Season Four
Jan. 18th, 2018 10:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
onceavikingThe spell came. Rushing through her windows like a summer storm, tearing at Eric, making him scream and cry and thrash.
She'd lain besides him, stroking his face, but when the spell hit she'd withdrawn to a safe distance, trying to make him listen to reason. That he would die. That she would loose him.
He'd screamed that he didn't care. And then he'd just screamed without words, tearing at the chains that had made their way into his flesh. His neck, his wrist, his stomach.
And then the spell had passed. And the sun had set.
And she'd seen his eyes clear from the madness. Even if they were still hazy with pain.
She slowly removes the chains from his legs. They were the easy ones. The ones on his wrists makes him whimper and the pile across his belly (warm and sticky with blood and bits of skin and flesh) makes him make a sound that she never wants to hear again.
And then there's his neck.
Even beneath the chains, she can tell that it is bad.
Like, really bad.
She takes hold of one of the chains. Hesitantly.
“Yank it off. It's better,” he whispers.
“Well, won't it pull - some of you off with it?”
She hates how uncertain she sounds.
“Yeah, but that's okay. It doesn't hurt as much as the silver, and it heals faster.”
He just wants it gone.
She presses her lips together and leans over him to make sure that she's got a firm grip and then she tears them away, the sound of flesh being torn apart drowned out by Eric's roar of pain and Swedish curses. And then he swallows and says, “Thank you.”
She can see the inner bits of his neck move.
Oh Od, she can actually see inside his neck
“But you said it would heal faster, she says, sounding almost a little accusing because he did say that. And now she can see bits inside of him.
“Yeah, I'm just realizing I haven't fed since I-- “
“Since my fairy godmother?”
“Right.”
That was awkward.
But Sookie soldiers on. “You want a Tru Blood?”
“Oh, no, a Tru Blood isn't gonna help with this. I just need a rest.”
He tries to sit up and then quickly lies back down again, trying to make it seem like a controlled motion. Like he wanted to lie down.
“You need to feed.”
“Well, there is no one.”
He closes his eyes. Weakly.
She hesitates and then she says, “There's me.”
Quietly.
Almost a little bashfully.
“Please don't say this if you don't mean it.
He opens is eyes and looks up at her. Radiant. Hesitant.
Slightly marled by blood spatter.
“I do mean it. - Now, you know my blood's special, like--”
“Like the fairy goddess.”
Yes. He knows.
“Just a fraction of that, and I'm trusting you not to lose control.”
More or less.
He looks up at her and then he says, “Take something silver, hold it in your hand and silver me should I do anything unwanted.”
He doesn't want her to come to harm.
“I'm trusting you, Eric.”
And she realizes that she does. She does trust him.
But she also wraps a long piece of chain around her knuckles. Grand didn't raise no fool.
“I won't betray you. Ever.”
Even like this, weak from lack of blood, his fangs throbbing, he knows that. He won't. Never.
“I may remind you of that someday,” she says as she leans in, moving her hair out of the way.
He leans up, just a little, and breathes her scent. The scent of her blood, her fairy legacy.
Trembling.
And then his fangs comes down and he bites her, as carefully as he possibly can. Burying his hand in her hair.
She gasps, as she feels his fangs pierce her skin, and then again as his mouth pulls in her.
He drinks, and his skin and flesh knits.
And then he stops and pulls back, growling.
She stares at him, his exposed fangs, his drawn back lips, with a good amount of trepidation.
And then e bites down on his own hand and holds it out to her, the two fang punctures oozing cool, dark blood.
“Drink,” he says, hoarsely.
“But I am not injured.”
Her voice sounds strangely weak to her own ears.
The wound on her neck is throbbing. And her, well, everything's throbbing.
“We will be one,” he says, still with that scary snarl in his voice, and she should leave, she should pull back, but she wants him. She wants to drink his blood. She wants for them to be one. And so she leans in and drinks, closing her eyes as she hears him moan.
They're covered in blood.
It makes sense to take the soiled clothes off and go wash.
He lifts her out of the hidey hole and they walk, hand in hand, to the bathroom.
The walls are moving. Breathing. Soft, gentle, loving movements.
She stumbles and he catches her and then he stops because her skin is so soft that he has to stroke it. Slowly and methodically.
She pulls at him and he follows and then they're finally in the shower stall and she looks up at him and says, “It's a miracle.”
“What is?”
Looking down at her beautiful eyes. Her mouth is moving, but the words bloom into being inside his mind and heart. Red and golden.
“You. Your blood. It's amazing.”
Her whole body is thrumming. Singing. She is breathless and her hands are moving across his chest and down his back, all on their own.
“So is yours.”
And then gen he kisses her because he can't explain just how much her words means to him.
The room grows dark blue as they kiss and caress each other and then Sookie turns on the faucet but it doesn't work.
She looks up and blinks.
“It's snowing.” Her voice is filled with wonder.
Snow.
Eric draws the shower curtain aside and reveals a snowy landscape, glittering in the dim light.
And a little ways away is a bed. A huge, wooden bed with blankets and furs.
“Why is there a bed?” she asks, wonderingly.
He looks at her. Wide-eyed. “Can we make love in it?”
“Like, maybe never stop.”
She begins to run, her golden hair flowing in the wind, her feet barely touching the earth.
“Why would we ever want to?” he asks, as he follows, entering the bed, entering her as she laughs and then cries out, breathlessly.
They are one.
After - they don't know how long - and more blood and more climaxes, Sookie sits up, shakily, and says, “I have to pee,” and then she swings her legs over the side of the bed and stumbles toward a clump of dark trees.
He looks after her, lovingly.
And then he gets up as well and follows her, the snow crunching under his feet. The branches hits him in the face and he closes his eyes and steps through -
Into bright light.
She'd lain besides him, stroking his face, but when the spell hit she'd withdrawn to a safe distance, trying to make him listen to reason. That he would die. That she would loose him.
He'd screamed that he didn't care. And then he'd just screamed without words, tearing at the chains that had made their way into his flesh. His neck, his wrist, his stomach.
And then the spell had passed. And the sun had set.
And she'd seen his eyes clear from the madness. Even if they were still hazy with pain.
She slowly removes the chains from his legs. They were the easy ones. The ones on his wrists makes him whimper and the pile across his belly (warm and sticky with blood and bits of skin and flesh) makes him make a sound that she never wants to hear again.
And then there's his neck.
Even beneath the chains, she can tell that it is bad.
Like, really bad.
She takes hold of one of the chains. Hesitantly.
“Yank it off. It's better,” he whispers.
“Well, won't it pull - some of you off with it?”
She hates how uncertain she sounds.
“Yeah, but that's okay. It doesn't hurt as much as the silver, and it heals faster.”
He just wants it gone.
She presses her lips together and leans over him to make sure that she's got a firm grip and then she tears them away, the sound of flesh being torn apart drowned out by Eric's roar of pain and Swedish curses. And then he swallows and says, “Thank you.”
She can see the inner bits of his neck move.
Oh Od, she can actually see inside his neck
“But you said it would heal faster, she says, sounding almost a little accusing because he did say that. And now she can see bits inside of him.
“Yeah, I'm just realizing I haven't fed since I-- “
“Since my fairy godmother?”
“Right.”
That was awkward.
But Sookie soldiers on. “You want a Tru Blood?”
“Oh, no, a Tru Blood isn't gonna help with this. I just need a rest.”
He tries to sit up and then quickly lies back down again, trying to make it seem like a controlled motion. Like he wanted to lie down.
“You need to feed.”
“Well, there is no one.”
He closes his eyes. Weakly.
She hesitates and then she says, “There's me.”
Quietly.
Almost a little bashfully.
“Please don't say this if you don't mean it.
He opens is eyes and looks up at her. Radiant. Hesitant.
Slightly marled by blood spatter.
“I do mean it. - Now, you know my blood's special, like--”
“Like the fairy goddess.”
Yes. He knows.
“Just a fraction of that, and I'm trusting you not to lose control.”
More or less.
He looks up at her and then he says, “Take something silver, hold it in your hand and silver me should I do anything unwanted.”
He doesn't want her to come to harm.
“I'm trusting you, Eric.”
And she realizes that she does. She does trust him.
But she also wraps a long piece of chain around her knuckles. Grand didn't raise no fool.
“I won't betray you. Ever.”
Even like this, weak from lack of blood, his fangs throbbing, he knows that. He won't. Never.
“I may remind you of that someday,” she says as she leans in, moving her hair out of the way.
He leans up, just a little, and breathes her scent. The scent of her blood, her fairy legacy.
Trembling.
And then his fangs comes down and he bites her, as carefully as he possibly can. Burying his hand in her hair.
She gasps, as she feels his fangs pierce her skin, and then again as his mouth pulls in her.
He drinks, and his skin and flesh knits.
And then he stops and pulls back, growling.
She stares at him, his exposed fangs, his drawn back lips, with a good amount of trepidation.
And then e bites down on his own hand and holds it out to her, the two fang punctures oozing cool, dark blood.
“Drink,” he says, hoarsely.
“But I am not injured.”
Her voice sounds strangely weak to her own ears.
The wound on her neck is throbbing. And her, well, everything's throbbing.
“We will be one,” he says, still with that scary snarl in his voice, and she should leave, she should pull back, but she wants him. She wants to drink his blood. She wants for them to be one. And so she leans in and drinks, closing her eyes as she hears him moan.
They're covered in blood.
It makes sense to take the soiled clothes off and go wash.
He lifts her out of the hidey hole and they walk, hand in hand, to the bathroom.
The walls are moving. Breathing. Soft, gentle, loving movements.
She stumbles and he catches her and then he stops because her skin is so soft that he has to stroke it. Slowly and methodically.
She pulls at him and he follows and then they're finally in the shower stall and she looks up at him and says, “It's a miracle.”
“What is?”
Looking down at her beautiful eyes. Her mouth is moving, but the words bloom into being inside his mind and heart. Red and golden.
“You. Your blood. It's amazing.”
Her whole body is thrumming. Singing. She is breathless and her hands are moving across his chest and down his back, all on their own.
“So is yours.”
And then gen he kisses her because he can't explain just how much her words means to him.
The room grows dark blue as they kiss and caress each other and then Sookie turns on the faucet but it doesn't work.
She looks up and blinks.
“It's snowing.” Her voice is filled with wonder.
Snow.
Eric draws the shower curtain aside and reveals a snowy landscape, glittering in the dim light.
And a little ways away is a bed. A huge, wooden bed with blankets and furs.
“Why is there a bed?” she asks, wonderingly.
He looks at her. Wide-eyed. “Can we make love in it?”
“Like, maybe never stop.”
She begins to run, her golden hair flowing in the wind, her feet barely touching the earth.
“Why would we ever want to?” he asks, as he follows, entering the bed, entering her as she laughs and then cries out, breathlessly.
They are one.
After - they don't know how long - and more blood and more climaxes, Sookie sits up, shakily, and says, “I have to pee,” and then she swings her legs over the side of the bed and stumbles toward a clump of dark trees.
He looks after her, lovingly.
And then he gets up as well and follows her, the snow crunching under his feet. The branches hits him in the face and he closes his eyes and steps through -
Into bright light.
