A/N: Thank you so. Your attention continues to stun and delight me! The relationship continues, this time exploring what must be the insane emotional interiority of a blood bond…

Teeth in the Grass Part III: Chapter 10

We lay together in his deep limestone tub, Eric's arms wrapped around me, his chin resting on the top of my head. I was still recovering from our earlier activities, and though he was not (evidenced in the erection pressing steadily against my back), he seemed to tolerate, if not fully enjoy the relaxed togetherness. I closed my eyes, kept totally still, and experimentally reached out for Eric.

Blood bonding was not what I expected, although even that should have been unsurprising; I knew it varied by couple, emotional intensity, amount of blood shared, timing, and so on. I was leery of the process (my prior history with Eric aside), due to my strong desire to keep from involuntarily hearing him. He was one of the few people in my life who I did not already have inside of my head, and I wanted to keep it that way. At the same time, I was skeptical that it would even work on my end. Though we had tasted each other the first night we made love, it had mainly increased my own synaesthetic experience of him. I did not have any revelatory experiences of what he felt.

Despite my reservations, I knew how important it was for Eric to feel connected to me in a way that made sense to him. We had spent a lot of time dealing with human emotions and feelings on my end, so it only made sense we would work on the supernatural next. Eric promised (as far as he could) that the bond wouldn't be permanent if we didn't continue to share blood, which eased my concerns somewhat. He tried to downplay his wishes for my sake, but when we talked about the possibility, his eyes shone with more excitement and anticipation than I had seen in the last few weeks combined. And seeing Eric as passionate as he was about it turned. me. on. I knew it wouldn't be long before my curiosity and desire for him convinced me, too.

A few nights later, I agreed. We drank each other deeply and with purpose. Though I expected our connection to explode in a bright array of color and light, it merely felt…stronger. More grounded. Contrary to my concerns and much to my delight, the connection to Eric was different from the way I usually heard people (vivid images, snatches of conversation, fragments of thoughts, etc.). This was far subtler, and more deep-seated than that; in fact, I had to concentrate to even perceive it. When I did, I received feelings, pure and simple. They pulsed inside of my chest, almost like they were coming from me. That served to muffle them further as they often felt in tune with what I was already experiencing.

Over the last few days, I was learning to code Eric's feelings apart from mine. His felt a little darker, a little redder, a little more intense. It felt good to separate our subjectivities, even if they were often aligned. The fact that I hadn't been surprised at the feelings washing over me in the past few days seemed a welcome implication that I knew Eric fairly well. Lust. Protectiveness. Loyalty. Annoyance. Skepticism. Lust again. It was fun to be able to confirm my read on him, but nothing had been overly revelatory.

Although the bond hadn't proved particularly enlightening, it was still beautiful. While I had anticipated Eric would feel more comfortable afterward, I was surprised to discover I felt calmer. The anxiety had dropped out of the experience of being together; I was finally able to let my guard down around him. That was an unexpected bonus. Knowing he knew how I felt already meant that I didn't need to waste time trying to hide my emotions. (This also meant, of course, that Eric knew exactly what I wanted at every single moment of our time together, and he exploited his knowledge of my feelings quite expertly. I had no idea that he could become better at lovemaking. Now that he was, and I could read that he knew so on his smug face afterward, I wondered if that was one of, if not the reason he had pushed so hard for the connection in the first place. That was a pleasure that went both ways, though. The power I experienced in feeling him feel was…intoxicating.)

So when I reached out for him in the moment, it was like I was locating him inside of me. And there he was. Tranquility. Sensuality. Desire. I sighed. Knowing felt impossibly good.

"Feeling me, lover?" Eric asked in a low rumble.

"In more ways than one," I smiled, settling back into him further. He groaned a little, and pressed his hips into my back, rocking against me sensually. His lips moved over my neck in long, languid lines.

"Time for round…four, is it?" he whispered as he quickly flipped me to face him. I shrieked at the sudden movement, though I wasn't really surprised. Grinning wickedly, he rose up until we were resting on the edge of the tub and firmly, effortlessly slid me down onto him. The sensation was unbelievable: hot, full, and orange. His pleasure was melting me from the inside out. My orgasms now felt multi-sited: in my chest, between my thighs, along Eric's hard, throbbing length. I couldn't control them. I couldn't even understand them. It didn't matter—I gave myself over to the sensations, and we soon lost ourselves again together.

It wasn't long before we were back in the tub where we began. I was soaking blissfully in the slowly cooling water. Too soon, Eric stood. Stepping out, he reached for a towel, all lean muscle and smooth skin. I turned to watch him instinctively, my mind completely blank as I ran my eyes over every ridge and plain of his body. He caught me staring at his lower torso and took in my unfocused gaze and unsteady breath.

"Eyes up here, Stackhouse," he quipped, eyebrows raised wryly.

I shook my head, which did little to clear it, and responded, "You've got to lighten up. That's the fun of the modern era: equal objectification for all." He tossed me a towel. I reluctantly moved to join him.

"There's a fine line between conscious objectification and a mindless stupor…"

"Eh. You know what you do to me," I blushed as I dried off. "Haven't you ever seen someone so beautiful you just lost your shit?"

"'Lost my shit…?' 'Lost my shit…'" he repeated, feigning bemusement. "I'm sorry, lover. You know I like it when you're needlessly vulgar, but no. I don't believe anyone has ever caused me to 'lose my shit.'"

"Ugh. Why do you have to be so annoyingly literal…" I grumbled.

"Because I think it's a poor metaphor for the sensation you're describing." He caught my head in his hands and lowered his face to find my eyes. "I do know, however, what it feels like to lose one's breath." As if on cue, my heart skipped several beats; it took a few moments before I remembered to suck in a ragged lungful of air. He laughed at me pointedly before turning away, tossing the damp towel into the hamper. Point taken.

"I do appreciate the compliment, though," he softened. "I assure you, it's returned." I looked up at him shyly.

"So…what are you up to tonight?" I asked, changing the subject.

The moment I spoke the words, I felt something strange pressing on me from his side of the bond. It was brief—gone completely in less than a second—but it set off a subtle warning in me. Disoriented, I tried to search back for what I had felt. It wasn't panic or anger or shame. Import, maybe? I wasn't sure, but there had definitely been a reaction. An unnerving thought occurred to me: perhaps Eric could intentionally dampen my reception… I snapped out of myself to gauge his physical response.

"I have meetings," he answered vaguely. I was still a little uncomfortable, but I tried to keep it light.

"Sheriff stuff?"

"Yes, 'sheriff stuff,'" he grinned, which relaxed me. "Is that funny to you?"

"Just the term. I picture you in a cowboy hat and spurs."

"How about chaps?" he suggested, turning so I got a good view of his backside, indicating exactly the kind he had in mind.

"Nah. I know you said you've never lost your shit before, but that just seems like you're asking for trouble." He guffawed as I went to swat him, but he caught my hand deftly. He brought it to his mouth, his eyes twinkling.

"Why do you ask, by the way?" He kissed my palm softly. "Are you planning on missing me every second I'm busy?"

"Well, maybe not every second," I replied, before circling his shoulders with my arms. "Let me know when you're finished?"

"I will indeed," he answered with a firm smile.

Eric moved to the bedroom. His sense of the impending daylight was still uncanny to me. I usually had no idea what time it was when we were together, but he always knew exactly. I wrapped myself ritually around his arm, taking his hand in both of mine. I stared openly at him, lips pressed into his shoulder. Though I had seen him die for the day a dozen times, it was still mesmerizing.

"See you tonight," he whispered. I reached out for him and felt his chest swell. Confidence. Affection. Contentment. And then he dropped away. I let out a long sigh. I stayed awake longer than usual, watching him. For the first time in a long while, I felt truly… happy.

I worked a 2pm shift. It was uneventful, although I did feel a little internal tug around sundown. It meant Eric was up. While it was still strange to feel the extra presence, I smiled, knowing he was back among the living. Thankfully, the bar was still largely empty by evening, and Sam let me go at 8 o'clock.

Remembering that Eric was busy, I decided to stop by Jason's on my way home. Even if he wasn't there—which seemed likely, given his many nocturnal pursuits—I figured I could poke around the house, maybe tidy things a little. Although we had never been particularly close, my time spent around the supernatural lately made me nostalgic for a simpler time. I knew my recent absence had jarred him. Stopping by just seemed like the right thing to do.

As it turned out, I found him at home, tinkering in the garage with his truck.

"Sis!" he exclaimed. "This is an unexpected surprise!" I was about to joke that there wasn't any other kind of surprise to have, but he had already turned suspicious. "Wait a minute—are you checkin' up on me?" Though I hadn't noticed him thinking anything out of the ordinary, I immediately heard a loud string of baseball stats echoing in my head. I almost laughed. That had been his default trick to keep me out since we were kids.

"Come on, Jason. I'm not here to poke around. Can't a sister have a beer with her brother without needing a reason?"

"Well," he continued, still a little unsure, "that depends… Who's buying the beer?"

For the most part, we enjoyed an easy evening together. I cooked some chicken-fried steaks, and Jason supplied us with plenty of cold beer and bad television. It felt nice to spend time with him on a low-stakes evening. Nobody was fishing for information. Nobody was imperiled. It felt…surprisingly normal.

Around 11:30, Jason got a text message that had him hurriedly shooing me out of the house. I didn't have to guess what the text was about—he was somewhat notorious for answering booty calls, and I had the added displeasure of actually seeing some of the images he summoned before switching loudly over to baseball again. I needed no further encouragement to leave.

It was pitch dark out when I waved goodbye. Since I hadn't heard from Eric, I decided to head home. I was passing the woods, about to turn onto the road that led to my house, when all at once I felt Eric nearby. It was disorienting, nothing like what I had come to except from our bond: I was assaulted by a complete, jarring slam of emotional content. In fact, I was so overwhelmed by the strength of the feelings, I couldn't even decipher what they were. I pulled over to the side of the road to get my bearings. Though they had faded abruptly, I was determined to discover why I felt them in the first place. Even though I had no plan of action, I got out of my car and headed into the woods.

An unseasonably cool autumn wind stirred the leaves, making eerie, whispering hisses as I walked. I knew I was moving in the right direction because the feelings that intermittently vibrated through me grew stronger and louder. They were scattered, reckless flashes of red. Aggression. Desire. Savagery. I had to clutch my chest more than once to steady myself. This felt new, like I was holding a bare electrical wire while someone else sporadically threw the switch on and off. The bond jangled alive with such force it stunned me.

I had been walking less than ten minutes when I saw Eric. He was standing in the middle of a clearing. His back was to me, but I instantly recognized his powerful, imposing stance. Scattered around him in no particular order were three (very recently) dead bodies. I froze. Eric sensed my presence anyway. He snapped around at vampire speed, although he did not move any closer.

His eyes locked on mine, fangs extended, blood dripping down his chin, spattering his t-shirt. I stayed absolutely motionless. His expression was predictably unreadable. The moonlight shone off his gleaming skin. To his credit, he looked menacing but calm, authoritative, in charge. On one level, this felt familiar—I had seen Eric in blood-lust killer mode before. Though upset, I wasn't totally shocked at the sight of the bodies; killing clearly wasn't something I enjoyed witnessing or condoned, but I knew Eric well enough to expect there was at least a reasonable explanation. I also knew he possessed a great deal of control, and my rational mind signaled I was likely not in danger. On another level, though, the experience was utterly different from anything I had seen before or could intellectually justify. Because this time I could feel it.

Our blood bond cracked completely open. I realized that what I had felt up until then had been absolutely nothing at all.

Eric's feelings raged. They tore at my insides. The words I knew to describe them—fury, voracity, greed—did nothing to help me understand the violent sensations that were racking through me now. I was almost doubled over with unchecked, lethal wildness. If it hadn't been for my own emotions—the icy sparks of terror shooting through me, reminding me that these were not my feelings—I wasn't sure what I would have done. I wanted to brutally fuck and savagely kill the first thing I saw. That seemed to be the only level of graphic, visceral action that would even begin to approach satisfying the corrosive desires that burned through me.

That wasn't all, though. There was something intoxicating, irresistible in the feelings, too. Something addictive that made me feel overwhelmingly powerful as well as out of control. I wanted to violate something. And I wanted to do it now.

I gasped for air as I surfaced momentarily. That was how Eric felt. And I was the nearest living being.

Even as I stood there, fearing for my life and wanting to rip away someone else's, I knew I was at some kind of juncture. The way I handled the next few moments defined more than just my present well-being. Eric continued to stare at me, totally still.

I ran.