A/N: More! I thought I was done, but I can't seem to let go.

I'm thinking of this as the beginning of a Part II—the first 5 chapters are a stand-alone lead-up to the relationship, and this is the start of actual relationship development. Because I'm more interested in character study/interiority than plot, things might be off-canon. Forgive me for that.

Also, there are lemons.

Let me know if you think a Part II is sustainable… Thanks!

Teeth in the Grass Part II: Chapter 6

Music pounded hard and loud through my chest. A sea of faces bobbed in time, smiling, oblivious. I checked my watch again. It was 12:33am. My heart fluttered, out of sync, unstable.

I was waiting for Eric.

Though only a few days had passed since we first made love, it seemed like the entire world had altered. We spent every night together since in our own insular cocoon, though we hadn't talked about what the change meant. The lack of spoken decisions weighed on me and charged our interactions, intensifying even the smallest exchanges.

For my part, I was concerned about what such a discussion might reveal. I had a suspicion that Eric's idea of a committed relationship was different than mine. He seemed like an "all or nothing" type of person, and though I didn't want the "nothing," I was concerned about what the "all" might entail. He still struggled with a fierceness that almost scared me every time he tasted my blood, which made things seem both exciting and unsustainable.

Last night, after several intense hours, Eric had remarked, breathless and truthful, "We've gotten serious awfully fast, lover." Even with my desire to arrive at something conclusive, I realized he was right. Between the vivid physical unions and the weight of the supernatural, we were missing the lightness that generally accompanied romantic beginnings. I told him I agreed; it was time for some fun.

Going out seemed like the first step. Tonight I was attempting to incorporate our new relationship into the external world—Eric was going to pick me up from a party at Jesus' house after he finished work. People were going to see us together. They were probably going to talk.

I was dancing with Jesus in the garden when Eric arrived alone, his fists shoved deep into the pockets of his black leather jacket. I spotted him immediately. His eyes gleamed as he took in my body posture, breasts pressed against Jesus' chest, hands about his neck. Instead of advancing to meet me, he settled against the side of the house, enjoying the show. I continued to dance.

Jesus didn't seem to notice Eric, but left me a moment later to check on Lafayette and another party guest who were arguing with increasing intensity about the quality of the food. While I was listening to Jesus' internal debate over whether to intervene politely or punch the offending person, Eric had already advanced through the throng of people and kissed me hard and full on the mouth.

"What are you doing?!" I asked, taken aback by his exuberant display, embarrassed. I knew Eric didn't care particularly about how my friends viewed our relationship, but I did.

"Having fun," he returned, his eyes twinkling.

"We need to talk about what 'fun' means in different contexts, sir," I said sternly.

"Mm. You should call me 'Sir' more often…" he leered, swooping down until his eyes were level with mine. He ran his nose along my temple into my hairline, inhaling deeply. "And I believe I disagree, Miss Stackhouse," he whispered. "We don't need to talk about anything."

I began to reply, but Eric pretended not to hear, covering my mouth in jest. I shot him an incredulous look. But when he smiled down at me, all warmth and affection, I found I couldn't resist. I rasped my tongue against his palm and bit him lightly. A small shock of surprise turned into a wicked glimmer. He pulled me to him, pushing my skirt up a little, finding my ass.

He quickly walked me to the edge of the garden, picking me up and lifting me onto the low concrete wall at the back. Eric positioned himself between my legs so I faced the party guests, but he blocked any view of my body. He mimed "Shh" more than said it, while his other hand slipped into my underwear.

A week ago, I would have slapped him. I would have been appalled at his, really anyone's, shameless disregard for social circumstance, for appropriate behavior. But something had changed in me, something wild had taken root in my heart, and I had no desire to resist his actions. In fact, I welcomed them.

He stilled for a moment, gauging my reaction. I gave him the most helpless of small smiles and nodded. He began to move his fingers.

It felt…stupidly good. I looked at him with accusation more than arousal, and his lips curled into a dangerously sexy smile. He mouthed the word "fun" one more time and continued. I stayed as still and as quiet as I possibly could, forcing my face into an approximation of what it would look like if we were merely talking, but it was damn difficult, his eyes boring into mine, dark and possessive.

Eric could tell I was about to come by my ragged intake of breath, the way my muscles began to clench against him, and he looked at me with liquid fire. At just that moment, a passerby jostled into him, jarring his hand even further within me. I could hardly hold the scream back.

"AAHH!" I shouted, eyes wide, before attempting to shift the sound into a laugh of some sort, my body quaking. Though I feared for a moment Eric might kill the interrupter, he instead burst out in laughter as well. The passerby regarded us strangely, unaware of what he had done, unsure of whether to apologize or not, before disappearing into the crowd. Eric removed his hand and kissed me.

"That was surprisingly contained, lover," he murmured. "If not for our friend back there, I think you might have stayed completely silent." He frowned slightly. "I might have to rethink my approach…" My chest still heaved as aftershocks ran through me. I laughed at him.

"Not that you need the boost, but it wasn't easy." Eric placed his hands on either side of me on the wall, chuckling.

"Now that we have that out of the way… What's next?"

I didn't have to think twice. I raised my eyebrows suggestively.

"Your place." A possessive rumble vibrated through him. An instant later, we were swinging swiftly through the crowd. I barely had time to kiss Jesus and Lafayette goodbye—Eric nodded wryly, which they handled with generous civility, considering the history between them—before we were in his sports car, speeding away.

Perhaps leaving early was cheating the plan somehow. We had barely spent time at the party at all. Still, being in public together felt concretizing in some sense (despite our inappropriate display), and things already felt lighter between us—we couldn't keep from giggling.

Then I remembered where we were going. I'd never been to Eric's place before, and I was suddenly concerned. I was uncomfortable with conspicuous displays of wealth—as I was with so many aspects of Eric's life when confronted by them—and I was worried I would have to deal with the judgments and fears I was hell-bent on pushing away for the evening.

When we arrived, I was pleasantly surprised. Once we breached the rather high wall surrounding it, Eric's house was a small, gray concrete and glass modernist affair. I couldn't fathom who built it in Louisiana—it seemed so out of the purview of any architect who would live nearby. The glass panels that made up most of the walls shocked me—the house was so open, warm light spilling out, illuminating the still, pale aqua pool. White sandstone and clear water. Simple. Sleek. Beautiful.

Eric took in my fixation. "Care for a swim?" he asked.

"Sure. Pools can be fun," I replied. I was curious about the rest of the house, though, and I had a feeling that if we started things in the water, we might never leave. "May I use the restroom first?"

"There's one in my bedroom—take the stairs." As I turned to go, he began to remove his clothes, leaving only a pair of black boxer briefs, for my sake I assumed. His pale skin was luminous in the moonlight. Desire shot through every fiber of my being. It made it almost impossible to leave him.

Eric's bedroom was the basement, huge and wide, the length of the entire house. The walls were also rendered in pale sandstone, soft white light flooding from paper-lantern-style fixtures, making up for the lack of windows. It was the opposite of Fangtasia. It was a relief to see. The real Eric liked things clean, open, and transparent. Neutral and yet sexier than anything I had anticipated. It occurred to me that the aesthetic would highlight him; he would become the focal point wherever he moved in the room. I imagined him there, stretched out on the bed, naked and wanting.

"God, I want to fuck you," I whispered into his absence. I walked into the bathroom, stripped down to my underwear set, and returned outside.

Eric had floated to the bottom of the pool and lay there, absolutely still, motionless as a stone. When he heard me approach, his clear blue eyes snapped open, penetrating. He did not move. It was an unnerving, striking image, and profoundly sad. Not a bubble escaped to the surface.

In that moment, he was so totally and completely other. I knew that, of course, knew it before, but now I felt almost crushed by the weight of it. I was different, too, but nowhere near that different. All the feelings I had attempted to keep at bay flooded my consciousness. My heart ached.

With the sadness, though, came a sort of…pride. There was something dignified, righteous even, about Eric that clashed with his identity as a dangerous predator. He was a defiant person who something both amazing and terrible had happened to, who chose to continue, who not only adapted to his new life but thrived in it, transformed it, made it into his own. I realized I did not pity him. I admired him terribly.

And no matter what, damn it, I was determined to have fun with him tonight. I pushed the thoughts from my mind and made a shallow dive into the pool. He instantly sprang to life and surfaced, pulling me to him, kissing me, soft and smooth as water.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered against my mouth, his hands playing with the black lace at my hips as he took in my body. My heart leapt.

"Not so bad yourself, cowboy." Though he smiled at my words, he seemed to sense my lingering sadness.

"So…welcome to Northman's, party of 2," he joked. "I hear humans play games at parties. Know anything water-related?"

"Well, I do have something in mind. I think we can adapt it…" I started playfully, my arms around his neck. "It's a little variation on the game we were playing earlier."

"Do tell…" he replied darkly.

"It's a quiet game." I slipped my hand into his underwear, taking hold of his erection and stroking it.

His eyes fluttered slightly, but he replied with an even, "Indeed?"

"Yes, the quieter the better." I pulled his boxers down and gripped him harder, running my hand down the length of him. I knew how powerfully he had wanted me all evening, and I was ready to play.

"What are the stakes? Earlier, it was public embarrassment, potential humiliation in front of your friends. I don't seem to have much of an incentive to stay—" I pumped my hand once over him, firm and sure. He forced his eyes shut to remain composed. "—quiet," he finished admirably.

"Hmm… I'm not really into negatives. How about a reward system?"

"Mmmm…" he replied.

"If you stay quiet," I whispered into his ear, "you pick. Anytime. Anywhere."

"What makes you think I couldn't have that anyway?" he murmured dangerously. "What else?"

"Well, you'd have victory over me, which has got to be worth something." He laughed. "And, of course, you'll have a guarantee I won't say no, no matter the situation…"

Something hot and mischievous flashed behind his eyes, and he suddenly uttered, "I'll take it." Momentarily alarmed, I pushed his reaction out of my head, focusing instead on his arousal.

I angled him to the shallow end of the pool, until he was seated on the rim, and took him into my mouth. Even though we had barely begun to learn each other's preferences, I felt it would be hard for him. Eric was vocal; he used words to instruct as well as inflame. I wanted to see what he would do, how he would acquiesce to me in silence.

He didn't succumb, though. If anything, he was more in control than ever. Instead of allowing me to tease him into a helpless state, he took silent charge of the situation, showing me that volume did not create power. It made me want to amend my rule, but it also turned me on completely.

Almost immediately after I began, Eric twined his fingers into my hair and rocked into my mouth, shifting my head softly until I understood the rhythm he wanted. Staring deeply into my eyes, he showed me exactly how I was affecting him, exactly what he needed, even though no sound escaped his lips. It was beyond erotic. Once he saw me submit to him, offer myself for his use, he took me deeper, thrusting harder and fuller. When he was ready, he stroked down the length of my throat with one confident hand, and I opened for him further. He didn't utter a sound, didn't even exhale as I felt him release, pulsing down my throat in silent longing. His eyes were black with victorious satisfaction but also wicked promise.

When Eric finally pulled away, I laughed, breathless, breaking the silence. He exhaled long and low, stretching back on the concrete, a hand across his forehead. His relief was palpable; it surprised me. I reveled in the display.

"Gods, woman," he murmured. "That was…difficult." He slipped back into the water and held me against him. I beamed with pleasure.

"No matter what I can tell you, no matter what I've said before, you have no idea what this feels like. What you feel like," he said seriously, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. He ran the back of his hand down between my breasts in a gesture that owned as well as caressed. With shattering confidence, he continued: "I'm going to make you scream now, lover. Until you have no breath left. That is a promise."

"…does that mean you will be using your free pass?" I asked softly.

"Mmm," he hummed, "I don't think I have to." He reached down and lifted me into his arms, dripping wet and ready, kissing me leisurely as he brought me out of the water and down into his bedroom.

Indeed he did not.