"Viking." There was something new in Lucifer Morningstar's voice as he said his nickname for Eric. Eric was no longer just a Viking. He was Lucifer's Viking. Body, blood, and even his missing soul—all Lucifer's for the taking. Lucifer seemed to know—there was wonder and contentment in his voice, with just that one single word.
The two men were lying on the ground, soft feathered wings cushioning them against the damp and dirt. Lucifer lying on his back, and Eric, of all things, on his side with his head against Lucifer's chest, listening to the steady heartbeat he found there. It was slow but loud compared to a human's, and Eric found the sound hypnotic. Why else would he be willingly curled around the other man in such an intimate embrace? Yes, that had to be it. He was not and never would be a submissive girlfriend. Never.
"Viking," Lucifer said it again, an arm squeezing Eric to make him move.
Eric finally lifted himself away from Lucifer's chest, propping himself up on an elbow so he could look down at those dark brown eyes that he had fallen in love with. The soft look in Lucifer's eyes made Eric think perhaps it was time for another round, and he leaned in to kiss the devil squarely on the lips. Lucifer welcomed the kiss warmly but after a few moments, pushed Eric back so they could look at each other again.
"What's your real name?" Lucifer asked.
"Eric," the vampire replied, thinking that was obvious.
"I know that's your name now," Lucifer said, pushing Eric back so he could sit up. In the blink of an eye, the wings beneath them disappeared, leaving them sitting on the mossy ground with their rumpled clothes littered about them. The soft glow that came with them also disappeared, making the darkness almost complete. Eric couldn't help but enjoy the stark planes of shadow across Lucifer's skin in the dark—truly the Prince of Darkness looked best next to Eric, in the night and away from the sunlight. Not that Eric could tell—he'd never be able to see Luci when the sun was up. But he was a beautiful work of art, sitting in the swamp with only the starlight to give him definition.
"What was your name when you were still alive?" Lucifer asked. "When you were a Norse Viking and not a club owner in Louisiana?"
"Eric," he said again. "I mean, obviously Eric is an English translation, but it's so close it's nearly the same."
"How would you say it in old Norse?" Lucifer asked, curious.
"Eirikr," Eric replied, rolling the r's slightly and turning the first syllable into an "eh" sound.
Lucifer repeated him, getting the accent perfect. Something in Eric fluttered at the sound of his old name on Lucifer's tongue and he leaned forward to catch the moment on his lips, letting his kiss linger. His fangs slid out of their own volition as a warm wash of love seemed to envelope him. He reached out, dragging Lucifer closer so they were skin against skin again. After having fed on Lucifer earlier, the man didn't feel quite so hot as he normally did. It seemed feeding on the devil's blood kept Eric toasty warm, the heat of the man transferring to the vampire and remaining there. He'd always felt flushed for a few minutes after feeding on a human, but this was different. It stayed with him, making him feel like he was continuously in Lucifer's embrace.
With a low growl of desire in his throat, he pushing Lucifer back down onto the mossy ground, his kisses growing arduous once more. Lucifer's hands sank into the short hair at the back of his head and when the fingers there tugged, he came up for air, his eyes searching the dark for Lucifer's with a nearly lovesick desperation.
"Viking, how is it that it hasn't even been a month and you look at me with such longing?" Lucifer asked, his fingers moving softly in Eric's hair as the vampire loomed over him.
"I could ask the same of you," Eric said, letting a finger trace the line of Lucifer's jaw, the scratch of the stubble there intoxicating to him. The man was a study in textures.
"Well, that's easy," Lucifer informed him. "I met a man who seemed to enjoy spending time with me, as opposed to simply tolerating me. I saw in him some of the same things I worry about too—self worth, most especially. He had a lot to give with no one to give it to—and he worried for his soul." Lucifer's fingers never left his hair, stroking the soft strands. "He was angry about things he couldn't control—and Viking, if anyone understands that it's the devil."
Eric smiled at that, the admission that they were similar reflecting his own mood. He leaned down to deliver another kiss.
"What's your excuse?" Lucifer asked when they parted again.
"Vampires fall in love very quickly," Eric said honestly. "Once the idea is there, it becomes unshakeable."
"Why? You think with eternity ahead of them, they'd be more selective of who they choose. Take their time," Lucifer said slowly.
"I'd argue that a vampire's instincts knows that our time with a human is fleeting in the face of that eternity," Eric countered. "How long does a vampire have to love a human? Sixty years, at best? And the relationship invariably falls apart as the human ages."
"Why not love another vampire then?" Lucifer asked.
Eric shook his head. "It's not the same," he said, frowning.
"Why not?"
Eric shook his head, not knowing how to describe it to Lucifer. "We do love each other. We fuck each other. And it's glorious. But there's something missing, something you can't find with another vampire." His eyes searched Lucifer's out with worry. "Is it the soul? Is that what's missing?"
Lucifer's eyebrows knit together in concern. "I wish I could find you the answer, Viking." Warm fingers threaded through his hair, and Lucifer applied the right pressure to convince Eric to put his head back down against Lucifer's chest. "It might not be the soul. Perhaps it's the blood?"
Eric closed his eyes, not answering. Instead, he listened to the soothing beat of Lucifer's heart, the rush of his blood moving through his immortal body in a way it never would for a vampire like Eric. He listened for a while, the sound comforting him, chasing his anxiety away. "Maybe it is the blood," Eric said quietly, even as he let a single hand explore the expanse of skin in front of his face. Soft, so soft. The devil kept a very tight grooming regimen. "Or the heartbeat. The rhythm of life."
"That could explain why you can fall in love with me," Lucifer mused. "I'm not human, but I do have a heart. Despite the rumours otherwise."
Eric lifted his head again to give the devil a longing look.
"I'm correct, yes?" Lucifer asked, a tiny sliver of worry behind the words. "I'm not the only one finding themselves in love?"
"Someday, Luci," Eric growled as he nipped a mock bite against the rough throat before him. "Someday I'll get you a billboard and you'll never ask me that again."
"It would put my heart at ease," Lucifer said, suddenly wrapping his arms around Eric to pin the two men together. They stayed in that embrace for some time, until a lark began to sing somewhere close to the shore of the bayou, its trills a harbinger of the coming sunrise.
"Time to head back?" Lucifer asked, giving Eric a mock pout as he extricated himself from the other man.
"Sadly, yes," Eric replied as he stood. He looked about himself at the clothes they'd at least had the decency to not rip off. They were undoubtedly wrinkled and probably dirt stained by this point, but nothing a trip to the drycleaner's couldn't fix. He began to get dressed, a bit distracted as he watched Lucifer bend over to gather his own clothes. Yes, he could get used to moments like this with Lucifer. He was perfection—body, blood, mind. The man had fucking said his name in old Norse, perfectly. And that ass? Damn.
And Lucifer wondered why Eric had fallen in love so damn quickly.
What was not to love?
They raced each other back to Fangtasia on the outskirts of Shreveport. Eric got the impression that Lucifer was entertaining him—he was almost certain that the devil didn't actually need to fly to get places. Eric suspected the man could materialized just about anywhere in the blink of an eye. Here was the first person he'd met since Godric that he considered stronger and better than himself. Again . . . how could Eric not have fallen for this man?
Upon entering Fangtasia, they found the bar to be empty. Even Ginger was gone, home to her apartment in the wee hours of the morning. Pam and Tara weren't to be found, not even when Eric led Lucifer down to the dungeon beneath the club.
The dungeon itself wasn't very much a dungeon any longer. It was still dark and dank, but neither he nor Pam had been using it for sexual escapades in the last few months. And they hadn't kept humans as prisoners in at least a year. Instead, their coffins sat in a row against one wall—his sleek and modern, hers intricately carved with plush satin cushions, and Tara's new and simple piece that showed she still didn't like being a vampire.
Any and all sex toys were neatly put away in a deep chest of drawers or hanging on the wall on the far side of the room and in between, a large metal wheel hung ominously from the ceiling, its chains and bars hanging down toward the floor in a promise of torture—or torturously good sex. Eric had mixed feelings about this room now. At one point, he'd gloried in keeping human prisoners, for the fun of the torture, and the ease with which he could pick a meal. But now? With everything that had happened? He didn't think he'd ever imprison a person ever again.
On the other hand, this place had come in quite useful when he needed a good fuck.
In fact, the idea of chaining up a devil that couldn't actually be chained sounded pretty good in that moment. Lucifer, it seemed, was very interested in what he saw as he walked down the steps into the basement. "Well, well, Viking. What have we here?"
Eric eyed the wheel at the ceiling. "Something out of my past," he finally said, not sure he was willing to admit just how depraved he'd been for so long.
"I know a good torture device when I see one, Eirikr, my devilish Viking." Lucifer moved past Eric, eyes on the ceiling as well. "And this is some very nice handiwork, I must say."
"I have not always worried about my lack of a soul, Luci." Eric reached out to push on one of the metal posts built into the wheel. The mechanism began to move, creaking in protest, not having been moved in a long time. "At times, I reveled in it."
"Haven't we all?" Lucifer asked as he stood by the wheel and looked around, his eyes stopping on the wall with the whips and chains and other paraphernalia. This got an impressed smirk from Lucifer, but then he was looking back toward the wall with the coffins. "This is where you live?" he asked, striding across the room, homing in directly on Eric's coffin without even needing to ask. "Do you need to sleep in a coffin?" Lucifer was frowning. But then he shook his head. "No, your hotel room had a bed."
Lucifer turned on a heel, the sound of the dirt on the concrete floor crunching beneath his heel loud as Eric contemplated describing why he chose to sleep in a coffin. "I like being confined," he finally said, not meeting Lucifer's eyes. "If I'm alone, I find it more comfortable with the coffin surrounding me."
"Viking, are you trying to say you enjoy being held?" Lucifer asked as he finally turned back to the coffin and slid his hands along the seam until he found the mechanism to open it. It opened smoothly, revealing plush cushions of velvet and satin in a deep red that would easily hide blood stains, but also had the effect of looking gothic against the sleek black of the coffin itself.
Eric scowled. "I'm not saying that."
But Lucifer was smiling as he crossed the space between them. "I think it is," he crooned. "You don't like the extra space around you. You want someone to hold you."
"Well, I'm afraid you can't hold me," Eric said, not confirming but also not denying it. "So into the coffin I will go."
"No bedclothes?" Lucifer asked, looking affronted as Eric made his way over to his bed for the day, still in his dark jeans and dress shirt.
Eric shrugged. "I'm currently between homes. What's the point of a set of pajamas I don't need?"
He'd had a home—but then things had happened, making Fangtasia the safest place for a vampire to be. So he'd sold the house, pocketing the cash for later use. Then, of course, he'd bought Sookie's house, refurbished it to his own liking and then idiotically just handed the deed back to her without so much as a dollar exchanged between the two of them. Between homes, indeed. This temporary coffin in the basement of Fangtasia had somehow become semi-permanent.
There was a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from stepping into his black coffin. "Viking," Lucifer sounded serious, and Eric turned to see those brown eyes looking at him with hope and longing. "Come to Los Angeles, Viking. You can move in with me." The brow furrowed for a moment. "The loft isn't light-tight, but I can make changes for you."
Eric blinked in surprised, having not expected the offer. Certainly not so soon, anyway. Lucifer really did fall in love just as quickly as a vampire, it seemed. But then Eric's good mood was completely shattered. He couldn't. He couldn't go to L.A. A stab of pain throbbed behind his eyes as his shoulders drooped. Fuck. Fuck. "I—I can't," he finally said, the words coming out strained and forlorn.
Lucifer looked surprised, mouth hanging open just a tiny bit as he searched Eric's face to find a pained expression there. "Whyever not?" he asked, clearly not liking Eric's response.
"I was told to leave L.A.," Eric said honestly, feeling the perfect night coming to a bitter and broken end. Lucifer wouldn't—no, couldn't—leave Los Angeles to come to Shreveport. This shitty town would break him. He needed bright lights and masses of people to love him; not a lone vampire on the outskirts with a single neon sign blinking his existence into the world.
"You mean Betty White?" Lucifer asked, and then waved a hand in dismissal. "It's fine."
Eric shook his head. "You don't understand, Lucifer. I am bound by vampire politics—and she has claimed you as her own for simply living within the confines of her state. I can't just ignore her commands. That's grounds for staking, and while yes, I've been thinking about my soul lately, I'd rather not meet back up with it anytime soon."
Lucifer frowned in anger. "It's not her bloody city, it's mine," he spat out. "I don't care what she thinks, I've already warned her once. I will warn her again, if she steps out of line." Lucifer's eyes lit up red, and Eric reached a hand out to touch the devil's shoulder.
He didn't like seeing Lucifer mad. Especially since it was Eric's own doing—because he simply couldn't say yes to Los Angeles. "It's not just Betty White," he told Lucifer. "I'm already tied up in the politics of it. I'm Sheriff of Area 5. I've got responsibilities, whether I want them or not." Eric's shoulders slumped again. "Fuck."
"We can fix this, Viking. We will fix this," Lucifer corrected. "I'm sure there must be some way to transfer you from Louisiana to California." He looked around the dungeon. "As much as I love a good torture chamber, this can hardly be considered a home. I'd much rather see you in a fine, lavish home—as your Viking heritage deserves." Lucifer took a step to close the distance between them and pulled Eric into a surprising hug.
He hugged back, not knowing how Lucifer could be so positive. Clearly he didn't understand vampire politics, but it was more than that. Lucifer always seemed to have hope, even when there shouldn't be hope. It was hard to ignore that kind of faith. In fact, he wished he could share in it.
The sun had risen though, and Eric felt death demanding he get in his coffin and close his eyes. Tired. Too tired to argue with Lucifer about whether he could go to Los Angeles or not. He backed up from Lucifer and stepped into his coffin, before crouching down to a sitting position. Lucifer knelt down just outside the coffin, not quite willing to part ways just yet. "Let me do some digging on me end," he said. "I've got plenty of strings I can pull in Los Angeles, and as far as I'm concerned Betty is not the apex predator of Tinseltown. I am."
Eric gave Lucifer a smile, pretending to believe him. "I appreciate it," he said. "However, it's time for me to rest for the day. He paused, pulling his keyring from his pocket. "Lock up when you leave? It seems Pam and Tara won't be back for the day." He paused and smirked. "Wherever they are, I'm sure they've had just as good a night as we have."
Lucifer returned a saucy smile. "Doubtful, Viking. Doubtful."
This got a real response from Eric, and he leaned over to give Lucifer a final kiss. "See you this evening?" he asked, really just wanting to lie down in his coffin, close the lid, and become dead to the world for a few hours.
"As soon as the sun sets," Lucifer promised.
A final kiss between the two of them and Eric slid down into his coffin, reaching up to close the streamlined lid. The last thing Eric saw before meeting death for the day was Lucifer standing above him, a look of love in those brown eyes.