A/N Ok, so in the time verse of my story, Elliot meets Eric after he's already spoken to Lorena, also after he thinks Godric has been killed. So this takes place before/during the scene where Eric overhears Barry telling Bill where Sookie is. Thanks for the reviews, guys, you're great!

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When I opened my eyes a few minutes, or hours, later, it was to a black that curled itself around my gaze, like ink suspended in water.

"I'm so good," I said, the words catching in my dry throat. My tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth, which was hot, sticky, and tasted faintly of rust. "I even play dead." A movement reverberated through my ribs; silent laughter, I gathered from the rhythmic spasms. My client.

"You know," he said, his voice close to my ear. "I thought humans understood the necessity of breathing."

"What can I say," I replied, clearing my throat. "The need escaped me for a moment." I tried to sit up, but the blackness began to swim with a sea of multicolored banners, entangling itself until all I saw was a startling patchwork.

"Stay down for a moment," his hand brushed my shoulder, the weight of his arm heavy across my chest.

"I took the liberty of calling your boss, Elliot." I held my breath for a moment before letting it go, slowly.

"Look, Mr…" I paused, elongating the syllables as I remembered I'd never actually gotten his name.

"Eric," he filled in, lightly.

"Look, Eric," I continued, wondering how I was going to get myself out of this situation in one piece. "I'm not a prostitute." The words left my lips and I burned red with embarrassment. Did I come off as that common?

"Elliot," he said, voice soothing like a rushing river, "I have no intentions of paying for sex--now, or ever. What I told your boss was that I enjoyed your company so much that I would be keeping it for the rest of the evening. Without any expectations."

My lips formed an 'o,' but it came out more like a sigh.

"Would you mind turning on the--" before I was able to finish the sentence, the room was bathed in a soft glow; I winced at its suddenness.

"Good?" he asked, peering down at me. He was perched on the edge of the bed, a man more beautiful than any Hollywood actor I'd ever seen. I hadn't really looked at him before, not closely. His features were chiseled, symmetrical and sharp. His eyes had stuck me before, but now, looking into them, I saw depth, the weight of time. A past. His skin had been pale before, but was now flushed with my blood.

"All the better to see you with," I said, the first thing that came to my mind. A second later, I realized it was a fitting parallel, except he was the wolf, and I was Little Red Riding Hood, laid out like an appetizer on the bed for him. But if he saw the flicker of apprehension in me, he didn't let on. Instead, he stretched, rolled onto his side and faced me, looked straight into my eyes with a small grin playing at his lips, showing his straight, even teeth (the better to eat you with…).

Before I had time to think, to string sounds and syllables and words together into a semi-coherent conversation starter, his mouth met mine. I was so surprised that I held my eyes open for a beat, gazed at his too-close face and then let my lashes hit my cheeks. The kiss was soft, giving, but strange in that there seemed to be no passion in it. His tongue glided over my bottom lip and I opened my mouth, willingly, curious. It was the same, expertly done, sending waves of pleasure through my entire body, but sort of dead, as if he were on autopilot.

"Mm," the noise came out as a hum into his mouth; I enjoyed he reverb of the noise, but I pulled away, put my hand on his leather-jacketed arm and opened my eyes.

"What?" he asked, his eyes jumping back and forth, following mine.

"Something's--you don't," I began, flustered, but pulled myself together enough to try and make some semblance of sense.

"You're not into this," I said, and his eyes narrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Absolutely nothing," he replied, moving back to kiss me. I let him, let myself get carried away in the sensations. but my rational mind all but cleared its throat, so to speak, and I pulled away again; a growl ripped from Eric's throat, and I shuddered at its echo. We locked eyes for a moment and I blurted out the first thing that came to me.

"Why are you so sad?"

Eric moved too quickly for me to see, but I felt his weight shift over me. When he slowed down enough to re-enter human vision, he was on top of me, straddling my waist.

"What are you?" he questioned, or, more closely, snarled. His teeth lengthened and he was somehow more astonishing as a breathtaking predator. I gaped up at him, and the beginning tremors of fear began to pool in my stomach.

"What do you mean?" I asked, finding it hard to breathe with his body pressed so closely to min. I couldn't focus on anything; my gaze jumped from his eyes, his mouth, his arms that pressed down on either side of me.

""You think I believe that humans are actually that observant?" he hissed, lowering his face so we were almost nose-to-nose, forcing me to meet his suspicious gaze.

Ok. Again. Yes, I allowed vampires to pay me for my blood. But without humans, there are no vampires. Or, at least, very unsatisfied vampires living on the equivalent of slim-fast.

"Yeah," I said, anger shooting the words out like a machine gun, rapid succession, fast and short. "The unsophisticated cattle could never have any insight on some glorious Lestat knockoff."

Eric moved down, allowed his fangs to scrape the delicate skin of my throat. He didn't break the skin, but hovered just above, a cat playing with a caught mouse.

"I'm older than anything you've ever seen," Eric said, and for a split second I toyed with the idea of telling him about the castle from 900 AD I'd seen in England during my semester abroad--but something told me to keep my big mouth shut.

"So drop the petulance." He finishes, still at my neck.

My wisdom lasted all of two seconds.

"Listen, O, Ancient one, " I began, taking a breath that pressed my straining chest into his solid one. "I'm your average, everyday human who happens to read people very, very well. And however old you are, you're still a man who is, at this very moment, trying to fuck his feelings away. Don't insult my intelligence just because your motives are as transparent as glass."

I closed my eyes, turned my head and braced, for what, I wasn't sure--would he hit me? Bite me? Instead, his mouth captured mine again. I wasn't sure if I'd struck a nerve, or if he was just kissing me to shut me up, but the new fervor behind the kiss caught me off guard, stopped my heart in its tracks.

"Breathe," Eric ordered, into my mouth, and I obeyed, sucking in cool air and the warmth of his mouth. This time, his focus was completely on me, on the moment, and my senses caught alight under his lips, which caressed mine, under his hands, as they roved up and down my body, and his hips, which rocked forward, grating sharp against mine in a sensation I could only describe as electric.

Swiftly, he leapt off my body, leaving the fingers that had been entwined in his hair, stroking roughly, empty, clutching invisible fibers of the air around me. I made a noise, a sigh moan, and stared at him as he stood in front of the bed, looking down at me like a king surveying his land. He put his arms behind his back, slipped off the jacket, revealing a black tank top underneath. That came up over his head, baring his beautifully sculpted chest and torso. He smirked at me as I drank him in, my own body crying out in yearning for his. His hands were gentle, but insistent when he reached down and wrapped his fingers in the bottom hem of my dress. I felt a wave of wind flow over my heated body, then found myself only in my bra and underwear…and high heels. He lifted my leg, placed a kiss on my foot, slipped my black shoe off and proceeded to lick and kiss his way up the limb until his head was between my legs. His hands moved over my skin in small caresses until they reached my hips, taking the thin fabric between his fingers. I lifted myself slightly and he bit the inside of my leg playfully when someone shouting in the hall disrupted our focus. The voice was muffled, but I heard something about the Fellowship of the Sun and a basement; the distraction had somewhat of a drastic effect on Eric, who immediately dropped my leg, scooped up his clothes and went to the door.

"Elliot," he said, looking hastily back in, "Just stay here. Wait for my return." And then he was gone, and I was in a hotel room, mostly naked, incredibly turned on, and inescapably embarrassed.

"What the fuck am I doing?" I shook my head, tried to force some sense back in, got up from the bed, slipped my dress back on and straightened my hair.

I went to the door, looked back once, whispered a goodbye to Eric Northman, and went to the elevator, ready to go home and get into bed alone. Safely.