Nine Tenths of the Law
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Requested by dracodew17
Your Request
Bookverse/Showverse: either
Rating: up to NC-17
General Idea/Prompt: Sookie goes with Eric to a vampire king's costumed revel.
3 Specific Things: snarky banter, Sookie being possessive of Eric, and a Greek myth.
Title: Nine Tenths of the Law
Characters: Sookie, Eric, Stan, Stan's Maker (whom I completely fabricated) & a Greek Myth (that I actually researched)
Rating: hard R (that is, there is porny bits, but it's not so explicit that you need a cold shower...it's my first porny fic, so maybe it's NC17ish? You've been warned)
Prompts: Sookie goes with Eric to a vampire king's costumed revel, and including: snarky banter, Sookie being possessive of Eric, and a Greek myth
Summary: There's a coronation on the holy day, and Stan's maker has brought a special guest. History was not my strong point. Most of what I knew about the Greeks came from re-runs of "Hercules" and "Xena."
Goes AU after book the fourth - set at Halloween, following that remarkable January, when he was ordinary, and she was too, and it couldn't possibly have lasted. While he recalls not a day, she has filled in the blanks, and does not keep male company lest in the throes of passion she calls out the name of a barefoot man she rescued on the eve of the New Year.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
"Tell me again, why the togas?" I picked at my filmy white wrap. It really did cover everything, and I was awfully fond of the sandals, but it felt so frat-party that the fantasy effect was lost.
Eric had been in front of the mirror adjusting his laurel for the better part of half an hour. Or so it felt. "Stan's maker is a Grecian. In celebration of his ascension to the throne of Texas, which we are observing on our most holy of days..."
"Okay, stop calling it a holy day," I interrupted him, holding up a hand behind him so he could see it in the mirror.
"It's a holy day to us," he insisted in the same, explanatory tone of voice. I just gave him a look. I may not be a very good Christian, but it wasn't a holy day like I was used to thinking of it. "It is the day the dead rise and the spirits bridge the gap between their world and our own," he said calmly, and turned to look at me. "What about that is sacrilegious to you? I'm a dead man, technically speaking - why wouldn't I give my thanks today?" He raised a querying brow.
He'd been awfully, well, gentle with me lately. He hadn't raised his voice to me, even when we'd argued, not even once since I told him about sex and forever about six months ago. Then last week, he'd sprung the 'Stan's having a party, he wants you there, here's your costume' bit on me, and I told him I couldn't go, and he'd already okayed it with Sam. I voiced my dissatisfaction with his pre-planning, and he didn't get mad at me for raising my voice, simply waited until I ran out of steam and handed me the toga, and said 'you're going'. So this is how I ended up dressed to match him in off-white muslin lined with something satiny that Pam had wrapped me into (she was quite delighted to catch me in my lingerie again, even if it was her job to cover it up - that Pam!), waiting while he adjusted his greenery so we could leave our hotel (yes, our - Stan seemed to be laboring under the misapprehension that Eric and I slept together these days - which we most assuredly did not - he was going to sleep on floor) and join the revelries at Stan's mansion out in Southfork. Because, apparently, what better to say 'hey, this is Texas' than buying up a well-known tourist trap and site of an old television show? I think the only thing that could have made a bigger impact was if Walker Texas Ranger himself was a guest of honor. As it was, there were probably actual Texas Rangers involved in security. Ever since Southfork was closed to the public three months ago when Stan purchased it after selling the previous King's estate (it wasn't for sale, but apparently money can buy you things that aren't), they'd had a bit of trouble with overeager senior citizens wanting some face time with the iconic buildings. Stan was, he mentioned last night over beer and bloods (it was as if we were some sort of 'old gang' reuniting - it would have been great except I was the only un-glamoured human in the place), thinking of organizing the estate so that part of it was still open for tourism. Before he closed it to the public, it was still pulling in a decent amount of revenue, considering the show had been off the air for twenty-odd years.
"Oh for the love of Pete! I don't spend as much time on my hair as you do!" I huffed, crossing my arms.
He just grinned at me in the mirror. "Patience, lover."
My breath hitched just slightly - that word, in his voice, made my insides clench. Not with lust, though it once did, but with a sharp pain that dulled to an ache. He must have noticed something, because his voice was tinged with just a hint of concern - a tone I never would have recognized without the keen memory of our co-habitation.
"Sookie?"
"I'm fine, are you ready to leave yet?"
# # # # #
"Ms. Stackhouse of Bon Temps, Louisiana, escorted by Mr. Eric Northman, Sheriff of Louisiana," the man at the door announced us (I'd never been announced before), and Eric laid my hand on the inside of his elbow like we were walking into a country dance right out of a BBC special.
Stan, dressed in a toga too (though draped differently than Eric's or mine - apparently there was quite a bit of variation), greeted the both of us - Eric with a nod of the head, and me with a light kiss on the cheek. It surprised me, and apparently Eric too, because his hand laid on top of mine at his elbow, and he squeezed it slightly when Stan approached my personal space. I thought of asking him what the hell he was getting tetchy about, but recalled the firm (yet gentle) discussion we had before we disembarked from our plane: follow his lead, don't question him, smile & nod, don't leave his sight, swallow my arguments and my pig-headed sensibilities until we were alone - at which point I was free to let him have it. But with both our safeties in mind, please be very kind as to shut the hell up in the meantime. I about smacked him for that one, but he pointed out that when he wasn't playing nice, he was actually rather dangerous, and did I really want to do that? My answer was, of course, 'yes', but I refrained anyway.
"Niko is around here somewhere," Stan said, turning and allowing his eyes to scan the crowd.
Eric nodded, and Stan made his exit.
"So that's what he's calling himself these days," Eric murmured to himself.
"Hmm?"
"Niko is short for Nikolaus, a fairly common Greek name these days, means 'victory of the people'. But when I knew him, before he made Stan, he was still going by Deimos."
I raised my eyebrow, and he began to walk us around the room, continuing his story. I noticed the majority of the women weren't wearing togas, but rather colorful dresses with empire waistlines and often single-shoulder tied straps - I was a little miffed Eric made me wear this monstrosity that felt like one good tug would leave me in my underwear.
"Deimos was the son of Ares and Aphrodite - a great warrior, beautiful and terrible."
"I can deal with vampires, werewolves, and shifters, but if you try and tell me the Gods on Mount Olympus are..."
We walked, and he tilted his head slightly towards me, between nodding at the other guests. "No, he's not the son of Ares and Aphrodite, but he took the name and became fairly well known as a bloody raider who left no survivors and rarely took prisoners. He was made vampire and continued to lead a small army who only attacked at night. Personally, I think they may all have been vampires, and he killed the ones who weren't good for anything else once Rome came calling and drove them out of the territory," he paused. "For the seventh or sixtieth time," he chuckled to himself, and the joke was lost on me. History was not my strong point. Most (okay, pretty much all) of what I knew about the Greeks came from reruns of Xena and Hercules.
"Eiríkr!"
Eric turned his head, and in the same movement slid his arm around my waist and pulled me to him. I stiffened, still not comfortable with all the touching from "faculties-present" Eric. I was always afraid I'd slip up or something and give myself away. I'd been downright clinical detailing the events of his stay with me, and he disappeared for an entire month, non-communicado; not unusual in general, but it had felt like someone had pulled my taffy just a hair too far, and it was starting to shred. Just being alone with him was enough to unsettle me right now - the arm around my waist was scrambling my brain.
"Niko," he inclined his head.
Nikolaus, formerly Deimos, was a beautiful Mediterranean man - black curly hair that fell past his ears, hazel-green eyes that were bright and clear, beautiful lips and an aquiline nose. He was shorter than Eric, but not by much, and had on his arm a redhead in a toga tied over one shoulder, her opposite arm covered with a gold cuff. Her dress seemed to be dual-layered; white gauzy on top, and a shimmery bronze under layer that was only sort of visible under the white gatherings, but shifted into view when she moved. There was a lovely embroidery of small symbols on her hem, and she was barefoot, her ankles adorned with tiny bronze bells and several of her toes with little bronze rings. While I was taking in her outfit, I felt Eric's arm tighten around my waist and I made to turn and elbow him or at least whisper to stop holding me so tight, until I saw his face.
Eric looked like some combination of wary and slightly frightened with a dash of curiosity. It was an unsettling look on his face.
"Eric!" I hissed, nudging him with my hip, which was touching his own. He shook his head forcefully once, and seemed to struggle to pull his eyes from the redhead. I stared at her and was not impressed. Sure, okay, she was beautiful, with her bright red hair in great waves pulled back from her face and loose curls hanging haphazardly around her ears, her creamy porcelain skin with just the slightest hint of Mediterranean dusk, and her eyes were a dark navy blue with darker rings around the irises - but she looked like she was up to something. She just smiled at me, and I tuned back into Eric's conversation with Niko.
"...about four centuries ago. The name doesn't strike the same fear, even in my home, that I'm used to. Damn Christians."
I just smiled with forced cheer at Niko (regular churchgoer or not, I still felt a little offended at being referred to as a ‘damn Christian’), and he suddenly felt the need to introduce his companion.
"May I introduce my lovely Leucosia," he began, and she nodded at me and then turned to Eric, opening her mouth and simply saying the words 'charmed to make your acquaintance' and I felt a strange dizziness. I shook my head, Eric's arm loosened around my waist, and I stumbled out of his embrace. I heard Niko laugh, and righted myself, now completely bereft of his grasp, and turned to give him a piece of my mind, letting me go so suddenly that I almost fell.
The best word for it was 'enthralled'. Eric looked like he'd been glamoured. His eyes were on her face, and she was murmuring to him, touching his face and speaking words I didn't know, words that sounded like his pillow-talk to me, and that made my blood run just a tad hotter with a bit of the little green monster. I had no idea what she was saying, but she had his full attention. I lightly smacked his arm.
"Hey, earth to Eric, what was that all about?"
He completely ignored me, and Niko let go of her to stand closer to me and whisper in my ear.
"She's a Siren, my most prized child. In life she brought ships of men to the rocks of her island with her song, but in undeath, it is even her spoken words. Her glamour is stronger than even mine, and I'm very, very old," he whispered. "I am immune only because I am her sire. But isn't she lovely?" he asked me, and I felt him try and slide his hand in-between layers of my toga, and leaned my ribs away from him, to give him my best 'back off' look, but he caught my gaze, and I felt the familiar tug of a vampire attempting to glamour me.
"Doesn't work like that, sorry Niko," I said snidely, and stepped away from him. I walked over to whats-her-name and snapped my fingers in her face. She was touching his arm, his face, her fingers ghosting his throat and exposed bits of his chest, drifting to his waist, humming all the while. She smiled at him, and slowly turned her gaze to me.
"Yes?" she asked, and this time I was prepared for the fainter dizziness; I was apparently not as susceptible to her as I’d thought. Take that, Greek ho.
"Hey Siren-lady, this is my vampire, go find your own," I said, and tried to insert myself between Eric and her wandering hands. “Or did you forget you came with that guy,” I nodded my head towards Niko, who was just standing there with a hand covering his smiling mouth. Bastard. I shimmied and twisted my shoulders, separating their bodies with my own with fairly little effort.
She shifted closer to me, and I had to look up at her, which didn't really help my authority. "Our choices are our own," she said cryptically, and shifted her gaze back to Eric, and appeared to ask him a question, humming under and between her words. Choice my behind! She was hypnotizing him! He stepped forward, shoving me just slightly, and I turned and pushed him forcefully back away from her. I stood in front of him again, holding him back; which said to me he wasn't really that enthralled, as he did outweigh me by quite a bit, plus vampire strength.
"Not this time. Mine. Scram," I said, waving my hand in her face with a shooing motion. She didn't seem thrilled with my dismissal.
"He clearly wishes to attend to her," Niko said, invading my personal space again. I leaned into Eric's body, recoiling from the Greek. I wanted out of here, and I wanted out now.
"If he really wanted to, he could knock me out cold," I snapped. "We're leaving. Now, I don't mean to be rude, but could you take your humming man-eater someplace else?"
Niko just laughed. "Come along, my sweet. We shall find you someone else to play with," he said, taking her by the arm. She touched Eric's face one last time and allowed herself to be led away. I turned and put my hands on my hips and stared up at him, scowling.
"Some protector you are," I said, and he shook his head like I had, trying to dislodge her influence. "The minute some pretty lady starts talking sexy-talk to you, you just abandon me to be ravished my some strange Greek dude,” I flung my arm out towards our departed ‘friends’.
I watched his jaw clench, and he turned his face down to mine, his brow furrowed. Then he grabbed my arm, and began to drag me off somewhere.
"Hey! Watch it! Vampire strength!" I pointed out. I was pretty sure his grasp would bruise.
When we stopped, we were in a hallway, and he pulled me to him, grabbed my other arm and lifted me ever so slightly off the floor, and kissed me. I was not in the kissing mood, no matter how good he was at it, and shoved his chest with my curled up fists, causing him to drop me.
"Hey, okay, none of that," I said, shaking my finger at him, slightly breathless and pretty sure my lips were swollen a little bit.
He turned away from me, and then turned back. "That woman...I struggled against her pull, but it was great indeed," he said, shaking his head like he couldn't believe he'd been duped.
"Well Niko said she was a Siren turned into a vamp," I offered, crossing my arms over my chest as I watched him pace a little, very unsettled. I couldn't believe I was the calm, controlled one right now. It was not something I was used to.
"Siren. I should have guessed. It was her words, not her gaze, which pulled at me. She spoke in my mother-tongue, telling me of..." he turned to look at me and suddenly the unease was gone replaced by a cock of his eyebrow and quirk of his mouth that was all too telling. Apparently the slutty redhead had been making promises that got him 'in the mood'. And not for dancing to a Glenn Miller brass band.
"Oh no," I said, backing away, only to back into a wall. "This is not happening, not here, not now, you wipe that look off your face. Even if I ever was in the mood for that, which I'm not," I said quickly as he advanced towards with a predatorily slow gait that was definitely not warming my blood, absolutely no. Not. At all. No. "I'm not going to be okay with making out with you two seconds after I saw you ready to lay out Miss Greek and Gauzy and have your way with her in the middle of the ballroom floor. Not a chance, buddy."
He braced his arms on the wall, barricading me in. He leaned in and ran his nose from that place behind my ear I liked down my neck and over my collarbone. I could feel him smelling me, and it was not helping my traitorously weak knees.
"Did I hear you call me yours?"
"Huh?" Little distracted here.
"You said 'he is mine', did you not?"
Now there were soft kisses, pressed to the curve of my neck.
"Not the...no, not like you're thinking," I tried to focus on things like 'no' and 'not interested in what you're doing right now, no effect whatsoever'. I may have been lying to myself. Probably. Okay, definitely. "I was just, you know, trying to...trying to get her to leave you alone, you know..."
"There are some things I remember, Sookie," he said, and I stiffened. Definitely not ready for this. "I may not remember my... feelings, but I remember how you smell, and,” he nibbled my ear, "I remember the sounds you make when you come."
Well that was downright dirty talk, and I was rapidly moving past 'no' and into 'heck yes'. He seemed to sense the change in my receptivity, and suddenly I was turned and pushed into some sort of alcove in the hallway. Complete with cushion. Oh how convenient. No chance to help me hold my ground. Not with a cushion-seat and a gauzy curtain obstructing us from view. Into voyeuristic practices I was not, but there was no one else in the hallway and there was a curtain. Damn. I was about to get screwed. Yay.
He grabbed me and kissed me, and I didn't shove him away this time. It had been a really long time since I'd been kissed. I had kinda moved from one man to the other and hadn't had a whole lot of downtime since my introduction to such things - the months of February through October had been quite dry, man-wise, other than a few dates here and there, and I won't lie, I'd come to enjoy the regular sex. Betrayed by my own hormones! I would've been more upset if I wasn't simultaneously thrilled.
Next thing I knew, I was straddling his lap, my arms around his neck, getting good and kissed. I missed this. I missed this with him. I had to be honest with myself, it wasn't just the horny hormones. This would not be okay with just anybody. This is why I said goodnight at the door with the last three guys I tried to date (one human, I figured why not try again, and two weres of indeterminate other-form) - I didn't want just sex. I didn't want to just make out with someone in the back of a car. If it was car, I wanted it to be a red Corvette with a cheesy license plate. I wanted it to be Eric.
I felt his hands slide between the layers of my toga, finding the part that lay against my skin, and his fingers lightly skimmed my belly and my thighs. I shifted my hips towards his body and felt my second-favorite body part of his. I pushed my hips into him, and he grunted, biting my lip just a bit. I gripped his hair and kept him kissing me, while the non-wandering hand laid open-palmed against the small of my back, aiding in my grinding. His fingers (I briefly heard my Gran's voice warning me about foreigners with their Roman hands and Russian fingers and let a small giggle escape, but not before it turned into a satisfied whimper) were running around the leg band of my underwear, and I nibbled on his lip to encourage him. It worked, and he slid two fingers under the band, reaching my center and stroking me, making me tilt myself into his hand. It was awkward with my underwear pushed to the side, and it wasn't quite getting the effect I wanted. I let go of his lips (which were just as amazing as I remembered) and backed off his lap. I shimmied out of my underwear, and he leaned back in the curved cushioned seat.
"In a hurry, are we?" His chuckle was husky and his lips looked a little swollen, which made me ridiculously happy. The 'I got my way' grin helped too.
"Yes!" I hissed and grinned back at him, climbing back into his lap, my legs spread across his thighs and got back to the kissing. His hands turned their attention to my breasts, and he unhooked my bra with a snap of his fingers; I had to giggle at his deftness. "Talented," I said.
"Very," he replied, and massaged my ribs and my breasts, making my whole skin tingle. As much as I was totally okay with making out with this man for pretty much the rest of my life (I may make exceptions for food and sleep, but I suspected I might even be persuaded out of those), he had needs too. Again, totally okay with that. My arms unwrapped from his neck and my hands searched for a way into his toga. He chuckled as my frustration grew, and I got slightly more violent trying to find a way in.
"Here," he said quietly, and guided my hand into his robes, where I found what I was looking for. I gripped him and his hips surged upwards, gliding him into my eager fingers. I stroked and squeezed and touched, my other hand now holding the back of his neck to keep him kissing me until he bruised my mouth.
"Sookie," he whispered, and I found the way into my own costume, and oriented him homewards. It may have been almost year since we'd shared this, but it felt so right and perfect in a way that I could swear nothing else ever would. I couldn't concentrate on kissing him, so I leaned my forehead against the curve of his neck, panting and inhaling sharply as he gripped my hips, in total control of our bodies.
"Are you mine?" he ground out the words with an upward motion and I winced, sure he hit my cervix.
"Oh Jesus, oh fuck," I swore and cussed, two of the things I'd never really done until this man doing this to me. I bit down a little on his collarbone, and he tightened his fingers on my hip bones.
"Say it. Say you are mine, Sookie," he said again, and I had no idea how he was making complete sentences right now. He leaned in, curving around my body, and I felt his fangs scrape my neck from ear to shoulder. "You are mine, as I am yours; just let me hear the words."
I bit my lip and held fast onto his arms, just below the shoulder, trying to steady myself, to clear my head to think about what he wanted from me. Whatever, it was just as true now as it was then. I was done with pretending otherwise.
"I am... yours," I got out the words with a ragged squeak and he sank his fangs into that curve of my neck, and wrapped his arms around the middle of my back, pining my arms and holding me tight as he drank from me and started to move faster with a less regular rhythm. He was hitting me just right, sending shocks through my body, and I inhaled, short and sharp, feeling the wave of an orgasm filter through my body, to my fingertips and in my toes. My muscles clenched around him, holding him in me, and he stopped feeding, only to reach his own release, spilling into me with a grunt that made my nipples tingle. As my bones liquefied, I collapsed into him, kissing his throat and shoulder gently as he lapped up the blood on the opposing side of my neck, sealing the wound with his saliva.
"And I am yours," he said quietly, and he hugged my body to his, just holding me. I loved this part, but we had kinda had sex in a hallway alcove, and if we hadn't been caught by now, we were surely going to be caught in a post-coital cuddle.
"We should get back to the party," I pointed out, much against my own wishes for our next move.
"We should go back to our hotel," he said, and I hated that I agreed, but knew we should still mingle a bit more. It was only polite, after all. We had to stay for the ceremony at the close of the evening, Stan's official coronation. I'd never seen a coronation before, and it sounded like it could be cool. Even so, I would much rather have gone back to the hotel. But I was the voice of reason this time.
"We have to stay 'til the ceremony," I said, and his shoulders sagged in defeat. I suspect if he needed to breathe, he would have sighed.
"You are right, lover," he said, and put his hands on my face, bringing me to face him and kissing me gently. "Stan would be most disappointed if we were absent."
Agreement reached, we righted ourselves. I put back on my underwear, and he replaced my hand on his arm and we exited the hallway, back into the ballroom. Seems we were just in time, as the crowd seemed to be moving in a particular direction. We found a place to stand where we could both see the little dais and the wizened old woman with a couple of handmaids seated while Stan stood, waiting with two other vampires. In the shuffle, I was nudged, and I turned to say 'excuse me', only to see the Siren and someone who was not Niko, but who was clearly desirous of her company (thanks to her hypnosis, no doubt). She looked at me and smiled, and I turned and reached up to Eric, covering his ears, as though that would help. She leaned in and whispered in my ear, and the dizziness was even less this time, but I still felt my eyes get a little blurry.
"Marked him, did you?" she said, and leaned back with a grin that didn't seem evil so much as a little bit proud.
"Yes. Mine," I said, leaning into his body, and he curved his body down towards mine, making my reach to cover his ears less of a stretch and sliding his hands around my waist, carefully not even meeting her eyes. I couldn't help but smile back at her, and she winked before guiding her prey off to another vantage point. I lowered my hands from his ears after she was out of sight. He nuzzled my neck and I giggled, because it tickled ever so slightly.
"I love when you call me yours," he said, and I turned to him, sliding my arms up around his neck again. I loved feeling so small and feminine with him. It was stupidly exhilarating.
"Mine," I said, and gave him a close-lipped smack. I repeated the word as the kisses got softer, my voice lowering in volume as the kisses became gentler. "Mine. Mine. Mine," the last was almost a whisper, and I realized that I didn't care about all the things I said I cared about, all the excuses - his politics, his power, his responsibilities. I would later, for sure, whenever they interfered or made life difficult, but right now? Right now I didn't care at all. Right now this was good enough.
Our moment was interrupted by the calling of attention, and I stood with my back to his belly, safe in his embrace, and watched my very first coronation on the vampire high holy day.
FIN
Requested by dracodew17
Your Request
Bookverse/Showverse: either
Rating: up to NC-17
General Idea/Prompt: Sookie goes with Eric to a vampire king's costumed revel.
3 Specific Things: snarky banter, Sookie being possessive of Eric, and a Greek myth.
Title: Nine Tenths of the Law
Characters: Sookie, Eric, Stan, Stan's Maker (whom I completely fabricated) & a Greek Myth (that I actually researched)
Rating: hard R (that is, there is porny bits, but it's not so explicit that you need a cold shower...it's my first porny fic, so maybe it's NC17ish? You've been warned)
Prompts: Sookie goes with Eric to a vampire king's costumed revel, and including: snarky banter, Sookie being possessive of Eric, and a Greek myth
Summary: There's a coronation on the holy day, and Stan's maker has brought a special guest. History was not my strong point. Most of what I knew about the Greeks came from re-runs of "Hercules" and "Xena."
Goes AU after book the fourth - set at Halloween, following that remarkable January, when he was ordinary, and she was too, and it couldn't possibly have lasted. While he recalls not a day, she has filled in the blanks, and does not keep male company lest in the throes of passion she calls out the name of a barefoot man she rescued on the eve of the New Year.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
"Tell me again, why the togas?" I picked at my filmy white wrap. It really did cover everything, and I was awfully fond of the sandals, but it felt so frat-party that the fantasy effect was lost.
Eric had been in front of the mirror adjusting his laurel for the better part of half an hour. Or so it felt. "Stan's maker is a Grecian. In celebration of his ascension to the throne of Texas, which we are observing on our most holy of days..."
"Okay, stop calling it a holy day," I interrupted him, holding up a hand behind him so he could see it in the mirror.
"It's a holy day to us," he insisted in the same, explanatory tone of voice. I just gave him a look. I may not be a very good Christian, but it wasn't a holy day like I was used to thinking of it. "It is the day the dead rise and the spirits bridge the gap between their world and our own," he said calmly, and turned to look at me. "What about that is sacrilegious to you? I'm a dead man, technically speaking - why wouldn't I give my thanks today?" He raised a querying brow.
He'd been awfully, well, gentle with me lately. He hadn't raised his voice to me, even when we'd argued, not even once since I told him about sex and forever about six months ago. Then last week, he'd sprung the 'Stan's having a party, he wants you there, here's your costume' bit on me, and I told him I couldn't go, and he'd already okayed it with Sam. I voiced my dissatisfaction with his pre-planning, and he didn't get mad at me for raising my voice, simply waited until I ran out of steam and handed me the toga, and said 'you're going'. So this is how I ended up dressed to match him in off-white muslin lined with something satiny that Pam had wrapped me into (she was quite delighted to catch me in my lingerie again, even if it was her job to cover it up - that Pam!), waiting while he adjusted his greenery so we could leave our hotel (yes, our - Stan seemed to be laboring under the misapprehension that Eric and I slept together these days - which we most assuredly did not - he was going to sleep on floor) and join the revelries at Stan's mansion out in Southfork. Because, apparently, what better to say 'hey, this is Texas' than buying up a well-known tourist trap and site of an old television show? I think the only thing that could have made a bigger impact was if Walker Texas Ranger himself was a guest of honor. As it was, there were probably actual Texas Rangers involved in security. Ever since Southfork was closed to the public three months ago when Stan purchased it after selling the previous King's estate (it wasn't for sale, but apparently money can buy you things that aren't), they'd had a bit of trouble with overeager senior citizens wanting some face time with the iconic buildings. Stan was, he mentioned last night over beer and bloods (it was as if we were some sort of 'old gang' reuniting - it would have been great except I was the only un-glamoured human in the place), thinking of organizing the estate so that part of it was still open for tourism. Before he closed it to the public, it was still pulling in a decent amount of revenue, considering the show had been off the air for twenty-odd years.
"Oh for the love of Pete! I don't spend as much time on my hair as you do!" I huffed, crossing my arms.
He just grinned at me in the mirror. "Patience, lover."
My breath hitched just slightly - that word, in his voice, made my insides clench. Not with lust, though it once did, but with a sharp pain that dulled to an ache. He must have noticed something, because his voice was tinged with just a hint of concern - a tone I never would have recognized without the keen memory of our co-habitation.
"Sookie?"
"I'm fine, are you ready to leave yet?"
# # # # #
"Ms. Stackhouse of Bon Temps, Louisiana, escorted by Mr. Eric Northman, Sheriff of Louisiana," the man at the door announced us (I'd never been announced before), and Eric laid my hand on the inside of his elbow like we were walking into a country dance right out of a BBC special.
Stan, dressed in a toga too (though draped differently than Eric's or mine - apparently there was quite a bit of variation), greeted the both of us - Eric with a nod of the head, and me with a light kiss on the cheek. It surprised me, and apparently Eric too, because his hand laid on top of mine at his elbow, and he squeezed it slightly when Stan approached my personal space. I thought of asking him what the hell he was getting tetchy about, but recalled the firm (yet gentle) discussion we had before we disembarked from our plane: follow his lead, don't question him, smile & nod, don't leave his sight, swallow my arguments and my pig-headed sensibilities until we were alone - at which point I was free to let him have it. But with both our safeties in mind, please be very kind as to shut the hell up in the meantime. I about smacked him for that one, but he pointed out that when he wasn't playing nice, he was actually rather dangerous, and did I really want to do that? My answer was, of course, 'yes', but I refrained anyway.
"Niko is around here somewhere," Stan said, turning and allowing his eyes to scan the crowd.
Eric nodded, and Stan made his exit.
"So that's what he's calling himself these days," Eric murmured to himself.
"Hmm?"
"Niko is short for Nikolaus, a fairly common Greek name these days, means 'victory of the people'. But when I knew him, before he made Stan, he was still going by Deimos."
I raised my eyebrow, and he began to walk us around the room, continuing his story. I noticed the majority of the women weren't wearing togas, but rather colorful dresses with empire waistlines and often single-shoulder tied straps - I was a little miffed Eric made me wear this monstrosity that felt like one good tug would leave me in my underwear.
"Deimos was the son of Ares and Aphrodite - a great warrior, beautiful and terrible."
"I can deal with vampires, werewolves, and shifters, but if you try and tell me the Gods on Mount Olympus are..."
We walked, and he tilted his head slightly towards me, between nodding at the other guests. "No, he's not the son of Ares and Aphrodite, but he took the name and became fairly well known as a bloody raider who left no survivors and rarely took prisoners. He was made vampire and continued to lead a small army who only attacked at night. Personally, I think they may all have been vampires, and he killed the ones who weren't good for anything else once Rome came calling and drove them out of the territory," he paused. "For the seventh or sixtieth time," he chuckled to himself, and the joke was lost on me. History was not my strong point. Most (okay, pretty much all) of what I knew about the Greeks came from reruns of Xena and Hercules.
"Eiríkr!"
Eric turned his head, and in the same movement slid his arm around my waist and pulled me to him. I stiffened, still not comfortable with all the touching from "faculties-present" Eric. I was always afraid I'd slip up or something and give myself away. I'd been downright clinical detailing the events of his stay with me, and he disappeared for an entire month, non-communicado; not unusual in general, but it had felt like someone had pulled my taffy just a hair too far, and it was starting to shred. Just being alone with him was enough to unsettle me right now - the arm around my waist was scrambling my brain.
"Niko," he inclined his head.
Nikolaus, formerly Deimos, was a beautiful Mediterranean man - black curly hair that fell past his ears, hazel-green eyes that were bright and clear, beautiful lips and an aquiline nose. He was shorter than Eric, but not by much, and had on his arm a redhead in a toga tied over one shoulder, her opposite arm covered with a gold cuff. Her dress seemed to be dual-layered; white gauzy on top, and a shimmery bronze under layer that was only sort of visible under the white gatherings, but shifted into view when she moved. There was a lovely embroidery of small symbols on her hem, and she was barefoot, her ankles adorned with tiny bronze bells and several of her toes with little bronze rings. While I was taking in her outfit, I felt Eric's arm tighten around my waist and I made to turn and elbow him or at least whisper to stop holding me so tight, until I saw his face.
Eric looked like some combination of wary and slightly frightened with a dash of curiosity. It was an unsettling look on his face.
"Eric!" I hissed, nudging him with my hip, which was touching his own. He shook his head forcefully once, and seemed to struggle to pull his eyes from the redhead. I stared at her and was not impressed. Sure, okay, she was beautiful, with her bright red hair in great waves pulled back from her face and loose curls hanging haphazardly around her ears, her creamy porcelain skin with just the slightest hint of Mediterranean dusk, and her eyes were a dark navy blue with darker rings around the irises - but she looked like she was up to something. She just smiled at me, and I tuned back into Eric's conversation with Niko.
"...about four centuries ago. The name doesn't strike the same fear, even in my home, that I'm used to. Damn Christians."
I just smiled with forced cheer at Niko (regular churchgoer or not, I still felt a little offended at being referred to as a ‘damn Christian’), and he suddenly felt the need to introduce his companion.
"May I introduce my lovely Leucosia," he began, and she nodded at me and then turned to Eric, opening her mouth and simply saying the words 'charmed to make your acquaintance' and I felt a strange dizziness. I shook my head, Eric's arm loosened around my waist, and I stumbled out of his embrace. I heard Niko laugh, and righted myself, now completely bereft of his grasp, and turned to give him a piece of my mind, letting me go so suddenly that I almost fell.
The best word for it was 'enthralled'. Eric looked like he'd been glamoured. His eyes were on her face, and she was murmuring to him, touching his face and speaking words I didn't know, words that sounded like his pillow-talk to me, and that made my blood run just a tad hotter with a bit of the little green monster. I had no idea what she was saying, but she had his full attention. I lightly smacked his arm.
"Hey, earth to Eric, what was that all about?"
He completely ignored me, and Niko let go of her to stand closer to me and whisper in my ear.
"She's a Siren, my most prized child. In life she brought ships of men to the rocks of her island with her song, but in undeath, it is even her spoken words. Her glamour is stronger than even mine, and I'm very, very old," he whispered. "I am immune only because I am her sire. But isn't she lovely?" he asked me, and I felt him try and slide his hand in-between layers of my toga, and leaned my ribs away from him, to give him my best 'back off' look, but he caught my gaze, and I felt the familiar tug of a vampire attempting to glamour me.
"Doesn't work like that, sorry Niko," I said snidely, and stepped away from him. I walked over to whats-her-name and snapped my fingers in her face. She was touching his arm, his face, her fingers ghosting his throat and exposed bits of his chest, drifting to his waist, humming all the while. She smiled at him, and slowly turned her gaze to me.
"Yes?" she asked, and this time I was prepared for the fainter dizziness; I was apparently not as susceptible to her as I’d thought. Take that, Greek ho.
"Hey Siren-lady, this is my vampire, go find your own," I said, and tried to insert myself between Eric and her wandering hands. “Or did you forget you came with that guy,” I nodded my head towards Niko, who was just standing there with a hand covering his smiling mouth. Bastard. I shimmied and twisted my shoulders, separating their bodies with my own with fairly little effort.
She shifted closer to me, and I had to look up at her, which didn't really help my authority. "Our choices are our own," she said cryptically, and shifted her gaze back to Eric, and appeared to ask him a question, humming under and between her words. Choice my behind! She was hypnotizing him! He stepped forward, shoving me just slightly, and I turned and pushed him forcefully back away from her. I stood in front of him again, holding him back; which said to me he wasn't really that enthralled, as he did outweigh me by quite a bit, plus vampire strength.
"Not this time. Mine. Scram," I said, waving my hand in her face with a shooing motion. She didn't seem thrilled with my dismissal.
"He clearly wishes to attend to her," Niko said, invading my personal space again. I leaned into Eric's body, recoiling from the Greek. I wanted out of here, and I wanted out now.
"If he really wanted to, he could knock me out cold," I snapped. "We're leaving. Now, I don't mean to be rude, but could you take your humming man-eater someplace else?"
Niko just laughed. "Come along, my sweet. We shall find you someone else to play with," he said, taking her by the arm. She touched Eric's face one last time and allowed herself to be led away. I turned and put my hands on my hips and stared up at him, scowling.
"Some protector you are," I said, and he shook his head like I had, trying to dislodge her influence. "The minute some pretty lady starts talking sexy-talk to you, you just abandon me to be ravished my some strange Greek dude,” I flung my arm out towards our departed ‘friends’.
I watched his jaw clench, and he turned his face down to mine, his brow furrowed. Then he grabbed my arm, and began to drag me off somewhere.
"Hey! Watch it! Vampire strength!" I pointed out. I was pretty sure his grasp would bruise.
When we stopped, we were in a hallway, and he pulled me to him, grabbed my other arm and lifted me ever so slightly off the floor, and kissed me. I was not in the kissing mood, no matter how good he was at it, and shoved his chest with my curled up fists, causing him to drop me.
"Hey, okay, none of that," I said, shaking my finger at him, slightly breathless and pretty sure my lips were swollen a little bit.
He turned away from me, and then turned back. "That woman...I struggled against her pull, but it was great indeed," he said, shaking his head like he couldn't believe he'd been duped.
"Well Niko said she was a Siren turned into a vamp," I offered, crossing my arms over my chest as I watched him pace a little, very unsettled. I couldn't believe I was the calm, controlled one right now. It was not something I was used to.
"Siren. I should have guessed. It was her words, not her gaze, which pulled at me. She spoke in my mother-tongue, telling me of..." he turned to look at me and suddenly the unease was gone replaced by a cock of his eyebrow and quirk of his mouth that was all too telling. Apparently the slutty redhead had been making promises that got him 'in the mood'. And not for dancing to a Glenn Miller brass band.
"Oh no," I said, backing away, only to back into a wall. "This is not happening, not here, not now, you wipe that look off your face. Even if I ever was in the mood for that, which I'm not," I said quickly as he advanced towards with a predatorily slow gait that was definitely not warming my blood, absolutely no. Not. At all. No. "I'm not going to be okay with making out with you two seconds after I saw you ready to lay out Miss Greek and Gauzy and have your way with her in the middle of the ballroom floor. Not a chance, buddy."
He braced his arms on the wall, barricading me in. He leaned in and ran his nose from that place behind my ear I liked down my neck and over my collarbone. I could feel him smelling me, and it was not helping my traitorously weak knees.
"Did I hear you call me yours?"
"Huh?" Little distracted here.
"You said 'he is mine', did you not?"
Now there were soft kisses, pressed to the curve of my neck.
"Not the...no, not like you're thinking," I tried to focus on things like 'no' and 'not interested in what you're doing right now, no effect whatsoever'. I may have been lying to myself. Probably. Okay, definitely. "I was just, you know, trying to...trying to get her to leave you alone, you know..."
"There are some things I remember, Sookie," he said, and I stiffened. Definitely not ready for this. "I may not remember my... feelings, but I remember how you smell, and,” he nibbled my ear, "I remember the sounds you make when you come."
Well that was downright dirty talk, and I was rapidly moving past 'no' and into 'heck yes'. He seemed to sense the change in my receptivity, and suddenly I was turned and pushed into some sort of alcove in the hallway. Complete with cushion. Oh how convenient. No chance to help me hold my ground. Not with a cushion-seat and a gauzy curtain obstructing us from view. Into voyeuristic practices I was not, but there was no one else in the hallway and there was a curtain. Damn. I was about to get screwed. Yay.
He grabbed me and kissed me, and I didn't shove him away this time. It had been a really long time since I'd been kissed. I had kinda moved from one man to the other and hadn't had a whole lot of downtime since my introduction to such things - the months of February through October had been quite dry, man-wise, other than a few dates here and there, and I won't lie, I'd come to enjoy the regular sex. Betrayed by my own hormones! I would've been more upset if I wasn't simultaneously thrilled.
Next thing I knew, I was straddling his lap, my arms around his neck, getting good and kissed. I missed this. I missed this with him. I had to be honest with myself, it wasn't just the horny hormones. This would not be okay with just anybody. This is why I said goodnight at the door with the last three guys I tried to date (one human, I figured why not try again, and two weres of indeterminate other-form) - I didn't want just sex. I didn't want to just make out with someone in the back of a car. If it was car, I wanted it to be a red Corvette with a cheesy license plate. I wanted it to be Eric.
I felt his hands slide between the layers of my toga, finding the part that lay against my skin, and his fingers lightly skimmed my belly and my thighs. I shifted my hips towards his body and felt my second-favorite body part of his. I pushed my hips into him, and he grunted, biting my lip just a bit. I gripped his hair and kept him kissing me, while the non-wandering hand laid open-palmed against the small of my back, aiding in my grinding. His fingers (I briefly heard my Gran's voice warning me about foreigners with their Roman hands and Russian fingers and let a small giggle escape, but not before it turned into a satisfied whimper) were running around the leg band of my underwear, and I nibbled on his lip to encourage him. It worked, and he slid two fingers under the band, reaching my center and stroking me, making me tilt myself into his hand. It was awkward with my underwear pushed to the side, and it wasn't quite getting the effect I wanted. I let go of his lips (which were just as amazing as I remembered) and backed off his lap. I shimmied out of my underwear, and he leaned back in the curved cushioned seat.
"In a hurry, are we?" His chuckle was husky and his lips looked a little swollen, which made me ridiculously happy. The 'I got my way' grin helped too.
"Yes!" I hissed and grinned back at him, climbing back into his lap, my legs spread across his thighs and got back to the kissing. His hands turned their attention to my breasts, and he unhooked my bra with a snap of his fingers; I had to giggle at his deftness. "Talented," I said.
"Very," he replied, and massaged my ribs and my breasts, making my whole skin tingle. As much as I was totally okay with making out with this man for pretty much the rest of my life (I may make exceptions for food and sleep, but I suspected I might even be persuaded out of those), he had needs too. Again, totally okay with that. My arms unwrapped from his neck and my hands searched for a way into his toga. He chuckled as my frustration grew, and I got slightly more violent trying to find a way in.
"Here," he said quietly, and guided my hand into his robes, where I found what I was looking for. I gripped him and his hips surged upwards, gliding him into my eager fingers. I stroked and squeezed and touched, my other hand now holding the back of his neck to keep him kissing me until he bruised my mouth.
"Sookie," he whispered, and I found the way into my own costume, and oriented him homewards. It may have been almost year since we'd shared this, but it felt so right and perfect in a way that I could swear nothing else ever would. I couldn't concentrate on kissing him, so I leaned my forehead against the curve of his neck, panting and inhaling sharply as he gripped my hips, in total control of our bodies.
"Are you mine?" he ground out the words with an upward motion and I winced, sure he hit my cervix.
"Oh Jesus, oh fuck," I swore and cussed, two of the things I'd never really done until this man doing this to me. I bit down a little on his collarbone, and he tightened his fingers on my hip bones.
"Say it. Say you are mine, Sookie," he said again, and I had no idea how he was making complete sentences right now. He leaned in, curving around my body, and I felt his fangs scrape my neck from ear to shoulder. "You are mine, as I am yours; just let me hear the words."
I bit my lip and held fast onto his arms, just below the shoulder, trying to steady myself, to clear my head to think about what he wanted from me. Whatever, it was just as true now as it was then. I was done with pretending otherwise.
"I am... yours," I got out the words with a ragged squeak and he sank his fangs into that curve of my neck, and wrapped his arms around the middle of my back, pining my arms and holding me tight as he drank from me and started to move faster with a less regular rhythm. He was hitting me just right, sending shocks through my body, and I inhaled, short and sharp, feeling the wave of an orgasm filter through my body, to my fingertips and in my toes. My muscles clenched around him, holding him in me, and he stopped feeding, only to reach his own release, spilling into me with a grunt that made my nipples tingle. As my bones liquefied, I collapsed into him, kissing his throat and shoulder gently as he lapped up the blood on the opposing side of my neck, sealing the wound with his saliva.
"And I am yours," he said quietly, and he hugged my body to his, just holding me. I loved this part, but we had kinda had sex in a hallway alcove, and if we hadn't been caught by now, we were surely going to be caught in a post-coital cuddle.
"We should get back to the party," I pointed out, much against my own wishes for our next move.
"We should go back to our hotel," he said, and I hated that I agreed, but knew we should still mingle a bit more. It was only polite, after all. We had to stay for the ceremony at the close of the evening, Stan's official coronation. I'd never seen a coronation before, and it sounded like it could be cool. Even so, I would much rather have gone back to the hotel. But I was the voice of reason this time.
"We have to stay 'til the ceremony," I said, and his shoulders sagged in defeat. I suspect if he needed to breathe, he would have sighed.
"You are right, lover," he said, and put his hands on my face, bringing me to face him and kissing me gently. "Stan would be most disappointed if we were absent."
Agreement reached, we righted ourselves. I put back on my underwear, and he replaced my hand on his arm and we exited the hallway, back into the ballroom. Seems we were just in time, as the crowd seemed to be moving in a particular direction. We found a place to stand where we could both see the little dais and the wizened old woman with a couple of handmaids seated while Stan stood, waiting with two other vampires. In the shuffle, I was nudged, and I turned to say 'excuse me', only to see the Siren and someone who was not Niko, but who was clearly desirous of her company (thanks to her hypnosis, no doubt). She looked at me and smiled, and I turned and reached up to Eric, covering his ears, as though that would help. She leaned in and whispered in my ear, and the dizziness was even less this time, but I still felt my eyes get a little blurry.
"Marked him, did you?" she said, and leaned back with a grin that didn't seem evil so much as a little bit proud.
"Yes. Mine," I said, leaning into his body, and he curved his body down towards mine, making my reach to cover his ears less of a stretch and sliding his hands around my waist, carefully not even meeting her eyes. I couldn't help but smile back at her, and she winked before guiding her prey off to another vantage point. I lowered my hands from his ears after she was out of sight. He nuzzled my neck and I giggled, because it tickled ever so slightly.
"I love when you call me yours," he said, and I turned to him, sliding my arms up around his neck again. I loved feeling so small and feminine with him. It was stupidly exhilarating.
"Mine," I said, and gave him a close-lipped smack. I repeated the word as the kisses got softer, my voice lowering in volume as the kisses became gentler. "Mine. Mine. Mine," the last was almost a whisper, and I realized that I didn't care about all the things I said I cared about, all the excuses - his politics, his power, his responsibilities. I would later, for sure, whenever they interfered or made life difficult, but right now? Right now I didn't care at all. Right now this was good enough.
Our moment was interrupted by the calling of attention, and I stood with my back to his belly, safe in his embrace, and watched my very first coronation on the vampire high holy day.
FIN