True Blood Fanfic: "Not Exactly as Planned"
Title: Not Exactly as Planned
Fandom: True Blood
Characters: Eric/Sookie
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1477 words
Summary: The insects chirp and warble from the shelter of the woods and the still, humid air of a Louisiana night mixes with the steam rising from the water, and if he closes his eyes he can almost imagine that he and Sookie are in a tropical rain forest, far from such prosaic concerns as his woman spending half her evenings waitressing in a rundown honky-tonk. Which he has repeatedly failed to convince her to stop doing.
Notes: Technically a sequel to Surprise. Written for prompt_in_a_box for the prompt "uh oh".
Not Exactly as Planned
by Severina
"Okay, you were right," Sookie admits when she sinks down below the water line. "This was a great idea."
Eric does his best not to look smug, though he has so little practice at it. His gaze lingers on the rounds of her breasts, just visible above the surface of the water, before he leans back against the side of the hot tub and lazily stretches out an arm. Such perfect breasts, and none can touch them but him. His eyes drift to her clavicle, then to the strong pulse beating in her neck. When he had pictured this moment in his mind's eye he had imagined her hair down, floating in the water, but the high ponytail she's wearing leaves more of that long, lean neck available for his perusal. He imagines sinking his teeth there while his fingers delve inside her and the water pulses around them, and has to look away before his thoughts - and the imminent descent of his fangs - betray him.
Yes, having the hot tub installed at the rear of the Stackhouse home was an excellent idea. Possibly one of his best. The insects chirp and warble from the shelter of the woods and the still, humid air of a Louisiana night mixes with the steam rising from the water, and if he closes his eyes he can almost imagine that he and Sookie are in a tropical rain forest, far from such prosaic concerns as his woman spending half her evenings waitressing in a rundown honky-tonk. Which he has repeatedly failed to convince her to stop doing.
He looks back toward her when the warm water droplets spatter his face.
"Penny for your thoughts," Sookie says with a grin.
"I thought you enjoyed not hearing my thoughts," Eric answers.
Sookie takes another sip of her champagne. The combination of the alcohol and the heat from the tub has put a flash of colour high on her cheekbones; made her eyes sparkle in the low light from the candles. "That's true," she says. "But you're looking especially thinky tonight."
Eric lifts a brow. "Thinky?"
"You know, all mysterious and deep thoughty." She smirks at him across the rim of her glass. "More so than usual, I mean."
"Hmm." When he moves closer the water from the jets sloshes around them, and he waits for it to settle before reaching out to run a finger along the inside of Sookie's arm. "Well if you must know, I was debating whether I should let you finish that glass of champagne before I begin to ravish you."
"Ravish, huh?"
"Ravish," he repeats deliberately. "I may be 'thinky', but you are looking particularly delectable tonight."
"Delectable as in somethin' you eat?"
"Oh, I plan to eat you, Sookie," he says, and watches as her goofy grin fades and the blush flushes higher on her cheekbones. His hand drifts below the surface of the water and he opens his mouth to tell her exactly how he plans to take advantage of the fact that vampires don’t need to breathe when her fingers suddenly curl around his wrist.
"Not that you haven't got me really intrigued, but I think it's too hot in this thing for sex, Eric."
"I disagree," he says. He drags a nail gently across the soft skin of her inner thigh, feels her shiver against him as her legs shift. He swirls the pad of his finger slowly, watches the goosebumps rise on her shoulders. He has an eternity of patience and they have hours until dawn.
"No, I really… don't you think it's really hot?"
Something in the breathy sound of her voice makes him look up. The flush that had infused her cheeks just a moment before has vanished; her eyes look wide and scared in her suddenly pale face. "Sookie?"
"Uh oh," she moans.
One hand flails against him and then she is lurching around to hang her head over the side of the Jacuzzi. The sound that she makes reminds him of a very large, very angry boar he and Godric once encountered several hundred years ago, somewhere outside Inverness.
Apparently Sookie had crawfish and French fries for dinner.
The smell curls his lip, and then she is retching again and one small hand reaches for him and he moves into action, holding her long ponytail away from her face and making noises that he hopes are soothing.
He doesn't begin to get very worried until she loses consciousness.
* * *
He lays her prone of the sofa, her eyes closed, her lips parted. He moves as fast as his accelerated speed allows - upstairs for clean towels, soaked quickly in cold water from the shower; to the kitchen for a glass of lemonade from the container she keeps in the fridge and a basin of ice. He cradles her in his arm while he drapes the cold cloths on her arms, her chest, her forehead.
She is only unconscious for less than a minute, and it is perhaps the longest minute of his very lengthy life.
"Hey," she says.
The band that had squeezed tight around his chest abruptly releases, and he strokes a thumb across the arch of her cheekbone. "How are you feeling?"
She blinks up at him, brow creased as though she is figuring out a complex mathematical algorithm. "A little dizzy," she finally answers.
He leaves the damp cloths where they lay, props her head beneath his arm so that she can take a sip of the lemonade. "How's that?" he asks.
"Better," she says when he's let her head rest back against the worn pillow. She tries a wan smile that does little to improve her appearance but much to warm his dead heart. "I guess maybe a hot tub and ninety degree weather isn't a very good mix."
"Or crawfish," he says.
Her face, which had been showing a little colour, immediately blanches and the corners of her mouth curl in distaste. "Ugh," she groans. "Please don't mention that word. Ever again."
Eric makes a mental note to have crawfish removed from the menus of the three restaurants he owns and to ban Ginger from bringing it into Fangtasia in the take-out containers from the roadside diner she frequents. "Done," he says aloud. He slides the warm towels from her body and replaces them with fresh ones, and watches carefully when Sookie shivers. "Too cold?"
"No, that feels good," she says, stretching her neck. She tips her head back, closes her eyes. And he kneels at her side and watches the slow rise and fall of her chest; studies the flutter of her lashes; listens closely for every indrawn breath. Knows he would remain so even upon sunrise if she required it of him. After a time he takes her hand, and her fingers curl around his as she rouses herself to look at him. "Better," she says again. "I'm sorry the night didn't work out the way you planned."
"They rarely do when you are around, Sookie Stackhouse."
"Hey, it wasn't my fault." At his raised brow, she amends, "Well, not on purpose. Maybe we can try again when the weather turns a little colder?"
"Yes," he answers. The prospect of such a long wait disturbs him - she truly had looked like a sleek and satisfied water sprite warming herself in a hot spring - but when a thought occurs he brightens considerably. "Or I could have a pool installed."
"Eric!"
"Cold, clean water for a refreshing dip after work. There's plenty of land-"
"Didn't we just have this discussion? You can't just-"
"An adjustable thermostat, of course, to keep the water at just the right temperature. We don't want a repeat of what happened tonight."
Sookie pushes herself to a sitting position. "I swear to God, Eric Northman, if I come home next week and find a giant hole in my…" The hand that had been raised to slap at him lands ineffectually on his chest when she finally realizes he is laughing, and her lips upturn as if involuntarily. 'Incorrigible' was the right word," she murmurs.
He takes her hand, draws her forward. "And so I will remain," he says just before his lips brush her knuckles.
The shiver that follows has nothing to do with her temperature, and the things he wants to do to her certainly do not require a hot tub. The towel he'd placed on her chest has already slipped to the side, and when Eric lowers his head to nuzzle at the ripeness of her breast her back arches and a fluttering gasp escapes her lips. Her hands find the back of his head, guide him to one taut nipple, and when he scrapes her flesh with his teeth the hands tighten and her blunt fingernails scrape against his scalp.
"Better," she says.
.
Fandom: True Blood
Characters: Eric/Sookie
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1477 words
Summary: The insects chirp and warble from the shelter of the woods and the still, humid air of a Louisiana night mixes with the steam rising from the water, and if he closes his eyes he can almost imagine that he and Sookie are in a tropical rain forest, far from such prosaic concerns as his woman spending half her evenings waitressing in a rundown honky-tonk. Which he has repeatedly failed to convince her to stop doing.
Notes: Technically a sequel to Surprise. Written for prompt_in_a_box for the prompt "uh oh".
Not Exactly as Planned
by Severina
"Okay, you were right," Sookie admits when she sinks down below the water line. "This was a great idea."
Eric does his best not to look smug, though he has so little practice at it. His gaze lingers on the rounds of her breasts, just visible above the surface of the water, before he leans back against the side of the hot tub and lazily stretches out an arm. Such perfect breasts, and none can touch them but him. His eyes drift to her clavicle, then to the strong pulse beating in her neck. When he had pictured this moment in his mind's eye he had imagined her hair down, floating in the water, but the high ponytail she's wearing leaves more of that long, lean neck available for his perusal. He imagines sinking his teeth there while his fingers delve inside her and the water pulses around them, and has to look away before his thoughts - and the imminent descent of his fangs - betray him.
Yes, having the hot tub installed at the rear of the Stackhouse home was an excellent idea. Possibly one of his best. The insects chirp and warble from the shelter of the woods and the still, humid air of a Louisiana night mixes with the steam rising from the water, and if he closes his eyes he can almost imagine that he and Sookie are in a tropical rain forest, far from such prosaic concerns as his woman spending half her evenings waitressing in a rundown honky-tonk. Which he has repeatedly failed to convince her to stop doing.
He looks back toward her when the warm water droplets spatter his face.
"Penny for your thoughts," Sookie says with a grin.
"I thought you enjoyed not hearing my thoughts," Eric answers.
Sookie takes another sip of her champagne. The combination of the alcohol and the heat from the tub has put a flash of colour high on her cheekbones; made her eyes sparkle in the low light from the candles. "That's true," she says. "But you're looking especially thinky tonight."
Eric lifts a brow. "Thinky?"
"You know, all mysterious and deep thoughty." She smirks at him across the rim of her glass. "More so than usual, I mean."
"Hmm." When he moves closer the water from the jets sloshes around them, and he waits for it to settle before reaching out to run a finger along the inside of Sookie's arm. "Well if you must know, I was debating whether I should let you finish that glass of champagne before I begin to ravish you."
"Ravish, huh?"
"Ravish," he repeats deliberately. "I may be 'thinky', but you are looking particularly delectable tonight."
"Delectable as in somethin' you eat?"
"Oh, I plan to eat you, Sookie," he says, and watches as her goofy grin fades and the blush flushes higher on her cheekbones. His hand drifts below the surface of the water and he opens his mouth to tell her exactly how he plans to take advantage of the fact that vampires don’t need to breathe when her fingers suddenly curl around his wrist.
"Not that you haven't got me really intrigued, but I think it's too hot in this thing for sex, Eric."
"I disagree," he says. He drags a nail gently across the soft skin of her inner thigh, feels her shiver against him as her legs shift. He swirls the pad of his finger slowly, watches the goosebumps rise on her shoulders. He has an eternity of patience and they have hours until dawn.
"No, I really… don't you think it's really hot?"
Something in the breathy sound of her voice makes him look up. The flush that had infused her cheeks just a moment before has vanished; her eyes look wide and scared in her suddenly pale face. "Sookie?"
"Uh oh," she moans.
One hand flails against him and then she is lurching around to hang her head over the side of the Jacuzzi. The sound that she makes reminds him of a very large, very angry boar he and Godric once encountered several hundred years ago, somewhere outside Inverness.
Apparently Sookie had crawfish and French fries for dinner.
The smell curls his lip, and then she is retching again and one small hand reaches for him and he moves into action, holding her long ponytail away from her face and making noises that he hopes are soothing.
He doesn't begin to get very worried until she loses consciousness.
* * *
He lays her prone of the sofa, her eyes closed, her lips parted. He moves as fast as his accelerated speed allows - upstairs for clean towels, soaked quickly in cold water from the shower; to the kitchen for a glass of lemonade from the container she keeps in the fridge and a basin of ice. He cradles her in his arm while he drapes the cold cloths on her arms, her chest, her forehead.
She is only unconscious for less than a minute, and it is perhaps the longest minute of his very lengthy life.
"Hey," she says.
The band that had squeezed tight around his chest abruptly releases, and he strokes a thumb across the arch of her cheekbone. "How are you feeling?"
She blinks up at him, brow creased as though she is figuring out a complex mathematical algorithm. "A little dizzy," she finally answers.
He leaves the damp cloths where they lay, props her head beneath his arm so that she can take a sip of the lemonade. "How's that?" he asks.
"Better," she says when he's let her head rest back against the worn pillow. She tries a wan smile that does little to improve her appearance but much to warm his dead heart. "I guess maybe a hot tub and ninety degree weather isn't a very good mix."
"Or crawfish," he says.
Her face, which had been showing a little colour, immediately blanches and the corners of her mouth curl in distaste. "Ugh," she groans. "Please don't mention that word. Ever again."
Eric makes a mental note to have crawfish removed from the menus of the three restaurants he owns and to ban Ginger from bringing it into Fangtasia in the take-out containers from the roadside diner she frequents. "Done," he says aloud. He slides the warm towels from her body and replaces them with fresh ones, and watches carefully when Sookie shivers. "Too cold?"
"No, that feels good," she says, stretching her neck. She tips her head back, closes her eyes. And he kneels at her side and watches the slow rise and fall of her chest; studies the flutter of her lashes; listens closely for every indrawn breath. Knows he would remain so even upon sunrise if she required it of him. After a time he takes her hand, and her fingers curl around his as she rouses herself to look at him. "Better," she says again. "I'm sorry the night didn't work out the way you planned."
"They rarely do when you are around, Sookie Stackhouse."
"Hey, it wasn't my fault." At his raised brow, she amends, "Well, not on purpose. Maybe we can try again when the weather turns a little colder?"
"Yes," he answers. The prospect of such a long wait disturbs him - she truly had looked like a sleek and satisfied water sprite warming herself in a hot spring - but when a thought occurs he brightens considerably. "Or I could have a pool installed."
"Eric!"
"Cold, clean water for a refreshing dip after work. There's plenty of land-"
"Didn't we just have this discussion? You can't just-"
"An adjustable thermostat, of course, to keep the water at just the right temperature. We don't want a repeat of what happened tonight."
Sookie pushes herself to a sitting position. "I swear to God, Eric Northman, if I come home next week and find a giant hole in my…" The hand that had been raised to slap at him lands ineffectually on his chest when she finally realizes he is laughing, and her lips upturn as if involuntarily. 'Incorrigible' was the right word," she murmurs.
He takes her hand, draws her forward. "And so I will remain," he says just before his lips brush her knuckles.
The shiver that follows has nothing to do with her temperature, and the things he wants to do to her certainly do not require a hot tub. The towel he'd placed on her chest has already slipped to the side, and when Eric lowers his head to nuzzle at the ripeness of her breast her back arches and a fluttering gasp escapes her lips. Her hands find the back of his head, guide him to one taut nipple, and when he scrapes her flesh with his teeth the hands tighten and her blunt fingernails scrape against his scalp.
"Better," she says.
.