Reminder: This story is rated MATURE for a reason.

~13~

In Dallas, what began as a fine drizzle quickly turned into a fat pattering rain shower. The second the wheels thumped and squealed along the landing strip and the engines roared against the tide of the jet's inertia, Godric made good on his promise. He sprang into action. He had Rosalyn out the door and was charging across the tarmac, barking orders at the air traffic controllers and service technicians who scampered in their direction. At the customer service desk inside the private hangar, he picked up an envelope left for him and an apologetic clerk offered the couple a ride to their vehicle. Godric looked out the window at the golf cart like it was a dinky green toy, gave the guy a funny look, and walked out without another word. When they got to the uncovered car park, however, he realized he had no idea which car was theirs. The parking lot was surprisingly large. "You can go wait back inside, you're getting soaked."

From underneath the jacket she held over her head, Ros asked, "What model are we looking for?"

"An Audi," he said, staring at the key fob.

They trotted down the wide aisles as Godric beeped the keyless entry. Rosalyn laughed like a maniac and finally just put his coat back on and let the rain pelt her face. "How many Audis can there possibly be?" she asked. A lot, it turned out. Godric grumbled at the weak technological device. He started zipping as fast as possible through the parking lot. Finally, he saw the telltale flash of the lights in the far corner of the lot. They collapsed inside the car, both wet as fishes. "Welp, Eric definitely left you a stupid sports car."

Godric pursed his lips. "He certainly did." He revved the massive engine and found the thermostat. "I'm surprised it has heat. Most of these vehicles are extraordinarily useless when it comes to practical comforts."

Rosalyn could not keep track of how many traffic laws Godric proceeded to flagrantly disobey. Lights were blazed through. Corners were taken so sharply she felt the vehicle groan in protest. Speeds were used that must have tested the very limits of the ten-cylinder engine's ability to combust gasoline. They tore through a residential neighborhood and, after pausing to pass through a severe looking gate, pulled up to an estate. Godric was instantly by her door to help her out. Eric stood on the house's oversized portico, waiting for them with arms behind his back.

"How did you like the R8?" Eric asked. Godric tossed the keys at him. "Really? No? Was it the rear differentials? I know they're a little slippy at the top of the gearbox, but I thought you'd like the cushier ride. I'm not a fan of the aluminum composite, though."

Godric grunted. "Me either. I cracked the chassis cutting across Walnut Hill."

"What!?"

"Check it yourself. It failed where the aluminum profile meets the magnesium, right rear wheel. Rosalyn felt it go too. That means it isn't suitable for her safe transport. Get another one and have them use something else. The materials can't support the torque. I don't even know why these people bother if they're not going to do it right."

Eric jogged to the vehicle and reached under the wheel well. He lifted the vehicle off its suspension, checking it like a lame horse and stroking the bumper. "What did he do to you, baby? You poor thing!"

Rosalyn stared at the two wondering how many gallons of oil they had burned into the atmosphere to make it to the house in less than two minutes. The front door opened and a slim, dark haired woman dressed in a high collared skirt suit stepped out. "Sheriff, welcome home. The nest is cleared as you ordered and is fully secure."

"Thank you, Isabelle. I would like to introduce you to Dr. Rosalyn Murray. She is an advocate for equal education rights. Rosalyn, this is my Second in Command, Isabelle Beaumont."

"Hello," the woman said and turned to go inside.

"Hello, madame," Godric corrected quietly. Isabelle froze and cut her eyes at her boss in confusion. She quickly recovered and greeted the human using the respect usually reserved only for fellow vampires of equal or greater standing.

"My apologies. Welcome to Area Nine, Madame. Please do come in." She gave a slight bow.

Inside, Rosalyn was met with an ostentatious entryway. It had soaring ceilings and was flanked by a broad double staircase that imposed itself on the room. A wrought iron chandelier shaped like a wagon wheel swung overhead. Each of its lights was covered in a faux vintage hurricane lamp. A thick Navajo rug stretched across the parquet floor. A set of uncomfortable-looking benches with brass stud detailing lined the walls.

"You live here?" she said, unable to stop herself. She had expected something understated. The décor was completely incongruous with the man at her side. Everything was overdone and gaudy, with a vague "American West" theme. The McMansion screamed nouveau riche. Godric certainly had the riche part covered, though he did not seemed disinterested in that fact, but there was nothing "new" about him.

"It's fucking hideous, isn't it?" Eric said behind her. Rosalyn's mouth hung open as her gaze wandered up the showy stairs to the wagon wheel light fixture. "If you get the matches, Ros, I'll help you burn it down," he said in a loud, conspiratorial whisper.

"Don't you dare encourage him. He's done it before," Godric warned. "This belongs to the Area vampires whose annual tribute supports the operation of the residence. You torch it, Eric, and you can explain your actions to the king. I won't defend you." Eric gnashed his teeth but said nothing more.

Isabelle led them down a corridor to a series of interconnected living and sitting rooms. She paused at various alcoves and hallways to give a brief history of the home and point out a few horse statues and cowboy paintings that were supposedly important. The furniture in the living areas was a hodgepodge of overstuffed brown leather sofas and cow hides strewn on tile flooring.

"Is that a warthog?" Rosalyn gestured to one of the taxidermy heads mounted on the wall.

"Javelina," Godric murmured, only paying cursory attention to her reaction to the house. He was rapidly surveying the space, making sure Eric had picked up thoroughly and nothing untoward had been left lying around. These were the common rooms for the nest. It was amazing how often one found stray underwear, empty blood bags, and other sorts of messes left by his retinue. He had maids, but they did not always catch everything immediately.

"I guess I should be grateful those are animal trophies and not human heads, no?" she joked weakly. Eric shook his head in dismay.

"May I use your restroom?" Rosalyn wanted to towel off her hair and pee. She also needed a moment to reconcile how gravely out of sync this place was with her understanding of Godric.

"Isabelle, I am sorry to displace you on such short notice," Godric said quietly.

"It is no problem, Sheriff."

"Give me three days. You will say nothing about the woman to anyone."

"Understood. I have it under absolute control," Isabelle replied.

"Is there anything pressing that's come in tonight?"

"There's a maker's request."

"Does the turning need to be done with any urgency?"

"No, it seems normal. The paperwork is on your desk."

"Fine. I'll schedule a hearing when I'm free.'

They were discussing other minor details when they heard Rosalyn make a 'glech' sound down the hallway. Godric was at the bathroom door instantly. "Are you unwell?"

"No…no…I'm fine. Just give me a second."

Isabelle collected her things as Rosalyn emerged from the bathroom. She nodded to the Sheriff and his human and left carrying two suitcases.

"What's wrong?" Godric asked when Isabelle was gone.

"Nothing, I told you."

"You made a sound like something disturbed you. Are the facilities unsanitary? Should I call the cleaning services?"

Rosalyn shook her head. "No, sorry, I didn't mean for that to be out loud. It's just the bathroom…it's kind of…clinical. It's just different, that's all."

Godric went down the hall and flipped on the light, determined to understand the problem. Apothecary jars filled with cotton dressing pads, antiseptic, and other medical supplies lined the counter. One jar contained flavored condoms; another offered single-use packs of lubricant. A large orange bio-hazard container was affixed to the wall. Godric had never even been in this room before. "This is the donor bathroom, I apologize. Don't use this one again." He squatted down and pulled out a pack of toilet paper from underneath the sink and chucked it at Eric. "Are there other toiletries that you are in need of? I've got tissues, shampoos, and soaps in the master bath."

"Um, I think I forgot to pack toothpaste, but otherwise, I'm fine."

"Do we have human toothpaste?" Godric ducked down and rummaged around in the cupboard. He pulled out a little tube and held it up.

"That's cortisone cream. For itchy skin," Rosalyn said.

He took a moment to glance at the label. Grunting, he threw the tube back into the cupboard. "Eric, start making a list. Tell him exactly what you need."

"Oh, it's ok. I can just get some tomorrow," she said.

"He's going shopping tonight. It has only just dawned on me that I am less than prepared to meet your needs properly. You're going to need food as well."

"Brand name? Color of the box? Any details will help," Eric said.

"Sure. Crest Pro-white. The box is blue, I believe."

Godric led them to a kitchen galley. "This fridge is not for you." He opened it a fraction and stuck his head inside, remembering one of Stan's more disgusting habits. There was thankfully nothing too "serial killer" inside. Godric pointed to a mini-fridge under the counter. "That is for human food."

Rosalyn opened it and found an expired six-pack of Ensure, a half-finished Diet Coke, and an open box of ancient beef fried rice that had grown a layer of mold on the surface. "Er…okay. You're right. This isn't going to cut it." She tried a few cupboards to take stock of any other food there might be. They were full of glassware. A large palm shut the door and Eric pointed down to the single cabinet with a sticker labeled "HUMAN." Ros looked inside. There were two towers of red plastic cups. "Seriously? Solo cups?" There was not a dish or plate in sight.

"You cannot use the vampire glassware, Ros," Godric warned. "Absolutely never." There was a slight panicky waver in his voice. "Explain it, Eric."

"Nobody actually lives on synthetic blood," Eric said. "We use donated blood and screened donors. The glassware goes through the dishwasher so it's sanitized, but that's no substitute for effective sterilization and disinfection protocols. How can you know a pathogen hasn't slipped past the donor bank's controls? Mistakes happen. It is not safe. Surely you know the risks of other sick humans to you? Hepatitis? HIV? Vampires cannot transmit disease between humans, but -"

"No," Godric said sharply. "That's not completely true. Tell her truly. I want nothing hidden from her."

Eric nodded. He was starting to understand Godric's approach with Rosalyn. His maker wanted her treated as an equal. It was unorthodox, to say the least, but then, this was Godric. Everything he did was to his own drumbeat. "As long as we retract our fangs between each feed, it's completely safe. A sloppy vamp feasting off of multiple humans could spread something blood-borne but that's been a punishable offense since we started to understand how disease actually worked during the Black Plague."

"Eww! You were spreading it?" Rosalyn said.

"Yeah. It was a scary time for us. A third of Europe's humans died and the blood of the infected was nearly inedible it was so fouled by the disease. We starved." Rosalyn shook her head in disbelief. "It is extremely important to us that we keep humans as clean and healthy as possible, for the obvious reason that we need you for our own survival and because nobody wants to spend a month in a silver coffin for infecting a human."

"It's three months here in Dallas," Godric said.

"Three?" Eric laughed. "He's a tough Sheriff, what can I say, Ros. The point is that you don't need to worry about any of us. It's essential, however, that you not come into contact with anything else that might have held or touched human blood. Normally the kitchen facilities for humans and vampires are entirely separate – it's mandatory health code in the hotels, for example – but Godric doesn't host humans here."

Godric fidgeted, uncomfortable with the situation. "While you're here Rosalyn, you may touch anything in this house and help yourself to anything you like, but please do not open the blood fridge or handle the blood bags, even out of curiosity. It makes me very anxious. There is a medical grade deep freezer in the garage as well that I ask you to please keep out of."

"Do you want me to just dump it all so it's not here?" Eric asked his maker.

"No, that's silly." Rosalyn said. "I won't be tempted to peek at your stash. We're fine."

"Use the disposable cups, okay? Or if your environmental sensibilities are too offended by the plastic, I can purchase something ceramic just for you."

"We can order food to be delivered for you," Godric offered, "Or I can take you out for meals in the evenings, if you like, but tell Eric what you want stocked here in case you get hungry in between."

"Does this work?" Rosalyn tried the gas hob on the stove and it clicked twice and lit. She opened the warming drawer to the oven. No pans. "Alright, I suppose some breakfast and snacky type things are in order. You sure you don't mind going out, Eric?"

"And miss the chance to go grocery shopping for the first time in my life? Please. Give me a list. I will remember it."

"Alright. Tell you what." She smiled, knowing she was about to give Eric an unusual challenge. "In the grocery store, there's usually a housewares aisle. I'm going to need you to show some restraint here. I don't need a whole set of china. Get me one ceramic plate. One fork. One knife. One spoon. And pick out one drinking glass that is colored so it can't be confused with the vampire stuff."

"Color preference?"

"Go wild. Surprise me."

"Got it."

"Also pick out a nonstick 9″ frying pan and a spatula. Do you know what that is?"

Eric pulled out his phone. "Okay Google. Image search spatula." Rosalyn pointed to the right type. "What else?"

"I'm starting to like bossing you around, Eric Northman. It's fun when you actually listen to my instructions."

"Don't push it, Doc."

She chuckled. "I'm going to need the following: a dozen eggs. White or brown, it doesn't matter. A small box of unsalted butter. Salt and pepper – just the little cheap canisters, nothing fancy. In the produce section, get me one red bell pepper, a bunch of kale. Kale is a leafy vegetable, you'll find the leaves are gathered in a group tied with a twisty tie, so just one of those, okay? Some apples would be nice too."

"I remember liking apples," Eric said.

"Well, if I don't touch your grub, you keep out of mine too," she teased. "Just two or three Fujis, if they have that variety. They're mainly red."

"Organic," Godric chimed in. "Everything must be organic. That's what she prefers." He was proud that he knew this detail.

"Well, not everything is going to be available as organic, but just get what you can," she said. "Let's see. A couple white onions, a head of garlic, and three Yukon gold potatoes. Could you also get me a box of Starbucks instant Via coffee packets and a small jug of half and half cream? That will be in the diary aisle. Oh, and some non-fat Greek yogurt, any kind will do."

Eric looked at his maker for help. "Rosalyn?" Godric said. "That all sounds completely reasonable with one small exception. We have an allergy to all plants in the allium family."

"Oh!" She clapped her hand over her mouth, embarrassed that she had forgotten something so basic. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Of course."

"Onions, garlic, scapes - the smell of them fresh is slightly irritating. The scent of them being cooked is repellent. For very young vampires it is actually nauseating. It doesn't bother me anymore, and it's a total myth that it affects your blood quality, but Eric might get his wish to burn this place down if you cook garlic in here. The house would no longer be suitable as a Sheriff's nest. Most of my subjects are baby vampires."

Eric snorted at the thought. "They'd be puking crimson sheets at the doorstep, if they even made it that far."

"Right, okay, scratch the onions and garlic. Omelettes are delicious without either anyways."

"Anything else?" Eric checked. "Sure you don't want me to swing by the sex shop? Pick up a few choice items? I can make some recommendations." He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"Blondie, if you have the audacity to buy me a dildo, you know exactly where you can shove it."

Godric clenched his jaw, knowing Eric was really asking something else entirely. He was not speaking to Rosalyn; Eric was talking to Godric. "She is right, child. The only person who is going to be in silver handcuffs and a gag is you, if you don't stop testing my patience with your meddling. Now get moving."

"Fine," he shrugged and fell into Norse. "Are you sure you're going to be able to restrain yourself? I am worried. She is so fragile."

"I'll call you if you are needed. We'll be careful," Godric said.

Rosalyn dug out a credit card from her purse and held it out. Eric crooked an eyebrow at her. "Absolutely not."

"Eric, just take it."

"That is a hard 'no'. Now you two lovebirds go have fun." He waved them both off. "I plan on seducing a busty soccer mom into showing me how to navigate a supermarket. Be back later." In a blur, Eric was gone, leaving them alone in the kitchen.

Rosalyn took a moment to appreciate the fine work of the rainstorm. She had escaped with wet hair and a sopping hem. Godric, on the other hand, was dripping puddles.

"You're soaked," she said, pulling at the sleeve of Godric's white dress shirt. It clung to him like a second skin, revealing the dark blue ink of his mysterious tattoos. They were more extensive than she had realized. He had full bands around his muscular biceps in addition to the broad collar across his neck. "Good god, you look like an undead Mr. Darcy standing there like that."

Godric was suddenly grateful that Pamela had wheedled him into sitting through that particular televised interpretation of Austen's work. "What a perfect dandy you must have been in the 19th century," she murmured. Rosalyn looked at him ravenously. She ran a hand through the slightly curled mop of hair on his head and touched the ripples defining his stomach. "Like a really, super sexy, unbelievably fit Mr. Darcy. Actually, Darcy who?"

His mouth twitched at the compliment. "Do you want to see the rest of the house?"

Ros tugged at his shirt, pulling it out of his waistband. "I think we should get you out of these wet clothes."

"I can't catch a cold," he said mischievously. "And the temperature does not bother me."

"True."

"Perhaps my state of undress offends you."

"Maybe you've got it backwards. You are overdressed for the occasion."

He laughed and gave her a scorching kiss that practically caused her to swoon. "Come." He took her hand and lead her back through the living area to another corridor marked 'private'. Following him, she saw through the shirt plastered to his back that his entire spine was covered in yet another tattoo. She was extra determined to get him out of those clothes.

"This wing is for my personal use only. Make yourself comfortable here. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask, however trifling." He ticked off the names the various amenities hiding behind the hallways and doors. "That's the pool room down there. I find swimming helps me to relax."

He paused at his personal study. "I spend most of my time in here." The walls were lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves. It was a massive collection of texts. Rosalyn wandered in, amazed. "Do you still have your flower?" she asked, gazing up at the tall shelving.

"Yes." He had hoped she would remember.

"Is it in here?"

"Yes."

He watched as Rosalyn browsed through the shelves, hands behind her back. "I can't figure out how this is organized," she said.

"It's not intuitive." Godric chuckled. "They're arranged by time. I remember the order I acquired each. I can scent each book's particularities as well. But most of these are quite new."

She took a step back, as if to better size up just how many volumes were in front of her. The array of languages was dizzying. "So there's no poetry section?"

"No."

"But you did put it in a poetry collection?"

"'A big book of poems' just as madame instructed," he said, savoring her curiosity.

"Do I get any other hints?"

"Nope," he said, popping the p.

"It's going to take me forever to find it."

Godric wrapped his arms around her from behind and set his chin on her shoulder. "I think that very well may be the point."

She craned her neck to see him. "You don't want me to know what you picked?"

"Oh, I do, Rosalyn. I want very badly for you to know which words I thought could even come close to doing justice to your beautiful gift to me." The way he whispered in his soft, smoky voice sent shivers through her.

"Then why the game?"

He paused and looked at her. "To keep you here, of course."

Rosalyn swallowed as a flush of heat coursed through her body. "Show me your room."

"This is my room, " he replied, delighted by their flirtation. "These are all my rooms."

"Your bedroom. I want to see it."

"Of course," he said neutrally. He turned on his heel, hands in his pockets, with a wry smile on his face. This much fun should be illegal. Impossible.

At the end of the hallway, Godric placed his hand on a biometric panel, releasing the door. It was heavier than the Sofitel Hotel's vampire-safe room. Inside, the furniture was modern with simple lines and surfaces. The walls were painted a light grey and the bedding and curtains were all in darker shades of navy and grey. "This space is different," she said.

"How so?" He leaned against the wall, watching her explore his most guarded space.

"It's you. This is much more what I expected."

"Yes," he said simply.

On a low white lacquered rectangular stand, there was a slim stereo bar and a shelf lined with a lengthy row of albums. "May I?" She went to the record player and found the needle in the middle of an album. She turned it on, curious to see what he had been listening to. It was a soft, downtempo melody with hushed, plaintive vocals and a baseline and percussion that beat hard and slow like a pulse.

Rosalyn jumped when suddenly the candle on the table burst alight. The room was flooded with candlelight from tapers and tealights spread throughout. "How did you…?"

Godric flipped off the electric lamp overhead. "The fire gift. Not one I actually like to use."

"Incredible."

He caressed her chin and kissed her cheek. "You merit exceptions." She twined an arm around his neck and swayed to the gentle music.

"Is she singing in the language you and Eric use?"

"This? No. No one knows our dialect of Old Norse anymore. This is in modern Danish."

"What's she telling us?"

"Ah, well. Let's see. She sings that 'From here where we stand, we can see all around us – to all sides. It moves when we leave; it changes all the time.'"

"Why were you listening to this?"

Godric did not answer for a long moment. They rocked slowly, fingers tangled, cheek-to-cheek. "You know why," he said finally. "That night with you. I've wanted that night over and over again. I have nearly infallible recall and yet going back to that memory, it felt further and further away. With you, I somehow understood exactly where I was. The moment you walked away, I couldn't see it anymore. I was feeling about blindly and without warning discovered that I was a man at sea. It was only then that I conceived of how gravely lost I had become."

Rosalyn gave no response; she simply accepted the confession and squeezed him a little harder. "You took the other half of the geode we found." She noticed it sitting on the bedside table the moment she walked into his room.

"I did. Where's yours?"

She hummed a laugh against him. "You'll have to come to Portland to find out."

"Are you inviting me into your home, Rosalyn?" he asked, his tone dropping. The thought was extremely exciting.

"It depends," she teased.

"What shall I do to gain your invitation?"

"You can start by letting me undress you."

Her words were answered with a clatter. Faster than she could see, Godric had taken off his mother of pearl cufflinks and thrown them carelessly to the floor. "Strip me, lover," he said.

Rosalyn's fingers were on his buttons quickly. She peeled his damp shirt off slowly, unwrapping him, revealing his flesh bit by bit, treasuring the anticipation. She ran her hands over every inch of his ink, the markings telling a story about a powerful, ancient man. She followed her caresses with trails of kisses. His nipples hardened under her fingers and his washboard stomach tightened under her touch. She undid his pants and let them drop to the ground. Her mouth found his. "Now me," she said.

Godric's pupils blew wide and his fangs ached to drop. He started with the downy skin he already knew – Rosalyn's bare shoulders, the dips and hollows of her neck and décolletage, the secret place behind her ear. Curious fingers slipped under the edges of her dress. His hands were cool but his touch felt hot, blazing paths of sensation along her skin where his fingertips explored. When he finally pulled the fabric over her shoulders, the heavy beading of her dress made it fall to the floor in a whispering rattle. He took a step backwards and let his eyes roam hungrily over the soft curves of her shapely body. He was panting in shallow gasps.

"Forgive me," he managed to say. "I do not mean to leer. It's just…you are more exquisite than I dreamed."

It was the most flattering compliment she had ever been given – and from an immortal no less. Rosalyn flushed deeply. "You look like you are going to eat me alive."

"I just might," he countered, a wild glint in his eyes. He could not resist his need to touch her any longer. Palms ran over the peaks of her bare, unrestrained breasts, down her belly, over the crescent swell of her backside. He was breathing praises in her ear, relishing each new territory he discovered, rasping his breathy delight in jagged fits and starts.

Rosalyn slipped out of her underwear and tossed them aside. When his hand wandered between her thighs, he reached down to the thin trail of hair on her pubis and he pinched it playfully with a devilish smirk. "I like this." Rosalyn mustered a hum in response. "I like this very much," he said, running his fingertips over the little landing strip that led to the cleft of her sex.

"Mmm, good. I'm glad you don't mind. Going totally bare makes me feel like a little girl, but I try to keep things trimmed."

Godric's hand froze mid-teasing stroke. He furrowed his brow. "I have not prepared myself for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I am fuzzy. What do men do today in this respect? I do not know the customs."

"Don't be silly, Godric. I don't care at all. Au naturel is fine."

"I am giving my body to you, lover. Tell me how you want it."

She pulled him to her and kissed him deeply. "I want you just as you are." Godric was less than convinced. He slipped off his socks and boxer briefs. "I recall being promised that I would get to taste you as soon as we got here. I'm still waiting." Rosalyn dropped to her knees in front of him.

Godric stared at the ceiling, praying for control. After a moment, she had not touched him and he looked down. Rosalyn was frozen in front of him, her expression unintelligible. He tugged at the tight curls crowning his sex. "I knew it. Trim or shave? Some sort of combination?" She shook her head no, wide-eyed. "What then?" Rosalyn could not find words and she waved her hand. He smelled a shock of adrenaline that cut through her arousal and it was alarming.

"Am I not acceptable to you?" he said, visibly upset. He covered himself in embarrassment. She still had not answered him, so he bent down to retrieve his undergarments.

"You…your…I'm sorry. Don't do that." She grabbed his calf and he pulled her to her feet.

"Talk to me," he implored.

Rosalyn gestured at the appendage hanging between his strong legs. "I've never actually seen a cock that big, Godric. I'm just a little in shock. You're going to rip me in half."

Godric laughed in relief. "This? It's just the transformation. We all end up enhanced when we're turned."

"'Enhanced'? That's an understatement. You're not even fully erect." She held up her wrist next to him in comparison.

"The blood often captures aspects of a person's physicality that are active when made. I was maybe twenty? Twenty-something year-old young men haven't changed much, even after two millennia. I liked to run and swim and jerk off." He shrugged. "I can't do anything about my physical appearance now, other than cut my hair and nails. But if you're worried about me hurting you, I promise that I won't. We'll take it slow. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You're in charge."

"It's just been a really long time for me."

"I can guarantee that it has been longer than that for me."

Rosalyn crossed her arms. It hiked her breasts up in an especially alluring way and she had no idea that her defiance made her appear even more enticing. "A year," she guessed. He shook his head. "Two years?" He laughed and led her to the bed. They laid down and curled up side by side.

He settled into the pillow underneath his head. "The last time I had full-on sexual intercourse was before you were born."

"No way," she said, scandalized.

"It is the truth. It was the '70s. We were on roller skates."

"What!"

"Studio 54."

"You haven't had sex in over – what - thirty-five years?"

"I think there were some lap dances and maybe a blow job or two sprinkled in during the '80s, but my memory is a little…distorted. Eric spent a lot of this century in New York learning about investment banking. Every time I visited we would inevitably end up in some club feeding off of Wall Street types with staggering cocaine habits. It always got out of hand."

"You're saying Eric Northman basically had a coke problem and you were both too high to remember the '80s?"

"We can't get addicted, of course, and the effects are very short-lived, but yes, something like that. Amleth and I had to have an intervention before he ran afoul of the King of New York. I got him to move down to Louisiana once we knew the Reveal was going to happen."

"So you're really overdue on quality sexy time."

"I don't think of it like that."

"How then?"

He considered her question. "I'm ready for an intimacy I've never had before."

Rosalyn kissed him, nuzzled his face, and let her hands roam. "I can give that to you. Let me please you." Her hand wrapped around his thick length and he let out a guttural cry. He politely stilled her movement, lest he come right then and there. Rosalyn ran a thumb over the moist tip of him and sucked on the finger. "Mmm."

"Do you like that?"

"Yes. You taste like a man."

"Of course. But then, I am much more than a man." He wound a leg through hers and pulled her flush with his body. The heat radiating off of her warmed him from the inside out.

"My seed is dead. You know this?"

"Yeah."

"Like my saliva, it has mild healing properties. It will help alleviate any discomfort you feel. But, let's try something? I want to make you come without touching you. Will you show me how you flush with orgasm just at the thought of my touch?"

Rosalyn's breath hitched in her throat. In an excited pounce, he perched over her, kissing a trail down her body to her most sensitive places. He spread her legs and tasted the soft, thin skin of her inner thighs, stopping just short of where she wanted his mouth most.

"Oh gods, you smell delicious," he cursed and blinked, unsteady. He stared up at her as he inhaled her, mouth slightly ajar. His tongue darted out and a single bead of her moisture dropped onto it. Godric reeled back onto his knees and his back arched. His stomach grew taut and, eyes closed, he stretched his own legs wider, his cock straining upward. His hands gripped his thighs and without warning, he ejaculated in hard spurts, sending glistening ropes of his pleasure on the bed.

"You cheated," he declared when he finally looked down at her. "It was your turn, not mine."

"Sorry?" she said, laughing. It did not go unnoticed that his erection was still swinging heavily between his knees. He did not need to recover.

"It's fine. Watch me, lover. I'm going to destroy you with nothing." His eyes stared into hers with determination and he resumed his position between her legs. "Spread yourself a little wider. Yes, there. Like that." He blew on her and Rosalyn writhed at the sensation. He did it again, this time harder, creating a vibration in the air with his supernatural abilities. She gasped and grabbed a handful of his hair. "No cheating. I'll hold your thighs if you can't behave," he threatened.

"Don't stop," she cried. He blew again and within a minute she was clenching and moaning in orgasm. She pulled at him desperately to feel his touch, but she could not make him move. A thin sheen of sweat covered her brow. "Again. I want to feel you. Touch me."

"Where?"

"Touch my body. Lick me."

Godric ran two fingers through her slick vulva and immediately had them in his mouth. She reached for his erection but he was too quick.

"You want me to suck on your beautiful pussy, Rosalyn?"

"Yes."

"Tell me, lover."

"Suck me. I'm going to come on your face."

At that, Godric fell on her, kissing and ravishing her with his mouth. His tongue darted into her and he growled, sending vibrations through her pelvis. He lathed her flesh, adoring it, tonguing her swollen clitoris at ungodly speeds, savoring her folds.

"Can I touch you inside?" he asked. His hand hovered at her entrance. Rosalyn was beyond speech and simply bucked against the pressure of his touch. He penetrated her slowly to the last knuckle and he had to look away to maintain control. The rich aroma of her arousal, the sound of her enjoyment – his senses were overwhelmed. The visual field was simply too much. He felt her muscles expand wider, her body opening for him like a blossom, wanting more. "More, Ros?"

She pulled on his hair and gripped his shoulder. That would be 'yes'.

He was gentle with his hand and merciless with his tongue. The pressure built and built and he slowed at exactly the right moments, compounding her pleasure until she was truly desperate. She insisted that he continue. He was rewarded with a rising scream and a set of hard contractions on his three fingers.

Panting, Rosalyn looked down at the vampire between her legs. He was drinking from his own wrist while the other hand still helped her ride out her orgasm. "Are you okay?"

He nodded and released his arm, licking his lips. "Was that alright?"

"Alright?" She raised an eyebrow. "I think I almost blacked out. That was the best orgasm I've ever had. Why didn't you drink from me?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. I'm not ready yet." In reality, he was barely keeping his inner beast caged. Drinking his own blood was a desperate measure against the crashing tide of his need for her. Godric collapsed beside her. "You want me to bite you?"

"Pleasure is a two-way street. Go for it when you're ready."

"Do you want me to heal it?"

"I don't mind. I'd be honored to wear your mark." He smiled, knowing he was hearing echoes of something Eric must have said to her. Regardless, it pleased him immensely that she felt this way. "Now, we're 2 for 1. I'm not comfortable with that number," she said.

"Then tell me how many more orgasms you would like."

"Tit for tat. It's your turn."

"Hmm. Is that so? I'll make you a proposition. I only get to have one when you do. I can do this all night. You're going to get bored."

"'Bored' is hardly the right word. But fair enough."

"Come here, like this." He rearranged her so she was laying sideways on the bed, her head hanging off the edge of the mattress. He stood on the floor in front of her, reaching down over her body, and began pleasuring her. It gave her perfect access to him. Rosalyn wrapped both hands around his gorgeous length. She sucked on him and he braced himself against the bed with a groan. He did not dare move any part of his body save for his hand. She moaned against him, taking him deeper, twisting a talented tongue over his shaft.

Rosalyn was not satisfied. She wanted more. Her hand grabbed his rock-hard backside. He would not move. She slapped his ass once, then again, harder, and he relented, falling forward, so that she could destroy him with her mouth. In short order he felt the tension of ecstasy crest and break and it unfurled through him, pumping down her throat. Her body reciprocated, feeding off his excitement and she squeezed over his hand in another intense orgasm.

They did it again. And again the two lovers sang in a chorus of pleasure.

Each time they switched their positions to gratify each other in different ways with their hands and mouths. Finally, Rosalyn pulled him to her, wrapping her legs around his waist. Godric searched her eyes, making sure he was reading her desires correctly. She tightened her grip on him. "Like this, Rosalyn?"

"Yes. Just go slow."

He hesitated, glancing down between their bodies. "Do you normally come like this?"

"What do you mean?"

"This position is not meant to please a woman. Missionary was invented by men who wanted easy access. Look at your body, darling. It pulls your pleasure center up and out of the way." He pulled her left leg down off his hip and rearranged his knee on the outside of her own. She immediately felt the difference; it pressed her down on him in a rather promising way. He closed in on her, breathing in her neck and running his hands over her curves. And then, trapping her in a deep kiss, Godric slowly pressed himself into her. Rosalyn's nails went straight into his biceps, pressing dents into the blue patterns there.

"You do the moving," he whispered. She rolled her hips up to meet him and his shaft stroked her nub as he penetrated her and she cried out. She repeated the action, with the same effect. Godric rocked slightly, once, twice, and again, and she came undone with only the tip of him in her tight body.

"What the fuck position is that?" she said once she was semi-coherent.

Godric laughed against her forehead. "The star. The French call it 'crushing the praline'." He rolled them over, stretching out on his back like a pleased cat, arms behind his head, his woman straddled on top. "We can try that way again, but I think it's better if you take control this time, Rosalyn. I don't want to hurt you. I think you're more than ready, but if you are sore I can heal you with my blood."

"But a bond…"

"No, just a healing mark – an intimate one, however, and it's really going to tell others I mean business. It's your choice."

She took a measured breath. "You want me to straddle you and ride your big cock, is that it?"

"Oh, yes."

"Say it."

"I want to feel you wrapped around me. I'm going to make you ejaculate all over me. Have you ever felt that?"

"Well, kind of. Maybe?"

"Then that's a 'no'. You will. The gods will hear your screams." He leaned in and scraped his fangs over her throat, tongue stealing a taste of her sweat. "I'm going to make them jealous, goddess."

A stretching burn between her legs quickly melted into oblivion. Rosalyn's hair had tumbled out of its pins and it fell about her as she indulged herself with the body beneath her. Godric was thankful for the modern headboard's row of steel slats. He hung onto them for dear life, doing his absolute best not to flinch or react to the extraordinary sensations coursing through his body. She crashed down on him, taking every last thick inch of his length, pounding away as she touched herself.

Every time she came he gave himself over to her, letting himself release deep into her. They came together multiple times and Rosalyn immediately understood about the magic effects of his semen. It did not just heal. It made her insides feel even hotter, more insatiable. She rubbed the creamy fluid over her clitoris experimentally and that was when things got really interesting. "Stop lying there doing nothing," she said. "Fuck me, Godric! Please!"

Slowly, he unwound his death grip on the headboard and rolled to a sit, letting out a low, purring growl. His eyes were black with predatory desire. He wound an arm about her waist and pumped into her with hard with a single stroke to adjust how she was straddling him. He dropped his fangs fully and bared them, letting her know his intentions. None of them were honorable at present.

He bent her backwards, guiding her by a pull on her hair, supporting her with an iron arm underneath her back, forcing the peaks of her perky breasts into the air. He withdrew himself as slow as possible, wanting her to know him through fleshly memory. In a single, quick motion, he slammed in her. "Yes!" she cried. Godric did it again, just as tantalizingly slow. Rosalyn made an incomprehensible sound. He continued to her work her body and her spine tipped over in a rainbow, exposing her core to him.

"I can feel you, Rosalyn."

"Unh," she responded.

"You're going to explode on me."

"Ehuh," she said, grasping his firm thighs in an attempt to make him fulfill his promise.

"Come with me now, lover," he ordered. He shifted into untraceable speeds, pleasuring her nerves in ways she had not known were possible. He seemed to be everywhere, within her and without her. She felt something building in her that was inexplicable. "Yes," Godric said, as if he could read her mind.

Rosalyn felt herself burst into a panoply of sensations and Godric tumbled down with her into a sacred place of oblivion. A sting hit her neck. The salty, tangy, sweet hit his tongue. And there was only bliss. They were one, together. Pulsing, thrumming, giving, taking.

Whole.

A/N: Godric was listening to Quadron's song "Herfra hvor vi står" [From here where we stand], which is an absolutely beautiful song and the inspiration for how I wrote this entire chapter.