There were some guest reviews last time that I could not answer so I will try to answer here:
Someone was worried that they couldn't find their previous review- it's under chapter one for some reason. I don't think he was trying to hurt her when he taught Anni to say Sookie better instead of Mama. He really just doesn't want things to be confusing. I can see that it wasn't very nice, maybe.
Another reviewer was saying that Sander seemed disrespectful of Sookie by wanting to go out with those girls and Eric. But I was thinking that he was asking Eric if he had made plans for them and if Sander was free or not. Not that he planned to go with Eric and the girls. Does that make you feel better about him? He likes Sookie a lot. He's very thankful for her presence in Eric's life.
Someone else asked if Bill would ever make an appearance. I have plans for Bill, muhaha! ;)
I love to answer questions and interact about this story but I can't converse with guests. Maybe you'd like to make a wordpress account and leave notes over there?
Thanks so much for reading everyone! :) I'm sorry I didn't get to review replies this time but I have been very busy over on my wordpress account. Please check it out. I wrote a two part vampire short story. I'll put the summary at the end of this chapter.
SOOKIE
The past two weeks with Sander in the house have been great. It's been fun—for the most part. The only thing that would make it better is if Annika were actually sleeping and by result, if Eric were sleeping better. The poor girl seems to be getting all her teeth at once. Her front teeth and first molars are all coming at the same time and her mouth is so swollen she doesn't want to eat. This leads to her being up at all hours of the night, either wanting a cup of milk or a snuggle.
She now pretty much always occupies the space between Eric and I in bed at night, because she won't sleep unless her little head is in the crook of his arm and her legs are tucked right up against his chest. It is the most precious thing I have ever seen but it does make for some very frustrating nights. Eric needs sex, and more importantly sleep, to help him calm down when he is frazzled. And frazzled is exactly what he has been since Sander started staying with him. I don't mean that he is not happy about the visit, because he is immensely excited to have his brother under his roof. But there is this air of tension that permeates the house now, as the brothers try to maintain happy conversations, never delving into anything that would be at all uncomfortable for either of them.
I think neither wants to make the other cry, but for very different reasons. Eric just hates crying of any kind, especially if he's doing it. It makes him feel agitated and if he thinks he's the cause, he feels incredibly guilty. Sander saw how upset Eric was and I'm sure he heard him sobbing and I don't think he wants to cause such grief to his brother who already carries so much pain.
I can understand, I can, but I can't help the feeling that once all the tension comes to a head, there is going to be a major drama that unfolds as they snap and shed their calm personas in favor of the truth of their past and their future. I can't decide if I want to be around for that or if I want to be across the world when the drama unfolds. So, all of these things together—the lack of sleep, the lack of sex, the tension with Sander—they are like a time bomb waiting to go off, and I have to admit that I am terrified of the messy result of it.
I smile as I feel Eric come up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders. I close my class binder and tip my head back to look up at him. When he bends down to kiss me, I spin my chair so that we are facing each other. He drops to his knees and I scoot to the edge of my seat so our lips can meet. He winds his long arms around me as we kiss, bringing his hands up my back to play in my hair.
"Is she asleep?" I whisper, pulling back just a bit.
"For now," he sighs. Her sleepless nights are taking their toll on him. He hates when she is unhappy.
"Do you want to…?" I ask, gesturing to the bed, where his baby is not- for now.
"How about here?" he says, patting my desk. "Sander fell asleep on the couch, so you can make some noise." He grins at me and does that eyebrow waggle thing that we both know is slightly ridiculous.
He knows I can't stay quiet when he fucks me from behind. I smile and he reaches for my hand to help me stand up with him. When we are standing, he spins me around so that my back is to his chest. He's already hard; I can feel him at my back. His flimsy track pants do not hide a thing.
He spends a while sliding his warm hands all over my front, squeezing my breasts, strumming my nipples, tracing my hips. All the while, his lips are on my neck, and he makes me moan when his tongue flicks out to lick my skin. He unbuttons my shirt and lets it hang open. Then he starts to unbutton my jeans. He squats down as he pulls them with him and kisses my lower back as I step out of them. He reaches back up for my panties and smoothes his hands up my legs once they're off. His hands make me tingle even though he hasn't touched where I feel it.
When I feel his body against mine again, it's without clothes. His erection lies against my lower back and he hisses as I push back into it.
"Bend over," his rasps, his hand skimming around to the front of me and dropping between my legs. I was going to play with him a bit but his insistent fingers make known my need for him. It's been a while since we've been naked together, even longer since his naked body has been entirely pressed to mine.
I drop to the desk, hissing at the coldness on my already overheated skin.
"Mmm," his chest rumbles, "I'm glad we moved this in here. That's a fucking beautiful sight."
His fingers circle my clit, making me wet and ready for him. But he keeps going, even when I know I'm wet enough. "Please, Eric, I need your cock."
"Not yet," he grunts. "I never get to touch you like this." He continues to play with my clit, rocking his erection over my ass, until I cry out in my climax. He licks his fingers and only then do I feel his tip at my entrance. I try to push back onto him but he growls and holds my hips still with one of his ridiculously large hands. "Slowly," he says, "Let me…" he pushes in, "go slowly."
As he pushes all the way in, he starts to pant softly. He must have gotten himself really worked up, sliding along my ass. I know he wants to take me there; maybe he was imagining it.
"Eric," I moan, as he fills me. He feels so good—so hot and thick.
"Say that again," he breathes. I comply and I feel him pulse inside me when I do. "I fucking love you," he growls.
"I love you, too," I say, but the last word is a moan as he fully enters me and grinds his pelvis against me. He pulls my button down shirt off my shoulders and down my arms. The cuffs of the shirt don't let it easily come off my wrists so he uses the shirt to hold my hands at my lower back. He starts to pound into me, grunting each time we slap together.
"Fuck, Sookie. I'm gonna cum. Can you cum first?" he pants. He really worked himself up if he's got no stamina.
"It's okay, Eric. I already came."
"No," he grunts, "please, you cum again." He reaches around to stroke my clit again and when my muscles clench around his length, he lets out a low breathy moan that sends heat coursing through me. I am always amazed at what his noises of pleasure do to me.
"Fuck, Eric," I moan. His fingers speed up along with his hips but they push me too hard into the desk and I lose the heat crawling through my body. "Ow, wait," I say.
His hips still and he pulls out. He pulls me up and turns me to face him. "Did I hurt you?"
"It's just the desk. It's too hard for how hard you're thrusting."
"I'm sorry, why didn't you tell me?"
"I did."
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
"It was fine before, it just started hurting now."
"Are you sure?" He looks really skeptical and really guilty. He's been so touchy this week. Everything upsets him but he hasn't snapped at me at all. Now that I think about it, I don't know if that's good or bad. I don't want to be yelled at, but I don't want him holding everything in either.
"I'm sure, Eric," I say, pushing him back so that he will sit on his bed. I climb onto his lap and position him so that I can ride him. He lets me without saying anything. "Are you okay?" I ask. He's inside me but he doesn't seem real enthusiastic about it.
"I'm good," he says, hugging me to his chest. He starts to move against me, flexing his hips as I move over him. He puts his face in the crook of my neck and all I can hear is his heavy breathing. He's not kissing me or moving his hands over me, he's not doing much of anything. I try to relax and chase my orgasm but it remains out of reach.
"This isn't working," I say and Eric's head shoots up. Such a look of panic flashes across his features that it knots my stomach instantly. "What?"
"Nothing," he says, calming considerably. He lifts me off of his lap and sits me next to him on his bed. "You're right. It's okay."
"No, Eric. What do you want? I can give you a blow job; I don't want to leave you like this."
"It's okay. I'm going to take a shower."
He walks right into his bathroom without another word and I fall back onto his bed with a sigh. I'm kind of hurt that he doesn't want me to go with him and that he would rather take care of himself in the shower than let me do it. I know he has a lot on his mind and on his heart, but I'm just going to stay home and study if he's going to keep locking me out of both places. Now we can't even have sex properly.
Eric is trying hard to keep a hold on himself but it's obviously not working. He exercises before work everyday, he eats regularly, he tries to get some time to himself to decompress everyday, but I can see that it's not enough. I can see it in the set of his jaw and the stiffness in his shoulders. I can see it in his smile, which is normally warm and his face, which is normally open. His eyes are becoming guarded, his words, too carefully constructed, as he tries to make sure nothing he says to Sander will be misconstrued as blame or anger. But the problem is that there is both blame and anger there, inside Eric and I'm sure inside Sander. They need to talk things out but neither wants to. And now he's keeping me out as well. I feel like a spectator at a show that's climax is going to leave nothing but devastation in its wake. I don't really know what to do. I don't know how to help and I hate this feeling.
ERIC
Sookie thinks she is slick, getting Sander and I to spend time alone together. She offered to watch Annika all day today so we could have "brother time" because she wants us to talk. She wants to diffuse the tension that fills my house like a cloud of noxious gas. She means well, she wants me to be happy, and I love her for it. But she is wrong about what I need to be happy. I just need her and my baby. My brother is an excellent bonus—time with him does make me happy but it also makes things difficult. I know that despite what Sookie says, Sander and I are okay. We are happy to be friends again and I know we have gotten over our past. It's behind us and we need to move forward not dwell on hurtful things that happened long ago. Sookie wants me to talk to someone and sometimes I think maybe I should but what am I supposed to say? How am I supposed to tell a stranger about all the shitty things in my past. What am I supposed to talk about? My feelings? Fuck feelings. I've been trying to bury mine since I was seven years old.
"Eric, you drive like an old man," teases Sander in Swedish. I look over at him and he's grinning at me. We are headed to F1 Boston to take a spin around the track. I need to shake off this shitty feeling so I can have fun with my brother today.
"We'll get on the track and then you'll see who drives like an old man!"
"Yeah, you." He smiles and slugs my shoulder.
"Watch it, fucker! I'm going to wipe my ass with you."
"Dickhead!" We grin at each other and then lapse into silence as I drive. We're brothers. We will always love each other. We were there for each other throughout our childhood. I held him tight when our father made him cry, he made me laugh when Mama stopped smiling after the asshole stopped coming home.
"How's Mama?" I ask Sander, when I can't shake her from my thoughts and when my car is too silent.
"Mama…she misses you. She wants to know Annika."
"Huh," I grunt.
"She's sorry, big brother. She…she knows she was wrong not to protect us…to let him treat us like he did. She's sorry for how you changed—for how he changed you. Eric, she wants to make it right."
I chance a look at Sander and see tears in his eyes. Fuck! My hands grip my steering wheel tightly and Sander looks from my hands to my face.
"It's okay, Eric. It's okay for you to be angry at her. I was so fucking angry for so long. But it's no way to be, no way to live. I let it consume me—anger and grief—for way too long. I carried it with me and only the drugs could dull it enough so that I didn't want to just die."
"Sander, I—"
"No, Eric! Hear me out! Listen to me. I have waited so long to tell you this. I know you hate it but I need to tell you!"
By this time, we are in the parking lot of the F1 place so I find a spot and cut the engine. I take a breath and turn my body toward my brother. As much as I don't want to hear this, what kind of a big brother would I be if I didn't give my little brother what he needs? And right now, that's a listening ear.
Sander puts his hand behind my head with his thumb on my cheek for a brief second. "Thank you," he says.
"Yeah," I mutter.
"I lived on the streets in Germany for months. I was so lost to drugs, I didn't know where I was half the time. I wouldn't eat for days on end. I did…horrible things for a fix, Eric…filthy things."
I try not to show my surprise at his last statement. I guess I never thought of what he would resort to to get his drugs. He must not have been able to get a job if he was always drugged up. He must have needed money and…
"It's okay, Sander. You're good now, right?" My voice sounds pathetic, even to me. I am pleading with him to be okay, to stop my mind from delving into how he lived when I abandoned him.
"I'm better, Eric. But I will always be an addict. I shot drugs into my body every single day for years. It was how I lived. It was killing me but keeping me alive at the same time."
"Why are you telling me this?" I ask, my voice shaking as I try to force the bile back down my throat. "Do you hate me? Do you blame me for leaving you in Sweden? I'm so sorry—"
"No, Eric," he says softly, cutting me off. He puts his hand on my shoulder and waits until I look at him. "I just need to tell you. I just need you to know. Because right now? I am so happy. I wake up each and every day smiling, feeling joy like I never thought was possible. I'm free, Eric. Do you understand? I am free in a way that I never was before. And yes, I will be an addict for the rest of my life and yes, I will be wary forever of a relapse, but I won, Eric! I fought and I won! I have never felt better. The fight was hard but I fucking did it!"
We are both crying by the end of his speech. "How the fuck did you get so strong, Sander?" I ask. He wipes his face on his sleeve and smiles at me.
"I had a good fucking teacher, Eric," he whispers, looking into my eyes.
For the second time in as many weeks, I am weeping uncontrollably. In my car, which is awkward as hell. But the pain in my chest goes away when I don't try to hold back my tears. So I let them fall, because I know Sander won't judge me for them. He leans over and lets me cry on his shoulder and he just silently hugs me. I can hear him sniffle every once in a while so I know he is crying along with me. What a pair we are.
After a minute or so of silence, we sit back from each other, both of us smiling somewhat sheepishly. Sander looks a mess and I'm sure I do too. I reach out and tousle his hair even more and he grins and pushes my hand away.
"Well, that was fun," I say. Can things be any more awkward than crying your eyes out with your brother in the middle of a parking lot?
"Yeah, maybe not the best time for that, right?"
"Probably not. Do you still want to do the F1 thing?"
"Fuck, yeah! I'm going to kick your ass, big brother!"
"Oh, we'll see about that!" I fish some tissues out of my glove box and hand a small stack to Sander. We both wipe our faces the best we can and fix our clothes.
Once we are walking up to the building, Sander puts his hand on my forearm. I stop, wondering what he will say to me this time. "Eric, I need to go to a meeting while I'm here. Will you come with me?"
"A meeting?"
"For addicts like me. You know the kind; I'm sure you've seen them on TV. Will you come with me? You don't have to speak."
"Yeah, I can come. Just let me know when so I can have someone watch Anni." I figure if Sander can be so strong, then so can I, right?
~~—~~—~~
After racing around the track, I take him to one of my favorite restaurants— a high end Brazilian steakhouse with all you can eat meat and sides. All-you-can-eat is very good for two giants with huge appetites like my brother and me. In fact, I'm sure they shake their heads when they see me coming whenever I go in. We are seated after a short wait. After a trip to the salad bar where we load up our plates, we sit down at our table.
"Would you like to talk to Mama today? I'm supposed to call her and she asked me last time."
"Oh." Would I? "Can I let you know later?"
"Sure, but I have to call her right when we get back to your place because of the time difference. She…I think you should talk to her…but of course, it's up to you."
The gaucho chef comes around offering rib eye steak, which is my favorite so we both add some to our plates. It gives me a chance to think about what I want to say.
Once the waiter is gone, I ask, "How did you forgive her?" I think that's my biggest problem. I can't figure out how to even start moving past her failures with us. My father's funeral felt like the ultimate betrayal. She said so many nice things about him—so many nice fucking lies. "You weren't there at Pappa's funeral, Sander. I already didn't want to be there…and then she acted like he was such a good person. He gave money to this charity and that. He was so influential, blah blah blah. If that wasn't so bad, then she started talking about us. About how we looked up to him and tried to emulate him—"
"You did!" Sander says with venom in his voice, which shocks me. He's not shown any anger since he's been staying with me.
"I…I did?" What the hell is he talking about?
"You don't remember dressing up in the little fucking suits he used to buy us? Carrying around your school bag like it was a briefcase? You used to bark orders to imaginary underlings and tell me to fetch you your reports…You don't remember that?"
If I concentrate, snippets of that memory seep into my mind. How did I not remember before now? "I…do remember." I say, scrubbing my hands down my face and sighing deeply. "Does it upset you? To remember that?" He seemed really angry.
"I don't know. I still hate him. That's the one thing therapy hasn't done for me and I don't know if it ever will. I still haven't forgiven him. But I forgave Mama, Eric. You asked how. The why is simple but not the how."
"Then the why. Tell me the why."
"Because she asked. I showed up on her doorstep, Eric. I showed up, skinny and dirty and stinking, and she opened her arms and the door to me. She stripped off my clothes and got me into the bath when I could barely stand up. She cleaned me up and then she helped me get clean. And she did it all for me without once telling me I was a disappointment or that she was ashamed of me. Then she asked me to forgive her, Eric. I did; I had to. I stayed with her for a couple weeks until it became clear that I needed to be somewhere else so she sent me to Denmark, to a treatment program. Pappa's money paid for it. The only good fucking thing he's ever done for me. Mama bought me new clothes, she fed me—she made all the things I always loved. I gained about ten pounds in the two weeks I was with her, and forty more in the program." He sees me raise my eyebrows at him. "Yeah, I was a skinny asshole," he laughs.
"Yeah, wow. So then you and Mama…you went to therapy together?"
"We still do. She came to Denmark a few times while I was there and talked to the counselors with me. And now we go together sometimes and I go alone sometimes. It's good. It helps."
"Sookie wants me to go…"
"You should, Eric. Sookie loves you so much but do you think she wants to always be the one to pick you up? You need to pick yourself up. For you and Annika and Sookie, but ultimately for yourself."
Another waiter comes around with sausages and another with lamb chops so we each take some and I get another breather so that my feelings don't choke me.
"Talking about everything helped me to let it go, Eric. It's like I had a weight sitting right here," he says, patting his chest, "and the more I talked, the less pressure I felt squeezing me, pushing me down. I think Mama felt the same. She is so much happier now, she laughs easily again. I want that for you, Eric. I can practically see the weight you carry, the burden of the past sitting on your shoulders."
I look down and away from Sander's stare. If I look into those eyes right now, I'm going to lose it. "I…"
"Just think about it, Eric. I have some names that were recommended to me and I would like it if you come with me. Just once and if you hate it, you don't have to go back. It's not a commitment, it's just an appointment."
I am seriously in awe of how smart my little brother is. "Just once," I repeat, "I'll just try it, okay?"
His smile is so big on his face, it makes me smile too. "I love you, brother," he says, with glassy eyes. I know he's trying not to cry in the middle of this restaurant. He's like Sookie—crying freely without shame—and he doesn't need me to stop his tears either. I'm starting to hate crying less and less. I guess it's okay, if you have to do it. It kind of feels better than not doing it, when you feel like it. It makes it easier to breathe to just give in to the tears if your body wants to cry. But sometimes, like in the middle of a crowded restaurant where waiters can appear with sticks of meat at any time, you really don't want to feel like crying. At least they don't speak Swedish.
"I love you, too, Sander. That's why I let you kick my ass today at the track!"
"Oh, fuck you!" he says, grinning. "I won with no help from you! You lost, fucker!"
"Yeah, fuck you. I'm sure you have more practice driving fast. I have to drive slow for Annika."
"Whatever, big brother. Excuses, excuses!"
We spend the rest of the meal chatting about various innocuous things as we eat our fill of the fire grilled meats and Brazilian sides. Things are much less tense between us. Sookie should be happy that we talked. She should be ecstatic that I agreed to see a therapist with Sander. I still don't feel that comfortable with the idea but Sander shared a lot with me today and I'm sure it wasn't that easy. I can do this because he wants me to, ultimately it's for myself and my little family anyway.
As we exit the restaurant, we decide to walk a little bit because we ate way too fucking much. The Copley Mall is right around here so we decide to walk through there.
"Shit, this mall is ridiculously fancy. Is this where you normally shop?"
I stop listening to Sander when my heart starts pounding in my ears as I look ahead of us. I suddenly feel like I'm going to throw up as I stare at the achingly familiar face in front of me. Of course she shops at this upscale mall. She doesn't notice me and I'd like to keep it that way. She is the last person I want to see, let alone talk with. But I can't seem to move.
I notice Sander when he steps into my line of sight. He waves a hand in front of my face. "Eric? What's wrong? You look—"
"Sophie," I whisper as she turns and looks right at me. Her eyes widen before she schools her features to look bored as usual. "Please don't let her come over here," I mumble under my breath, pleading with the God who has always ignored me in the past.
So...Sophie! You had to know she'd show up at some point, right? :)
My new story over on wordpress is called Unexpected. Here is the summary:
Based on the True Blood Season 7 back story for Eric and Pam. What if Sookie Stackhouse met Eric Northman when her friend, Tara, dragged her all the way to Shreveport to check out a new video store with an awesome selection of horror movies? If Sookie liked being in that video store, might she go back? Maybe a whole bunch of times? And might she choose one night to go for the specific purpose of seeking out the tall, blonde sex god in the basement? rated MA
Please check it out...but leave a review here first! :)
