For Fem!cee

[onceaviking]

Eric opens the door to his room and switches the light on.

His room is clean and neat and cool. A filled decanter and a glass on the small table, the bed turned down.
He steps aside to let Emcee in.

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[onceaviking]

Eric balls up the stiff and crusted sheet and takes a clean from the bedside table.

He doesn't bother tightening it or tucking it in. It's clean; that's what matters.

And so he lies down on it and stretches. He always enjoys clean bedding.
Even if it doesn't smell as nice.

[i_am_your_host]

Glass in hand, Emcee settles down in a chair that faces the bed and draws his feet up. It's a nice view of Eric.

"Do you still smell her?" he murmurs before taking a sip.

[onceaviking]

Eric closes his eyes.
"Yes," he murmurs. "The scent is still on the air."

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee drains half the glass and closes his eyes as well, thinking about the way Eric felt inside him. Her. The ache of wanting him inside her.

"You made me so wet," he sighs.

[onceaviking]

" I know, " Eric smirks.
"It's a gift, really. Women often react that way."

[i_am_your_host]

He chuckles, his head lolling back against the chair's backrest.

"I remember the girls at Fangtasia last year. They looked as if they wanted you to fuck them right there on the bar."

A year ago already.

"By the way, how are things at home?"

[onceaviking]

"They most likely did," Eric rumbles.

"And at home, well, Sookie's back."
So that's good.

"Compton is an asshole. Oh - and I spied on him. He has no idea."
Eric is not impressed.

(We'll ignore that his Queen bugged his office without him finding out).

[i_am_your_host]

"Oh, that's wonderful news. Is she all right? Where had she been?"

He asks this assuming Sookie would actually want to talk to him and tell him these things.

As he finishes his glass of wine and fills it up again, he gives Eric a slightly questioning look.

"How did you spy on Compton?"

[onceaviking]

"She went to Fairie. And she's - feisty."

As always. Also, still not his.

He shrugs. "I bought a drone from a guy here. Like Jay's, but not -"
He waves a hand around.

"Anyway, it took some photos that might prove interesting."
Or not.
Still, it tickled him that Compton had no idea that he had practically gone through his stuff.
Again.

[i_am_your_host]

"As in, the land of Fairies?" So there really is such a thing.

"You mean one of those little flying cameras. Not from Jim, surely?"

Oh, Eric. He's trying very hard not to judge him.

[onceaviking]

"Yes. It was probably a - family reunion or something."
No, she hasn't told him anything.

The rest gets Emcee a look.
"Don't you start as well."

As if it wasn't bad enough with Jay napping on about him.

[i_am_your_host]

"I'm not starting anything," he says, faux innocently, as he hides behind his wine glass and takes another sip.

A pause.

"He told me you beat him up. Because he wanted you to."

[onceaviking]

Eric snorts.

"That's stretching it a bit. He was still breathing, wasn't he?"
A pause.

"I was hungry. And bored."

Look, he is not defending it. Or - anything.

[i_am_your_host]

Still sipping his wine, Emcee shrugs his eyebrows.

His eyebrows are very expressive.

[onceaviking]

"He made a drone, I got him to fly it into Compton's house, end of story."

Because he says so.

[i_am_your_host]

As long as he's useful, he stops himself from saying aloud.

More wine. A third glass will do just nicely.

"Yes, well, anyway. I think he's using the same technology to watch people in the bar without their knowledge. I know he has pictures of me making extremely lewd gestures, though."

[onceaviking]

Always.

Mostly.

Anyway - "You don't say. I am bowls over with astonishment," Eric replies, dryly. "Let me guess. You're fellating a bottle?"

[i_am_your_host]

"Not a bottle."

Emcee shows him his middle finger.

Not gives him, shows him.

He smirks, and takes another sip of wine.

"He flew the drone right into my fucking face. He wanted to get something on camera, I gave him something."

[onceaviking]

"I'm sure he'll find a way to capitalize on it," Eric replies.
"He seems like that sort of guy."

He stretches again.

It's getting late. Or early. Depending on where you are coming from.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee shrugs, his shoulders this time.

"He doesn't find me interesting, and I really don't want his attention anyway."

He finishes his glass of wine. The third? Or the fourth? He can't remember.

[onceaviking]

Eric looks over at him.

"That's probably smart of you," he says, slowly.

"He's - "

How to put it?

"Off."

[i_am_your_host]

"Well, if he doesn't find me interesting, he's certainly off, isn't he?" he says with a healthy balance of smugness and self-deprecation. It can be done.

He sets his empty glass down on the table and moves to get up.

"Oof."

And then he's just going to make his way across the room and invite himself into Eric's bed.

[onceaviking]

He could tell him no.

But it doesn't matter.
He shifts a little, making room.

[i_am_your_host]

As if Eric has ever told him no before.

Besides, Emcee is a little drunk and exhausted and still weirded out about changing so suddenly, Eric can't possibly send him away in his state.

He crawls onto the bed and sprawls out on his stomach, nestling his face in the pillow. He yawns deeply. Warmly.

[onceaviking]

Eric can do whatever the fuck he pleases.

And right now, he's in the mood for company in his bed.
Warm, breathing company.

He breathes.
In.
Out.

Feeling his body go still.