Disclaimer: I don't own True Blood or anything associated with it.
A/N & Ratings Warning:
This fic contains graphic, sexual content and a rather unhealthy relationship for the first part, including controlling behaviour and a touch of forced consent (it's not super bad, but qualifies for the warning).
Please skip this story if you are underage, or fear it could cause triggers. Or you know, are just not into that sort of thing.
It had not been her intention to meet anyone that night; that's why she hadn't gone to a bar or a pub. No, for her 29th birthday she had decided that there was no reason to go out, get drunk and desperately try to pull a man. She was a strong, independent woman, and she was just not that desperate and pathetic. She was not.
So she'd gone to a nice café-slash-bookshop, alone because her friends just didn't understand, and purchased a lovely, fancy glass of hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. She was wearing a nice outfit – white silk shirt, black blazer and a dark grey pencil skirt over silk stockings, complete with black leather heels – but she hadn't bothered with contacts and was wearing her black framed glasses, with her dirty blonde hair pulled up in a knot at the nape of her neck.
"Happy birthday to me," she whispered to herself as she sat down, opening up 'Les Misérables' to settle in for a bit of high-brow entertainment. She was quite proud of her intellect and sharp mind, and believed that reading the classics and higher end literature helped her stay at the top of her game when it came to conversations; being a classy lady meant being smart.
A small chink of china against glass made her look up from her book just as one of the servers placed a delicate plate with a decadent piece of chocolate cake on it. She raised her eyebrows questioningly. "I didn't order that, you must have the wrong table."
The young man smiled. "Oh no, that young gentleman over there ordered it and asked me to tell you that no birthday is complete without a slice of cake."
Her grey eyes followed the server's nod, and came to rest on a pale, handsome young man who was sat at a table in a corner watching her. His full, sculptured lips turned ever so slightly up at the corners when he caught her looking. He could maybe pass for twenty. Maybe.
'Oh great, I'm not even 30 yet and already I'm giving off the cougar-vibe,' she thought sourly, offering him a curt nod as thanks before returning to her book.
The only problem being that it was very hard to focus on the suffering of France's lower class when someone was sat staring at you. She looked up irritably and caught the deep-blue eyes of the young man.
"What do you want?" she hissed too low for anyone to hear, but she was hoping that if he couldn't lip-read, at least he would take the hint of her annoyed facial expression and bugger off to eye-stalk some other, elderly woman.
Unfortunately, it made him get up from his table and walk towards her in a way that made her think of a stalking panther -he was that graceful. When he arrived at her table he leaned forward a bit, resting sinewy, pale hands on the back of the empty chair on the other side of her table. "I want to know why you are spending your birthday alone, reading the perhaps most boring piece of literature written by man." His voice was soft and deep and made something down low clench involuntarily. "And, I want to know your name."
She flushed at her body's unexpected response but quickly set her jaw. "My name is Vera Gantsworth, I am spending my birthday reading this book because it is one of the greatest pieces of work known to man – and I am not interested."
A small smile tugged at his mouth, giving it a sinful slant. "What are you not interested in, Vera? Cake? Discussing literature..?"
She gave him a firm stare. "Either. Nor am I interested in schooling young men barely old enough to have a legal drink. So thank you for the cake, but if you would excuse me… I have reading to do."
His smile increased the tiniest bit as he tilted his head slightly. "That is your objection? My age?"
Time to be patronising – as far as she'd experienced, that was one thing young men didn't take kindly to. That, and being outsmarted by what they thought was going to be their conquest for the night. Vera looked him straight in the eyes. "Yes, it is. I do not have the patience for, nor any interest in, your unintelligent observations of the literary world that you have either picked up in Literature 101 or on some internet website, I do not care to sit through your fumbling attempts at flirting and I most certainly am not going to subject myself to your undoubtedly eager but nevertheless ineffective attempts at memorising the female body. I am way too old for you, and way – way – out of your league. You should find yourself a nice freshman girl to practice on, and leave adult women alone."
To her great surprise the young man eased himself into the empty chair in front of her, a twitch of his lips not quite managing to hide an amused smirk.
She stared at him, wondering if he was slow or just extremely thick-skinned.
"Well, I am very pleased that that is your only objection," he said, calmly folding his hands over each other on top of the table, dark blue eyes staring into hers. "Because while I assure you that nothing I choose to do to a female body is ineffective, my interest is merely to learn why a beautiful young woman sits alone on her birthday in an aura of unhappiness so strong that I can practically smell it. And to ease all worries you may have that I am not old enough to grasp the depth of any conversation you could strike, I can inform you that I have walked on this Earth for a lot longer than yourself, young one."
Her full lips pinched together at his tone – it was still soft and pleasant, but there was an unmistakable core of steel in it; he was in no way intimidated by her patronising rant.
And then she did a re-take of his words. her eyes widening as she understood the implication. She quickly scanned him; ice pale skin, slightest tinge of pink around his eyes, predatory movements and stare…
"You're a vampire?" she whispered incredulous, not wanting to say it out loud to have others hear and laugh at her.
He cocked his head at her, raising his dark eyebrows ever so slightly. "Do you now have other objections to conversing with me, other than my age..?"
She took that as a yes, and had to quickly shut her mouth when she realised that she was gaping.
"Uh.. no?" It came out as a question, and she mentally slapped herself for sounding like an idiot.
"I mean… of course not." She was too intellectually superior to be freaked out just because the man in front of her was technically dead. Vampires lived and walked among humans, and had done so openly for a few years now. There was as little reason to view civil interactions with them any differently than you did other people of a different race than your own – or affected by an illness. Vampires were not that different. They were simply humans who were different than her. Simple. She wouldn't think twice about speaking to a diabetic person. Or someone of Indian origin. Same, same. No biggy.
She told him as much; or, she said: "I have no prejudice against people who happen to be different to myself."
"Unless they are younger than you," he replied, an amused twinkle in his eyes.
Vera sniffed, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. "Not wasting time on the less evolved does not class as a prejudice." She knew she came off as an intellectual snob – she was OK with that, she was an intellectual snob.
"And I suppose appreciating Victor Hugo's work classes as being evolved?" he asked, letting a long, pale finger slide along the spine of her book that was laying on the glass table between them. Something about that single movement made her shiver.
She tore her gaze from his hand and lifted it to his face. "It certainly doesn't hurt."
"Hmm." He leaned back in the seat, eyes trained on her in a way that made it hard not to feel scrutinised - and exposed. "So, Vera, will you tell me why you are sat alone on your birthday, appreciating being evolved while radiating sadness?"
The blonde blinked and sat a little more upright. "I am not sad. And as to why I am here alone, well, I don't know anyone who would like to spend their evening here, reading. Now, how do you know that it is my birthday?"
"I heard you wish yourself a happy birthday," he said in a gentle tone, eyes softening.
Oh great, he pitied her.
She stared at him with her lips still pulled into a narrow line. But attack is the best form of defence.
"And you? What are you doing in a coffee shop, alone, when I presume you cannot eat anything off the menu, Mr...?"
"Godric. And I people-watch."
Her nose scrunched up on its own accord. "For, uhm, dinner?"
A low chuckle emanated from his throat. "No. I find the interactions of humans intriguing. It is kind of a… hobby, you could call it."
"Oh." So this was some sort of experiment from his side, then? "So that is the reason for the chocolate cake?" She motioned at it. "Feed the human sugar and watch for unusual reactions?"
His smile slipped back into place. "No. The chocolate cake is because it is your birthday, and from my observations I have learned that cake is a prerequisite when a human becomes a year older."
"Well, maybe I have had birthday cake already," she replied, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.
"You have not. You have had…" He breathed in deeply. "Pasta, seafood, vegetables cooked with olive oil, fresh leaves… a salad, chicken eggs, fruit, something grain-based, fish and soured milk product. And that glass of hot chocolate."
Vera stared at him in horror. "You can smell what I have had to eat all day?!"
The vampire looked mildly nonplussed at her dismay. "Of course."
Oh, god. So what else could he smell? Had she remembered to put deodorant on before she left the office..?
"That must be rather, hm, off-putting," she offered.
Godric seemed to clock on. "Ah, no. If I recall correctly, natural scents are different to us than humans – they are rarely… off-putting. More of a… a business card, if you will. From your scent I can tell what you have had to eat, get a general idea of who you have interacted with during the day, if you are sick, where in your hormonal cycle you are… what?"
Vera had buried her face in her hands. "Please, I really don't want to know!" There were just some things that were better left to happy ignorance.
"You find this topic embarrassing?" he asked, though she could tell that he already knew the answer. "My apologies… I am not always… in tune with my observations, and I forget."
"How old are you, then?" she interjected, wanting to move on from the awkward topic and not caring if the transition wasn't smooth. "Seeing as you have to observe humans to know how we interact."
"Oh." His eyebrows shot up. "I suppose that is of interest to you, since you so determinedly refuse the company of the young. I am a couple of millennia old."
The way he said it sounded very casual, as if he'd said 'a couple of months off twenty seven'.
Vera blanched. She must seem like a complete toddler to him. Then an impressive blush set in when she realised how much of an idiot she must have seemed, talking negatively about people who were younger than herself.
"This embarrasses you too?" His tone was mildly teasing.
She shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes. She stared at the cake instead. "Not at all. I am just wondering why you are interested in discussing Les Misérables with me."
"I am not," he said, leaning forward and placing a cool finger under her chin to force her to lift her face. "I am interested in knowing why you are so unhappy."
His warm eyes kept her trapped, and when she opened her pink lips to lie she found that she couldn't.
"I am lonely," she whispered, mortified to admit this to a stranger, but oddly exhilarated to see recognition in his blue depths too.
His thumb came up to stroke gently over her chin, and she shuddered in unexpected pleasure. "You don't have to be."
Was that an offer? She looked him over again, this time ignoring his deceitful youth. He was easily the most handsome man she had ever seen in person, and two thousand years would have had to have given him… certain skills. She blushed when she remembered what he had said about never doing anything ineffective to a female body.
And they did say that being with a vampire was the best sex a person could have.
And it was her birthday.
And it really couldn't be classed as desperate to be picked up by a guy at a bookstore, of all places.
And electric charges were shooting through her body, all stemming from where his thumb was lightly touching her skin at a very non-erogenous zone.
Yeah, she was so doing this – if he was indeed offering.
"So… do you make it a habit to ask unhappy humans about their feelings in public places?" she asked, lowering her lashes halfway and glancing up at him from underneath them.
He was staring at her unblinkingly, which was a little unnerving.
"No," he replied, his voice a soothingly soft contrast to his gaze.
She was a grown, independent woman… she could do this.
"Do you… ask them somewhere more private?"
His full lips curled up ever so slightly, and his eyes darkened. Ah, he'd picked up on her flirting – good. Now it was just to wait and see if he had been making the type of suggestion she'd thought.
"I do not."
Vera blinked. Well… that was a bit of a cold shower. She pulled back from his touch, fingers fidgeting with her book. Until his one, cool hand covered her twitching fingers. She looked up, a little startled at the touch.
"I… would like to," he said, hesitance lacing his velvety voice. "But I am afraid I have not been completely honest with you."
Her eyebrows shot up, curiosity winning over embarrassment for the moment being.
He gave her that small, crooked smile that transformed his angelic face to something rather sinful. "My first interest in you was not your sadness, but your scent."
Heat returned to her face at full force. "What, like... I ate something weird for dinner?"
A full laugh burst from his lips, but when he looked at her again there was dark hunger in his eyes, which shouldn't have made warmth pool between her thighs or make her centre clench in sweet agony – but it did.
"No, it is not related to food. You smell very… appealing to me, and I do not know why."
"Oh so… I make you hungry?" This was a little too intense for her – sure, if he'd snuck a quick nip in during mind-blowing sex she'd probably been alright with it, but to be basically told that you smell like really delicious food… that was just something any sane girl should say politely 'no thank you' to going home with.
Godric seemed to be able to sense her thoughts, and he smiled wider. "I do not mean that you make me hungry like that, Vera. There is no need to be scared for your life. But you smell like… I have never smelled anything like you, and I could not promise that I would not bite you… during other activities."
Her brows furrowed, and she was vaguely aware that this was one of the more surreal conversations in her life – she was basically discussing the possibilities of surviving a one-night stand with a stranger, and she was seriously considering it. "Is it not normal? For vampires to bite during… intercourse? Or do you mean bite, as in seriously injure?"
His smile slipped off his face, and she found that she missed it instantly. "It is the norm, yes. But I do not draw blood from the unwilling anymore, ever. Under any circumstance. So I cannot ask that you accompany me home without you knowing the risks involved."
She couldn't help but ask, because… well, she needed to know, really: "Does it hurt?"
The darkness in his eyes returned. "Not if you do not want it to."
The instant flood of moisture in her panties at his husky promise made up her mind, but before she could tell him as much his hand on hers constricted almost painfully as his nostrils flared, his blue eyes turning black as his pupils dilated fully.
She blushed scarlet.
"Come home with me." It was not as much of a question as a hoarse command, but she nevertheless nodded mutely and got to her feet, letting him lead her out the shop with a her hand safely tucked away in his.
People had been seriously underplaying this whole sex-with-vampires thing.
Vera was desperately clutching at the high-quality Egyptian cotton bed sheets she had long-since ripped holes in, feet scrambling for purpose as she was being forcefully fucked into the mattress by a creature that appeared to have as much strength as a freight train, and the stamina of whatever could keep fucking for 6 hours straight.
She was exhausted, and had hoped to pass out several times, but yet his rapid, full thrusts left her body begging for more; just one more orgasm, just one more push into her clenching depths…
Her throat was too hoarse to give sound to the screams he was still forcing from her aching body, her nipples raw from his expert administrations, her neck, thighs and chest marked by his fangs and her core swollen and sore, but every time she breathed a raspy 'please' to beg him to end it, somehow she never managed to get the word 'stop' over her ravaged lips, whimpers of pleasure getting in the way. And he kept driving into her with a desperate need like he was a man dying from dehydration and she was a lake of fresh water he was trying to empty.
At this point, Vera wasn't certain he would ever stop, and when she finally felt her mind and body give in to the sensory overload and exhaustion, her only thought was that this was an OK way to die.
Heady, metallic liquid filled her mouth as she unthinkingly swallowed, and then again before the cold pressure against her lips was removed. She whimpered in protest, grabbing at it, and was rewarded when it returned to her mouth. She drank greedily until the source seemed to dry out.
"Why didn't you tell me to stop?!" an oddly accusing voice broke through the haze of complete, buzzing pleasure the liquid had left her mind swimming in. "I nearly killed you!"
The blonde girl cracked an eye open and found that the gorgeous face of her one-night stand was perfectly clear, even though her glasses were on the night stand where she'd left them before they began. She giggled happily. "Oh my god, you almost fucked me to death. That's hilarious!"
His features showed complete disbelief. "Exactly how is that amusing?"
"Because," she hiccupped, crawling back so she could sit up, leaning against the headboard. "You always want a thorough fuck, and I mean… if you have to die somehow…" Laughter interrupted her again.
Godric rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I gave you too much blood." His voice was exasperated but defeated, and he climbed up to her, pulling her in to his strong body and wrapping the surviving duvets tightly around them. "You will be intoxicated for a while."
She burrowed her nose in his skin as he eased her into a laying-down position. "You know, you smell pretty wonderful too. Like moss and rivers and musk."
He stroked a hand through her wild, dirty blonde hair as she pressed her nose against the zigzagging lines on his left bicep. "And you are so sexy! Did I tell you that before? I love your tattoos, and all those muscles that pop out everywhere, and your face and your cock and... Ooh, I think I'm ready again!" She gave him an excited smile and grabbed under the duvet for his member, but was stopped by a hand constricting around her wrist.
"I think we have done plenty of that for tonight, my dear," he murmured at her pouty face, brushing a kiss over her lips. "I forgot how fragile humans are, and I hurt you in my lust. For that I am truly, deeply sorry."
Vera snorted, fighting weakly against his grip, but he didn't yield. "Please, I am fine! In fact, I have never felt better! Come, let me show you…"
With a sigh he grabbed her jaw gently in one hand, turning her face to his. She felt a strong pull from his eyes and immediately relaxed completely against him.
"Sleep, my Vera."
Vera fell asleep instantly.