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[masterjasper223]

Then and Now - Blood Moon

(Warnings: underage sex, period sex, angst)

Lupin Then

Dating a werewolf wasn't something to romanticise, but that wasn't to say it didn't come with its advantages.

For one, no one had more sympathy for you when you were on your period. Remus knew all too well what it was like to have to deal with something painful month after month, something that many of your classmates were blissfully exempt from, yet would most likely be repulsed to hear about.

In fact, you were acutely aware that Remus had it worse on every score, especially the latter; his "condition" was a very well kept secret at Hogwarts, and his education was only able to continue for as long as it remained as such.

But somehow, you'd never expected him to understand all of it: the cravings, the sudden drop in self esteem, the bursts of emotion- from irritation, to sadness, to feeling suddenly... well, unbelievably horny.

Yet as it turned out, you were wrong.

********************************************

It's Sunday afternoon, and the two of you are studying together in an empty classroom on the sixth floor. Or, rather, that had been the plan, before you'd woken up with the tell-tale discomfort in your lower abdomen.

There's little chance of your being productive today, but you decided to join Remus anyway, vaguely hoping that you'd absorb a few scraps of revision just by being in proximity to him.

But even those prospects are looking grim, as you have yet to summon the energy to open your textbook, and are currently slumped across the desk with your cheek pressed into the faded leather cover.

"Remus... Why do you have to be so handsome?" you sigh, staring vacantly at his profile. Something about the way his brows knit together when he's concentrating is very alluring all of a sudden.

"Terribly sorry for the inconvenience," Remus replies, a little testily. To his credit, he's actually trying to get some work done, and has already filled half of the roll of parchment in front him.

"I want to study," you grumble. "But I got my period this morning."

Remus pauses mid-scrawl, shooting you a sympathetic glance. "Then I really am sorry. But you'll be all right if you skip a day or two- I'll give you a copy of my notes to go over later."

"Thanks, Remus," you say, smiling up at him affectionately.

He clears his throat, and shakes his hair out of his eyes in that twitchy sort of way that tells you he's feeling self-conscious, before starting writing again- but he's barely jotted down two words before his quill stops on the page.

"Hang on. What does my being handsome have to do with anything, then?" he demands, shooting you a sideways glance.

"Because I'm horny," you whine, watching with some satisfaction as a flush creeps up your boyfriend's neck. "But since I'm on my period, we can't... you know..." You walk your fingers up his arm, searching for the right expression. "...play around." You haven't actually had sex yet, but you've gone a bit further than snogging on more than one occasion.

"Why not?" Remus asks, hoarsely. His quill slides from between his fingers and rolls to the side of his notes, where it lies dripping ink, forgotten.

"Because we'd make a mess, of course. Not to mention, I'm in pain." You grimace, massaging your belly under the desk. "And I don't feel very sexy today."

To your surprise, Remus offers you a wry smile and says, "Ah. That sounds familiar."

"Which part?"

"All of it. The pain, I've told you about. But leading up to the full moon, I'm- something of a mess. Less so now than I used to be, but I still can't stand to see myself in the mirror, and I get... cravings."

"Me, too!" you say, sitting up and swivelling around in your chair to face him. "I crave chocolate worse than if I'd been hounded by dementors."

"I crave red meat," Remus admits. "And, er... human contact."

You raise your eyebrows at him. "You mean you get horny, too?"

Remus nods, his cheeks now very pink. "But I wouldn't want to do anything about it," he says, quickly, glancing away. "I can't. I don't trust myself." He shakes his head, as if to clear it, and you're surprised to find that there's a mischievous spark in his eyes when they flick back to yours. "But it's different in your case. Very different."

"How so?" you ask, a little more sharply than you had intended. You can't help but feel that that's rather presumptuous of him.

"Well, for one, this is the safest time of the month for you to have sex," he points out. "And for another, according to- certain sources- it might just be one of the best times."

You understand 'certain sources' to mean the debauched experiences of Sirius Black.

"At the very least, it could provide some temporary relief," Remus continues, crossing and uncrossing his legs with a wince.

"Are you suggesting we...?"

"Well... yes. I mean, only if you want to."

You smirk at him, but a split-second later all of your confidence evaporates. "You wouldn't find it a turn-off?"

"Of course not. I've seen blood before."

"It's not just the blood. I'm..." you trail off, hugging your stomach, reluctant to put too fine a point on it.

"It won't change how sexy I find you," Remus murmurs, gently. "But if you're uncomfortable, we can wait."

You consider for a moment, weighing your options... but with your heart racing, and desire already pooling in your belly, drowning out the pain, it doesn't take you long to make up your mind.

"If you're sure... I mean, I'd like to." You reach across and place your hand on Remus's knee. He stiffens for a moment, swallowing thickly, before laying his fingers over yours and giving them a squeeze. "But where? When?"

Remus glances around the empty classroom. "Not here- we won't be able to relax. There's always the Astronomy Tower, no one goes up there during the day..." He pauses, glancing up at the ceiling. "But I, er, think I can arrange for the boys' dormitory to be empty for a few hours. Tonight, if you like."

"Tonight, then," you agree, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek.

*********************************************

It's not your first time in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, and it won't be your last. As promised, the two of you are alone- which is why you're sitting on the end of Remus's four-poster, with your thighs wrapped around his hips, and his arms wrapped around your back, snogging as if your lives depend upon it.

But when you reach between your bodies to grasp his cock through the fabric of his robes, Remus squeezes your waist and draws back, panting, his lips flushed from kissing you and his eyes bright with desire. "Are you sure?" he asks, eyes flicking between yours. You nod impatiently, tugging at the front of his robes. "Okay," he chuckles. "Just- tell me if you want to stop."

"You, too," you say, sucking in a big breath before crashing your lips against his. But you're not content with snogging anymore. While Remus's hands cup your cheeks, yours begin to wander, raking down his back and chest, squeezing his biceps and hips, before slipping under the hem of his robes.

The second your fingers close around the hard length straining at his boxers, Remus's fingers are on your bare thighs, hitching your own robes up to your hips, as if he's been waiting for permission to touch you all this time.

"Robes- off-" you manage, in between kisses, and you part just long enough to allow Remus to tug your robes over your head, and to help him do the same. A moment later, your bra joins the pile of robes on the floor. Then he stands up- your legs tighten instinctively around his hips- and lays you down on your back on the mattress, supporting himself on his elbows in order to get a good look at you.

"What about the blood?" you ask, breathlessly, plucking at the quilt underneath you.

"That's what scouring charms are for," he says, grinning as he nuzzles your cheek.

Your answering giggle turns into a gasp as his warm hands slide along your bare skin. Remus licks and sucks at your neck as his fingers explore every inch of you, relishing in the little hums and moans you make for him, until he works up the courage to remove the last scraps of fabric separating you from him. Then he begins massaging your inner thigh as he kisses his way down your neck, fingers trembling and blood pounding in his ears.

"Remus... Aren't you forgetting something?" you pout, tugging at the waistband of his boxers, and he chuckles nervously before kicking them off.

But soon all trace of nerves are gone as you start pumping him in your closed fist, and he becomes putty in your hands, weeping precum into your palm, fingers digging into your thighs as he pushes them apart.

"Can I- try something?" he asks, squeezing your wrist with shaking fingers to get you to stop. You nod, releasing him, and lick your lips, wondering what he has in store for you.

Remus takes a moment to admire you again as he settles back on his haunches, before slowly lifting your thighs, spreading them, and positioning himself at your entrance. But instead of sliding in, he begins swirling his tip around your slit.

Fuck, that feels good.

You're so warm and slick that the tip of his cock slips in by mistake, and dips in and out of you without any resistance. You're even more sensitive than usual, and the extra moisture feels so delicious on the head of his cock that within minutes the two of you are twitching spasmodically, on the verge of release. Neither of you is going to last long, but as you watch Remus bite down on his lip, and his Adam's apple bob as he moans low in his throat, suddenly you don't care.

"Remus- please..." Your breath catches- you can't think of anything more to say- and a moment later you've stopped thinking altogether as he fills you for the first time.

It's bliss, pure and simple. Even more so when he begins to move, snapping his hips back and forth, creating delicious, slippery friction. You fit him like a glove, but even though you're tight around him he has to be careful only to pull out halfway, in case he slips out.

You can tell that exercising this control is costing Remus a lot; his brows are knitted together in concentration, as if he's studying a particularly tricky revision question, and sweat is trickling down his naked chest.

He's watching you, too; his eyes flick between your face and the place where your bodies are joined, enraptured at the sight of you beneath him. You can feel him drinking it all in: your spread thighs, your trembling breasts, your flushed cheeks and messy hair...

He groans your name, and that's when you feel a throb- a throb so deep within your core, and so unlike anything you've ever felt, that at first you're not sure if it's coming from him or you. Then you feel a tug behind your navel, not unlike the sensation of using a portkey, followed by a flood of wetness between your thighs as a fresh wave of bliss washes over you. Remus's fingers dig into your skin, and he bucks his hips several times before collapsing on top of you and burrowing his face into your neck.

You lie like that for a long time, just holding each other, revelling in one another's warmth; though you can't help but fidget a little, as slick drips from your slit, and his soft cock, still inside you, begins to firm up again, making your sensitive walls tingle.

You wonder if he'll want to go again- wonder if you could even handle it- but eventually Remus pulls out of you and rolls onto his side, propping his chin on one fist. Gazing down at you through half-lidded eyes, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and whispers, "How do you feel?"

"So good." The ache in your belly is gone, and every last muscle in your body seems to sigh with contentment at your release.

"Well, that answers my next question," Remus chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. "But don't get too comfortable. We'll have to clean up soon."

"Just a bit longer..." you groan, nuzzling your face into his chest. You're already dreading the walk back to your dormitory.

"Of course. I don't mind." He rolls the quilt over you and tucks it under his arm, pressing you more firmly against him. "But- best not stay too long if you want those revision notes. I, er, didn't get much done after our talk earlier."

*******************************************

You're both so spent that neither of you notices the door click shut behind you, or hears the whispered exchange between James and Sirius as they tiptoe down the stairs to the common room.

"Moony, you beast..."

"You owe me ten galleons, Prongs."

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Lupin Now

When you open the door, Remus is more surprised than you- but then, Dumbledore had told you to expect him.

Clearly, Remus had not been so well informed.

His eyes fly wide, and he whispers your name like a prayer- before quickly clearing his throat, as if to erase it. "Er, how are you?" he asks, with all the forced politeness one uses when addressing a total stranger.

"I'm all right, Remus. Or should that be Professor Lupin?" you tease, managing a grin in spite of the ache in your chest.

"Just Remus, now," he says, returning the smile a little stiffly. "My teaching career was rather short-lived, I'm afraid."

Ah. Perhaps you're not as well informed as you'd thought.

"Well, come in," you say, throwing the door wide. "I'll make us a cup of tea, and we can catch up a bit before we get down to business."

You make it halfway down the corridor before you realise Remus isn't following you, and turn to see him framed in the doorway, staring at his feet. Without meeting your gaze, he mutters, "I'm... not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

Remus swings his arms, and inspects the frayed sleeve of his robes, clearly stalling for time. In fact, you get the distinct impression that he's searching for an excuse. Finally, he says, "I'm afraid I'll disappoint you."

"Disappoint me?" you echo. You feel a sharp twist in your stomach, and something hot and prickly claws at your throat. "Disappoint me?" you repeat, louder this time. "After all these years, that's what you say to me?"

He flinches, and his face twists as if he's in pain, but he still doesn't look at you.

That does it.

You storm up to him, yank on his sleeve, and, the second he's over the threshold, shove him against the wall next to the door, which slams shut of its own accord. Remus doesn't fight you- in fact, he barely reacts at all- but he does place a hand on your shoulder, as if he's determined to keep you at arm's length.

It's insulting. You grind your teeth, resisting the urge to draw your wand.

"When you cut me out of your life the second we left Hogwarts, do you think I was disappointed? When you made sure none of my owls could find you, do you think I was disappointed? When you tried to get me kicked out of the Order, do you think I was disappointed? When I had to hear about James, and Lily, and Peter, and Sirius second-hand, do you think I was disappointed? Do you? Because I wasn't disappointed! I was bloody heartbroken!"

Silence hangs in the air between you.

Then Remus looks up, and finally meets your eyes. "I am sorry," he says. He pauses for a moment, as if to let the words sink in, before continuing, "I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was doing what was necessary to protect you. It was a foolish notion. I see that now- and I regret it.

"But at the time, I thought that it was right, and that that fact alone justified the pain I was causing you. It was selfish of me. I told myself I was sacrificing my happiness for your safety, when in reality, I was sacrificing your happiness for my peace of mind." He gently squeezes your shoulder, and tries to extract himself from your grip. "I have no intention of asking for your forgiveness. The fact that I tried to avoid this conversation proves that I am a coward. Once we've concluded our business here, I'll make sure you never have to hear from me ag--"

You push him back against the wall, cutting him off. His arms fall limply to his sides.

"I can't believe you. You're about to make the same mistake all over again!"

Still holding your gaze, Remus takes a deep breath and slowly shakes his head. "This is diff--"

"No, it isn't! You're making it seem like you're doing this for me, but this isn't what I want! I've never..." Suddenly, a terrible thought occurs to you, and your fingers curl reflexively into the front of his robes. "Unless... it's what you want?"

He hesitates for only a fraction of a second before answering. "It is."

The words pierce your heart like shards of ice- but you have to be sure. Swallowing thickly, your eyes desperately searching his, you force your numb lips to form the question. "You... don't want to be with me... like we used to... anymore?"

Remus stiffens, and you could swear you feel his pulse skip under your fingers. But his reply is as cold as it is resolute. "No."

"I... I see."

Your heart drops like a stone in your chest. You're not sure if he's being honest with you, but you decide that it doesn't matter anymore. If this is how he wants it, then so be it. You've made up your mind, as well- on two counts.

The first, you retrieve from its clever hiding place in your kitchen. It's a delicate charm bracelet, from which dangle three tiny phials, each brimming with a pearly substance that is neither gas nor liquid. You grab Remus's hand, still hanging limply by his side, and coil it into his palm.

"This is everything I can tell you about the Department of Mysteries. I hope it helps."

Now your Order business is concluded.

As for the second count...

You wait until Remus has tucked the phials safely into his briefcase. Then you splay a hand on his stomach, and spear him with a look so intense that you feel him freeze up under your fingertips.

"When was your last time?"

It takes Remus half a second to catch your meaning. When it dawns on him, his mouth forms a small 'o', and at length he replies, so quietly that you have to read the words off of his lips to make them out, "Seventh year. Right before the end-of-term feast."

Your answer exactly.

So, he hasn't had anyone since you, either. Which means- if your memory of his libido is anything to go by- Remus must be as touch-starved as you are.

"Spend the night."

To your surprise, he places a hand over the one splayed on his stomach. You lace your fingers with his, and he doesn't pull away.

"Please."

But then Remus laughs bitterly and shakes his head. "I cant. Tonight's the full moon." He cups your cheek with his free hand, and his thumb strokes the fullness of your lower lip. "I'll have to lock myself away."

You sigh and lean into his touch, wishing you could be there for him, that he didn't have to go through it alone. But you know he wouldn't want you to see him in that form. So instead of offering, you ask, "Do you have the potion with you?"

He answers with a curt nod. You can't help but notice that his hands still haven't left you.

He wants you.

No, scratch that- he needs you. You can see it in his eyes. Try as he might to hide it, you know that look all too well.

But you also know that he doesn't trust himself enough to be close to anyone right before the full moon. You never did make love during the week leading up to the transformation; he was always careful to put some distance between the two of you, and you respected that distance, knowing that he would close the gap the moment the lunar cycle began anew.

The question is, what will Remus say now? He's already denied himself the chance to be with you. Will he really deny himself this, as well?

You lick your lips, deciding to make this your final push. You've made up your mind- it's time for him to make up his.

"It's still early. You could stay until you need to take it, then disapparate. Or... we could make it quick."

He hesitates. The fingers laced with yours spasm, as if he's on the verge of pulling them away- but his other hand betrays him, thumb gently tugging on your lower lip.

"Do you still remember our first time?" you ask, before you can stop yourself.

"Of course," Remus says, a little too quickly. A flush creeps up his neck, and he clears his throat before continuing. "We were... rather irresponsible." He swallows, and his eyes briefly dart down to your mouth, before flicking back up to meet your gaze. "I suppose nothing's changed."

And, without giving you a chance to process this, he crashes his lips to yours.

There's no preamble, no more hesitation. Your tongues dance, and your fingers waste no time in getting reacquainted with every inch of skin they can reach; seeking out the similarities, and revelling in the changes.

This Remus isn't all that different from the one in your memory, except for his features,(he's aged quite a bit), and the fact that he's a little underweight for his stature. He also has more scars than you remember, more lean muscle, too; and he's bigger, in more ways than one.

You've probably changed more than he has, and you feel his calloused palms and fingers appreciate every last detail, everything that you are- everything that you've become in his absence.

Remus is the first to strip, kicking off his shoes and breaking the kiss just long enough to tear off his robes. Yours come off next, and any remaining scraps of fabric are left in place, to be pulled roughly aside whenever they get in the way.

You throw your arms around his neck, and he picks you up at the waist, spinning you around to press your back against the wall. Squeezing his hips with your thighs, you reach in between your bodies to grip his cock, pulling back just enough to be able to watch his expression as you touch him. Remus's eyes are dark with lust, his breathing ragged- you've never seen such a look of intense desire.

And it's all for you.

Biting your lip, you rub the head of his cock around your slit. He's painfully hard, leaking precum onto your palm. It feels so good- even better than you remember. You could come for him, just like this.

But Remus groans and clutches your wrist. "Mmph. Best stop that- if you want me to last."

So you lean up and brush your nose against his, nibbling on his lower lip and teasing his tongue with yours as you slowly fill yourself up with his cock. You're dripping wet for him, so it doesn't hurt, and any twinge of discomfort is quickly drowned out by the pleasure of being stretched.

It starts off slow, as Remus matches every thrust with a sweet kiss, a sweet caress- but it's not long before you find yourself bouncing up and down on his cock.

He fucks you senseless, and you ride him for all you're worth. It's like you're venting your frustrations together- or maybe on each other. But there's no anger or hatred between the two of you; just understanding. Longing. Need. Years and years of it, pent-up and begging for release.

It's delicious. Intoxicating. He fills you to the brim, rubbing places your fingers could never reach. You come quickly- too quickly- but Remus holds himself back, gently rocking his hips as he kisses you down from your high.

Then he carries you into your bedroom, (the door standing open on your right), and lays you down on the bed. For a heartbeat, you think it's over- that he's just going to leave you there. But then he settles himself on the floor between your legs, tugs your ankles over his shoulders, and buries his face between your thighs.

"Remus- fuck-"

Remus has always been good with his mouth. He's so eager to taste you- so eager to devour you. He kisses your slit, open-mouthed, no differently to how he claimed your lips; spreading your folds with his tongue and swirling it inside you, sucking on your clit...You run your fingers through his hair, digging your nails into his scalp, torn between holding his head in place and pulling it away. The pleasure is almost too much to bear, and your thighs are shuddering uncontrollably.

Then, just when you think you can't handle it anymore, Remus stands up, rests one knee on the edge of the bed, and slides his cock back inside you.

Your breath hisses through your teeth, but the pain soon fades as he picks up the pace, rubbing your clit and rolling his hips with every thrust.

Finally, you feel a gush of warmth, and Remus judders to a stop, his eyes boring into yours as he groans your name. That's all it takes for you to come undone a second time, and you're still twitching in pleasure as he slumps forward onto your chest.

You wrap your arms around him, eyes fluttering closed. It almost feels like you could be back in the boy's dormitory in Gryffindor tower, taking advantage of your alone time in his four-poster.

"I've missed you." The words spill from your lips before you can hold them back, but you instantly regret them as Remus freezes up again.

"I..." There's so much he wishes he could say, but to do so would mean going back on everything he's said, and undoing the choice he made all those years ago. The choice he reaffirmed the instant you answered the door.

So Remus swallows the words he was going to say, and replaces them with, "I have to go."

Even though you knew this was coming, it still hurts. You pull your arms away from him and roll onto your side, hugging yourself instead. Then, without looking at him, you tilt your head in the direction of the front door. "Lock it behind you for me, will you?"

Remus nods and pulls himself to his feet. He ducks out of the room, dresses quickly and cleans himself up with a wave of his wand. Then he comes back in and gently covers you with your duvet.

"Take care," he murmurs, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"You, too."

You hear the front door close, and a faint rap on the wood as Remus taps it with his wand, followed by the sound of the lock sliding into place of its own accord.

Then there's a loud crack, and just like that, he's gone.

[masterjasper223]

Prove It

(Warnings: underage sex, dom/sub undertones)

You creep into the Hospital Wing, over to the only occupied bed. You don't need to light your wand; the room is flooded with moonlight. Draco is asleep, but starts awake the moment you press your fingers to his cheek.

"What are you doing here?" he hisses, glancing at the door to Madam Pomfrey's office.

You sit down on the edge of the bed, wincing as it creaks. "I was so scared, when I heard. She wouldn't let me see you--"

"Well, I'm fine," Draco replies, gruffly, pulling the blankets up over his stomach and avoiding your gaze. "I'll be out in a few days."

You glance at his still-exposed chest, and your brow creases with concern at the number of bandages. There are even some on his forearms. "Potter did this, didn't he?" you whisper, gently tracing the white scars criss-crossing his flesh in between the gauze. Draco watches your fingers with an unreadable expression, and inclines his head, yes, when you glance at him, seeking an answer.

"But I'm fine," he reiterates, gently but firmly pushing your hand away. "Really."

You don't miss the little grimace he makes as your fingers pull back from his skin, as if he's in pain, and on a whim you decide to call his bluff.

"Prove it."

"What?"

"If you're really fine, then prove it."

Draco scowls, and shoots you a pointed look, but you shake your head and jump to your feet.

"I'm so sick of your lies, Draco. You're not fine, you haven't been fine all year! Something's changed, and you're not telling me. I--"

Draco sits up, tugs on the front of your robes and presses a hand to your lips, effectively shutting you up. "Quiet. Do you want Pomfrey to come in here?" he hisses, jerking his head at the door to her office. "If you promise to stop talking, then fine- I'll prove it."

Your eyes widen as that familiar cocky smirk twists the corner of his mouth, and with a jolt you realise it's the first time you've seen it since you got off the train, several months ago.

"So?" Draco presses, pushing his hand more firmly against your lips. "Do you promise, or not?"

You try to pull his hand away so you can speak, but his grip is like a vice and your futile efforts only earn you another smirk. You even try licking his palm to get him to remove his hand, but he just raises his eyebrows at you. Finally, exasperated, you nod your head.

"Good."

Draco releases your mouth, and makes a show of getting comfortable, arranging the pillows to support his back.

"Since you're here, why don't you fluff my pillows for me?" he says, haughtily, once you've caught your breath.

You roll your eyes as you comply, wondering what exactly he has in mind, because this certainly isn't proof of anything- although it is reminiscent of the domineering Draco you're used to hanging around, who has been conspicuously absent this year.

As for what he has in mind, you don't have to wait long to find out.

Draco pats his thigh, and you realise that the blanket has settled around his hips, leaving his torso bare- and not a great deal to the imagination.

"Come here. Sit."

You open your mouth to protest, but Draco preemptively raises a finger to silence you.

"You promised, remember?"

You gape at him for a moment, but decide that it can't hurt to do as he says. You've sat on his lap before, after all, at student parties you were invited to and whatnot- platonically, of course. You've always been very comfortable around each other, having been friends since childhood, before Hogwarts. This isn't all that different- not really.

So when you take a seat on his thighs, side-on, quietly hoping that you're not too heavy for him, Draco's reaction takes you by surprise.

"Not like that," he huffs, shamelessly adjusting himself through the blanket. "Face me."

Face him? Straddle him?

You frown, and a slight flush creeps up your neck- you get the distinct impression he's not wearing anything under the blanket- but you do as you are bid, straddling him just above the knees, and look at him expectantly.

Draco slicks back his hair and shakes his head, looking a little exasperated.

"Closer," he murmurs, patting his thigh, right next to the spot he adjusted just a moment ago. "Don't worry, _________. I won't bite... much."

He smirks and you scowl, now convinced that he is fucking with you- but this is what you've been missing all these months. The light-hearted banter, the teasing, the camaraderie- the closeness.

So you shuffle forwards, and plant yourself exactly where he indicated.

"Good girl," he breathes, and the words would have been much more delicious if not for that shit-eating grin. "Now..." He jerks his head at the empty goblet and pitcher of water on his bedside. "Pour me a drink."

You give him a look, and move to get off of him- it would be rather awkward and difficult to pour a drink from here- but Draco grabs your shoulder and holds you in place. "I didn't say you could get up."

Swallowing a huff of frustration, you lean forwards and sideways, stretching out your hands. You manage to avoid pressing your chest against Draco's, but there's no escaping the fact that you're now putting your full weight on his lap.

And it only takes a moment before you begin to feel... something.

Something stirring between your thighs- something that isn't you.

You're pretty sure your cheeks are on fire, but you decide not to address it, instead focusing on pouring the water without dropping the pitcher.

Of course, it's a little hard to concentrate when that something is getting bigger and firmer by the second, but you manage to right yourself with the goblet in hand and not a drop spilled.

"Thank you," says Draco, taking the goblet from you without a trace of bashfulness. He drinks deeply- it seems he was actually thirsty- and when only a mouthful remains, he offers it to you. You shake your head, but he presses it to your lips anyway and whispers, "Drink."

You roll your eyes, thinking that he's just on a power trip at this point, but you obediently swallow the remaining gulp, and lean forward to place the goblet back on the bedside.

"Do you believe me yet?" he asks, when you straighten up again, pale grey eyes flicking between yours. "We're all stressed this year, with N.E.W.T.s coming up. And with Father in- I mean, you know what he's like. I can't- I can't afford to fail."

This last sentence sounds heavier than it should, but it makes perfect sense. You know all too well what Lucius Malfoy is like, and even though he's currently in Azkaban, (a subject the two of you rigorously avoid), you can only imagine what he would say if he found out his son had come home with anything less than an O or an E.

So why aren't you convinced?

You're not sure, but you decide to be honest, and slowly shake your head, 'no'.

Draco slicks his hair back again, regarding you through half-lidded eyes- then suddenly he's smirking, naturally and easily, all trace of bitterness gone, as if he's really, truly enjoying himself.

"Have it your way, then," he chuckles, leaning forward slightly, so that his warm breath fans over your face. Then he pauses, tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, and beckons to you until you lean in close enough for him to press his lips against the shell of your ear, as if he's sharing a secret.

"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to keep your mouth shut- not a word, not a sound- and I'm going to fuck you, like this-" he rolls his hips demonstratively, "-until you pass out, right here, in this bed. If that doesn't convince you that I'm fine, nothing will."

You swallow thickly as Draco draws back, cocky smirk firmly in place.

"Oh, and if you want to continue, pull your robes up," he adds, settling himself against the pillows and folding his arms behind his head. "They'll just get in the way."

You glance over your shoulder at the door to the matron's room. Even if you were horny and impulsive enough to take him up on his offer, there's no way you won't get caught.

But Draco's one step ahead of you. He pulls out his wand and flicks it at the door, muttering, "Muffliato," then again at the nearest privacy screen, causing it to unfold around the bed of its own accord.

Biting down on your lip, you decide to throw caution to the wind, and draw your robes up around your hips, revealing your panties.

"Good girl," Draco praises, flicking his wand at your crotch. Your panties fall away as if cut by invisible scissors, and he stuffs them in your pocket. "Now, lift that pretty arse a moment- that's it..."

Setting his wand aside, and with one arm still folded behind his head, Draco lazily tugs the covers down his body until his cock springs free. He begins to stroke himself with practised ease, thumb swirling the tip, curled fingers providing just the right amount of pressure...

"Touch yourself," he murmurs, smirking knowingly as you bite your lip, swallowing a moan as you watch his fingers at work. "And do a good job, because I'm not going to touch you until you're dripping wet."

Suppressing a whimper, you start rubbing your clit, letting your eyes rove over every inch of Draco you can see, and watching him pump his cock, until you're wet enough to dip two fingers inside yourself and use your own slick to lubricate your slit.

"Keep going," Draco growls, panting slightly as he watches you right back. "I want to be able to see how wet you are for me- but don't you dare come until I make you."

You bite down harder on your lip. It's getting harder and harder to stay in control, because you're now having to suppress two things: your voice, and an imminent orgasm.

You're not sure how long you've been touching yourself when you feel a drop of moisture trickle down your trembling inner thigh, and Draco swears under his breath, releasing his cock in favour of tracing your slit with his finger. It comes away soaked, and the extra stimulation is nearly enough to make you come undone on the spot.

He licks his finger clean with a sinful swirl of his tongue, then grips the base of his cock and lines up the tip with your entrance, rubbing it teasingly against your folds until he feels your nails pinch his forearm in warning.

"Ow..." He glances up at you, and the self-satisfied smirk slips, as if he's suddenly unsure of himself. "Do you want to stop?"

You pinch him again, and frantically shake your head, 'no'.

"Ow!" He swats playfully at your arse in retaliation. "Okay, okay. No more pinching."

Then he mumbles something you don't quite catch, that sounds like, 'I just don't want to hurt you', or maybe 'I don't want to hurt you, too'- you're not sure which- but a half-second later you've forgotten all about it as he begins guiding you down on his cock.

It's too much and too good all at once, and you come for him, there and then, before he's even a third of the way inside you. Draco presses his palm over your lips and bites down on his own, hips bucking involuntarily as your walls flutter around his sensitive tip.

He waits as long as he can stand before he starts moving again, pushing his cock deeper and deeper until he's all the way in, filling you completely, and leaving you a trembling, incoherent mess.

That's when he starts rolling his hips, as promised, releasing your mouth in favour of sliding his hands under your robes to grip the bare skin of your waist, biceps flexing as he moves you up and down over his cock.

When you come for him again, he crashes his lips against yours, kissing you like a man half-starved. And all the while, he doesn't stop moving; rolling his hips, swirling his cock around inside of you, so that you're practically coming for him non-stop. He swallows every last one of your moans, occasionally swatting at your arse when you get too loud, and you begin to think you really will pass out until--

"Fuck, ________. Fuck, fuck, fuck--"

You feel a gush of warmth, and Draco's slender fingers digging into your skin. Then he tugs you against his chest and buries his face in your neck, rocking slowly back and forth as he rides out his orgasm.

*****************************************

It's a few moments before you realise Draco is speaking to you. You must have passed out after all- or maybe you just fell asleep.

He's leaning back against the pillows, and you're slumped forward on his chest, head tucked under his chin. You can feel one of his hands tangled in your hair, idly curling a strand around his finger, while the other rests on your lower back, on the outside of your robes.

"Did you hear me? You can talk now," he murmurs. "But so help me, if you're not satisfied--"

You glance up with a start as it all comes rushing back to you, and you frantically search his chest for spots of blood. What if he overexerted himself- reopened his wounds?

He doesn't seem to have, thank goodness- maybe he was actually being honest about his condition- but you're still not sure what to say. Are you satisfied?

Satisfied sexually? Oh, yes.

Satisfied that he's in good physical shape? Certainly.

But satisfied that he's okay mentally? You're not sure.

While he is acting more like himself right now, could all of his odd behaviour really be put down to exam stress? (And the stress of his father being in prison?)

When the silence has dragged on for some time, Draco tugs at your hair and asks, "What? Lost your voice?" Then, more seriously, "Was I your first?"

You nod, matter-of-factly, (you've snogged a few people in your year, but haven't gone much further, until tonight), and don't miss the self-satisfied little smirk that twitches the corner of Draco's mouth.

He slicks back his hair again, watching you, searching your gaze. The mask is back in place, his expression nigh inscrutable, but for just a moment, his eyes are tender.

Then he pats you on the back, urging you off of him.

"You should go," he mutters, jerking his head in the direction of the matron's office. "Just in case."

You nod, but don't move, still debating with yourself over what you want to say.

Draco is not pleased.

"Not satisfied, then?" he snaps. "That wasn't proof enough for you?" The hand still tangled in your hair tightens its grip, and you feel his hot breath fan over your face as he leans in, as if he's about to kiss you. Instead, he nudges your face aside with his cheek and hisses in your ear, "Then next time, I'll prove it to you in my bed- except you'll be the one lying down naked."

You shiver. "Draco..."

"Ah, she finally says something," he gloats, drawing back to smirk at you. "And wouldn't you know it, it's my name."

You hesitate, but finally decide not to push. Whatever's going on with him, maybe he'll talk about it when he's ready. After all, you've yet to talk about his father- and that could be all it is. It's certainly traumatic enough.

Instead, you ask, "Are we... together, now?"

Draco glances down at his bandaged left wrist, lying on the blankets between you, and your heart sinks a little when you notice his smile falter. "Is that what you want?"

You consider for a moment- just a moment- thinking back on the entire sum of your friendship; the summers spent together at Malfoy Manor, hanging out in his room; playing Truth or Dare and other silly games on the Hogwarts Express; the study dates after lessons around the end-of-year exams, quizzing each other on all you've learned; the teasing, the flirting, the pranking- the secret smiles...

You can't imagine yourself with anyone else.

"Yes," you say, hesitating for only a fraction of a second before placing your hands on his chest. "I mean... don't you... want to be with me?"

Draco lifts his chin, meeting your gaze, and you bite down on your lip, wishing you could read his expression. He's gotten better at hiding his emotions over the years- too good, you think.

He stares at you for what feels like an age before a soft smile steals over his lips. You think it looks a little sad, maybe even wistful- yet, strangely, you can feel his heart racing a mile a minute under your fingertips.

"Yes, I do. There's no one else," he replies, simply.

Then he takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and you suddenly get the feeling that he's vulnerable right now- and very, very scared.

"But let's keep it a secret- just for this year, till we get our N.E.W.T.s. If I get anything less than an E, and Father finds out I've been distracted..." He runs his hands teasingly up your thighs.

"Sure," you shrug, trying to ignore the unease clawing at your stomach. "As you've seen, I'm pretty good at keeping my mouth shut."

Draco chuckles at that, and his shoulders sag imperceptibly with relief.

You go to slide off his lap, but he grabs your robes, holding you in place. "Not so fast. How about a goodnight kiss?"

You're only too happy to oblige him.

You lean forward, and he meets you halfway, cupping your face between his hands, pale grey gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips and back again before he presses his mouth to yours.

The kiss is slow and deliberate, all lips and no tongue, and you get the feeling that Draco's trying to tell you something, without words- until abruptly he pulls away, leaving you wanting more.

His lips twitch in a knowing smirk at the needy look in your eyes, and you poke your tongue out at him before sliding off the bed.

While you straighten your robes, Draco again makes a show of getting comfy; stretching out on his back, rearranging his pillows and pulling the blankets up under his arms.

"Night," you whisper.

But as you turn to slip through the privacy screen, Draco delays you yet again. He grabs your fingers and laces them briefly through his own, giving them a squeeze. "Goodnight, ________."

He releases you after that- but his eyes follow you through the gap in the screen all the way to the door, and when you turn on the threshold to glance back at him, he winks at you and mouths, 'I'll dream of you tonight.'

[masterjasper223]

Oh Really?

{Characters Catching You Reading Fanfiction About Other Characters}

You're lying in bed, browsing fanfiction on your phone. It's not something you normally do anymore- between dream Eric and real-life Eric, you're pretty much permanently overstimulated- but Eric's been away on business for a few weeks now, and his dream self stopped visiting you a couple of days ago.

As a result, you're now having trouble sleeping.

But you've got work tomorrow; you just want to come and sleep, like a business transaction. So you scroll through your favourite site until you find a particularly juicy reader-insert fanfic with... huh. Draco Malfoy. Something about it tickles your fancy, and you rub your clit in fast circles as you begin to read.

"Have it your way, then," he chuckles, leaning forward slightly, so that his warm breath fans over your face. "Here's what I have in mind. You're going to keep your mouth shut- not a word, not a sound- and I'm going to fuck you, like this-" he rolls his hips demonstratively, "- until you pass out."

You swallow thickly as Draco draws back, cocky smirk firmly in place.

"Oh, and if you want to continue, _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _, pull your robes up," he adds, settling himself against the pillows and folding his arms behind his head. "They'll just get in the way."

You glance over your shoulder at the door to the matron's room. Even if you were horny and impulsive enough to take him up on his offer, there's no way you won't get caught. But Draco's one step ahead of you. He pulls out his wand, and--

"'He pulls out his wand?' Is that a metaphor?"

Your heart leaps into your throat, and in your panic you practically throw your phone across the room.

Eric catches it easily, and the moment you realise it's him, your panic dissolves into a messy tangle of resentment and yearning.

Of all the timing...

But actually...

The blond vampire is standing by your bedside, drinking in your present state with undisguised amusement. His eyes rove over your flushed skin- what he can see of it, anyway- before returning to the device now in his hand.

"Warnings: underage sex, creampie, dom/sub..." He reads aloud, and you bury your face in your hands, mortified. "Is this what you're into, _ _ _ _ _ _ _?"

You shake your head, mumbling 'no' into your palms.

Suddenly, you feel cold fingers on your knees, spreading them apart, and peek between your fingers to see Eric bending over you. Holding your gaze, he slips two, thick fingers between your thighs and teases your wet slit, before holding them up to you, coated in your slick, cocking his head to the side as if to say, 'Oh really?'

You respond by hiding your face in your hands again.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," he chuckles, and you peek at him again, catching him in the act of licking his fingers clean, sliding his two fingers into his mouth and sucking on them. Noticing your gaze, he flashes you a wink, and wipes his fingers only your bedsheet. "If this-" he shakes your phone, still in his hand, "-is how you intend to pleasure yourself tonight, be my guest."

There is a significant pause, but Eric doesn't return your phone to you, and he lets the silence drag on a few moments more before he drops his fangs and adds, "But I have a better idea."

****************************************

That 'better idea' turns out to be you bent over a table with Eric fucking you senseless from behind, reading the fic aloud to you all the while. You notice that he skips over the "boring bits" (basically anything non-explicit), that he knows to say your name in place of the dotted line without asking, and that he spanks you every time the "you" in the fic moans Draco's name- which, while intensely pleasurable, you think is pretty unfair, given that the real you is babbling Eric's name non-stop.

Suffice to say, you sleep very deeply that night- though you don't get much rest.

[masterjasper223]

Bite Me

{Characters Catching You Reading Fanfiction About Other Characters}

(Warnings: fingering)

"What do you want, (Y/N)?"

"I..." You slide your hands down Eric's chest, stopping millimetres above his belt buckle. "I want to know what it feels like."

"Oh?" The word rumbles through him like a growl, and you glance up to see Eric staring down at you with half-lidded eyes. "And what is 'it'?"

"Well... I've never been bitten before."

"That's easily arranged," Eric replies, dropping his fangs with a deliberate click. You gasp, but curiosity wins out over caution, and you find yourself standing on tiptoes to trace the curve of each canine in turn.

In an instant, Eric's pupils are fully blown, hunger plain in his gaze as he watches your every movement. 'He hasn't had real blood in days,' you remind yourself. 'I shouldn't be doing this. I've got to be--'

But it's too late.

His fangs are sharper than you had expected- much sharper- and before you've even finished your thought, you prick your finger and everything changes.

Oh shit.

You're on your back on your dining room table, legs spread, Eric's fangs buried in your thigh--

"Wouldn't that hurt?"

The proximity of the voice startles you so badly that you fall out of your chair, scattering the stack of papers you had been holding all over the floor. Draco helps you to your feet, then takes out his wand and smoothly summons the stack of papers to him with a non-verbal spell.

"Draco! I, er... I thought you were working today?" You make a grab for the stack of papers, but he holds them out of your reach, wrapping his free arm around your waist and tugging you against his chest.

"Got off early," he says, smirking lazily as he watches your continued struggle, standing on tiptoes in a last-ditch effort to reclaim the papers. But it's all in vain, as, batting your hands away with the gentle ease of a cat toying with a kitten, he begins to read from the top sheet. "Let's see... What have we here?" A wicked grin curls his lips as his eyes scan the page, belying the chastising tuts he throws at you before uttering your name. "This is positively filthy."

You say nothing, but fidget awkwardly as Draco reads on in silence, humming under his breath in reaction to goodness-knows-what, until he turns the page and shoots you a sidelong glance.

"Is this why you've been making all those trips to the muggle library? You've been making copies of these?"

Again, you say nothing. You had never intended for your partner- or anyone, really- to find out about your unhealthy addiction to muggle fanfiction, which had started when doing research for a Muggle Studies assignment over the winter break, way back in your third year at Hogwarts. Coming from an all-magical family, you had taken the subject out of curiousity, only to drop it later that year because of how boring it was; but the habit of browsing fansites had proven much harder to drop, and you had secretly continued it to this day, whenever you found a character in a book that tickled your fancy.

"What is this supposed to be?" Draco asks, tapping something on the page. You squint up at where his finger is pointing, and giggle in spite of yourself.

"That stands for 'your name'," you explain. "You're meant to insert your name as you read - it makes the reader feel like they're in the story."

Draco raises his eyebrows and flicks his eyes back to the page.

"'You've given me dinner, how about dessert? Spread your legs for me, (Y/N),'" he reads aloud, inserting your name at the end. His voice is husky and commanding, as if the words are his, provoking a thrill of warmth in your lower abdomen.

"Did I get that right?" Draco asks, glancing down at you and noting your flushed cheeks- before abruptly pushing you back onto the chair. Then, papers still in hand, he kneels in front of you, vanishes your panties with a wave of his wand and begins working your clit with his thumb.

"Well, (Y/N)?" he taunts. "Aren't you going to spread your legs for me?"

You bite down on your lip, torn between curling up in embarrassment and seeing where this is going, but when Draco's slender fingers begin to stroke your slit you give in, and shamelessly spread your thighs, hooking your knees over the armrests of the chair.

"Good girl," he murmurs, flashing you a cheeky wink. "Now, where were you up to?"

You're so distracted by what his fingers are doing- pinching your clit, circling your entrance- that it takes you a moment to process his words.

"Up to? In the- in the fic?"

"Yes, (Y/N)," he says, with an exasperated tut, "in the fic." Somehow, his enunciation of the word makes it sound obscene and disparaging all at once.

"Well, I think- somewhere around the fangs-in-the-thigh bit."

Draco hums in amusement, keeping up his ministrations with one hand while he flicks through the papers with the other. "Ah, here it is."

He clears his throat and begins to read, sliding two fingers inside you up to the knuckle. It's almost impossible to concentrate on the words, but you try- noticing how he spits out the name "Eric" in just the same way he used to badmouth Potter.

It's humiliating, yes- especially as he has his face turned away from you, eyes never straying from the page, as if he's reading to himself and you're not really there, your pleasure merely incidental. But the thought that you've made your partner jealous of a fictional vampire is also delicious, and his husky voice is a pleasure to listen to, even though you miss every other word because his skilled fingers already have you right on the brink.

When he begins curling his fingers just so, you tug on his wrist, and whisper, urgently, that you're about to come- but he ignores you and keeps on reading.

"'Tell me, (Y/N), how do you taste?'"

"Draco, I'm--"

"'Now it's your turn. Get on your knees--"

"Fuck-- Draco!"

You arch your back and moan as your pussy flutters around his fingers, glancing down your shuddering stomach to see yourself dripping onto his palm.

Draco slowly pulls out his fingers, and you move to get up- only to feel his forearm press against your stomach as he nudges you back into the chair.

"Where are you going?" he asks, seriously. "I haven't finished reading yet."

"Draco-- mmph."

He slides his fingers back inside you, and begins pumping them slowly in and out as he turns back to the page, picking up right where he left off.

[masterjasper223]

Nice to Meet You

All you knew of Eric Northman is what you'd seen on TV. Pretty face, fake smile. Clearly a powerful and immensely wealthy vampire. You didn't think much of him; no more than you thought of any other obscure celebrity. After all, he was as far removed from the goings-on of your daily life as anyone could be.

That is, until he moved to your town.

You were walking home one night when you saw him. He was just... there. Standing on a street corner, tapping away at a mobile phone so fast his fingers were a blur.

He didn't look up as you passed him, and you were about to leave it at that when something made you stop and double back. Before you really knew what you were doing, the question "Are you Eric Northman?" had tumbled from your lips.

You weren't sure what you had expected, but it mustn't have been complete indifference, because you felt a faint flicker of disappointment when his eyes remained glued to the screen.

"Who's asking?"

"Um..." You hesitated for a fraction of a second before telling him your name. When he didn't respond, you decided to cut your losses and go, stumbling over an apology as you went. "Sorry, I was just curious. I've never met a vampire before- there aren't many around here, I guess. I just wanted to say hello. Have a good evening!"

You set off at a jog, only slowing down when you had put a full block between you and the site of that awkward encounter.

Yet when you turned the next corner, there Eric was again- only this time, it seemed you had his full attention. The phone was away, and his pale blue eyes were scanning you appraisingly.

"I am Eric Northman," he said, simply.

[masterjasper223]

Throne - Part 2

(Warnings: blood play, choking, sex, etc.)

"You are mine."

It's not a question, but you see no point in correcting him. After all... he's right, isn't he? This has been brewing between the two of you for a while now.

You just never expected it to come out like this.

"Okay, Eric."

You nod, once, and lean into the hand cupping your cheek. Your eyes flutter closed- only to immediately snap open again as you ask, "But are you mine?"

His eyes flick between yours, as if he's gauging your sincerity- and a split-second later, you're straddling his lap on the throne.

"Yours," he confirms, holding your gaze as he tugs back the sleeve covering his wrist and tears into the skin.

You swallow thickly, knowing all too well what this means.

He offers his wrist to you without hesitation, and you respond in kind, tilting your head and sweeping your hair back from your neck, offering yourself to him.

Eric leans forward, and so do you, holding his gaze as your lips close around the wound. At the same time, his free hand comes up to grip the nape of your neck, and a moment later you feel his fangs sink into your skin.

Eric's eyes roll back into his head as he tastes you, drinks from you... But you barely notice this, or the twinge of pain that precedes it; your tastebuds are dancing, your heartbeat singing in your ears, as you drink from him.

You're now acutely aware of every inch of Eric pressed against you, and you rock your hips, grinding against the hardness you can feel between your legs. Eric's answering growl rumbles through you, his fingers squeezing your neck...

Then he shifts you yet again.

Now you're sitting on the throne, with Eric kneeling between your legs, your neck miraculously healed- but you barely have time to process any of this before he buries his fangs into the flesh of your thigh.

You arch your back, threading your fingers through his hair, as dizzying pleasure races through your veins, making you throb with need.

He pulls back too soon, but you get the feeling he drank more than he should have as he glances up at you, a flicker of concern in his eyes- which gradually dissolves into that look again: the tenderness you caught a glimpse of during your impromptu roleplay.

"Delicious," Eric murmurs, making a show of licking his lips. He uses the last trickle of blood from his wrist to close the puncture wounds left in your thigh, swirling two fingers against your skin; but they don't stop there, trailing down to rub your wet slit through your panties. You expect him to tease you, or to rip them off of you, but he merely tugs them down your legs and tosses them into a distant corner of the room.

"I feel like I'm at a buffet," he muses, hooking your calves over his shoulders and holding your gaze as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. "But is it all-you-can-eat?"

Without giving you a chance to think of something witty in response, his mouth is upon you, first licking, laving, spreading your folds, then parting them with his tongue, then delving inside, alternating between dipping quickly in and out, swirling and sucking. His fingers knead your thighs as you buck against his mouth, until, all too soon, you come undone on his tongue.

But even then Eric doesn't stop lapping at your wetness until you tug desperately at his hair, needing him to stop, your body shuddering with every minute brush of his lips against your oversensitive folds.

"Delicious," he murmurs again, drawing back and nipping playfully at the hand tangled in his hair.

Maybe it's his blood, redoubling your libido, but even as you shudder with overstimulation, you need more- you need him.

You tug plaintively at his shirt, and he strips it off, smirking as your eyes rove over the newly exposed skin. Of course, he can feel your need through the blood bond, fanning the flames of his own arousal, but he waits for you to articulate what you want, leaning back on his haunches to admire how debauched you look, imagining the various ways he might have you, here, on his throne...

"Eric..."

Your fingers trace his chest, following the sculpted lines of his stomach down to his belt buckle, and lower still, until you're gripping his hard length through the fabric of his trousers.

You can feel his gaze burning into you, but you're not sure what to say- you're not sure what you want, except...

"Eric..." you repeat, glancing up at him through your eyelashes, and he whispers your name back at you, inquiringly, teasingly, cocking his head to the side.

Oh, so that's how it's going to be?

You squeeze harder, and watch as Eric bites his lip in response- but he still doesn't budge, so you lean forward and crash your lips against his.

Eric is only too happy to oblige, cupping your face, pressing forward between your thighs, parting his lips so that you can taste yourself on his tongue, mingled with the taste of him... until you pull back, breathless with need.

"I want to ride you."

The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them. It's not a request you'd normally make, but suddenly it's all you can think about.

Eric's hard length parting your oversensitive folds... His fingers digging into your hips, helping you to keep a steady rhythm, while you rake your nails down his chest, tracing the curve of his lower lip with your thumb as his mouth falls open in pleasure...

The images that race through your mind race through Eric's by extension, transmitted through the blood bond as pure sensation; ghosts of the imaginings to which your body is responding.

And Eric doesn't hesitate to make them reality.

Once again, your positions are abruptly reversed. Now Eric is naked on the throne, and you are kneeling before him.

He leans back, settling languidly into the throne, and watches you strip off your dress and bra, before taking his cock into your mouth, as deep as you can manage, making up for what you can't handle with your closed fist.

The fingers of his left hand come to rest on the back of your head, threading through your hair, while his right traces your exposed skin, following the line of your neck and shoulders, admiring the faint bluish mark that his fangs left behind.

But Eric's composure quickly slips as you continue to suck and lick at his cock, one hand falling to rest on his own muscled thigh, clenching and unclenching, while his other occasionally tugs at your hair. You adjust your movements to match these gestures and the hitches in his breath, and don't stop until every inch of him is dripping with your saliva.

Then you straddle him, pressing the tip of his cock against your dripping folds, still sensitive from his tongue, and hold yourself there, steadying your breathing, feeling the tip of his cock throb against your entrance...

Eric's fingers grip your hips like a vice, and at your nod he starts guiding you down, inch by inch- but he stops every time your eyes flutter closed, only letting you take in more of him when you're holding his gaze.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Such is the sum of both your thoughts- sinful expletives, sprinkled with each other's names- as Eric fills you and you start to move, up and down, up and down...

The friction is too delicious, and you're already close- it's not long before Eric has to take over, keeping your pace steady as you writhe for him in pleasure, your insides spasming around his cock.

It's too much, but Eric doesn't stop, lifting you up and sliding you down his length, and kissing your breasts, shoulders, cheeks- every inch of you he can reach- while you ride out your orgasm.

But the moment you come down from your high, Eric spins you around and starts bottoming out at his pace, one hand threading through your hair, tipping your head to the side and pulling you flush against his chest. His other hand starts by squeezing your neck- not too tight, but just long enough to leave you gasping for air- then moves on to cupping your breasts, toying with each nipple in turn, before finally sliding down to rub your clit in tight, fast circles, ruthlessly bringing you toward the brink of another orgasm.

That's when you hear the tell-tale click of Eric's fangs dropping- but this time, when he buries them in your neck, you feel only pleasure, and the sudden spike is enough to push the both of you over the edge.

You feel a flood of warmth in your lower belly, a trickle of warmth down your neck, Eric's cock pulsing inside of you...

You slump forward, but Eric catches you, and lifts you slowly, deliciously off of his cock, which rebounds against his abs with a wet slap, still hard and slick with your combined fluids.

He sets you down on his thigh, draping your legs over the armrest, and noses at your cheek until you look at him.

When you do, Eric murmurs your name before kissing you, tenderly, softly, his fingers gently tracing the curves of your body, as if to ingrain them in his memory.

Then he presses his lips to your forehead, tucks your head under his chin, and simply holds you against his chest in a gentle embrace, listening to your heartbeat.

*******************************************

You're not sure how long you lie there, half-asleep and utterly spent, before you feel Eric turn to glance at the wall behind the bar.

A moment later, he asks, "Can you walk?"

You mumble incoherently and shift against his chest, gripping his wrist as if to hold him in place. With any luck, you'll never have to move again.

Of course, there's no hope of that. Eric chuckles and removes your fingers with ease, threading them through his own and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

"I'll take that as a 'no'."

There is a pause, just long enough to lull you back to the brink of sleep, so that Eric's amused voice seems to reach you from miles away.

"The thing is... we open in five minutes."

That wakes you up. You jolt upright- only to find yourself sitting on the throne alone, still fully naked, with Eric now kneeling on the floor before you, smartly dressed and casually slicking back his hair.

"Is this how you intend to greet your subjects, my lady?" he asks, in that same subservient tone from before, but with a mocking smirk tugging at his lips. "Or do you need help getting dressed?"

There's no time for a witty retort, or to search for your panties, as you hear the door to Fangtasia rattle. You stumble to your feet with an undignified yelp and run for Eric's office, scooping up your dress and bra as you go and slamming the door behind you.

A moment later, you hear Pam's muffled voice call out, "Eric? Are you done in there yet? People are lining up!"

Mortified, you duck down and frantically pull on your clothes, mentally cursing the blond vampire- make that your blond vampire- as he chuckles to himself and unlocks the door, before taking his seat on the throne.

[masterjasper223]

The Party No One Remembers

When Eric thinks of Godric, as he was before he died, in recent history, there's one night in particular that comes to mind. Only he, Pam and Bill still remember the event clearly, because all of the humans in attendance had had their memories wiped. All, that is, except for you and Sookie- but both of you had gotten so blackout drunk that glamouring wouldn't have been necessary, even if it had been possible for someone to do it to Sookie, and even if Eric had been able to bring himself to do it to you.

Flashback to the night in question...

It was late, only a few hours before dawn, around the time when the party had slowed down and most of the hangers-on had gone home. All of the decent ones, anyway.

"Let's play spin the bottle!"

One of the nameless humans suggested it, and had set the game in motion before anyone had even agreed.

The first spin stopped on Pam and Sookie.

Bill, who didn't know the aim of the game, hadn't been paying attention, and was caught off guard when Pam appeared beside his then-girlfriend, tilted up her chin with a manicured fingernail and laid a surprisingly chaste kiss on her mouth, finishing up with a suggestive tug on her lower lip.

The game had nearly ended right then and there when Bill had tried to throw Pam across the room- but Godric had intervened, ever the voice of reason, (albeit one interrupted every few seconds by Sookie's drunken giggles).

Eventually, Bill had simmered down, but he kept a protective hand on Sookie's shoulder for the rest of the night, and the bottle didn't settle on the pair again after that, always mysteriously wobbling in the opposite direction just when it seemed about to stop.

The second spin stopped on Eric and Jason.

Jason, who had been eyeing up the girl with the short skirt next to him, had jumped about a foot in the air when Eric's cold hand had closed around his bicep, eyes flying wide as the blond vampire ensnared his lips in a brief, but passionate, kiss.

The third spin stopped on Isabel and Jessica.

Ignoring Bill's disapproving look, the redhead practically leapt onto Isabel's lap, wrapping her thighs around the older vampire's hips and locking eyes with her expectantly. To everyone's surprise, Isabel indulged her in a minute-long make-out session before kicking her off.

The fourth spin landed on you and Godric, who had only sat down in the circle after resolving the commotion with Bill and Pam. Clearly, his intention had not been to play along- but then, what was a kiss to a vampire of his age?

Nothing, of course.

Or so he had thought, right up until he had cupped your cheek and was leaning in to kiss you- and he had sensed Eric's displeasure.

********************************************

Godric cocked his head, so that his progeny, who was seated beside you in the circle, entered his field of vision. His jaw was set in a hard line, and his blue eyes were full of an emotion that Godric would not have needed their connection to name.

Jealousy.

Yes, but underneath it lurked something more. He probed the feelings Eric was emanating through their bond, and was surprised to discover a twinge of guilt. Less surprising was the hunger, mingled with possessiveness and desire- but there was a stronger emotion threading all of it together, an undercurrent of--

"Godric, are you going to kiss me or not?" you huffed, tugging at the cold hand that was still cupping your face.

That was a good question.

Godric hummed, stroking your cheek and brushing his nose with yours, until your eyes fluttered closed again.

Eric hadn't kissed you yet. That much was obvious. You clearly weren't his, either- if you had tasted Eric's blood, Godric would have known. But why was that? Why was he pining for you? It was most unlike Eric not to act.

Of course, he had only just reconnected with his progeny, so he did not know of the circumstances surrounding the two of you, but all the same, it was hard for him to imagine what might be keeping you apart.

Perhaps he just needed an incentive?

A ghost of a smile graced Godric's lips before he closed the distance between you at last, claiming your mouth in a sensual kiss.

And as he did, several things happened at once.

The humans got bored of waiting for the kiss to happen and started spinning the bottle again.

At the same time, a few of the vampires got up and left the circle- Bill among them, leading a very wobbly Sookie away with him.

And then, just as your hand reached out and grasped Godric's shirt, Eric's fangs dropped.

Only Godric and Pam noticed this, but the former feined ignorance, taking his time with your lips before pulling back and placing a ticklish kiss on either side of your mouth.

You laughed, eyes fluttering open, and for a fleeting moment Godric saw you as Eric sees you.

Beautiful.

Exciting.

Fascinating.

His.

But the moment passed as quickly as it had come, and, drunk as you were, you remained oblivious to it, excusing yourself before skipping off to the bathroom to freshen up. Godric chose that moment to wander outside, and Eric followed him, hastily retracting his fangs.

"Is there something you want to say to me, Eric?" Godric asked, in their mother tongue, glancing at his progeny.

Eric remained silent, avoiding his maker's gaze. Godric could tell that he was at once trying to find the words, and unsure whether or not he should speak them.

"We have shared food before, but this was different, yes?" he prompted. "You do not want to share her with anyone, not even me."

Eric shook his head emphatically. "I would do anything for you."

"Ah, Eric..." Godric sighed and turned his face up to the moon. "I have lived for what feels like an eternity. I have seen and done what feels like everything, and have met and tasted, killed and savoured what feels like every human there could be, such that few things have meaning to me anymore. Very few, indeed.

"But for those few things in which I can still find meaning, I would do anything. I would not give them up, or let them from my grasp, even if my own maker ordered me to."

Eric still recalls the thrill of fear he had felt at these words.

This wasn't the Godric he knew. Something within his maker had changed- that had been clear from the moment he had rescued him from that accursed church's basement. There was so much he wanted to say. He felt like he had to say something, anything, to snap Godric out of it and bring back the man- the vampire- he knew, before it was too late. He couldn't help but feel like he was running out of time.

Yet the silence stretched on and on between them, until finally, desperately, he blurted, "You are important to me."

Godric smiled knowingly and held his gaze. "As you are to me. That is why I am giving you this advice."

"I don't need--" Eric protested.

"You love her. Have you told her this?"

Eric clenched his jaw and shook his head. "It's... complicated."

"Well, long as our lives may be, they are still finite. True death awaits us all- we are not so different from humans in that regard. If I were you, I would not waste too much time. Think about what this life means to you, my son."

And with that, Godric had gone.

********************************************

There was one other memory that stood out to him from that night, though this one didn't really involve Godric at all.

Flashback to the night in question...

"Hey! Eric!"

It was after Godric had left him alone outside. You caught up to him on the stairs leading up to your rooms for the night, and wasted no time in (as Eric thought of it) pushing his buttons.

"Did you enjoy your kiss with Jason?" you teased, poking him in the ribs.

"No," he said, shortly. "Did you enjoy your kiss with Godric?" The question came out a little more sharply than he had intended, but thankfully you didn't seem to notice.

You nodded frantically, then quickly shook your head, frowning.

The corner of Eric's mouth twitched. "Well? Which is it?"

"He took way long- too long," you said, stumbling over your words and, at the same time, careening into Eric's side, nearly pushing him over the edge of the bannister and falling down the stairs yourself. He caught you with some difficulty, one hand gripping the bannister hard enough to warp the metal, the other grabbing your arm much more gently and tugging you into an awkward half-hug.

Your hands, meanwhile, were less well-behaved. Somehow your floundering fingers had come to rest on the front of his trousers and under his button-up shirt.

"Mmph. This is dangerous," you muttered, squeezing the denim- or, rather, the hardening length you could feel through it.

The situation was absurd enough to be comical, but Eric couldn't laugh.

You were right- it was dangerous. He was overstimulated, and vulnerable- what with your hands squeezing his cock and scratching at his bare skin, your delicious pulse thrumming right under his nose, the turmoil of his feelings for both you and Godric swirling in his breast, the sight of you kissing his maker still fresh in his mind's eye...

For the second time that night, his fangs dropped.

In the blink of an eye you were both inside his room, with the door locked and you pressed flat against it. One of his hands had your arms pinned above your head, while the other tangled in your hair, pulling your neck just so, making the vein there stand out against your skin. His teeth grazed it...

"Eric?"

Not like this.

He released you, and a split-second later he was sitting on the edge of the bed on the far side of the room.

You stumbled over to him, confused. Eric very much doubted you had even been able to process what had just happened, and felt a further stab of guilt as you asked, "What's wrong?"

But he just shook his head.

"We'll talk about it in the morning."

If you remember any of this.

"Eric?"

"Yes?"

"I don't feel so good..."

And with that, you face-planted onto the bed beside him, groaning in pain. He saw you safely into bed in your own room, and spent a restless day in the too-big bed in his separate, temporary, light-proof suite- alone.

********************************************

Of course, you hadn't remembered anything about the party when you had awoken late the following afternoon with a terrible hangover.

So that conversation had never happened, and since that night, nothing else has happened between the two of you, either.

But the more Eric reflects on these memories, the more he thinks: Maybe it's time he took Godric's advice.

[masterjasper223]

Pussycat

{Note: Y/C/N = Your Cat's Name}

Eric stares at the creature in your arms as though he has never seen one before.

"Eric? Are you even listening?" you demand, waving your hand in front of his face.

"Yes," he says, rattling off the list of instructions you gave him, word for word. "I was just... surprised."

"Surprised?" you repeat, furrowing your brow. "What's there to be surprised about? I asked if you could watch my cat for a couple of nights, you said yes. What were you expecting?"

Eric clears his throat, avoiding your eyes and your cat's judgemental stare. After a moment, it dawns on you what he must have been thinking, and you give him a pitying look. "Really? Who uses the word 'cat' for--"

"Anyway, why the no-touching rule?" Eric says, backtracking, as he now actually considers the words he recited for you. Food, water, litter tray... The unexpected responsibility weighs heavily on him, but even he can see that it would send a pretty bad message if he were to back out now.

"I don't want you to hurt (Y/C/N)," you say, nuzzling the cat's head affectionately, before setting it down on the couch.

Now it's Eric's turn to look confused. "I touch you."

"Yeah, well, I'm expendable. My cat is much more important." Eric begged to differ, but you plough on before he can argue with you. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't have much experience with cats."

Eric does not correct you.

"So? Will you do it?" you press, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. "Remember, you can't just delegate this to someone, or glamour anyone into doing it for you. It has to be you. I'm trusting you with this."

You wouldn't be asking Eric if you had any other choice. You moved to Shreveport to be closer to him, so you have no friends nearby, and you don't know anyone else you can trust with a precious animal life. While even you have to admit that it's a job well beneath an ancient vampire, you suppose you'll just have to find some way of making it up to him.

To his credit, Eric hesitates for only a fraction of a second before nodding. "Of course," he says, holding your gaze. "You have my word."

Your shoulders sag with relief.

**********************************************

The next few days are full of surprises for Eric Northman. There's a moment when he thinks your cat is dying, because it makes a noise like a jug of milk being shaken back and forth and seems to be choking. He whisks the poor creature off to the vet at super speed, only to learn what a furball looks like for the first time as it immediately spits one out onto the waiting room floor.

There's a moment when the cat stares at a distant corner of the room for so long and so intensely that Eric becomes convinced your place is haunted, until he casually mentions it to Pam on his way back to Fangtasia and she tells him that that's just something cats do.

There's a moment when he sets down his TruBlood to go take a call, only to return to find the cat standing right beside the bottle, paw tapping idly at the glass, wobbling it closer and closer to the table's edge, all while holding the vampire's gaze, as if it's daring him to stop it in time. He manages to, thanks to his vampire speed, but afterwards he can't help but wonder: can vampires glamour cats?

So, the following night, when the cat jumps up in front of the television, blocking his view, Eric decides to give it a try. Intensifying his stare, he starts to speak in that gravelly, hypnotising voice that tends to make humans weak at the knees.

"I want you to get down from there."

The cat stares back at him for a few moments, its eyes wide, as if it's entranced... and then it yawns and starts washing its face.

Eric turns off the TV with a huff.

Finally, the night before you are due to come home, there's a moment when the cat jumps onto Eric's lap while he's lounging in your living room and butts its head against his hand until he pets it.

His guilt at breaking one of your simple rules soon turns to amusement as he finds all of your cat's favourite petting spots in about half a minute, taking care to be twice as gentle with it as he is with you, because surely that's good enough. Something about the way the feline lifts its butt when he scratches the base of its tail reminds him of you, and he chuckles to himself at the discovery. Not that he's ever done that to you, exactly, but you're very responsive to his touch, be it fleeting finger contact as he passes you a drink, or the brushing of your legs when you sit down next to one another on your cosy two-seater.

The cat kneads his thigh for a few minutes before curling up into a ball. Its purrs and rapid heartbeat are strange to him, but very soothing, and he almost falls asleep on your couch, before he remembers that he has a business to run.

**********************************************

"Any problems?" you ask, as you try to pet your cat, who ducks under Eric's chair, out of your reach. It's been stubbornly avoiding you ever since you got back, likely annoyed at your absence.

Eric thinks of the furball, and the TruBlood, and the fact that he broke one of your rules... But all's well that ends well, so he just shrugs and says, "None at all."

"I really appreciate the help. Is there anything I can do to..." You trail off, stunned into silence, because your cat- your cat- has just jumped on Eric Northman's lap as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

The vampire doesn't bother to hide his smirk as your cat headbutts his hand and starts purring loud enough that you can hear it across the room.

"You were saying?"

**********************************************

After Eric goes home, you decide to get an early night. You're still worn out from your trip, and a little extra sleep will probably do you some good.

It's too hot to sleep with clothes, so you get naked, throw a sheet over your midriff and bury your face in your pillow.

Sleep is almost upon you when you feel the bed dip beside your thigh. It seems your cat has finally forgiven you. You smile sleepily as you feel it curl up in front of your belly.

Then the bed dips again, this time at your back, and your blood turns to ice.

Someone's in your house.

But before you can scream, a familiar voice whispers, "It's just me," and you whip around to see Eric's blue eyes glinting mischievously in the semidarkness. He's lying on his side close behind you, elbow crooked and head propped on his fist, as if his presence in your bed is the most natural thing in the world.

"What are you doing here?" you hiss, trying not to startle your cat, who is now rhythmically kneading your stomach.

"You wanted to find a way to thank me," Eric whispers back, reaching over you to scratch your cat's chin. (The purring and kneading intensifies.) "I've come to collect."

"I didn't think... Not like this..." you mumble, watching Eric's dexterous fingers at work and trying to ignore the sudden spike in your heartbeat.

He smells so good, you think- then shiver as you wonder whether he's thinking the same thing about you.

"I'm not here to keep you awake," Eric murmurs, shifting closer, the better to stroke your cat's flank. "I thought we could have a little nap together. You, me, and the cat."

"That's all you want?" you ask, hoping you don't sound nearly as disappointed as you feel.

Eric chuckles, and his hand strays from your cat's flank to your stomach, then to your hip, sliding higher and higher, toward the bare skin of your chest.

"Oh, no. I want many things from you."

You gasp as his cold fingers reach the edge of the sheet- only for him to tug it up over your naked breasts.

"But for tonight..."

Eric presses himself against you, burying his face in the hair at the nape of your neck and throwing an arm over your waist to continue stroking your cat.

"This is best."

You can't argue with that.

It takes you a while to settle down, what with your heart racing a mile a minute, and skipping a beat every time you remember that Eric can hear it; but eventually you do fall asleep, lulled into dreams by your cat's sleepy purr, the heady smell of Eric, and the rhythmic movements of his fingers.

It almost feels like he's petting you.

[masterjasper223]

Taken

(Warnings: angst)

"Why haven't you slept with me yet?"

Eric glances up to see you framed in the doorway. "I don't sleep with everyone I meet. Besides, last I heard, you were seeing someone."

His cold blue eyes are almost accusing, seeming to say, 'You see? If you weren't holding us back, we could have so much fun...'

Or maybe you're overthinking things. You swallow, averting your eyes for a fraction of a second before meeting his gaze with a challenging stare.

"That's never stopped you before."

In a flash, the door to Eric's office is locked, and you are pinned between his chest and the cold metal.

His blue eyes search yours, his lips slightly parted. You swear you can still feel his fingers pressed into your lower back from when he tugged you inside, but his hands aren't on you now. They're hanging limply by his sides, fingers flexing every few seconds as if he's having trouble keeping them under control.

Have you ever been this close before? Every time you breathe, your chest brushes his, and you can feel your nipples begin to harden under your clothes, prompting a flood of heat in your lower belly.

Eric's eyes grow dark, pupils dilating, as if he knows exactly what is happening to you. But he doesn't move, except to shift his leg ever so slightly, so that one of his thighs is positioned in between yours, without actually parting your legs.

Still, all you would have to do is take a half-step forward and you could be sitting on his thigh.

It couldn't be clearer: he's waiting for you to act- or to give him a reason to.

As you ponder what to do, memories of your recent girls' night with Pam resurface in your mind, and you can't help but chuckle to yourself.

Eric's face falls, but the change is so fleeting that you convince yourself you imagined it.

"And what is so amusing?"

"Nothing, it's just... that's exactly what Pam said."

This time, you know you aren't imagining it: Eric's shapely lips compress into a hard line. "Tell me," he demands.

You hasten to explain.

Flashback to girls' night with Pam...

"I don't get why Eric hasn't slept with you yet," she says, looking you up and down with blatant approval.

You scoff, and take a long sip of your drink, trying to ignore the way your stomach backflips at the thought. "I'm seeing someone, Pam. He knows that."

But the progeny simply rolls her eyes, and says, "That's never stopped him before."

Back to the present...

"And then I resolved to ask you myself," you finish, holding his gaze.

For a while, Eric simply stares back at you.

It's easy to get lost in his eyes. His pupils are still dilated, and you can see yourself reflected in them, framed by a ring of icy blue.

When at last Eric speaks, his question catches you off guard. "And what did you expect me to say? What did you want me to say?"

Now it's your turn to fall silent.

"I don't know," you say, finally- though that's not entirely true. You had sort of thought he might reject you, or flirt with you, or maybe seriously offer to rectify his oversight on the spot. You hadn't been sure what he would say, and that was what had made you curious enough to ask. As for what you wanted- well...

Silence stretches between the two of you long enough for you to become unsure of yourself. What if you've seriously overestimated your relationship with Eric? What if this level of familiarity, or this kind of teasing banter, was never actually welcome?

As if to confirm your fears, the door yawns open behind you and Eric is suddenly seated behind his desk.

"Well, last I checked, having sex is about sleeping together. It's not something I do to you- at least, not without consent. Unless you think so little of me?" Eric raises his eyebrows at you.

He's never spoken to you like this before. His voice is light and pleasant, as if he's talking to a stranger he has to be nice to, but there's a cold edge to his words that makes you flinch.

"Of course not, Eric. I didn't mean--"

"Good. Now that we've resolved that misunderstanding, perhaps you'll let me get back to work?"

The dismissal stings, but you nod curtly and turn to leave, nearly bumping into Pam on your way out. She raises her eyebrows at you, but you've had enough conflict for one evening, and just run straight for the exit.

[masterjasper223]

Sweet Dreams

(Warnings: blood play, light choking, sex)

For the past few months, in those moments when he is alone and awake in his coffin, right after he closes the lid, a single question plagues Eric's mind.

Why can't he stop thinking about you?

You are a human.

Just a human.

Just another human.

Yes, you are beautiful. Yes, you have an uncanny way of making him smile. Yes, he finds some of your human antics rather endearing. And though he hasn't tasted you, yes, you do smell delicious.

But you aren't the first human to affect him in any of these ways.

So what makes you so different?

Why is he always dreaming about you?

It's supposed to be the other way around. You'd drink his blood, have wild sex dreams about him, and then he'd make them come true.

At least, that was usually how it went down between vampires and humans.

And he's never dreamed about someone so consistently. So tantalisingly.

He palms himself as he thinks back over the dreams he's had of you this week alone.

Monday.

You were sitting on his throne in Fangtasia, fully naked, knees hooked over his shoulders, breasts and calves bouncing as he devoured your slit.

Tuesday.

You were bent over his desk, skintight skirt pulled up around your hips as he rammed into you from behind, his large hands swallowing your breasts as he held you tight against his chest.

Wednesday.

You were sitting on his lap in the middle of some fancy restaurant and his fangs were buried in your neck. He couldn't stop- didn't need to stop, because it was dream- and as the faceless waitress and other customers watched on in horror, he pushed you back onto the table and sank his fangs into the fullness of your thigh, making you come for him, right then and there.

Thursday.

This time, you were devouring him. His cock was buried in your mouth, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as you tried to take all of him at once, fingers digging into his hips hard enough to bruise- had he been human.

Friday... Well, today is Friday. And while he is eager to see what you have in store for him, he can't help but feel a bit frustrated.

He isn't used to wanting something he can't have.

Not that he really thinks he can't have you- he is far too confident to believe that, and there is simply too much chemistry between the two of you- but... well, it's too complicated right now.

Pushing thoughts of your last meeting out of his mind, Eric tries to think of something the two of you haven't done yet, hoping to influence his dreams.

It doesn't take him long to come up with something, and then he shuts off, letting his thoughts fade into the background as sleep overtakes him.

Friday.

Water laps at Eric's waist, cool and clear, reflecting a sky of stars that he hasn't seen in centuries.

You are sitting on his thigh, breasts flattened against his chest. One of his large hands is splayed in the hair at the nape of your neck, the other kneading at your hip.

He whispers something to you in Old Swedish, and you cock your head at him, unable to understand.

"I want to make love to you," Eric says again, translating, and you melt into his arms, as if these are the exact words you have been waiting for.

Lifting you just enough to help you wrap your legs around his hips, trapping his cock between your stomachs, he brushes his fingers across your slit, finding it dripping wet with something more than seawater.

He rolls his hips, and you both moan as his hardness grinds against your slick heat. But he's in no rush tonight. Here's here to make love to you.

Eric squeezes the back of your neck as he crashes his lips against yours, swallowing your needy moans until you start rutting your hips against him.

That's when he pulls back, teeth tugging at your lower lip, and brushes noses with you. Holding your chin in place with one hand, ensuring you don't turn away, he uses the other hand to guide his slick cock to your entrance. Then, with a single, fluid thrust of his hips, he buries himself up to the hilt inside you.

You're so tight, so warm. He can feel your pulse around his cock, through your breasts squashed against his chest, and through the fingers now clutching at your throat- not to choke you, but to tip your face back into a ray of moonlight, so that he can watch your features contort for him in pleasure.

He starts off slow, just drinking it all in. The water dripping off your skin, the obscene sounds your bodies make as they collide, the sensation of you squeezing him, the sound of his name tumbling from your lips, over and over and over again...

He growls your name, and you come for him, as if on command. But he doesn't stop, doesn't slow down, and when he senses you've ridden out the high of your orgasm, and are at your most sensitive, his fangs drop and he begins to speed up.

It's too much, too soon. You're an incoherent mess, and yet, as you come for him again, the hand on your throat squeezes harder, turning your head to the side and exposing the throbbing vein in your neck. He sinks his fangs in, feeling you buck and writhe in his arms as the ecstasy of being bitten brings you right back to the edge.

But before you can come again, before he's had his fill, Eric pulls back and bites into his own wrist. Your eyes are dazzling as you blink up at him through a haze of pain and pleasure, and he strokes your cheek reassuringly before pressing his wound against your lips. "Drink," he whispers, his voice thick with blood and emotion. "And you will be mine."

In the dream, you accept the offer without hesitation, moaning and sucking at his flesh with wanton abandon. The pain makes Eric snarl as he claims your neck again, and he begins fucking you at a relentless pace.

It's too intense, too much, but you both continue to drink deep of one another, growing increasingly light-headed as the pleasure builds and coils.

Then you squeeze him tighter than ever, and Eric feels a gush of warmth around his cock...

He wakes to a wet hand and- for one, glorious second- the fleeting illusion of a heart racing in his chest.

Fuck.

That had been nothing like what he'd thought of while falling asleep. He'd been fantasising about taking you down into Fangtasia's basement, but instead...

Well, he thinks, as he wipes his sticky hand on his thigh. There's always Saturday and Sunday.

Muttering your name aloud to himself, he steps out of his coffin to greet the night, wondering if his dreams will ever come true.

[masterjasper223]

Throne - Part 1

Eric had clearly intended for you to sit on the chair beside his throne. Sure, all he had said was, "Wait here," but there could be no mistake as to which chair he had pointed at.

Still, the throne looks much more comfortable... And who could blame you for wanting a taste of what it feels like to sit where Eric sits, gazing out across this tiny portion of his sprawling commercial kingdom?

Glancing askance at the door to Eric's office, you walk quickly onto the podium and take your seat. The chair smells faintly of Eric, which only adds to your inflated sense of power as you sweep your gaze across the room, imagining yourself with fangs and a lust for blood.

'Now this, I could get used to,' you think, as you lean back, spreading your legs and resting your hands on the armrests in a pantomime of the blond vampire. You're wearing a pretty short dress, but there's no one around to see your panties. You can enjoy this for a bit longer...

...Or so you thought.

You hear a door open, and quickly close your legs- but it isn't the door to Eric's office.

It's the door to the bar.

The visitor starts speaking before he's even entered the room, but he breaks off when he sees that it's you, and not Eric, sitting on the throne.

"Mr. Northman, we really need to... Oh, uh...!"

From the amount of sweat on his forehead, you figure he's a human. You don't recognise him, but he doesn't seem like the kind of person who would hang out at a place like this, what with his dorky polo shirt, curly blonde hair and big, brown puppy-dog eyes.

"Sorry, uh, ma'am. Is Mr. Northman coming in tonight?" He swallows thickly, eyes darting around the bar as if he's absolutely terrified of you, but you notice that he can't seem to stop himself from looking you up and down, once or twice, pupils dilating as they follow your bare legs up to the hem of your dress. "H-He and I have an arrangement. He said I'd be safe if I came here to report to him. That no one would, uh, bite me."

You cock your head in confusion, unsure why he's telling you this.

Then it hits you.

'Oh my god- he thinks I'm a vampire!' you realise, fighting to keep a straight face as maniacal laughter threatens to spill from your lips.

Now, you don't really want to toy with the man, but this strikes you as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. On a normal day, nobody would believe you're a vampire, and it could be dangerous to pretend. Here, however, you are safe- well, mostly. You aren't sure what Eric will do if he finds out about this, but you're sure he won't kill you for it. Reasonably sure.

Regardless, you decide to keep up the charade for just a bit longer.

"Settle down, little boy. I wouldn't bite you if you begged me to," you purr, crossing and uncrossing your legs, and watching the man's throat bob in response. "Though something tells me you would enjoy it a lot more than you say."

He shakes his head, and unconsciously rubs at the side of his neck, as if he's been bitten there before.

"No? Ah, I think I understand. Perhaps you'd prefer some of my blood instead?"

You're just messing with him, trying to creep him out, but the reaction you get is surprisingly intense.

The man's jaw goes slack and his eyes shine darkly with desire. "Really? You mean you'd let me?" he asks, far too eagerly, licking his lips as if he is prepared to pounce on you there and then.

Before you can respond, you feel cold fingers close around your shoulder, and glance up to see Eric towering over you, his jaw set in a hard line as he is forced to stand behind the chair that is supposed to be his.

To your surprise, he doesn't put an end to the charade, but his every syallable emanates cold fury as he says, "Of course she wouldn't. That was a joke. Now, I believe you wished to speak with me, Mr. Stackhouse? What is so urgent that you felt the need to barge in here without calling first?"

You aren't sure you should be hearing this, but Eric's hand on your shoulder holds you firmly in place. So you do your best to tune out their conversation, all the while trying to keep yourself from sweating, or showing signs of humanity- it would be so humiliating to be caught out now.

Is that why Eric's keeping you here?

You squirm unconsciously at the thought, and feel the pressure on your shoulder increase, ever so slightly.

When at last the man has been sent away, leaving you and Eric alone, you cast aside all pretence and try to make a run for the door yourself.

But Eric is in front of you before you've even stood up, and you rebound off of his chest, falling back onto the throne.

"Okay, I'm sorry! I was just having fun- I guess I got a bit carried a..." Your words die in your throat as Eric does the last thing you would have expected, lowering himself onto one knee before the throne.

"Forgive me, my lady," he says, inclining his head. "I was not aware vampire royalty was in town. May I?"

You aren't sure what he's asking, but Eric doesn't wait for a response. He lightly takes your fingers in his, and brushes his lips against the vein pulsing in the back of your hand.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" he asks, murmuring the words against your skin.

Somehow, the fact that he's playing along makes you feel even more embarrassed than if he had made fun of you and kicked you off his throne. You feel yourself turning red as you imagine how this scene would look to a third party: you, a terrified human, sprawled ungainly in an oversized chair, while an ancient vampire kneels in front you, so tall that even in this subservient position his head is directly opposite your crotch.

"Eric... This is silly," you mumble, trying to sit up. "What if someone comes in?"

"Worry not, my lady. The doors are locked. We are alone here." He feels your pulse begin to race against his fingers, and the corners of his mouth twitch in a smirk as he lets your hand fall back against your thigh.

But his face is once again a mask as he continues, "I wanted to take this opportunity to warn you against offering Jason Stackhouse your blood- or anything else- ever again."

You suck in a breath at the unmistakable warning contained in these last two words. It seems you are in trouble, after all, though you're no longer sure why.

Still, the adrenaline spike gives you a rush of false confidence, and you draw yourself up in the chair, crossing your legs and tucking them demurely to one side. Putting on the same purr as before, you say, "Oh? Surely you aren't suggesting I'd have any trouble with a mere human."

"I would never presume to suggest such a thing," Eric replies, holding your gaze. "But you don't know Jason Stackhouse. Not only is he a recovering V-addict, but he is a hopeless fuckboy who has slept with almost every woman in town."

"I don't see how that changes things," you shoot back, frowning. "He is no threat to me. Besides, what is it to you if I offer my blood, or my body, to this man?"

You don't mean for it to sound like a challenge. You're confident that this is all pretend- just a bit of fun between two associates. Besides, it seemed like a reasonable question for the vampire queen you were pretending to be to ask.

But that confidence begins to drain away the longer you hold his gaze. There is something there that shouldn't be, if this is all just make-believe.

You cock your head, trying to work out what it is- and then your mind grinds to a halt as, at normal, human speed, Eric reaches out and cups the side of your face.

"What is it to me?" he repeats, his eyes never leaving yours. "Everything."

His thumb swipes your bottom lip.

"Because you..."

His hand slides down your neck, until his fingers find your throbbing pulse.

"...are..."

His lips part, and his fangs drop with an audible click.

"...mine."

[masterjasper223]

Ladies First

You aren't sure what it is about Pam that makes you want to be a gentleman, even though you're both women, but somehow you've gotten into the habit of saying, "Ladies first!" whenever you're the first to reach a door, and holding it open for her. Maybe she glamoured you at some point?

Whatever the reason, the habit has become so ingrained in you that you now find yourself doing it for everyone in your life, and one day that person happens to be Eric.

"Ladies first," you say, automatically, pulling the door ajar before you realise your mistake.

You expect Eric to be annoyed or insulted, but instead he just stares at you for a full minute before walking through ahead of you without a word.

Feeling unnerved, you follow him, closing the door to Fangtasia carefully behind you.

"Wait here," he orders, pointing at the chair beside his throne. Without waiting for you to comply, he turns his back on you and barks, "Pam," at the empty room.

Pam appears a half-second later, looking bored.

"In my office. Now."

She hangs around just long enough to roll her eyes, and then the two of them are gone.

*********************************************

"You glamoured her, didn't you?" Eric demands, in Swedish, the second the door clicks shut behind him.

Pam shrugs, admiring her nails.

"Well, you're going to undo it," he growls. "Tonight. Without her knowing."

It isn't a direct order, but it could have been. Pam doesn't push, but gives her maker a pointed look as she says, "Fine."

There is a pause, as if she intends to say more, but after a moment she simply vanishes, leaving her unsaid sentence hanging in the air between them.

But maybe these things wouldn't happen if she was yours.