Mine Is A Four Letter Word

By: Sleepy Lotus




She did not answer my call, not even looking up from her brown study into blank space. I took her moment of preoccupation to take in the sight of her, eyes roving over her form, golden blond hair framing that lovely face, brow slightly furrowed in thought, in a way I strangely found cute. But the rest of her, oh, she had not dressed for cute, as they say. Her dress was red, crimson as fresh spilt blood and just as enticing, offering the mounds of her breasts as a platter of ripe fruit, clinging to her curves, and leaving the view of shapely legs crossed at the ankles like a lady, the way her Gran taught her, no doubt, free to view for anyone who dared.

She claimed the mode of dress merely helped her feel more incognito here at Fangtasia, when she scanned the crowd for me, a supplement employment to waiting tables at the shifter's bar. But Sookie drew vampire attention as a moth to a flame without such trappings; the dress did not help her fade into the background at all. No, not in the least.

"Sookie!" I tried again, and this time was rewarded with a flashing glance of cornflower blue eyes. She blinked, freeing herself from the spell of her thoughts, shaking herself free of her dream world. "You are even more distracted than usual tonight, lover. What's on your mind?"

Sookie leaned upon her hand, rolling eyes in my direction. We were not lovers, but I delighted in proclaiming it, and not just for the reaction it pulled from the little telepath. For sure as rain I knew it would someday be true. "Eric, where is Stockholm?"

Her question surprised me, even delighted me, both rare things for a mere human to accomplish. I turned my head, studying the girl, wondering what could possibly have her thinking of such things as geography in a place such as this, where most humans and vampires alike only thought of sex and blood.

"Sweden," I answered, thinking that perhaps her thoughts of me turned her to mulling this subject. It was moments like this I wished I were the telepath. "My country, long ago."

"Yes. Bill told me."

"Did he now?"

"Yes. And Oslo? Where is Oslo?"

My nose turned just a bit at the mention of it, though in truth we were not so different in culture, or even language. "Norway."

I stood from my desk chair, having finished writing her check for the night. Was employing her services my way of niggling even more into her life? Perhaps a bit, though I'd be damned if she didn't actually prove to be absolutely valuable at times, particularly when things went missing. Money. Alcohol. Staff.

Laying the check upon the armrest, which boasted a generous sum, I knelt before Sookie. Even on my knees, I nearly matched her in height. Ever so slightly she squirmed at our proximity, even as her eyes gleamed with curiosity, those plump lips parting with unspoken anticipation.

"Norway and Sweden are both long, slender countries," I explained, a single finger caressing the length of her exposed thigh, tracing the hem of her skirt along her skin. A small sound escaped her, before she realized that perhaps she should protest for the sake of propriety, even if just a little.


I would have none of it, and my hands clasped the luscious flesh of her thighs, holding her in place. Her heart thundered in her chest, and hungrily I watched as her nostrils flared, small hands gripping the edges of the leather cushions for dear life. Suddenly she smelled of prey, and something powerful within me urged me to pounce upon her immediately, to take the hot young blood rushing through her veins.

But I would get to that. Someday, I knew, and so I bided my time with a self-control of iron.

"Be still, lover," I demanded with a smirk, and reluctantly she obeyed, horrified by her own fascination with me, yet unable to resist, at least at that moment. "You asked for a geography lesson, and I will deliver."

Suddenly light as feathers, my long fingers smoothed down the length of her thighs to rest at her knees, wrenching a surprised gasp from her throat. But she fought no more, tense as a racehorse awaiting the gunshot, a nervous little filly so full of delicious fire. "Let us say this is Norway," I explained, squeezing her right thigh, my left, as though I were looking upon the map. "And this is Sweden." Sweden I punctuated with a swirling caress upon her left, tracing the contours of her knee.

Eyes rolled up to meet hers, it was with a smoldering stare that I leaned down to caress her sweet skin with aching lips. "Here is Stockholm," I proclaimed, planting a kiss upon the outside edge of her left knee.

"Eric, dear God.. ."

I smiled to myself, triumphant, but would not be distracted. "And Oslo."

A kiss for her right knee, nearly in the same place.

"Eric," she sighed again, sliding fingers into my hair. With a light grasp she attempted to pull me from her thighs, but I would have nothing of it. "This isn't.. ."

"Shh. This is.. .this is perfect," I assured her, planting more slow kisses along the outsides of her legs. "Bergen. Gavle. Trondheim. Ornskoldsvik." The names of lands I once knew rolled from my tongue, a rumble from deep in my chest that traveled across her skin. "Mmm." I approved of our geography lesson, greatly.

"And let us not forget the Gulf of Bothnia," I breathed against her skin, licking my lips as my fingertips traveled up the outside of Sookie's left thigh. They climbed higher and higher, until they disappeared beneath her hem. Our eyes locked as my touch wandered farther and farther north, her grip only slightly tightening in my hair, but no longer as a means of restraint. At the sound of desire that escaped her, as my fingers brushed the lace trimmings of what I had no doubt were a delicious pair of boy shorts, a growl escaped me. It took everything, everythingI had, not to throw her down onto the couch, not to rip her underwear away and pillage the common border of our respective map.

"I think this might be Finland," I declared, slipping a finger beneath the lacy strap at her hip. "But its hard to tell, under the darkness of the Polar Night." Her flesh was warm and pulsing and so alive, so damn vibrant. With a groan I cupped the curves of that fantastic derriere, pulling her fast against me, her legs on either side.

"I think you just ripped Scandinavia in half," she giggled cheekily, that accent of hers thick enough to eat, hands steadying herself upon my shoulders. She pulled an unexpected smile from me, my fangs fully distended, as telling of my desire as the hard bulge now rubbing against her center.

With a hesitant fascination Sookie raised fingertips to trace the lines of my face, ever so gently, my brows and down my nose, my lips and the tips of my fangs. "So beautiful," she whispered. "So terrible and beautiful. How is anyone supposed to stand a chance against you?"

"You're not," I quickly explained, planting a wet kiss upon her pulse as my fingers traced the joint of her hip and thigh, drawn by the unbelievable warmth, a surprising feat for the artic junction of Norway, Sweden, and Finland, as it were. But quickly she caught my hand, halting my explorations.

"No, Eric, that's enough," she protested.

"It's never enough." I staged a protest of my own, but she would have nothing of it, remaining steadfast in her decree, her fingers intertwined with mine.

"We can't.. .this has already gone too far. Remember my boyfriend? Bill?"

"No," I insisted. "Give me a moment, and you won't either." A single long finger extended to caress her center, and even through the barrier of panties I could tell she'd soaked through the lace with the juices of desire. She cried out, a wanton sound that set my blood to boil.

"Stop!" she exclaimed, swatting me with her free hand. "Slutta!" It was her use of Swedish that truly caught my attention, and with a groan and a smile more likened to a baring of teeth I complied to her wish.

"Where did you learn that?"

"Pam. She thought it might be a useful word with you."

I laughed, a roaring chuckle that caused the little telepath to jump in her seat. Taking advantage of her start, I scooped her up, positioning her to lie on top of me, my long body spread out upon the couch, feet hanging off the end. She seemed somewhat content with the position, nuzzling into the space between my pectorals that seemed sculpted to fit her head just perfectly. In fact her every curve and every hollow matched my own uncannily, except perhaps a certain apparent bulge that strained between our bodies. But there was a place that would fit too, just wonderfully. Some day she would see. She moved against my erection, ever so slightly, experimenting and consequently, causing me to groan. "That could be inside you at this very moment, lover," I whispered, fingers sliding through her flaxen hair. "Pleasuring you, making us one."

Though I expected her to balk, Sookie merely propped her chin upon her hands, sizing me up with playful blue eyes. She ground her hips into me, just a little bit, just enough to tease. "I can already sense some of your emotions through our little bond, Eric Northman. That's more than enough unity for me at the moment."

"You crave more already. As I do. Someday, Sookie Stackhouse, you will be mine."

The telepath went still above me. As still as the living can, for even in stasis they will breathe, will thrum with life. We lay there for minutes, perhaps even an hour, before I realized something besides sweat dampened the fabric of my black t-shirt. "Why are you crying, Sookie?" I asked, congratulating myself on a gentle delivery, caressing her hair ever so lightly. These humans are so fragile, with their emotions leaking everywhere. And yet there was an unfamiliar pang, deep in my chest, a sensation so alien I barely recognized it. Worry, worry for her, for if I had hurt her in some way without knowing.

"I'm not sure," she answered, and I sensed the truth in her words. "I think that sometimes you just overwhelm me a little."

Usually I would have taken the leap, acted upon the hundreds of possible innuendos.. .but not that time. For there was something fragile in her tone I knew not what to make of. Something unpredictable.

"How do you mean?"

Sookie allowed herself a sniff, wiping tears from a cheek with careless fingers. "Doesn't it seem ridiculous to you some nights? You, a thousand year old vampire. You, who could do anything, absolutely anything, anywhere, with anyone. You are here in the office of a vampire bar with me, a country bumpkin telepath, crazy Sookie.. ."

"I do not understand why you find this ridiculous," I interrupted, gesturing to our current state of co-ed reclining on the couch. "Because I find it delicious. And do not call yourself crazy, Sookie. You are a jewel. A prize worth millions of those pathetic blood bags out there." I waved towards the source of the pounding rhythm through the wall, the unseen throng of milling humans, sweating and drinking and hunting in their pathetic lonely way, and they were undoubtedly disappointed humans, for the star of the night's show was absent from his throne.

"And don't you get tired of sitting on your throne in front of them, like a museum display? Don't you get tired of them gawking at you?"

My expression darkened, but Sookie did not back down. Made no semblance of the gesture of groveling, the usual reaction when any sort of storm cloud began to darken my gaze. "And just what is it you think I should be doing?"

Sookie lowered her head then, once again resting in that hollow in my chest, albeit damp now. "I don't know," she sighed. "I guess it's a common affliction, whether you're 25 or 1000. None of us quite know what to do with ourselves, do we?"

Quite the contrary. I knew what I wanted to do with her, at least.

"Are you not content with your life, Sookie?"

She gave a small laugh, a quiet, secret sound, so unlike her usual buoyant vivacity. "I don't know," she whispered, pushing to sit up, her thighs straddling my hips. I took it as a most definite yes, yet before I could ask what she wanted out of life, she cut me short. "I have to go home, Eric. Bill will be worried about me."

I sneered at the mere mention of that vampire's name. I did not care for him, and I made no secret of it. "You will leave him soon, Sookie. It is inevitable."

"Is it?"

Sookie stood from her seat, much to my dismay, and straightened her dress best she could. It was as she hovered at the door that I called, "Lover, just what perked your interest in Scandinavian geography?"

Leaning against the doorway, Sookie paid me a Mona Lisa smile, and there was a sadness about her I did not quite understand. "You don't want to know," she decided, and blowing me a kiss, she disappeared down the hall.


"Eric, did you know I can tell when you are thinking of her?" asked Pam, poking me in the back. "You get this look on your face, as though you are about to murder something. Let it go, enjoy someone tonight. There is at least another month before she comes home."

"You are so sure she will come home?"

"You are not?"

Lip curled with disgust, I sat back in my throne. Daydreaming of the last night I beheld Sookie Stackhouse, held her close, gave her a geography lesson upon her milky thighs-recalling this memory had become a pastime of mine, as of late. A lesson she took to heart, apparently. Particularly the northern most regions.

"If she doesn't come home of her own means, I will drag her," I growled.

"So much effort, so much anger, for the little blood bag. And how did she repay you?"

"Enough, Pam."

My child snapped her mouth shut, well accustomed with that particular tone of mine. A tone that promised bodily harm at the slightest provocation. A growing audience of fangbangers had gathered, fascinated by the altercation between two of the bar's star vampires. I felt as a creature behind bars at the zoo, just as Sookie had suggested, two months ago.

With a snarl I stood, stalking to my office. I could not take their dead eyes any longer, their slack-jawed curiosity. Sookie, Sookie. Do you know what you've done to me?

Discontent roiled in the marrow of my bones. A thousand years of life indeed, and no idea what to do with it. Once, I had been happy with the bar. With an easy meal and an easy fuck every night I wanted one. The money was good too.

Lately though, it didn't quite seem like enough.

Suddenly I found myself in that abhorable state: waiting. Waiting for something to change, something to happen, something to push me into action.

Why did I have a feeling about that special something?

Why did I have a feeling I was waiting for Sookie to come home?

Damn you, Sookie Stackhouse. Before you, I'd at least been content.