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]

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.

[i_am_your_host]

She doesn't want to open her eyes for anything. Not even when Eric lifts her in his arms (well, that feels nice) or lays her on the bed. She just curls up on her side and wants to sleep.

Her throat is parched, and when she licks her lips, she tastes salt and iron.

She hears water running in the bathroom. She feels as if she could use a shower, but she's too comfortable in this position.

[onceaviking]

He's gone a while. Then he returns, clean and with a damp cloth for her.

The mattress dips as he sits down on the bed next to her. And then he reaches down and runs the damp cloth down her thighs.
Washing his blood away.

He can be surprisingly gentle when he has to. Or wants to.

It's possible that he is practicing gentleness. To relearn it.

[i_am_your_host]

She had dozed off, lightly, but peacefully. She's easily brought back to wakefulness at the shift in the mattress, but the feel of the damp cloth on her legs makes her eyelids flutter open.

"Eric..." she murmurs groggily. "What are you-...?"

She then finally has a good look. And she goes pale. (Well, paler than usual.)

[onceaviking]

"It's me," he says, throwing the now very bloody cloth on the floor.

"You have seen my tears."

That, to him, is sufficient explanation.

[i_am_your_host]

She blinks.

And then she nods. A little speechless, but not in shock. She will never forget his tears, nor the times he didn't let her finish the blowjobs she (he) gave him.

"Thank you," she says quietly, certainly not expecting Eric to do anything as attentive as washing his blood off of her. It's odd and unlike him, but she won't dwell on it.

Sitting up in the nest of rumpled bedsheets, she draws her legs up under her.

"Would you mind terribly if I slept here tonight? I'm all worn out and I just- don't have anywhere else to go, and this bed is awfully comfortable..."

She's not against batting her eyelashes at him.

[onceaviking]

"You can sleep here," he says, getting up from the bed and pulling on his jeans.
"But you will have to leave before dawn. I will wake you up in time."

He's got work to do and a couple of hours to get it done in.
And she is no threat to him.

[i_am_your_host]

She nods again.

"Of course."

As he puts his jeans on, she heaves an internal sigh of disappointment, because no more naked Eric. But she will get an eyefull while she can.

"You are leaving?" she asks casually.

[onceaviking]

He nods at his desk.

"I'm staying here. I've got some accounts and some letters to go over. I don't need light."

[i_am_your_host]

She is not going to show how pleased she is, but he might still be able to hear it. She just hopes that all these silly, giddy feelings go away when she changes back. They won't do anyone any good.

She slips off her shoes and drops them by the side of the bed before settling down with a deep sigh. Exhausted, physically and just a bit mentally, too.

"Buy me breakfast later?"

[onceaviking]

He snorts.

"Don't push your luck."

He walks to the door and turns the lights off. Then he walks to his desk and turns on the laptop. The light from the screen makes his cheekbones look even sharper. Chiseled.

He turns his attention to whatever is on the screen and starts reading, brows slightly knitted.

[i_am_your_host]

She picks her head up off the pillow to look at him, her jaw agape, snorting a laugh of her own.

"Excuse me, darling, but I cannot even count how many times you bit me tonight. I think a little nutritional compensation is isn't too much to ask, now is it?"

The light from that machine gives him an eerie, ominous look. She supposes it suits him.

"And besides, you won't be seeing me like this again anyway," she adds, as neutrally as possible.

[onceaviking]

He looks at her, face unreadable. Then he says, "I find little interest in watching others eat food. But you can order downstairs and put it on my tab."

Sometimes, he misses food.

Not as much as he misses beer. But still.

[i_am_your_host]

She nods a little, satisfied.

"Thank you. That is all I ask."

With another sigh, she lays her head back down on the pillow. She doesn't close her eyes just yet. She'll watch him sit at the desk with the blue-white glow from the screen on his face. And she wishes she wasn't so ridiculously sentimental right now in knowing she'll never be in this position again.

She closes her eyes.

[onceaviking]

Cool fingers stroke her cheek.

"It'll be dawn soon."
The laptop has been turned off and with only the lights in the bathroom on, the room stretches into darkness. He is a large presence, seated next to where she lies on the bed.

[i_am_your_host]

The cool touch and his voice lure her out of a deep sleep. Forcing her eyelids open, she turns her head and inhales a breath at his looming form, a little startled. But then she sighs. She doesn't know how he can unnerve her sometimes yet make her feel safe seconds later. In whatever form she she's in.

She exhales the universal groan of those who don't want to get out of bed in the morning. But she eventually manages to sit up slowly, still feeling a bit achy.

"May I take a quick shower before I go?" she murmurs, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand like a drowsy kitten.

[onceaviking]

He looks like he is about to say no. Then he reconsiders.

It is deeply ingrained in him that humans are not to be allowed where he sleeps, when he sleeps. But she has given him no reason to mistrust her, and he understands the need to wash.

So he nods.

"Dawn is close," he says. "If I sleep when you leave, make sure the door locks after you."

[i_am_your_host]

And she is diligent about keeping his trust, and has no reason to betray him in any way. Though she doesn't quite understand the gravity of what he's not explaining to her, she still hears it, and she won't question it.

She nods. "Of course I will."

Turning to sit on the edge of the bed, she quickly rolls down her stockings (the garters are crusty with dried blood) and leaves them by her shoes. As her eyes adjust to the dimness, she crosses the room to pick up her dress and knickers off the floor, before following the light to the bathroom. She shuts the door behind her.

She'll waste no time. She runs the water cold for a few moments to fully wake herself up, then turns it very, very warm, almost hot, to ease away the aches. The dried blood also washes away -- a kind of sloughing off of the night before.


When she emerges from the bathroom some ten minutes later, she does so quietly and discreetly, padding out in bare feet into the light-tight darkness of the main room.