Everything's different. Some things stay the same.

[onceaviking]

Eric's room is still fairly bare. There is a small, carved Viking ship on the table next to his closed laptop and the two chairs beside the low table have ornately carved backs.
And there is the bed of course. Huge and messy.

He closes the door behind them with a small click, once they have entered, his other hand still on the small if her back.

Possesively.

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[i_am_your_host]

This time she only gasps through her teeth, gritted against the pain that now seems to permeate her entire body like an electrical buzz -- and strangely enough at this point, it invigorates her, makes her want to push through it, to push back. And she keeps pushing back against his hips, thighs squeezing around him, each thrust adding pleasure to the pain, mixing with it in an intensely euphoric blend.

It's the blood-soaked kiss that takes her by surprise. His mouth is hot and slick with her taste. And something snaps in the recesses of her mind, and she kisses him in return, almost hungrily, her tongue darting between his lips and flicking serpent-like at the backs of his front teeth, just skirting the dangerous fangs.

[onceaviking]

He growls again, a primal, eager sound, licking at her lips.

Fucking her.

He reaches down and grabs hold of her hips, tipping her pelvis so he can go even deeper.

[i_am_your_host]

His mouth and chin are smeared with her blood, fangs stained red. He is a monster in his passion and she isn't sure why she wants as much of him as she can take. But she does. And she is sure she won't ever have him like this again.

She claws at his back, her body jostled by the force of his thrusts. Her moans and cries become louder and louder when he changes the angle, hitting spots deep inside her that she had no idea existed. Eventually her hips start to falter, her body starts to shake and spasm, every nerve unraveling.

She wants to keep going, keep going until dawn -- but she's only human.

[onceaviking]

He could go on for ever of course. Or at least till the sun rose.

But he feels how her movements change, and so he slows, and stills, and is quiet. Putting his arms around her, enjoying the sensation of her perky breasts pressed against him. Her skin, slick with sweat.

He rubs his face against her hair, like a huge cat, breathing deeply.

And then he bites his own tongue and licks the wounds on her neck. Closing them.

[i_am_your_host]

No, don't stop.

The words are on the tip of her tongue.

But oh, who is she kidding.

Eyes fluttering shut, she lets out a long, drawn-out mewling groan, toes curling, back arching in a feline stretch, as heavy, languid waves of ecstasy course through her blood and turn her into jelly underneath him, completely spent.

It takes a while for her to realize that his arms are wrapped around her. And that he's nuzzling her.

The lion turned into a big pussycat. (She won't say that to his face.)

He licks her neck and the bleeding stops. And so does everything else in the room. And in the stillness she can hear her own heartbeat, loud enough for the both of them.

What is her life.

[onceaviking]

He, in turn, is quiet. No breath, no heartbeat.
He just lies on top of her, eyes closed, his arms supporting most of his own weight.

He's still hard, but he doesn't seem to mind, making no move to do anything about it.

Then he slides off of her and settles down next to her, on his side, one hand trailing down her body. His face pressed against her neck. Feeling her pulse.

[i_am_your_host]

She breathes a purring sigh when Eric moves off of her, leaving the space between her thighs strangely empty, and she presses her knees together. Still tingling, aching a little. But a good ache.

But she doesn't expect what he does next. At all.

It confuses her. She doesn't know him. At all.

She lies still, catching her breath. She licks her lips, tasting blood. And she takes a deep breath and sighs again, turning her head toward him, her cheek ending up pressed to his forehead.

"I feel as if I should say something extraordinarily profound right now but I'm afraid that you've fucked the brain cells out of me."

Her voice is hoarse and husky, her tone never lacking in wryness.

[onceaviking]

He laughs.

"I will take that as a compliment then, " he says and gets up, putting a little distance between them. Not for her sake, but for his own. Just as the closeness was. It is make believe, and he never lets himself forget that.

"You make a good women. If a little slender," he says over his shoulder as he walks into the bathroom. Then he pokes his head back out.
"What was it like?" Genuinely curious, even if his own cultural background makes it impossible for him to imagine that he, himself, should ever try such a thing.

Emcee was practically a woman already. That is different.

[i_am_your_host]

She breathes an internal sigh of relief when he moves away and gets up. That was what she expected from him, and the distance is more comfortable than anything else when they're not actually talking or fucking.

(But the make-believe could be nice.)

Still a bit dazed, she eases herself up into a sitting position, folding her legs underneath her, and follows him with her eyes when he crosses the room. Because naked Eric.

She considers his question for a moment.

"It was...enlightening. Wonderfully so. I daresay you've taught me a thing or two."

[onceaviking]

He grins, pleased with himself.

"I've had plenty of time to fine tune my skills," he says. "And they went so bad to begin with either."

A small, amused snort.
"My father used to chide me because I had no interest in learning how to rule. But at least, he said, he always knew where to find me. Between a woman's legs."

And wasn't that a better place to be? If the alternative was the high seat. Presiding over other people's unimportant squabbles?

[i_am_your_host]

There's something very satisfying in getting Eric to smile or laugh.

And she smiles in turn at his anecdote, in genuine amusement, and because it's yet another extremely rare mention of his life as a human. Having a father. Not a Maker.

"That does not surprise me, what with you being so handsome and charming," she says, continuing to play the game herself -- but also meaning it.

"And even if you did not want to be a ruler, you still have a throne." She shrugs and smirks, idly toying with the necklaces dangling between her breasts.

[onceaviking]

"That I do," he agrees.
"And I have found it less distasteful than I had expected."
He leans against the doorframe, looking at her. Her body on display.

"I was a chieftain's son. Such a one is not easily turned down." He's got the casual, unapologetic arrogance of the truly privileged.

He heads back into the bathroom, calling, "I think there is wine on the small table."

He occasionally has humans here. It had seemed a good idea to make sure there was something to drink.

The low table matches the two carved chairs. It radiates age, silky smooth with age as it is. The wine is red and potent. The kind that would have been watered down in his day.
There is only one glass.

[i_am_your_host]

Her eyebrows rise a fraction. A chieftain's son? It actually explains a lot about his demeanor sometimes. It is no act of pretense.

The offer of wine also surprises her, but less so, and when he disappears into the bathroom, she slips off the bed and walks to the table. She's still wearing her heels and stockings, as comfortable in them as she is remaining mostly naked. This body is new, and she's going to enjoy every moment in it. Why cover it up?

There is indeed some wine in a bottle. She uncorks it, sniffs it. Very pungent. She pours a little into the glass and marvels at the deep red color, as deep as blood.

As an afterthought, she touches the side of her neck. Dried blood flakes off her skin.

She takes a small, tentative sip of the wine. Oh, it's very potent. And delicious. And she eagerly takes another, larger sip.

Glass in hand, she settles herself in a chair facing toward the bathroom door, swinging her legs over an armrest like a girl in a pinup photo. Even as a woman she prefers to lounge rather than merely sit.

[onceaviking]

There's the sound of running water.
Eric really does like his shower.

He does appreciate that Emcee refrains from joining him this time, though. It means that her scent permeates the room, at least to his sensitive nose.
Wet and well-fucked woman; he'll leave the sheets on a while.

He returns from the bathroom, naked and damp, discarding the wet towel carelessly ion the floor. He too seems quite at ease in his own skin, walking purposefully across the floor to settle in the chair opposite hers.

"?Is it good?" One eyebrow raised as he nods at the glass in her hand.

[i_am_your_host]

When he emerges from the bathroom, it's as she expected him to (Vikings must have had very lax clothing issues), and she eyes him appreciatively over the rim of the glass. Her toes curl in her shoes, her legs shifting against one another. Even after everything they'd just done, she's still like a cat in heat just from looking at him.

Hormones, how do they work.

"Very good," she purrs, her voice echoing slightly in the glass before she takes another sip.

"And very strong. I might get drunk on only one glass."

[onceaviking]

His nostrils flare a little.
He likes hormones.

"Don't hold back on my account," he says with a small smile. "As long as you don't start weeping. I - cannot stress how much I hate that."
He's still smiling though.

And stretching, his muscles moving under his smooth, pale skin.

She should be mindful of both the potency of the wine, her changed gender, and the fact that he has drunk from her.

He is fairly certain that whatever happens will be in his favor, what with the way she is moving in the chair.

[i_am_your_host]

"Darling, please," she scoffs. "I don't weep when I get drunk. ...I might get a little bitchy, but only if you give me a reason, and you know that already. So." She gives him a cheeky little smirk over her glass before indulging in another sip.

Verdammt, he's hot. He makes her head spin.

Or maybe it's the wine that's doing that.

[onceaviking]

He lifts an eyebrow.
"Oh yes," he says. He remembers it vividly.

In some ways, this strange, German, liminal creature reminds him of Pam.
Perhaps that is why he stays sprawled in the chair. To give her a little something.

Or perhaps he just enjoys to smell her wetness. Watch her body make itself known.

[i_am_your_host]

"You are amusing sometimes, Herr Northman," she giggles, her lips bright red. "It becomes you."

That little something he gives her now might come back to him threefold, because she is humming with arousal. And she knows he can tell.

Another gulp of wine.

She stretches out a long leg and tugs at the garter of her stocking, pulling it up and straightening it out, sweeping her palm along the inside of her thigh.

[onceaviking]

"I think," he says, thoughtfully, "That you should seize every opportunity to make the most of this - transformation of yours."

After all, he is afforded with a most excellent view.

Excellent enough to make his fangs reappear.

"Explore all the options."

[i_am_your_host]

She gives him a sloe-eyed gaze, eyelashes fluttering when his fangs come down.

And she drains the rest of the wine from her glass, tipping her head back far to get the last drop, her neck arching gracefully. Setting the glass down on the table, she then swings her legs off the armrest, facing him, sitting with her knees parted.

"Oh, I intend to do that, Herr Northman."

[onceaviking]

His gaze doesn't flick down.
It moves slowly, languidly almost, from her face (her lips), down her chest (lingering at her breasts), her belly, her sex.

Lingering.

He shifts a little, getting comfortable.

There is the display of course. Her body, free of shame. And there is the blood in her, singing out to him, like the waves on the shore. Foaming with her desire, building already, slowly, slowly, in anticipation of the crash to come.

His eyes return to her face.
He licks his lips.





{ooc: argh - bedtime}

[i_am_your_host]

She can feel his eyes devouring her, inch by inch. When his gaze falls to between her thighs, she subtly parts them further.

It's not really necessary to seduce a vampire, but it is incredibly fun.

His tongue darting over his lips is as effective as a beckoning gesture. Chieftain's son.

She rises from the chair, her movements languid with wine and lust in her veins. There's a sway in her hips when she walks, shoulders back, tits forward. Black hair, dark eyes, red lips stark against her pale face.

Standing before him, she bends down, resting her hands on his hard thighs and leans in close, dangerously bold and uninhibited. Her breath is hot on his cold lips.

"Feel how wet I am for you, mein Herr," she whispers invitingly. With a quick flick of her tongue, she licks the corner of his mouth where the point of his fang protrudes.

[onceaviking]

He makes a good woman. Just the kind of woman Eric likes.

He keeps his eyes locked on hers as he reaches out and slides one large, cold hand up the inside of her thigh.

All the way up.

He lets one finger, just as cold, slip inside her.
"You are," he agrees as he turns his hand a little and makes a beckoning movement with the finger buried inside her.

Sometimes, it has tremendous results.

[i_am_your_host]

Being a woman comes almost naturally. Being the kind of woman Eric likes is just part of the game.

She doesn't flinch when he fixes his ice-blue eyes on hers, and she holds her stance when he slides his hand up her thigh. His cold touch sends shivers through her body, as much as his self-assuredness makes her flush with heat.

But when he slips a finger inside her...

"...!"

is her wordless, soundless, nearly breathless gasp.

Her grip on his thighs slacken and her knees threaten to buckle as her limbs tremble uncontrollably. The noises that do escape her constricted throat are desperate, keening moans and whimpers. The look on her face says How is this sensation even possible?

Maybe she just feels things more strongly because she's naturally sensitive. Or maybe she's more sensitive than usual because she's a woman for the first time.

Or maybe Eric is just that good.

In any case, he literally has her in the palm of his hand.