Fight on Undaunted: Chapter Thirteen - part 1
ummary: With the threat of Sophie-Ann and the Authority still hovering, Eric hadn't worried about Russell's warning. When Godric is mysteriously resurrected, he realises that maybe he should have. Set post S3.
Pairing: Godric/ Eric.
Rating: NC-17. This is a very EXPLICIT chapter.
Warnings: Angst, slash, bloodplay, violence, torture. If you're mature enough to watch True Blood, I think you'll be fine reading this.
Disclaimer: True Blood belongs to Alan Ball and the SVM books belong to Charlaine Harris. Only the original characters are mine.
Note: I haven't seen the latest season of True Blood yet, so please, don't say anything about it if you leave a comment. Thanks!
Late autumn. 1102 AD. Himalayas.
It was a brilliant contrast to the monasteries Eric had seen in Europe. So much colour here, beautiful red, yellow, and blue tapestries and brightly painted statues. He bent down beside another statue of an elephant god. He’d seen his first elephant only a few years ago. He found them to be remarkable creatures - Godric loved pitting his strength against the huge animals - but he wasn’t sure he’d worship them.
They’d heard about the emptied monastery in a village several miles down the mountain. Cholera had killed all the monks a month or so ago, and so the two vampires had come up to explore and hopefully find a nice resting place. Though no-one was willing to venture up this high at this time of year, Eric was surprised that opportunistic thieves hadn’t sacked the place of its riches. He pushed a door open and discovered a windowless room. Eric smiled.
“I think you’ll like this room, Godric,” he called over his shoulder.
Godric appeared, peering around him curiously and Eric's smile widened when Godric's face lit up in delight. The room was filled with books and scrolls. Eric didn’t doubt for a second that Godric would spend most of his time reading everything in here.
Sure enough, Godric went in and began searching through the scrolls. Finding one he liked, he sat down on the floor and began reading. Eric watched him for a few minutes, surprised as Godric began to use his finger to follow the words.
“Can’t you read this language?”
“I haven’t been in this land in hundreds of years so I haven’t read it in a long, long time.” Godric glanced up and suddenly his voice became even softer. “It’s changed a little. Languages always do.”
Though the odd tone in Godric's voice made him curious, Eric marvelled at the idea of being older than a language. If I’m as careful as Godric, perhaps I’ll found out what it’s like.
He moved around the room, admiring the riches. Eric studied a statue of a fearsome looking goddess wearing a skirt made of arms and a garland of human heads. Looking at the offerings of incense, flowers, and sweet smelling oils at her feet, Eric wondered if such dainty tributes appeased her. Given her how grisly she is, I think the bodies of slain enemies would please her more. He noticed the statue had fangs and it made him wonder.
He started looking through the books and grimaced. How am I meant to learn to read this? When it came to speaking, reading and writing in other languages, Godric was a relentless teacher.
Many of the books had pictures, mostly animals and some battle scenes, so at least he was able to admire those. One book captured his interest and he held it out to show Godric.
“Look!” he laughed. “It’s a book on lovemaking.”
Godric didn’t even look up. “I would not have thought you would need help with that.”
“I don’t,” Eric said huffily. He flipped through the book some more, then frowned, turning one picture on its side. “Some of these positions seem unnecessarily complicated though.”
Godric raised an eyebrow and leaned over to look at the picture. He snickered and returned to his scroll. “No, it’s not. You just need to... experiment more.”
“I experiment plenty,” Eric said, affronted. He glanced at the picture again and wondered just what Godric got up to with the men and women he went off with. Eric would happily brag, but Godric would merely smile and say nothing of his own conquests - unless he wanted to one-up Eric.
“If you say so.” Grey eyes glittered with mischief.
“I do!”
“Oh?” Godric smirked. “Ever been with a man?”
Eric had nothing.
Outwitted, he fell silent. He had never been with a man, but Eric preferred the sweet, soft bodies of women.
He’d indulged some women by sharing them with another man at the same time, but he’d never touched the other man. He’d been thoroughly insulted once; a woman he’d been sharing had suggested the two men couple in front of her, and while Eric dubiously considered her request, the other man had declared that he, ‘Didn’t find Eric pleasing enough to do so.’
Eric had left that encounter seething that a man would not find him attractive. Of course, when he’d told Godric, his Maker had doubled over with laughter.
Still sulking, Eric left the room to continue exploring the monastery.
There were decorations all through the halls and larger holy rooms, statues, paintings and tapestries depicting scenes from the people’s mythologies. Some had fierce battles and others had benevolent, holy men. Many of the figures were blue; Eric wondered if they were meant to be demons.
As he continued through the rooms, he began to frown. All the rooms had windows. He couldn’t find a cellar either. Perhaps coming up here was a waste of time. When they’d heard of the monastery, Eric had insisted they search it for a cellar. The weather was chilly and sleeping in the cold earth didn’t wasn’t comfortable. The library appeared to be the only windowless room, but it was above the ground. Too dangerous.
He went into another room and stopped, awed. There was a beautiful bed with a feather mattress, covered with pillows and silken sheets. The sleeping quarters only held simple pallets. For important guests, he thought, touching the silk sheets longingly.
It had been decades since he’d slept in a proper bed, and even then it had just been a straw mattress. For a vampire, the options tended to be limited to a cramped cellar, a damp cave, or sleeping naked in the earth, even in a nest.
The library will be safe enough, he decided impulsively, going against all of Godric's warnings about sleeping above ground. He pulled the sheets, pillows and mattress off the frame and began dragging it out the door. Despite his inhuman strength, it was heavy and it was difficult manoeuvring it through the hallways.
The noise attracted Godric's attention and he appeared at the top of the stairs, frowning suspiciously.
“What are you doing?”
“There isn’t a cellar and all the other rooms have windows.”
“Then we’ll sleep in the ground.”
Eric stared at his Maker incredulously. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve found a bed. I want to sleep in it.”
Godric narrowed his eyes, clearly disapproving. Eric raised his chin defiantly. He probably hasn’t even slept in a bed in centuries.
“Stop staring like a stupid sheep and make yourself useful by helping me carry this to the library.”
Godric's face darkened, but came down to help. With Godric's help, it was in the library within seconds. Godric pushed it into the middle of the room while Eric went back for the mattress.
Godric had returned to the books by the time Eric came back and didn’t offer to help Eric make the bed. Eric was tempted to kick him for being so obnoxious. He can sleep in the dirt by himself then.
After taking off his boots, Eric lay back, delighted that the bed was big enough for him to stretch out. Being so tall isn’t always a good thing, he mused as his toes wiggled several inches from the end of the mattress. He sighed happily, listening to the howling mountain wind that had picked up in the past hour.
As dawn approached, Godric gave him two books. Eric opened them; one was written in Greek and the other was in Hindi. He smiled, remembering when he’d once told Godric, ‘The only words needed are the ones that will get a woman naked.’
But he hadn’t thought of his Maker's quirked sense of humour when Godric had obligingly taught him a few phrases that would ‘assuredly’ win a woman over. Only after Eric had received a vicious slap to the face by an outraged woman, did Godric admit that he’d taught Eric to say, ‘I love a woman with a hairy chin, sagging breasts and fat thighs.’
“It’s a translation.” Leaning against the bed, Godric began raking his cold fingers through Eric's hair. “You can practice your writing.”
Eric tilted his head, skimming through them. “What’s it about?”
“A king called Rama and Sita, his queen.” Godric's fingers dug deep and Eric sighed in pleasure, closing his eyes. He let the books drop to the floor. Godric's hands gently moved over Eric's head, his nails carefully scratching his scalp through his blonde hair. Eric felt himself relaxing all over.
“We could spend the winter here, couldn’t we?” Eric sighed wistfully as Godric began to rub his temples. “No humans will try to climb through the mountain passes, but we can fly down to the villages to feed.”
Godric's hands fell away and Eric immediately missed their soothing touch.
“You would risk your life by sleeping in an exposed spot and spend the winter on a snow covered mountain, all for a bed?”
“Why not? There’s no harm.” Eric lifted his head to look at him. “Besides, when was the last time you slept in a bed like this?”
Instantly, Eric realised he’d said the wrong thing. There were many things that could go wrong: with so many windows letting in sunlight, if they were caught during the day, there was little chance of escape, and if the winter was particularly bad, they might not be able to fly down to one of the villages to feed.
“You should know better.” Godric's voice was cold.
“You want to read all these books, don’t you?” Eric said quickly. “Please, Godric?”
“Do not beg me like a human, Eric.”
Eric fell silent. There was no point pushing his Maker any further. Godric’s eyes roamed the room, but his blank face revealed nothing. Slowly, he bent to pick the dropped books up and set them on a small table.
“You wanted to go south to the jungles,” Godric said after a moment, his back to Eric.
Eric shrugged. “They’ll still be there when winter is over.”
As Godric's silence stretched out, Eric braced himself for disappointment. I wonder if any human comforts interest him anymore. He only seems to care about their books and their bodies.
“Nevermind, Godric.” He was unable to keep the glumness out of his voice.
“No,” Godric said softly. His Maker turned to face him. “As you wish, my Child. We can spend the winter here.” Though he looked the bed over, clearly reluctant about his decision.
“Thank you!” Eric gently pulled on his hand, coaxing him onto the bed. Godric resisted, shaking his head. Eric stared at him, confused, and then wondered if Godric had slept above ground since he’d been turned. Surely he has...
Eric sat up. “How am I meant to touch your back if you’re not in the bed with me?”
Godric smiled faintly, but didn’t move. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, it matters to me.” Impatient, Eric motioned for him to take off his shirt and lie on the bed. This had been their custom for the past twenty years, and it still brought a smile to his lips to see Godric relax beneath his fingers.
Godric stared at him, almost resentfully, but then gingerly climbed onto the bed and took off his shirt. He lay down on his stomach and Eric ran a fingertip over his strong arms as he waited for Godric to settle down.
Careful not to touch Godric's right shoulder, Eric used his palms and fingers to try easing the tension of out his body. Godric remained cagey, his face troubled. Eric leaned over.
“We’ll be safe, Godric,” he whispered into his Maker’s ear. “We will.” He ran his fingers down Godric's back and then upwards with the palm of his hand, soothing over the skin. “We’ll be together and we’ll be safe.”
Godric looked at him, but Eric couldn’t read the expression on his face. Then he finally relaxed. Eric smiled, relieved as Godric closed his eyes. His hands continued moving over Godric's back and he could feel the tautness leave.
As his hands began to slow, Eric realised just how cold his Maker's skin was. Having a Godric shaped icicle brush up against him while asleep would be a sure fire way to jolt him awake. A fire would have been nice, but that wasn’t possible when surrounded by all the books. Eric sighed. “Why is you skin always so cold?”
“Death is always cold in the end,” Godric murmured. A typical response. Sometimes he is truly exasperating.
Rolling his eyes, Eric just pulled a blanket over Godric's shoulder, and wished that his Maker wasn’t so indifferent to the elements.
Godric didn’t move, but Eric wasn’t sure if he was asleep. He ran his fingertips over the open palm of Godric's hand, staring up at the ceiling. Taking advantage of being able to enjoy a large, soft bed, Eric lay awake as the sun rose. Despite his body protesting, he was able to ignore it, and his mind began to drift, though much to his chagrin, they were not pleasant thoughts.
He’d had no luck finding the wolves or their master. Assuming it’s even the same man. For the first few years, he and Godric had sought out other shape-shifters throughout Europe and the Middle East, but none of them had seen or heard of this group. Eric had tried asking demons, but their answers were just unsolvable riddles - or they tried to kill the two vampires.
Each failure made him angrier, more frustrated, and worse, Eric was once more becoming grimly resigned to the idea of never finding them. If Godric shared these thoughts, he said nothing of it.
He would listen as Eric ranted unhappily after each dead end, silent because there were no words to console his despairing Child.
Wanting the black thoughts to leave, Eric shifted restlessly, feeling blood begin to run from his eyes, but he’d upset himself too much to go to sleep easily. Damn, damn, damn.
The wriggling movement woke Godric. His grey eyes opened enough to see that Eric was awake and blood was trickling from Eric's eyes, nose, and ears. Frowning sleepily, he lifted his head to slowly lick the blood off Eric's face, his hand running lightly over Eric's chest as he did so.
Eric lay still as Godric's tongue ran gently over his face. Despite the odd actions, Eric found it as calming as though Godric was running his fingers through his hair.
When Eric's face was clean, Godric settled down again. “Go to sleep, my Child,” he mumbled, his eyes shut before he even finished his sentence.
Eric reached out and pulled Godric close his chest, curving his long body around him and burrowed his face into the dark, messy hair. He felt Godric shift, could tell he was on the verge of waking, so he ran his nails along his Maker’s arm, soothing him back to sleep. With a soft, sleepy sigh, Godric relaxed back against him, drawing Eric's hand to his chest.
They held that embrace for a long time after falling asleep.
...
Mid winter. 1102 AD. Himalayas.
The scent of blood was strong when Godric entered. Eric wondered which family would be mourning the loss of their loved ones come morning. He was a little surprised that Godric had fed; his Maker had spotted a snow leopard prowling around the monastery in the early hours of the night and had followed it into the whirling snow. Evidently Godric had gone down to one of the villages after he’d satisfied his curiosity.
Eric had returned a few hours ago after going down to one of the villages to feed and bask in the attention of a beautiful woman.
Godric saw the ink and parchment. “Practicing your letters?” he chuckled, looking around the room for something to wipe himself down with. The blood had soaked through, so he pulled the shirt off, leaving a dark red mess on his white skin. “This must be the first time I’ve not had to order you to do it in days.”
Eric slid his arm over his work to hide it from Godric's eyes. He’d made a feeble effort to write properly before, but now he was just drawing lewd pictures to amuse himself.
Not wanting to draw attention to his lack of work, Eric got up, meaning to help, but the scent of the blood on Godric's skin was just too irresistible to pass up. He leaned over to lick a patch of blood covered skin on Godric's shoulder.
Godric glanced sideways at him. “Did you not feed tonight?”
“I did,” Eric nodded absently and kept gently licking up Godric's neck, “but you taste good.”
Godric snorted, but as Eric continued, he tilted his head to the side. The taste of blood caused Eric’s fangs to lengthen, the sharp tips lightly grazing Godric's neck, dangerously close to breaking the skin.
Godric pulled away.
“You’re not controlling yourself, my Child,” he said warningly. Eric frowned, annoyed at the scolding and because it was true. Even after all these years, he lacked Godric's level of control. I’m not sure if I want to be so uptight anyway, he thought as he watched Godric search the room for a rag.
After spending several weeks mostly in the library, the room had gotten a little slovenly as they brought back trinkets to show the other after a night of wandering. Godric liked to explore the mountains, while Eric liked to walk through the villages while everyone slept.
He should have washed in the snow, Eric thought crossly. Godric looked at the sheets, still pristine, and Eric growled. “Don’t you dare.”
Irritated with Godric's lack of foresight, he grabbed Godric by the wrist and flung him onto the bed. Landing on his back, Godric's fangs extended at the unexpected contact, but Eric ignored it. He got on the bed, straddled his Maker, and began licking the blood off Godric's belly, his tongue sliding over the muscular abdomen.
It took a few seconds for it to register that Godric hadn’t immediately thrown him across the room for his impertinence. Instead, he’d propped himself up on his elbows and was watching Eric through slitted eyes, his fangs still extended. Eric decided to continue ignoring them.
For something he saw every night, Eric found himself fascinated as he licked his way up to Godric's chest. He’d seldom touched it before - certainly not like this - and he could feel the tenseness of the hard muscle beneath his lips.
The blood was all but gone on Godric's chest, so when Eric lightly dragged his fangs across the cold skin, he only tasted Godric.
He gently kissed the dark, spiked line along Godric's collarbone, something he had never touched. Godric's skin was cold, far colder than Eric's, and Eric wondered if that had to do with his age. Still Godric hadn’t thrown him off.
It made Eric bolder and he ran a hand down Godric's arm and entwined his fingers with Godric's, squeezing tight. Godric didn’t respond at all. But Eric was not put off and deviated from his intended path to deftly caress a nipple with his tongue, sucking gently. Godric arched beneath him and closed his eyes.
Surprised, pleased, and excited, Eric's licks slowly transformed into soft kisses. He was so startled by his sudden lust to notice that his mouth was moving up Godric's neck. I want...
Without even realising it, his lips brushed against Godric's and Godric jerked back like he’d been burned.
Godric shoved him off and Eric hit the floor hard enough for something to crack in Eric's shoulder.
Rubbing his shoulder, Eric sat up, about to yell at him, but then he saw the uneasy, almost confused, expression on his Maker’s face. He paused.
“You are only doing this because I was teasing you,” Godric said quietly, sitting up. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed as though he was about to get up. “You have nothing to prove to me, my Child. Or yourself.”
Eric swallowed. “No,” he said, his voice equally as soft, touching Godric's leg to keep him from moving. “I want to.” As Godric gazed at him impassively, he became uncertain. “Do you... do you want me to stop?”
His Maker lowered his eyes and said nothing. While he never lied to Eric, if Godric didn’t want to answer something truthfully, he remained silent. Humiliated, Eric rose to leave the room.
“Eric...”
Read part 2.
Pairing: Godric/ Eric.
Rating: NC-17. This is a very EXPLICIT chapter.
Warnings: Angst, slash, bloodplay, violence, torture. If you're mature enough to watch True Blood, I think you'll be fine reading this.
Disclaimer: True Blood belongs to Alan Ball and the SVM books belong to Charlaine Harris. Only the original characters are mine.
Note: I haven't seen the latest season of True Blood yet, so please, don't say anything about it if you leave a comment. Thanks!
Late autumn. 1102 AD. Himalayas.
It was a brilliant contrast to the monasteries Eric had seen in Europe. So much colour here, beautiful red, yellow, and blue tapestries and brightly painted statues. He bent down beside another statue of an elephant god. He’d seen his first elephant only a few years ago. He found them to be remarkable creatures - Godric loved pitting his strength against the huge animals - but he wasn’t sure he’d worship them.
They’d heard about the emptied monastery in a village several miles down the mountain. Cholera had killed all the monks a month or so ago, and so the two vampires had come up to explore and hopefully find a nice resting place. Though no-one was willing to venture up this high at this time of year, Eric was surprised that opportunistic thieves hadn’t sacked the place of its riches. He pushed a door open and discovered a windowless room. Eric smiled.
“I think you’ll like this room, Godric,” he called over his shoulder.
Godric appeared, peering around him curiously and Eric's smile widened when Godric's face lit up in delight. The room was filled with books and scrolls. Eric didn’t doubt for a second that Godric would spend most of his time reading everything in here.
Sure enough, Godric went in and began searching through the scrolls. Finding one he liked, he sat down on the floor and began reading. Eric watched him for a few minutes, surprised as Godric began to use his finger to follow the words.
“Can’t you read this language?”
“I haven’t been in this land in hundreds of years so I haven’t read it in a long, long time.” Godric glanced up and suddenly his voice became even softer. “It’s changed a little. Languages always do.”
Though the odd tone in Godric's voice made him curious, Eric marvelled at the idea of being older than a language. If I’m as careful as Godric, perhaps I’ll found out what it’s like.
He moved around the room, admiring the riches. Eric studied a statue of a fearsome looking goddess wearing a skirt made of arms and a garland of human heads. Looking at the offerings of incense, flowers, and sweet smelling oils at her feet, Eric wondered if such dainty tributes appeased her. Given her how grisly she is, I think the bodies of slain enemies would please her more. He noticed the statue had fangs and it made him wonder.
He started looking through the books and grimaced. How am I meant to learn to read this? When it came to speaking, reading and writing in other languages, Godric was a relentless teacher.
Many of the books had pictures, mostly animals and some battle scenes, so at least he was able to admire those. One book captured his interest and he held it out to show Godric.
“Look!” he laughed. “It’s a book on lovemaking.”
Godric didn’t even look up. “I would not have thought you would need help with that.”
“I don’t,” Eric said huffily. He flipped through the book some more, then frowned, turning one picture on its side. “Some of these positions seem unnecessarily complicated though.”
Godric raised an eyebrow and leaned over to look at the picture. He snickered and returned to his scroll. “No, it’s not. You just need to... experiment more.”
“I experiment plenty,” Eric said, affronted. He glanced at the picture again and wondered just what Godric got up to with the men and women he went off with. Eric would happily brag, but Godric would merely smile and say nothing of his own conquests - unless he wanted to one-up Eric.
“If you say so.” Grey eyes glittered with mischief.
“I do!”
“Oh?” Godric smirked. “Ever been with a man?”
Eric had nothing.
Outwitted, he fell silent. He had never been with a man, but Eric preferred the sweet, soft bodies of women.
He’d indulged some women by sharing them with another man at the same time, but he’d never touched the other man. He’d been thoroughly insulted once; a woman he’d been sharing had suggested the two men couple in front of her, and while Eric dubiously considered her request, the other man had declared that he, ‘Didn’t find Eric pleasing enough to do so.’
Eric had left that encounter seething that a man would not find him attractive. Of course, when he’d told Godric, his Maker had doubled over with laughter.
Still sulking, Eric left the room to continue exploring the monastery.
There were decorations all through the halls and larger holy rooms, statues, paintings and tapestries depicting scenes from the people’s mythologies. Some had fierce battles and others had benevolent, holy men. Many of the figures were blue; Eric wondered if they were meant to be demons.
As he continued through the rooms, he began to frown. All the rooms had windows. He couldn’t find a cellar either. Perhaps coming up here was a waste of time. When they’d heard of the monastery, Eric had insisted they search it for a cellar. The weather was chilly and sleeping in the cold earth didn’t wasn’t comfortable. The library appeared to be the only windowless room, but it was above the ground. Too dangerous.
He went into another room and stopped, awed. There was a beautiful bed with a feather mattress, covered with pillows and silken sheets. The sleeping quarters only held simple pallets. For important guests, he thought, touching the silk sheets longingly.
It had been decades since he’d slept in a proper bed, and even then it had just been a straw mattress. For a vampire, the options tended to be limited to a cramped cellar, a damp cave, or sleeping naked in the earth, even in a nest.
The library will be safe enough, he decided impulsively, going against all of Godric's warnings about sleeping above ground. He pulled the sheets, pillows and mattress off the frame and began dragging it out the door. Despite his inhuman strength, it was heavy and it was difficult manoeuvring it through the hallways.
The noise attracted Godric's attention and he appeared at the top of the stairs, frowning suspiciously.
“What are you doing?”
“There isn’t a cellar and all the other rooms have windows.”
“Then we’ll sleep in the ground.”
Eric stared at his Maker incredulously. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve found a bed. I want to sleep in it.”
Godric narrowed his eyes, clearly disapproving. Eric raised his chin defiantly. He probably hasn’t even slept in a bed in centuries.
“Stop staring like a stupid sheep and make yourself useful by helping me carry this to the library.”
Godric's face darkened, but came down to help. With Godric's help, it was in the library within seconds. Godric pushed it into the middle of the room while Eric went back for the mattress.
Godric had returned to the books by the time Eric came back and didn’t offer to help Eric make the bed. Eric was tempted to kick him for being so obnoxious. He can sleep in the dirt by himself then.
After taking off his boots, Eric lay back, delighted that the bed was big enough for him to stretch out. Being so tall isn’t always a good thing, he mused as his toes wiggled several inches from the end of the mattress. He sighed happily, listening to the howling mountain wind that had picked up in the past hour.
As dawn approached, Godric gave him two books. Eric opened them; one was written in Greek and the other was in Hindi. He smiled, remembering when he’d once told Godric, ‘The only words needed are the ones that will get a woman naked.’
But he hadn’t thought of his Maker's quirked sense of humour when Godric had obligingly taught him a few phrases that would ‘assuredly’ win a woman over. Only after Eric had received a vicious slap to the face by an outraged woman, did Godric admit that he’d taught Eric to say, ‘I love a woman with a hairy chin, sagging breasts and fat thighs.’
“It’s a translation.” Leaning against the bed, Godric began raking his cold fingers through Eric's hair. “You can practice your writing.”
Eric tilted his head, skimming through them. “What’s it about?”
“A king called Rama and Sita, his queen.” Godric's fingers dug deep and Eric sighed in pleasure, closing his eyes. He let the books drop to the floor. Godric's hands gently moved over Eric's head, his nails carefully scratching his scalp through his blonde hair. Eric felt himself relaxing all over.
“We could spend the winter here, couldn’t we?” Eric sighed wistfully as Godric began to rub his temples. “No humans will try to climb through the mountain passes, but we can fly down to the villages to feed.”
Godric's hands fell away and Eric immediately missed their soothing touch.
“You would risk your life by sleeping in an exposed spot and spend the winter on a snow covered mountain, all for a bed?”
“Why not? There’s no harm.” Eric lifted his head to look at him. “Besides, when was the last time you slept in a bed like this?”
Instantly, Eric realised he’d said the wrong thing. There were many things that could go wrong: with so many windows letting in sunlight, if they were caught during the day, there was little chance of escape, and if the winter was particularly bad, they might not be able to fly down to one of the villages to feed.
“You should know better.” Godric's voice was cold.
“You want to read all these books, don’t you?” Eric said quickly. “Please, Godric?”
“Do not beg me like a human, Eric.”
Eric fell silent. There was no point pushing his Maker any further. Godric’s eyes roamed the room, but his blank face revealed nothing. Slowly, he bent to pick the dropped books up and set them on a small table.
“You wanted to go south to the jungles,” Godric said after a moment, his back to Eric.
Eric shrugged. “They’ll still be there when winter is over.”
As Godric's silence stretched out, Eric braced himself for disappointment. I wonder if any human comforts interest him anymore. He only seems to care about their books and their bodies.
“Nevermind, Godric.” He was unable to keep the glumness out of his voice.
“No,” Godric said softly. His Maker turned to face him. “As you wish, my Child. We can spend the winter here.” Though he looked the bed over, clearly reluctant about his decision.
“Thank you!” Eric gently pulled on his hand, coaxing him onto the bed. Godric resisted, shaking his head. Eric stared at him, confused, and then wondered if Godric had slept above ground since he’d been turned. Surely he has...
Eric sat up. “How am I meant to touch your back if you’re not in the bed with me?”
Godric smiled faintly, but didn’t move. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, it matters to me.” Impatient, Eric motioned for him to take off his shirt and lie on the bed. This had been their custom for the past twenty years, and it still brought a smile to his lips to see Godric relax beneath his fingers.
Godric stared at him, almost resentfully, but then gingerly climbed onto the bed and took off his shirt. He lay down on his stomach and Eric ran a fingertip over his strong arms as he waited for Godric to settle down.
Careful not to touch Godric's right shoulder, Eric used his palms and fingers to try easing the tension of out his body. Godric remained cagey, his face troubled. Eric leaned over.
“We’ll be safe, Godric,” he whispered into his Maker’s ear. “We will.” He ran his fingers down Godric's back and then upwards with the palm of his hand, soothing over the skin. “We’ll be together and we’ll be safe.”
Godric looked at him, but Eric couldn’t read the expression on his face. Then he finally relaxed. Eric smiled, relieved as Godric closed his eyes. His hands continued moving over Godric's back and he could feel the tautness leave.
As his hands began to slow, Eric realised just how cold his Maker's skin was. Having a Godric shaped icicle brush up against him while asleep would be a sure fire way to jolt him awake. A fire would have been nice, but that wasn’t possible when surrounded by all the books. Eric sighed. “Why is you skin always so cold?”
“Death is always cold in the end,” Godric murmured. A typical response. Sometimes he is truly exasperating.
Rolling his eyes, Eric just pulled a blanket over Godric's shoulder, and wished that his Maker wasn’t so indifferent to the elements.
Godric didn’t move, but Eric wasn’t sure if he was asleep. He ran his fingertips over the open palm of Godric's hand, staring up at the ceiling. Taking advantage of being able to enjoy a large, soft bed, Eric lay awake as the sun rose. Despite his body protesting, he was able to ignore it, and his mind began to drift, though much to his chagrin, they were not pleasant thoughts.
He’d had no luck finding the wolves or their master. Assuming it’s even the same man. For the first few years, he and Godric had sought out other shape-shifters throughout Europe and the Middle East, but none of them had seen or heard of this group. Eric had tried asking demons, but their answers were just unsolvable riddles - or they tried to kill the two vampires.
Each failure made him angrier, more frustrated, and worse, Eric was once more becoming grimly resigned to the idea of never finding them. If Godric shared these thoughts, he said nothing of it.
He would listen as Eric ranted unhappily after each dead end, silent because there were no words to console his despairing Child.
Wanting the black thoughts to leave, Eric shifted restlessly, feeling blood begin to run from his eyes, but he’d upset himself too much to go to sleep easily. Damn, damn, damn.
The wriggling movement woke Godric. His grey eyes opened enough to see that Eric was awake and blood was trickling from Eric's eyes, nose, and ears. Frowning sleepily, he lifted his head to slowly lick the blood off Eric's face, his hand running lightly over Eric's chest as he did so.
Eric lay still as Godric's tongue ran gently over his face. Despite the odd actions, Eric found it as calming as though Godric was running his fingers through his hair.
When Eric's face was clean, Godric settled down again. “Go to sleep, my Child,” he mumbled, his eyes shut before he even finished his sentence.
Eric reached out and pulled Godric close his chest, curving his long body around him and burrowed his face into the dark, messy hair. He felt Godric shift, could tell he was on the verge of waking, so he ran his nails along his Maker’s arm, soothing him back to sleep. With a soft, sleepy sigh, Godric relaxed back against him, drawing Eric's hand to his chest.
They held that embrace for a long time after falling asleep.
...
Mid winter. 1102 AD. Himalayas.
The scent of blood was strong when Godric entered. Eric wondered which family would be mourning the loss of their loved ones come morning. He was a little surprised that Godric had fed; his Maker had spotted a snow leopard prowling around the monastery in the early hours of the night and had followed it into the whirling snow. Evidently Godric had gone down to one of the villages after he’d satisfied his curiosity.
Eric had returned a few hours ago after going down to one of the villages to feed and bask in the attention of a beautiful woman.
Godric saw the ink and parchment. “Practicing your letters?” he chuckled, looking around the room for something to wipe himself down with. The blood had soaked through, so he pulled the shirt off, leaving a dark red mess on his white skin. “This must be the first time I’ve not had to order you to do it in days.”
Eric slid his arm over his work to hide it from Godric's eyes. He’d made a feeble effort to write properly before, but now he was just drawing lewd pictures to amuse himself.
Not wanting to draw attention to his lack of work, Eric got up, meaning to help, but the scent of the blood on Godric's skin was just too irresistible to pass up. He leaned over to lick a patch of blood covered skin on Godric's shoulder.
Godric glanced sideways at him. “Did you not feed tonight?”
“I did,” Eric nodded absently and kept gently licking up Godric's neck, “but you taste good.”
Godric snorted, but as Eric continued, he tilted his head to the side. The taste of blood caused Eric’s fangs to lengthen, the sharp tips lightly grazing Godric's neck, dangerously close to breaking the skin.
Godric pulled away.
“You’re not controlling yourself, my Child,” he said warningly. Eric frowned, annoyed at the scolding and because it was true. Even after all these years, he lacked Godric's level of control. I’m not sure if I want to be so uptight anyway, he thought as he watched Godric search the room for a rag.
After spending several weeks mostly in the library, the room had gotten a little slovenly as they brought back trinkets to show the other after a night of wandering. Godric liked to explore the mountains, while Eric liked to walk through the villages while everyone slept.
He should have washed in the snow, Eric thought crossly. Godric looked at the sheets, still pristine, and Eric growled. “Don’t you dare.”
Irritated with Godric's lack of foresight, he grabbed Godric by the wrist and flung him onto the bed. Landing on his back, Godric's fangs extended at the unexpected contact, but Eric ignored it. He got on the bed, straddled his Maker, and began licking the blood off Godric's belly, his tongue sliding over the muscular abdomen.
It took a few seconds for it to register that Godric hadn’t immediately thrown him across the room for his impertinence. Instead, he’d propped himself up on his elbows and was watching Eric through slitted eyes, his fangs still extended. Eric decided to continue ignoring them.
For something he saw every night, Eric found himself fascinated as he licked his way up to Godric's chest. He’d seldom touched it before - certainly not like this - and he could feel the tenseness of the hard muscle beneath his lips.
The blood was all but gone on Godric's chest, so when Eric lightly dragged his fangs across the cold skin, he only tasted Godric.
He gently kissed the dark, spiked line along Godric's collarbone, something he had never touched. Godric's skin was cold, far colder than Eric's, and Eric wondered if that had to do with his age. Still Godric hadn’t thrown him off.
It made Eric bolder and he ran a hand down Godric's arm and entwined his fingers with Godric's, squeezing tight. Godric didn’t respond at all. But Eric was not put off and deviated from his intended path to deftly caress a nipple with his tongue, sucking gently. Godric arched beneath him and closed his eyes.
Surprised, pleased, and excited, Eric's licks slowly transformed into soft kisses. He was so startled by his sudden lust to notice that his mouth was moving up Godric's neck. I want...
Without even realising it, his lips brushed against Godric's and Godric jerked back like he’d been burned.
Godric shoved him off and Eric hit the floor hard enough for something to crack in Eric's shoulder.
Rubbing his shoulder, Eric sat up, about to yell at him, but then he saw the uneasy, almost confused, expression on his Maker’s face. He paused.
“You are only doing this because I was teasing you,” Godric said quietly, sitting up. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed as though he was about to get up. “You have nothing to prove to me, my Child. Or yourself.”
Eric swallowed. “No,” he said, his voice equally as soft, touching Godric's leg to keep him from moving. “I want to.” As Godric gazed at him impassively, he became uncertain. “Do you... do you want me to stop?”
His Maker lowered his eyes and said nothing. While he never lied to Eric, if Godric didn’t want to answer something truthfully, he remained silent. Humiliated, Eric rose to leave the room.
“Eric...”
Read part 2.