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.

Comments

[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.

[onceaviking]

Now this is the kind of power he really enjoys.
Seeing in how many ways he can make her beg and whimper.

Her face is still close to his and so it takes little to close the gap between them. To let his lips slide along her neck.

And then he bites her. Again.

Feeling her every reaction as translated through her pussy and her blood.

[i_am_your_host]

She lets out a breathless half-cry, half-sigh, her body wracked as both pain and pleasure tear through her once again.

She won't be able to stand on her own for much longer. With her hands braced on his shoulders, she straddles his lap, shakily, submissively, her thighs spreading wantonly for his touch, her back arching as she presses her throat against his mouth. Hot and wet all over.

[onceaviking]

And he shifts in his seat so he can enter her, rising up to meet her warmth, as a warm wetness of a different kind fills his mouth.

He growls against her skin, having to consciously keep back from tearing into her.

He wants her. Wants to consume her and fuck her and make her scream.

[i_am_your_host]

She nearly does scream when he practically impales her, sucking at her throat at the same time. His growl startles her with its viciousness, and she can feel him restraining himself, keeping his strength and instinct in check. Her heartbeat trips over itself at what would happen if he lost control.

Coming thisclose to death is an insane turn-on.

Sinking down on his cock, she starts moving her hips in a deep, rolling grind that starts slow but quickly picks up speed and urgency. A stray trickle of blood drips down the center of her chest, mingling with sweat. Her cries become louder, and louder, and louder.

[onceaviking]

Her eagerness is almost as intoxicating as her blood. Her desperation.

He too picks up his pace, slamming up and into her, going as deep as he possibly can, when she is on top of him. Spurred on by her cries, her blood, and the way she is enveloping him, slick and hot.

One of his hands end up in her hair, keeping her in place. His other hand roam her back.
So delicate. So fragile.

He ought to stop feeding soon.

[i_am_your_host]

It's not long before she can't keep up with his tireless thrusting, not at this point. He just feels so good inside her, his body moving between her legs, under her hands as she drags them down his torso.

And his mouth is relentless.

Her cries grow more feverish, frenzied, like a woman possessed.

She can't take him anymore. She can't. She wants to, she wants to, oh god does she want to, but he's too much--


Her entire body seizes, and she lets out a raw cry that sears her throat, her eyes shut tight against the agony of her orgasm. Overwhelming her, consuming her, draining her.

Trembling, her head lolls against his hand in her hair.

[onceaviking]

He thrusts one Final time - and comes.

It takes him by surprise. It no longer holds the same importance as it once did, but the physical sensation is still pleasant and so he presses his face against her sticky skin to stifle a moan. Tightening his fingers in her hair.

Then he licks the blood off of her neck and then licking ends with small kisses, on her shoulder, beneath her ear, at the corner of her eye.

And then he leans back, his face smeared with blood, to look at her. His free arm has moved to encircle her waist, to make sure she doesn't slide off his lap, as he softens.

The smell of blood is overpowering and his thighs are sticky, but his face still looks a little flushed. He's fed well tonight.

[i_am_your_host]

Nothing feels real. Everything feels numb. And warm, and wet.

She isn't entirely sure what happened, dazed out of her mind as she is.

Did he just...did he? These little kisses, what are they?

Her eyelids open a crack.

He looks like a mess. She probably does, too. The hazy thought amuses her, and the corner of her slack mouth pulls back in some kind of barely-there smile.

Eyelids fluttering closed again, she slumps forward against him, her face pressed into the crook of his neck and shoulder. One hand over where his heart would have been beating.

Just a few minutes of stillness where she doesn't have to move. That would be great.

[onceaviking]

He slides a hand between them and stands, lifting her and holding her close.
She is sticky and so is he. It feels - like it once felt. When he too could sweat and had a beating heart. It is both comfortable and a little unpleasant. Being reminded of things so far removed.

Everything is more complicated after - Texas. Everything gets to him in ways it didn't use to. In ways it shouldn't.

He carries her to the bed and lays her down. Gently.

Then he heads for the bathroom again. To wash and to find a cloth for her. Her thighs look frightening. Nightmarish. Bloody.