A/N: I just want to remind you to support a great cause, and your favorite SVM authors by bidding on them in the Support Stacie Author Auction!Go to: www . supportstacie . com (just take out the spaces). Bidding ends Monday, 9pm central time!

BTW – one of my fuckawesome betas, youbettago, is offering an amazing collab with Kyss. You know it's gonna be dripping with yummy lemons! Please go and show your love to these incredibly talented authors here:http://www . supportstacie . com/phpBB3/viewtopic . php?f=16&t=220

A/N: Viking sized thanks to the bestest betas any girl could ask for— nycsnowbird and youbettago. Any mistakes remaining are purely my own ;p

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the characters in SVM or the HBO series True Blood. However, the original content and ideas below are mine all mine.

Oh, and to Amm—thank you for the giggle-snort face of a review, and for the holicious inspiration! *winks*


CHAPTER 7: THE FIEND THAT MADE MY SHUTTER

A thing that you see in my pictures is that I was not afraid to fall in love

~Annie Leibovitz

Sookie

It was Sunday, my favorite day.

I made up my mind about 5 minutes after waking that I wasn't going to let EN's man-whorish ways take that away from me. No sirree.

I'd always assumed that he was one of those typical Hollywood actor types, and that had never stopped me from swooning over his prettiness from a distance. After all, it was always the character of adorkably sweet Bjorn that did it for me. Well, to be perfectly honest, seeing both twins on screen at the same time was hotter than hell, and as much as Leif's slutty behavior made me cringe, he was just too beautiful not to watch. He was the playboy we all loved to hate, but still secretly loved to watch.

Besides, I chided myself, was there really a hot-blooded man out there, in the real world, who would refuse the advances of beautiful women—diseases aside—hanging all over him? Not a non-fictional guy, that's for sure. That shit only existed in fairy tales. And those ho-workers of his, the two redheads who had what I hoped would be very short guest stints on the show, sure didn't believe in subtlety.

I shrugged it off, now more determined than ever to go back to being just a regular old fangirl. I could go back to my old existence with my head held high, and brag about the fact that I stood close enough to EN to see every perfect whisker of stubble on his porn-tastic jaw, and, to confirm that yes, his hands were even bigger in real life than they appeared on screen.

Hot diggity dayumn … this would be enough to fuel my fantasies for many years to come.

My eyes travelled over to the dresser of their own accord, where I had placed that toibocks Amelia had forced me to purchase from The Pleasure Chest. Was that just yesterday? It seemed like more than a lifetime ago. I entertained the idea of busting that bad boy out for a moment, but then thought better of it and shuffled off to the shower. There would be plenty of time to play with my new toy when I got back home.

I had just grabbed the last of my clothes from the closet but right as I was turning to take them to the bed, so I could fold them before packing them into my suitcase, I noticed the all-but forgotten box on the floor. I picked it up and carried everything over to the bed.

After packing the last of my clothes, I emptied the contents of the box beside it. I hesitated for a moment, pondering the card that EN had included with his 'care package', but then decided to stick it into the side pocket of my suitcase, telling myself that this might be worth a lot of money someday. I doubted I would ever be desperate enough to sell it, but it just seemed foolish and spiteful to throw it away.

Turning my attention to the shirt, I spread it out on the bed. I wrapped the fluffy robe around me more tightly, cocking my head to the right as I considered what I was about to do. While I usually wore my Team Vamp t-shirt on Fiends-day, it was kind of grungy from wearing it for pajamas all week.

Nodding to myself after committing to my decision, I zipped up the suitcase. Setting it down against the wall, I headed to the bathroom to change.

I was finishing up on blow-drying my hair, so I barely heard the phone when it rang.

"Mornin' sunshine." Pam's signature cool, bored voice purred into the phone.

I flopped down on the bed. "It's 1 o'clock, Pam."

"Well, if you're going to get all technical, Sookie." She quipped, not bothering to finish the thought. "So, anyway … are you all packed yet?"

"Uh … almost." I dragged out the words, unsure where she was going with this.

"That's what I was afraid of," she replied, though she didn't sound too broken up about it. "I was going to tell you may wish to hold off on that."

She paused, no doubt waiting for my exasperated request for clarification. But I wasn't biting. Frowning with growing trepidation, I wondered what exactly she was up to as I waited for her to continue.

She finally relented. "So, I'm calling because I need to move up our appointment tomorrow. Could we do lunch instead?"

I snorted at the classic Hollywood cliché, wondering if the air kiss would be a prerequisite to 'doing lunch'.

"That wasn't a joke, little one."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, Pam. Sure, we can do lunch." I replied, not even attempting to sop up the sarcasm that dripped from my words.

"Okay, great. Well, for convenience's sake, we can just meet at the restaurant in your hotel," she said. "Oh, and Sook? One more thing."

I waited in silence, bracing myself.

"I might have a gig for you."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I book a lot of my photographers for gigs in town. This is just some publicity shots—"

"Uh … I don't think so, Pam." I interrupted.

"Excuse me?" I could practically hear her sputtering on the other end.

I paused, trying to figure out the best way to put it. "The whole Hollywood thing just isn't my deal"

Pam was silent. In fact, I couldn't even hear her breathe. "Pam?"

She finally replied through clenched teeth, "I'm here, Sookie. I'm just—having a hard time understanding you."

"Oh?"

"Look, Sookie. You have a gift. It would be a terrible thing to waste such talent." The coldness of her voice was chilling.

"Wh-what do you mean, waste?" I stammered. The way she said it kind of scared me—like I'd be finding a horse's head in my bed the next morning.

"Well, what do you want to do with your life?"

I didn't answer her, because I didn't have an answer.

She let out a heavy, frustrated sigh. "Do you want to pursue your photography? Because if you do, this is your golden opportunity."

I let out my own exasperated sigh. "I'd hardly call following around some spoiled, diva celebrity-type a golden opportunity."

"Oh, my little country bumpkin friend. I see you still have so much to learn," she let the chill of her accusation form ice crystals in the air before continuing. "It's not the job itself, silly girl, it's the exposure it will give you."

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh," she replied, and I was relieved that the harsh edge had at least left her voice, replaced by her usual bored snarkasm. "Look, you don't have to commit to anything right now. Just agree to at least seriously consider doing this one gig."

Pam took my silence as agreement. "Good. We will all meet for lunch, then. Tomorrow. Say, noon?"

"Okay, fine." I mumbled before saying goodbye.

I hung up the phone and tried not to think about what this could mean, or would mean, because that would force me to think about such huge things as what the hell I was doing with my life. I really couldn't imagine—or at least didn't want to—living so far away from the only home and family I'd ever known. But, did that mean I'd settle for being an underpaid and overworked barmaid for the rest of my life? I cringed at the thought, preferring to focus my anger at Pam for bringing up the question, than the question itself. I mean, she may as well have asked me what I want to be when I grow up. She certainly had balls, I'll give her that. What bothered me most, though, was that I couldn't quite convince myself that I didn't like it.

I shot up from the bed, realizing that I was too wound up to stay in my room until Amelia got here tonight to watch Fiends with me.

I quickly gathered my hair up in a high ponytail, and headed out.

Eric

I made my way to the photography gallery as soon as I entered the museum. It was always the very first thing I went to see whenever I came to the Getty. Happy to discover that the museum was fairly empty, especially for a weekend day, I slowed my step, letting the acrid scent of the museum hall—an oddly comforting mixture of old oil paint, preservation chemicals, and stale air—clear my mind.

She was the first thing I noticed upon entering the room.

No, it couldn't possibly be.

But it had to be.

That small curvy frame and shapely legs poured into dark jeans, her long, blonde hair, now pulled up in a high ponytail that exposed the nape of her neck—there was no one else it could be. I recognized her immediately.

Fuck me. Hard.

I was either the luckiest fucking guy in the whole damn world, or the universe was playing the sickest fucking joke on me.

After seeing her drive off last night, all disapproving and shit, I knew that I would have my work cut out for me if I wanted another chance with her. I just never expected to have that opportunity so soon.

I was still staring at her backside—and not just that luscious ass, although it was plenty distracting in that clinging denim—just trying to figure out if it was really her, when she finally turned around. I was overcome by the smell of vanilla and sunshine as her hair swung its delicious scent into the air around us, and her eyes settled on me.

Her gasp awoke me from my trance.

"Well, well, well," I said after a silence that stretched a bit into awkward territory. "Imagine running into you here."

I could feel my friendly-yet-polite smile turn into a lopsided grin when my eyes travelled downward, catching sight of the shirt she was wearing. Her bountiful and perky tits were stretching the letters spelling out Team Human quite nicely.

"Ahem." She cleared her throat and crossed her arms, but the defensive movement only served to push up and accentuate her assets.

My eyes shot back up to hers, which were now blazing with indignation. "I'm glad to see the shirt fits."

She snorted. "I'm sure," she muttered, and walked past me to look at the next photograph.

I trailed not too far behind her, and was quite pleased when she didn't voice any objections. We walked through the rest of the gallery in silence.

When we were done, she turned to me, squaring her shoulders. "Well, Eric, it was definitely … interesting running into you here."

Then, she surprised the hell out of me when she leaned up on her tiptoes to give me a peck me on the cheek.

"Thanks for everything," she said in a breathy voice, before she turned to leave. "I know it was all in the line of duty for you, n' all, but it really was an amazing experience for a mere mortal like me."

I was still trying to figure out what the hell she meant, and what would be the best way to respond, when she started moving away. But I grabbed her wrist and held onto her. "And just where do you think you're going so quickly?"

She turned, confusion clouding her face, and fucking biting down on her lower lip, all full, pouty and shiny with gloss. Shit, did she have any idea how unbelievably fuckhot that was?

"Did you eat lunch yet?" I asked.

She twisted her hand out of my hold, huffing with indignation. "I did, but even you couldn't be so arrogant as to think I would actually agree to go to lunch with you?"

I flinched infinitesimally. I wasn't sure how much of my messing around with those girls she had seen last night, but I knew she must have at least glimpsed some of it. I considered explaining that nothing—well, maybe not nothing, but not much—had actually happened, but quickly decided that ignoring the elephant in the room would be the best way to make it disappear, or at least fade away into the background. For now anyway.

I lowered my voice to my best sexy purr. "Oh, I wasn't going to ask you to lunch."

"Well, good," she sneered. "Because if I had any appetite before, it would be all gone now."

"But … I was going to ask you if I could take you to the G Spot," I replied with my sweetest choir-boy smile, waggling my brows.

She gasped and blushed that shade that made me so goddamn horny for her. "You are unbelievebale."

"What?"

"What? Are you serious? The G spot?" she spat.

"Yeah. The Gelato Spot. Only the best gelato this side of the Atlantic."

Her furrowed brows smoothed out as my explanation sunk in. But then she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, her lips tugging into a smirk she was obviously doing her best to conceal. "Gelato, huh?"

I nodded.

"Um … thanks, but no thanks."

She began to walk away again, but I followed close behind. "Why not?"

She gave me a pointed glare. "Mere mortals aren't supposed to hang around with the likes of you. Don't you know that it only upsets the natural order of things? And, it only ends badly."

"Oh, Sookie, stop talking nonsense."

The look she shot me made me shrink back a little bit, but only made me more determined than ever to get her to agree.

"Come on, all this walking has got to have worked up your appetite," I teased, trying to lighten the mood. "Besides, what else have you got planned to entertain yourself for the rest of the day?"

She stopped in her tracks and turned her full gaze on me. She was positively seething "I have plenty to—"

"Whoa, hang on a sec, Sookie," I said, raising my palms in the air in a gesture of surrender. "I swear, I didn't mean anything by it. I just—I'd really love to take you."

I could see the tense line of her neck and shoulders soften a bit, so I knew I almost had her convinced. "And, I promise—I'll have you back home in plenty of time for tonight's Fiends episode."


Her eyes widened and the blush returned to her cheeks. But then, something else flashed across her eyes—it was almost like she was somewhere else for a fraction of a second.

She swallowed and gave me a quick nod.

I grinned, quite satisfied with myself, maybe a bit too much. As we walked out of the museum, I moved closer to her and linked my arm through hers. She pushed me away and gave me a pointed glare.

"Don't push it, Northman."

Sookie

I wasn't really sure what had possessed me. Blame the hopeless fangirl in me, I guess. I was, most likely, going back home tomorrow. So, I told myself, I'd never see him again. It was a toss-up between hanging out by myself in my hotel room, or, spending the afternoon with EN. Hell, he smelled too good to say no.

I let out my breath, and let myself go.

When he raced down the highway in his Corvette with the top down, I just closed my eyes and gave in to the sensation of the wind whipping through my hair and against my skin.

When he told me I should get the affogato shot, I didn't gasp or bristle at his high-handedness. I listened to his low, gravelly voice explain how it was a shot of espresso pulled over a scoop of gelato, and then simply licked my lips in anticipation and asked what flavor of gelato I should get. Ignoring the devious smirk that tugged at his lips as he suggested the dulcede leche, I just nodded in agreement and stood at the bar, watching the concoction being made with fascination and a watering mouth. The dark, dense liquid poured out of the machine, sliding over the rich ice cream as it melted.

The barista placed both of our affogatos on the counter. I reached out to grab mine, scowling when my hand was slapped away. I looked toward the offending source, only to see EN's eyes dancing over me with childlike glee. He grabbed both of the glasses with one of his impossibly large hands, and placed his other hand at the small of my back to guide me to our seats.

I was very surprised when we walked past the outdoor patio, and out to the beach. But, EN seemed fairly certain of our destination, so I just let myself be led by the gentle pressure of his warm hand against my back.

As we sat down in the sand, I just couldn't resist. I slipped off my sandalsand pulled my knees up to my chest, digging my feet into the warm sand underneath me. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I glanced at Eric sitting beside me. "So, do you take all the ladies to the G Spot?" I asked in an innocent tone, but the smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth probably gave me away.

"I do my best," he replied with a wink, handing me my glass as he settled beside me.

I snorted, "Why am I not surprised?"

Then I put the glass to my lips and took my first sip—and I was so gone.

I was helpless to stifle the soft moan that escaped my lips as the dense, sweet heavenly liquid filled my mouth—strong espresso perfectly melded with sweet caramel and the delicate flavor of vanilla. This had to be the best way to ingest caffeine. Hands down.

Closing my eyes, I enjoyed the blissful sensations of the delicious concoction as well as the warm sun on my skin. Ignoring the searing heat of EN's eyes roaming over me, I dug in further to my own little corner of heaven, and took another sip.

My tongue shot out to lick the coffee-gelato moustache that had formed on my upper lip. The next moment, I felt the air move around me, and gasped at the sensation of two very large hands grabbing my knees, pulling my legs apart. My eyes shot open; EN was a mere inches from me, tugging my legs open even farther as he wedged his body in between them, supporting himself on his own knees. He stared at my lips and then closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as a shudder shook his entire body. A sound escaped from his throat, and I swear to god, it sounded like a growl. A growl! And dear lord help me, it did the most delicious things to all my traitorous girly bits.

I knew I should stop this. But I found no strength or will to do anything but stay exactly where I was as he inched closer and closer. He pressed his lips to the corner of my mouth, nuzzling into me, the rough stubble of his jaw setting my skin on fire. Flicking his tongue out, he traced the line that my own tongue had traveled just a moment before, licking up any remaining traces of the sweet, sticky substance that remained on my skin. His moan vibrated along my lips and all around me, and I had to use every ounce of strength within me not to buck up into him.

His breath was hot against my skin as he feasted on my lips with a dizzying multitude of soft kisses—though, they were really somewhere in between nibbles and sucks, like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to lick me all the way down to my gooey center, or just eat me up.

My mouth relented to his gentle assault without so much as a backwards glance, parting to invite him in. He accepted by taking my upper lip into his mouth, sucking on it and giving it a light nip before letting it drop and meeting my lips full on.

I lost myself to the sensation of his lips moving against mine—an impossible combination of firm and soft, rough and gentle, licking, sucking, probing—conquering. His heat surrounded me, filled me, engulfed me. I was only vaguely aware of letting go of the glass, dropping it on the sand beside us, as I reached up to twist his shirt in my hands, pulling him closer into me. He just tasted so amazingly good, the delicious flavors of the coffee and ice cream blended with something else that was so manly and hot and … just scrumptious.

I was awakened from my lust-induced haze by the sound of people walking on the beach behind us. I gained a semblance of some self control and flattened my palms against his chest, pushing him away.

After a moment that seemed to drag on forever, he finally relented. Sitting back on his haunches, he licked his lips, like a lazy cat licking its damn whiskers. His mouth turned up into that knee-buckling satisfied smirk, as he whispered, "Yum."

He took the words right of my mouth.

Oh, hell.

A/N: There, there… is that a little better? Could the Viking actually be, ahem, penetrating Sookie's defenses? *giggles*

As always, I am beyond flattered by all the review love that you guys leave for me … but my appetite in never satiated ;D Feed me some more, please :-)