A/N: Thank you all for your reviews! This will answer your questions regarding how Eric managed to get in (I had a different idea initially, which I might use in another story, but this idea was my preferred option for this story). Eric's not without his finer points - otherwise we wouldn't love him so much - but this shows him at his manipulative, opportunistic best - at least to begin with! Enjoy :-)

"How did you get in?" I asked reflexively, momentary panic and embarrassment making perspiration begin to bead on my brow.

"Through the door, like normal people," he replied with a slight smile. I knew he knew what I meant, and growled.

"I distinctly remember rescinding your invitation," I ground out.

"So you did, my darling," he said comfortably.

"So how did you get around that?" I asked, hoping that I'd manage to avoid the awkwardness of… what had just happened.

It wasn't to be. "You really want to know?" he asked, clearly amused.

"Yes," I said firmly.

"The door was unlocked, as usual. I called out to ask if I could come in. You replied in the affirmative."

"I did not! I was asleep," I said defensively.

"And clearly dreaming." And then, in a very bad imitation of my voice, he leered, and said "Oh…oh, yes… Eric, yes…"

I cringed, feeling the blood rising to my cheeks. "Shut up."

"I would very much like to know what I was doing in your dream to elicit that response from you," he grinned.

"I am not having that conversation with you," I yelped, face flaming.

"But Sookie," he said, with a puzzled, serious air, belied by the devilment dancing in his eyes, "if you don't tell me what I was doing, how am I to provide you with re-enactments?"

I lobbed a cushion at him; he caught it easily. "Just… just stop it."

"Why? Am I not allowed a moment of victory, knowing you dream of me? Given how aroused you are, it must have been a particularly good dream, too."

"Did you come round here just to embarrass me, or was there something else you wanted?" I asked acerbically.

"Oh, there's always something I want, my lover," he purred. "And right now, that's you." He gave me a considering look. "Sadly, your injuries prevent that. So I suppose you could say that I came round to check on you."

"Well, thanks, I'm just fine," I said huffily. "So you can…"

"And what are you going to do about the problem of your arousal?" he asked, as if he was discussing how a late frost might affect my young seedlings.

"Problem?" I squeaked. Well, sure I was aroused. You dream about incredible hot sex with a drop-dead-gorgeous Viking vampire, and see how unaffected you are. But a problem? Only that he was sitting there, intent on making me squirm in the worst possible way.

A feeling of unavoidable doom crashed over me as I realised I would never, ever hear the end of it.

One corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. "There's only so much you can do for yourself," he said. Then, with a complete change of topic (I wasn't taken in by that for a second, though I welcomed it), he asked, "How is the bruising?"

"Unpleasant and sore," I said dryly.

"I thought as much." Without so much as a by-your-leave, he'd shunted me forwards on the couch, and sat behind me, one leg either side of me, his arms loosely round my waist.

"What are you…?" Then it tumbled to me; this was the position we'd been in the last time he'd given me his blood, back in Jackson. "Oh, no. No way."

"Yes," he said gently. "It's the best way, Sookie." Before I could say anything else, I was presented with a bleeding wrist, and grudgingly started licking it, knowing he was right. "Don't be so dainty. Suck."

I ignored the double entendre as best I could, and tried to block out what I was doing – drinking from a vampire had never done anything for me – but in that lapse of wariness, Eric had slid his free hand under my pyjama bottoms. Before I could comment, there were two fingers inside me, and the heel of his hand was nestled firmly against me, pressing and rubbing. I whimpered, and gripped his bleeding wrist with both hands as my hips arched into his hand. I didn't last long; neither did he.

I swallowed hard. "Thank you," I whispered; I had to remember my manners, after all. I was already starting to feel a lot better, the aches and pains disappearing.

"For what?" he asked with amusement. "Using my blood to heal you, or getting you off? I assure you, the pleasure was as much mine as yours."

"Augh!" I exclaimed. "Do you have to be so… so…"

"Blunt?"

"I was going to say crude," I snapped. I should have guessed from the pretty words dream-Eric had said to me that it wasn't real – no way would Eric say the half of those things.

He just chuckled, and brought his hand up to his mouth, licking it clean. "Mm, delicious."

"Oh, gross."

"Not at all," he replied, sucking his fingers unconcernedly.

"I swear you're intent on embarrassing me."

"Sookie," he laughed, "along with your quite entrancing embarrassment at my crudeness, there is also a considerable amount of arousal. You like me talking dirty to you."

"I do not!" I hissed in denial. All the while conceding to myself that he had a fair point, there.

"My bullshit meter seems to have gone off the end of the scale this evening," he said drolly. "Next you'll be denying that you were having a wet dream about me."

Just because I liked him talking dirty to me, didn't mean I wasn't mortified that he'd overheard me dreaming about him. "I could just rescind your invitation again," I said, through gritted teeth.

"Why bother?" he said. I could tell he was smirking. "All I'd need to do is lurk around until you're asleep and dreaming of me, and you'll soon invite me back in with an 'oh, yes, Eric…'" I ground my teeth in frustration. Regrettably, that was all too true. "So, what was I doing?"

"I told you, I'm not having that conversation with you."

"Then I'll have to do this the hard way," he shrugged, "and try to find out first-hand what it is that turns you on". His hands slipped under my pyjama top, and he started caressing my breasts lightly.

"Stop it," I said feebly. It sounded unconvincing, even to me.

"What would you rather I did?"

I swallowed. "Eric, please, just stop."

He did, immediately, withdrawing his hands, and rested them lightly on my stomach. "I would never force you, Sookie," he said gently.

"I – I know."

"I'm not Bill," he said softly. "I won't hurt you."

"Eric, I'm not… I can't…"

"Hush, lover. Be still, and heal."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, not sure what I was apologising for.

"None of this was of your making," he said quietly, rubbing my stomach soothingly. "You have nothing to apologise for. It is I who should apologise to you."

"Now I really must be dreaming," I said wryly. "Eric Northman, apologising to a lowly human?"

He chuckled. "No. I merely said I should. I didn't actually do it."

"Hmph." I sat sulkily for a while, and for a moment, he simply held me.

"At least tell me how many times I brought you to orgasm in your dream."

"Oh, give it a rest," I said wearily.

"Three? Four?"

I sighed, giving in to the inevitable. "Three, getting on for four."

"And of those times, how many were we having sex?"

"Two."

"Which two?"

I rolled my eyes. "Second and third."

"So, the first time…" I groaned, but he carried on, "was I fingering you or did I go down on you? Or..."

I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. "Both. Now, will you please just drop it and stop embarrassing me?"

He chuckled. "For the moment, I will." He dropped a surprisingly chaste kiss on my cheek, and smiled against it. "You'll tell me the rest eventually."

And with that parting shot, he was gone.