sheer joy at being with her.

"Yeah, Eric. We're good. We're very good. Now let's get out of this ridiculous bathroom before some manager comes by with a key."

The thought brought us back to ourselves. Still chuckling, we chased down articles of clothing, trying to fix our appearances as best we could. Smoothing my shirt back into place, Sookie put her hand to my neck and brought back a red smear.

"More paint?"

"What?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Oh my god. You're bleeding." I looked at her hand more closely.

"Ah. So it would seem." I had no idea when that had happened, and I didn't care. She raised her eyebrows. I shrugged helplessly.

Sookie grinned back. "Well then, I don't think I'm sorry about it."

"I don't want you to be. About anything."

She knew what I meant, and placed her arms gently around my neck. I pressed my nose against hers.

"You know," she said, suddenly dark and seductive, "it's actually kind of hot…"

Hot fucking damn.

"Shall we go back to my place, lover?"

She nodded immediately, her eyes flashing wickedly. I took her hand as we passed through the door frame.

"Wait—what did you just call me?!" I didn't answer, but squeezed palm even tighter. I would call her more than that before the night was through…

Noise flooded back in as we worked our way back to the table. The band was playing "Ring of Fire."

"Now that we're a thing, is this kind of our song now?" Sookie yelled in my ear.

"Man in Black all the way, baby."

When we arrived at the table, Pam—who had gone through quite a bit of the pitcher without us—gave us a long, thorough look.

"Well, well, well," she smirked, eyes trailing over our satisfied faces and disheveled appearance—Sookie's smeared eyeliner, the blood on my neck. Pam turned to me. "It seems you've been testing my theory. Was I right? Was it better?"

"You're always right, damnit," I admitted with a grin. Sookie's head snapped around at light-speed, the jealous spark reignited.

"Don't worry," Pam winked. "He'll explain it to you later."