A/N: Charlaine is the Owner of all things Sookie and Eric. Very explicit with a taste of what is to come in Chapter 18, and later. Multiple POV.
MariaTeresa and I struggled for a few days with dropped chapters, delaying the delivery of these updates. We persevered and voila! All remaining errors have been re-introduced by me, courtesy of too many late nights.
Woodside c. 1979 Spring Break Part II
In the history of sex as captured in the world's great literature, no one really knew the top five episodes of male on female copulation. There was a lot of speculation by the literati that any accurate list of lovers should include Guinevere and Lancelot, Darcy and Elizabeth, Antony and Cleopatra, Abelard and Heloise, Robin Hood and Maid Marian, or even Hermia and Lysander. But as to which couple performed the most passionate of embraces and held the purest of hearts whilst performing the most animalistic of acts of procreation, if Cupid knew, he wasn't telling. And, was the first time the 'best', or was it the five hundred and fifty-first time?
These weighty matters did not trouble Eric in the least. What he did revel in was the delicious aftermath of Sookie yielding to him on this night of all nights. While only the cognoscenti would deem the individual events to be worthy of any scoring system, he wasn't immune to the crescendo of feelings she had evoked in him. If only he could write sonnets like Elizabeth and Robert, he would be madly scribbling over every clean surface in the house, or proclaiming his love in a cultured English accent in couplets praising her body, her soul, verily, her insatiable appetite. After waiting more than six years for the woman, he felt she had exceeded his expectations in all possible ways. She was indeed the Lover he had dreamed of for all those years. 'Forever, she would stay in his heart', the phrase seeming to drop into his conscious mind from out of nowhere.
_________________
Returning to terra firma, Eric made to stretch, but stopped. His body had not been pushed to the extremes to satisfy a woman as he had demanded of it with Sookie. His lips ached, his thighs burned, his butt muscles felt as if they had been clawed to ribbons and his dick, goddammit, was still on fire. He was ready for round three if he could find the energy to rise up off his back, flip her over, part her ankles, push back her knees and sink into her once again. He just didn't know if he could lift his hand to start the process. He felt as if he had been completely drained by the love of his life. For the first time that he could remember, he was cautiously optimistic that what he was feeling was 'happy'.
The woman who had incited this change in him was lying on her stomach. She evidently also was worn out. Her golden honey crown of soft hair was a mess of tangled knots, witness to the urgency of their union. Her breasts, barely exposed by her odd angle of repose, showed signs of bruising from inadvertent bites he'd placed during the release of his first lust. Yet, she was as dear to him as the rarest of diamonds, and he had treated her thusly. Je*us, he needed some paper, he was going to write down his thoughts.
The notepad by the side of his bed served his purpose. When finished, he was satisfied that it was a love note that poured all of his emotions into a few simple phrases, signed by him with his scrawling signature "E". He folded it and left it on the bed by her hand, confident she would awake and find it before he finished his shower. He remained still for a few more minutes, and then gathered himself, managing to throw his legs over the side of the bed. After finally finding the carpet under the soles of his feet, located only as a result of what he thought should qualify as superhuman effort, he slunk into his bathroom, started the hot water, and began to wash the scattered mementos of their efforts from his tired body. It was just eight at night but his internal clock was telling him it was the wee hours of the morning. Perhaps she would join him in a few minutes if he stayed under the hot water.
He was once again living right, because the shower door opened and the vision from his dreams now come to life, yawned widely, held out her arms for him and murmured in his ear when he pulled her inside and held her close to his naked chest and trembling hips, "Thanks."
"For what? Besides the best sex of your life, of course." Trite but true, he was certain of it.
"For the lovely written invitation to join you in the shower." Luckily, she had ignored his smirk; it was unbecoming in a gentleman.
"It was a beautifully written note, was it not?" Okay, a small display of ego..
"Perfect, Eric, except my name was misspelled." Was she kidding?
"No, it wasn't. I've never forgotten how to spell it. S-U-K-I-E. That's how you spelled it." All his education had to render him some benefit.
"Think I don't know how to spell my own name, Lover? S-O-O-K-I-E. Like 'cookie', but with an 'S'. There is no 'U' in my name. But I never sign any documents or notes with that childhood name anymore; haven't done so in years. I always use my legal name, Susannah."
He stepped back from her and just stared. "You've never signed your name with a 'U', have you?" She shook her head in agreement, yawning again. "And yet, I have a note you left for me after our last night together five years ago. I saved it. It is stuck in a book back home in Salt Lake. It is the reason we are not together today."
"What note? Why are you always bringing up some note? I've told you before I never wrote you any note." She stopped, clearly perturbed by his comments.
"Let's get real, Eric. The reason we are not 'together' is because of you. You were the guy who disappeared from my life, remember? I only had to travel to the end of the continent to find you, after all." She now smiled at him, willing him to drop the discussion and return to kissing her. She encouraged him by dropping her hands to grasp his sore butt muscles, kneading them as tightly as she could, causing a loud moan to issue from deep within him while he was compelled to rub as much skin against her as he could while remaining upright.
Before he lost control once more, not only of himself, and her, not to mention the conversation and his thoughts, he adjusted the head to the 'rain' setting, took her chin between his thumb and index finger, and said "A grave mistake has been made. It has cost us, you and me. I'm going to find the culprit. When I do, heads will roll." And the rest of his actions in the shower were geared towards making her forget everything else but him. When they were finished, he thought he had succeeded. He carried her back to bed, her eyes closed as her head rested on his shoulder, her sweet limbs limp and trusting him to take care of her.
He'd found the extra energy to render her senseless from the flamethrower licking at his insides, the superheated blood boiling in his veins, and the immense outrage he felt. That outrage was a bomb ready to go off in his brother's life when he faced him with the evidence of his grossest manipulation of his happiness, his future, his life. Where the hell was Sven? He was going to tear him limb-from-limb before the night was over. There'd be no more 'twin brothers' when he finished.
___________________
Sven pulled into his garage, his mind working on refining the plan he was ready to launch to share the woman he didn't really want to let go, but had to do so in order to keep her. It was a fucked-up situation. If he could only tell her what he had done so many years ago before he met her, when he didn't know he'd meet her and not be able to satisfy one of her deepest expressed desires for children. He cursed the medical profession and its antiquated surgical skills. In twenty or thirty years, he'd probably be able to have the vasectomy reversed and it would not be an issue. But for now, reversals were out-of-the-question. He could disappoint her, and go on living the lie, knowing she'd never leave him because of something she thought he couldn't control, or he could do this thing, previously unacceptable to him. He'd early thought of just telling her and dealing with the consequences. But if FW dumping him had left him suicidal in college, he'd reasoned, his wife leaving him for his deception and using it as an excuse to go to Eric, shades of the FW's reaction, would kill him. His major regret was that the partner, or stud, would have to be Eric. At least if he'd found another man other than his brother, he might have gotten some other needs met as well. But he and Eric were so never going there. Ever. The only consolation was that Eric was too honorable to try to steal her away from him. He wouldn't have to worry about that happening. And he truly loved his brother. So it could work out.
He wondered again, as he locked up the garage and made his way to the front door, how his mother had tolerated the arrival of Celia. Did she resent her sister, or was she the one who proposed her as a co-wife to Ander, thinking perhaps 'the devil she knew'? It was truly going to take every semblance of civility to guide this thing to a conclusion he could live with for the next sixty or seventy years of his life.
Bone tired from all the subterfuge of the last few months, from the extra hours he was logging in order to make the money he wanted and garner the respect he craved as the eventual head of his family when Ander had to step aside, not to mention the less-than-satisfying frantic sex he only occasionally allowed himself with Sookie while he waited out the two of them, he rested his head against the front door, key in hand. He knew he was immobilized because he'd likely have to push the other two into enacting his plan. Shit, was he really such a terrible person? Did he really deserve all these demands on his time, his energy, his heart? Had he acted impulsively that night with Sookie when they drove to the desert? Maybe, but now it was his mess, and as he'd told Eric, he was going to fix it. Not to mention making amends for what he'd done so many years ago, never dreaming how far-reaching the consequences would become for such a simple, impulsive act. It hadn't seemed so bad at the time.
Before he could unlock the door, noticing the deadbolt was in place and beginning to get an inkling of what that might mean, the lock slipped out of the groove, the door blew inward, and Eric was standing in front of him. The ice in his brother's eyes and the frozen hatred on his face were more punishing to Sven than if he'd started pummeling him. The blocking of his entry to his home combined with the suddenness of the change in Eric's attitude so shocked Sven that he reacted instinctively to the display of open malevolence. Not waiting for the blow to fall, and grunting from the effort, he took advantage of the surge of adrenaline and pushed forward hard, rocking Eric back on his heels and then watching, stunned, as he crumpled to his knees. Being in much better shape than Eric because he was too vain to not work out regularly with weights and boxing gloves, he had managed to knock the breath out of him. Seeing him brought down so easily, Sven regained his senses. He felt an overwhelming surge of helplessness and fear that he had truly harmed his illness-weakened brother. Oh shit, now what?
Eric swayed and then fell over at his feet, his head making a nasty thump as it hit the tile floor. Looking up at the sudden gasp in the hallway, he saw that Sookie was naked and clearly coming from Eric's bedroom at the opposite end of the house. Dazed, he realized that Eric was also naked and lying at his feet. Was she interpreting the scene to mean he had beaten Eric over what must have finally happened between the two of them? He really could not catch a break.
"Sookie, please, believe me, I'd never hurt him."
"I know it. Just bring him to the couch, away from the door. It's cold out and he doesn't need a chill. Hurry, please. We need some wet washcloths and maybe some ice. He's been ill," she said, unnecessarily. "We don't want him to have a relapse." Not exactly a warm welcome home for him from either one of them.
While he made to scoop up Eric from the floor, noticing he was definitely lighter because the painful stomach ulcers had probably affected his appetite, he anticipated he would again be cast as the villain in this scenario. All he had done was show up. Grumbling about it, he carried him to the couch as Sookie brought in a blanket and the washcloths, which she handed over, and headed to the kitchen for the bag of ice. She'd found a robe somewhere but hadn't taken time to tie it in place.
Would the three of them never get it right?
He was so shaken by what he had done that he was pushing out the certain knowledge of what had taken place between the two of them. He was always good at compartmentalizing his feelings.
____________________________
Sookie stirred from her nap to find herself in Eric's room, her Lover gone, but the sounds of him in the shower reassured her that the events of the last hours had indeed finally occurred. After waiting years for him, it had been everything she had dreamed. But first, she had had to shut out the voices in her head admonishing her for her weakness and just let herself sink into her desire for him.
While she had waited for him to return from locking up, she'd decided to take him and not wait any longer for Sven to bring him to their room. She could feel that Eric was nervous about being alone with her, so she would have to encourage him to lie beside her. He amused her by playing a song from a punk band with a lead singer spouting lyrics about love. It gave her some insight into how immature Eric was when it came to expressing himself. She and Sven would have to help him grow into his feelings for them. She knew she did not yet love Eric in the same way she loved Sven, which was a mature understanding of who he was and what they felt for each other, but Eric's pull on her wasn't going away. She could feel his want and she mirrored it. He had hovered over her, needing her to look him in the eyes and see what he felt, but couldn't say. She'd opened her eyes to see his ice-blue, northern waters sparklers boring into her and she'd smiled to encourage him to continue.
But when Eric began kissing her, it was as if all the missing intervening years were simply stripped away, She had imagined herself transported back to that dull gray bedroom, the air moist from the humidity of having a house on the shore of a large body of water, the temperature sultry and encouraging one to move slowly, sensuously, and without regard to any other obligations. She had allowed herself to pull from deep within her the intense physical longing to bring him into the cradle of her most intimate self, to encase his thick warm length in her pink, silky welcoming flesh, and to bear down on him when she felt her orgasms overtake her reason and dismiss all logic in favor of a purr so heartfelt, her skin burned with the sound of emission. In the ensuing conflagration, she marked his flesh with her scent, molded his engorged desire to fit her need, and stripped him of his human soul in favor of flushing out the animal within.
She basically screwed his lights out.
Nails tearing at his ass, mouth too eager to be satisfied by his gentle parting of her lips, she had sucked his tongue into a frenzied twining with hers, her lower body straining to fit under his as she sent an arrow of lust into his loins advising him to 'man up', this was going to be it! He responded carefully at first, uncertain of his role, but as the ancient dance of tangled limbs quickly escalated into harsh breathing, mad pounding of hearts, and intense arching and shifting of their weights to find their centers, he quickly let go of all but what he had wanted from her, taking charge of her satisfaction just like the love-slave she had dreamed he would become should she ever again have the chance to bend him into a reclining position. She didn't care about his gentle probing of her nipples; she wanted his relentless weeping monster to find his equal in her swallowing of him in one long suck, her golden thighs parting to accept his long-overdue obeisance, at last.
The sounds of him splashing about in the adjacent room were too compelling to wait alone for him to return, reliving recent events when she could be exploring the real deal Making to move off the bed, she saw his crush note and reading it, was instantly transported back to high school. She'd almost forgotten her own adolescent efforts at crush notes to imaginary boyfriends, pouring out her heart, sometimes castigating the fellow over a dreadful slight, the words flowing as her thoughts churned and tears fell. When she finished a little masterpiece, the fictitious events it supposedly covered were as precious and real to her as a dear friend. Each little well-worked missive served to ease the loneliness she felt at being the only one of her high school group not sharing in the rollercoaster of emotions teenage males invoked in the hormonally-vulnerable. She smiled now as she was reminded of those notes scattered throughout the various houses she'd inhabited. It had been a very childish practice, remembered briefly but quickly dismissed as she thought of who awaited her in the shower. And she loved showers, usually.
Entering the bathroom, she stopped as she found him standing under the running water, muscled shoulders and long legs just visible through the translucent glass of the shower door, his longish ice-blonde hair soaked and framing his back. He was so like Sven from this angle; she felt a brief vertiginous sensation as she was hit by what she and he had just completed, twice.
She prayed silently that Sven was still as open to what they had started tonight as he had been that night a few months ago after telling her about his parents' arrangements. He would have to welcome Eric as her lover for it to work. If his possessive nature flared up and he couldn't control it, it could ruin everything they could have together.
She'd been somewhat comforted about the outcome by the ongoing conversations she'd had with both Celia and Mia about their own lifestyle. They had been very open with her and had detailed early problems they had experienced and how they'd worked through them. She in turn had been very forthcoming as well, telling them about her previous history with Eric, and how she'd come to meet Sven and marry him without thinking too much about the possible complications. She knew they understood why she was asking the questions. They were not embarrassed to ask her if Eric was now living with her and Sven as more than a temporary houseguest. As expected, they had no reservations about whatever choices the three of them might decide upon. The open attitudes of her new in-laws were soothing and very 'new-age' in her mind. The two women had helped her accept that she did want to explore what Sven had proposed. She could almost see the two brothers with her in a sort of blended family environment, having children and careers they would share and interweave to jointly meet the individual demands they would face. She felt a swell of love at the thought of having children, but knew it was several years in her future; no babies for her until she'd achieved some of her professional goals.
There would also be another benefit to having Eric in their lives. In the back of her mind, she admitted the multiple spouse arrangement might be a useful support system when she'd have to accept her husband's need to enjoy the occasional 'off-property' illicit acts that she suspected he would eventually wish to return to, with or without her acquiescence. It would help to have Eric with her to weather these events. She'd be able to ask Eric to speak with Sven about using protection. She knew as a dominant male he would be less likely to pick up anything, but better to be safe.
Wow, she'd come such a long way from her middle-America roots and traditions. It felt good to know she could throw off the conventional mantle and explore what interested her. Maybe she'd talk Eric and Sven into taking Yoga classes with her. Celia had recently suggested Kundalini Yoga as a good choice for the three of them for a variety of reasons, some of which had caused her to blush. She'd agreed to read up about it later. She'd also been reading about the Esalan Institute and wanted to try a retreat, a recommendation Mia had made to her during one of their regular weekly check-in phone calls. She actually spoke more with Mia that she did with her own mother Pam, she thought with some regret.
Opening the shower door, she was wrapped in the arms of her Lover, once again thrilled at the change tonight's event had wrought. It was spoiled only as he took up his little diatribe about some damn note he thought she had written, his eyes flashing blue daggers towards the end of his spiel that she'd instantly tuned out in utter boredom. Would he never shut up about it?
She had resolved to herself months earlier when he had brought it up the first time, she wouldn't let him get away with blaming her for something she didn't do. She reminded him again that he should have called her and ignored his inane questioning of the spelling of her childhood moniker. He made some off-base remark about 'heads rolling' before she was able to distract him by sliding her soapy finger down the crack of his lushly fashioned ass cheeks to caress the sensitive skin. When she'd done so earlier while simultaneously biting down hard enough on his nipple to leave a large bruise if not actually draw a drop of blood, the combination had sent him into ecstasies. His body jerked, and once again he was hers. She intended to enjoy him fully before Sven returned. She knew that if she did not want Eric having second thoughts about their situation, she would need to bind him to her tonight so any decision to be made would be a foregone one for all three of them. It was the only way he would accept what she and Sven were offering.
Her Lover was tired, but he seemed to find some inner reserve as he took control of her body, or so she let him believe as she twisted around and pushed her backside into him, cushioning his eager member framed by the golden, curly pelt that she had rubbed her face into over-and-over as they'd earlier curled into her favorite sixty-nine position. She wanted this shower sex to be quick as she was sleepy and needed more recovery time before Sven arrived home and they'd have to begin making the necessary adjustments to their sleeping arrangements.
Carried back to bed, before she drifted off again she'd almost asked him if he'd be agreeable to joining in the games she loved to play with Sven. Fantasizing about the future, she'd envisioned a scene where she had first stripped the clothes off of both of them, then forced them to kneel back-to-back and bound them together with leather ties, the tails of their flame silk blindfolds trailing over each man's muscled shoulders. She calmly began to make a list of what she would do to them before releasing them. She imagined first sliding a hand slowly down the oiled, citrus scented fronts of both men to grasp their hard shafts simultaneously, and the lovely moans both would make as she stroked her fingers over their plumy tips, gently thumbing their impossibly hard lengths to counter the pleasure they derived from her stroking. Keeping both firmly in hand, she would then settle her face between their muscled hips to lick, suck, and nip the skin framing the tops of their cheeks, eventually lowering her mouth to rub her face between their silky conjoined bodies and straining muscles as she would demand they not touch each other or risk her punishment. The punishments she had planned would have shocked her lovers, as spanking was the least of it. Maybe she'd need to find an appropriate outfit for this fantasy? Yes; collars for the two of them would be nice as well. For herself, she'd start off by donning the studded black vinyl gloves Sven had given her in January.
It was a compelling vision, but she doubted Sven would let her do it. Eric she might be able to bend to her will some day, but Sven would never agree. For all of his history of sexual experimentation that he'd finally opened up to her about over the last few months, which she had to admit had been a turn-on when he'd shared some of the details, he seemed to have made decisions about what he would allow or agree to do and what was beyond the pale for him. Oddly, she felt Eric might turn out to be the more open of the two to trying new things. Or maybe Sven had seen it all, done it all, and didn't wish to go there anymore. Well, she'd have fun finding out if she was right in her assessments of them.
She'd then awakened to the sounds of running feet and a scuffle in the front of the house. Heading towards what she feared might be an angry spouse, she'd stumbled upon Eric lying on the floor and Sven bent over him with an anguished expression. She'd offered him what she knew to be the right reaction to the scene, and was now standing over the two men she'd decided she was going to keep in whatever arrangement the three of them could devise. But before they could begin to talk, they had to assess Eric's head bump. Was it serious?
As she prepared to place the bag of ice over what looked like a small knot above his left eye, he opened both eyes, appeared momentarily confused by his surroundings and then glared openly at Sven. What?
"Before you two start in on each other again, just stop it. I don't know what has triggered tonight's argument, but this isn't where I want us to be. I know the two of you don't really want to fight." She managed to squeak out before Eric swung his face to her, looking as if he was going to begin shouting. Instead, he tamped down the intense emotions he was experiencing and in only a slightly agitated voice, asked, "Would you mind giving Sven and me a few minutes?"
She looked askance at Sven, but he wasn't talking. Frustrated again by the unexpected turn of events, she mentally groused as she had thought the three of them would have come to some sort of accord by now as they had been living in the same house for months without incident. Evidently she had been wrong.
"Yes, my wife, I want ten minutes alone with my brother first." What was with the possessive phrasing? Did he need to remind Eric she was his?
"Nope, this isn't going to work if we are going to begin this by continuing to keep secrets from one another. Either we start sharing, and you both treat me as your family, privy to your 'twin' thoughts, or we forget it." It was an idle threat on her part, and she knew asking men to share their thoughts was a request that often fell on deaf ears. They'd only share if they felt like it. She had a sudden insight that going forward, she would likely find herself trying to wring well-guarded painful truths from not just one man, but now two. It was a wrinkle she hadn't considered; she hoped she'd have the fortitude to persevere as they were both likely to be very stubborn, not to mention sharing other unique little personality traits. Sven in stereo, possibly.
"Whatever you two have to say to one another, I want to hear. Maybe I can help fix what's upsetting you, Eric. And Eric, tonight is a lot for Sven to swallow, so let's cut him some slack, okay?" She was pleased to see Sven's small smile aimed in her direction. She spread the front of her robe and made to move into his arms, but Eric's chuffing sound momentarily stilled her. So wrong on so many levels, she thought as she nestled into Sven and took Eric's hand, all three of them now settled uneasily on the sectional couch on which Sven had dropped Eric earlier. Not stopping to think, she began to loosen one-handed his button-down collared shirt, and was pleased to see him start pulling off his belt and unzipping his slacks. She wanted him at ease in his skin, as they were, not acting hurt because they hadn't welcomed him as they should have when he arrived. .
"Why the scuffle, Eric? What is wrong with you tonight? I thought you were happy?" she said, leading off with her best questions.
"Do you wish to know why I never called you, Sookie? Do you know who has stood between us all these years?" Eric was mumbling, but she heard him.
Thinking she knew the answer, she made to speak Selah's name, wondering why he was bringing her up at this late date. But before she could begin, Sven shifted next to her, and spoke.
"Because I made a mistake, little brother. I had no idea you would suffer from it so thoroughly, or for so long. I am sorry for your pain."
"What? What does Sven have to do with you dropping me without a word? You did it, not me and not him. As I've said before, I was in the phone book. Simple enough to remedy the situation if you'd wanted to see me again. Stop blaming everyone else for your own poor decisions." Sookie spoke without filtering her words.
Neither brother would look at her. She started to feel shaky. Was something big and bad coming her way?
_________________________
Sven had a gnawing feeling on the inside of his skin. He'd hoped it would never come to this; that Eric would not confront him about what he'd done so many years ago when he was eaten up by jealousy on that singular and disturbing night. For months, he'd resented Eric taking up with Selah without a thought for what it had cost Sven to see them together, and then cavalierly dropping her as if she meant nothing to him. Then in the space of a few days, Eric had fallen hard for some girl he barely knew, planning a future with her that would pull him out of Sven's world and away from his influence. It had been too much, and when the opportunity had presented itself in the form of her unsigned note stuck in their front door as he made his way outside for an early morning swim, Eric still sleeping, it had seemed too fortuitous to ignore. The gods smiling down on him wasn't a favor he was going to jinx.
"Yeah, Eric, I signed that note she left you, just to make sure there was no doubt in your mind she'd left it." Sven looked carefully over at Sookie. "Why not admit your role in this situation, my love? You wrote the letter; all I did was add your name." Now she looked confused. "Listen, Sookie, it is fine. You were just a teenager and you were scared by the rush of events. I've felt very bad when I remember how I attempted to take you that night in Eric's bedroom. I had no idea you were such an innocent. Eric and I had shared women before, as I've told you. I never suspected that after you broke it off, he would suffer so, or that I'd find you years later and fall in love with you so quickly. If I hadn't known you were the one to call it off, I would never have so aggressively pursued you this last year. But I'm very glad I did." His lips brushed hers, his face close enough to Sookie that he did not even have to hunch over to reach her. He stopped to regroup. "Well, since I'm telling it all now, I admit I should not have kept our love from my family and hidden it from Eric. I did not want him to find out about you and be tempted to take you away from me. But you'd dropped him. And he'd never taken the obvious step of trying to get back together with you."
Sven settled back against the L-shape of the couch, Sookie securely locked in his arms now, not bothered by the hand she kept clasped in Eric's much larger one. He waited for their acknowledgment that his little act of forgery wasn't the sin of the ages. After all, he was about to grant his permission for all that had occurred tonight. He knew his wife; she would be feeling some guilt about it and he wanted to bask in her grateful reaction to the magnanimous understanding he would offer them both. Maybe later they would all pile into his bed and start the cuddling, now that the barriers had started to come down.
Sookie's words broke into his thoughts, the choked sound of her voice startling him from some interesting ideas he was formulating for the three of them.
"I'm way confused, guys. What note?" She took a large gulp of air. "What note? I never left any note for Eric, ever. I don't believe I've even left a note for Eric since he moved into the house with us. What is it I'm supposed to have done?"
"One of you is lying to me. Sven's always been a liar, though, haven't you, 'big brother'? I question if there are not other secrets he's been hiding from us." Eric, pale, hair standing up in odd clumps on his head as a result of the ice bag and wet washcloths he had been sporting, moved into a sitting position. He'd had to drop Sookie's hand from his as he used it to push himself higher against the back of the couch, peering through narrowed eyes at Sven as he did so, his distrust evident in his sour expression.
Would this shit between them never end? Sven let out a loud roar of frustration. He first heard, then saw the dogs come scrambling in from the kitchen, clearly awakened by the sounds of anguish from their humans. Great, his babies would be jumping all over the three of them in seconds, distracting with their presence and demands.
Needing to think about something else for a few minutes, to calm down after being unfairly accused, he said, "Let me take care of my dogs. I'll put them outside so they can roam the grounds and I'll be right back. If I don't, we won't be able to continue. Anyone object?"
Eric wasn't meeting his eyes after his outburst, and Sookie just looked dazed, eyes unfocused as she watched him move out of her grasp to take control of his dogs and let them out for a run.
"And, dammit, I did not write her note." He pointed his finger at his wife. "You did. Just say it, stop protecting his precious feelings. Admit it, so we can move on."
Picking up his shirt from the floor, he slung it over his shoulders and moved towards the kitchen to let his babies out, thinking guiltily that their bladders might be ready to explode if neither Sookie nor Eric had remembered to see to their needs before they went to dinner. The two of them were both so immature at times. It was maddening that he was the only one who cared about his hounds and treated them responsibly. He now questioned if they'd even been fed tonight?
Glancing at their bowls on his way to the back door, he couldn't decide if the two surfaces were a 'licked-clean with gusto' shine or the same shine from this morning when he'd fed them before work and washed the containers. His poor hungry beasts would never complain. Rather than risking them suffering, and beginning now to feel a blossoming anger covering just about everything that had transpired since he'd walked in the door, he tried to further distract himself by stopping to pour each of them a bit of kibble in case they were starving. They both fell on it as if they hadn't eaten in weeks. Watching them wolf down the food gave him an enormous amount of satisfaction that they were just another set of mouths that he took care of without complaint. As soon as they'd finished and turned to him with eager eyes to be let outside, he'd decided they were fine and had opened the door for their escape.
He had never worried about them. They seemed to know where his property line ended, and they did not cross it. He'd never received a complaint or call advising him to pick up his dogs from some far-away location. He loved his Borzois. They were geniuses, as far as he was concerned. Watching them disappear into the night, running in tandem, wild and free, he almost wished he could shift into a third member of their pack, joining them for a late night escape. Instead, he would have to return to the couch and continue the verbal sparring with his brother and his wife.
It was just more crap that they were acting like the injured parties. But when he returned to the main living area, the sectional was empty, the blanket in a pile on the floor. MF, he'd have to go find them now.
A/N: Mystery solved?