A New Religion
I watched the cars and exits go by as we travelled along the interstate wondering how in the hell I’d gotten here. I mean I knew how I got here, but if someone would have told me a year ago that I’d be on the run with a perfect (and I do mean perfect) stranger running from unknown killers while he had no memories whatsoever I would’ve laughed my ass off. Hell, I would’ve laughed it off a week ago! While my wild streak was always a concern with Gran I had always been proud of it. I liked travelling down the unbeaten path, thinking outside the box and whatever other turns of phrase there were to describe my personality, but even I could admit that this situation was way beyond the norm.
The only thing that allowed me to be okay with everything was Eric even if it was my association with him that put me here to begin with. I didn’t blame him in any way, it wasn’t like he asked to be hunted down, but I also knew it was my choice to stay with him. Just like it was my choice not to notify the authorities when we found him floating in the ocean. My instincts, when it came to other people, had never failed me before and my instincts were telling me to trust Eric, so that’s what I did.
We took Interstate 78 West into Pennsylvania and stopped at a rest area to finally get something to eat. We’d been sitting in a comfortable silence since we’d left New York with each of us lost in our own thoughts. I hoped that going back home to Bon Temps wasn’t a waste of time, but since we had no other leads there really wasn’t any choice. I made a mental note to call Tara once we were closer to home so she wouldn’t be blindsided when we showed up.
Once we were back on the interstate I kept replaying the scene of Eric fighting Chow over and over remembering how mesmerizing it had been to watch the fight unfold. The way Eric moved was both frightening and sexy which left me questioning my sanity even more. It was wrong to get aroused at the thought of him in a lethal dance with his would be killer, right? A lethal dance with knives. At that very moment I happened to notice a roadside sign for a Native American Reservation/Casino and my mind flashed to the Kevin Costner movie “Dances with Wolves.” I snickered while imagining Eric in a loin cloth renaming him “Dances with Knives.”
“What’s so funny?” Eric’s voice cut into my mental movie so I hit my internal pause button because the image of him wearing nothing but a loin cloth was something I wanted to come back to later on.
“Nothing,” I lied. I chanced a glance in his direction and saw him looking back at me, eyebrow raised, silently throwing the invisible bullshit flag. I squirmed under his gaze not wanting to fess up to my retarded internal musings so I changed the subject by asking, “Do you think going to Bon Temps will be a waste of time?”
I’m not sure if he responded verbally because the sight of him shrugging his shoulders made me lose my train of thought while I watched the muscles moving underneath his fitted t-shirt. My eyes roamed down his body and it immediately brought back all of the memories of what we had done earlier that evening with me suddenly realizing I really wanted to do it again. Now. Before tonight I hadn’t had sex in a long time, but now that my dry spell appeared to be over my body seemed to want to make up for lost time. I tried to push the lustful thoughts out of my head knowing now certainly wasn’t the time, but they weren’t budging.
My eyes eventually made their way back to Eric’s and found that he was staring just as intensely back at me. Apparently I wasn’t the only one feeling frisky and I silently cursed Chow and Compton for ruining our planned post-dinner soak in the tub. I audibly sighed and tried to remain unaffected saying, “I mean, what are the odds that old Mr. Compton’s nephew is the same Bill Compton?” while forcing myself to face forward and praying to God to give me the strength to resist my urges before I climbed over the center console and attacked him.
Eric’s voice was strained when he replied, “I admit it’s a long shot, but it’s not like we have anything else to go on.” His right hand left the spot it had been resting on, the middle of my left thigh, and began slowly traveling upwards while tracing an invisible pattern over my denim clad leg.
I glanced down at his wandering hand saying, “True,” before shooting him a pointed look only to find him staring innocently at the highway in front of us. I couldn’t tell whether or not he was moving his hand mindlessly or intentionally up my leg while he drove, so I forced myself to remain still instead of taking his hand and moving it to where I wanted it which was shoved down the front of my pants.
My left hand had come to rest on his right thigh at some point and my eyes stayed locked on Eric’s profile looking for any sign he was getting me worked up on purpose, but his expression gave nothing away. The growing bulge straining inside his pants, however, said plenty. A gracious plenty.
“So Jessie Compton lives next door to where you grew up?” he asked as if his fingertips hadn’t just fluttered over the center seam of my jeans which they had.
I forced my face to remain neutral and my voice steady as I replied, “Yep. The Comptons have lived next door to the Stackhouses since before the Civil War.” The pressure of Eric’s fingertips increased over the center of my jeans while I spoke and I had to swallow the moan that threatened to leave my throat. The only evidence that I was affected by his ministrations was the growing dampness in my panties which I was sure he couldn’t detect yet. In my mind we were playing a more intimate game similar to the one we’d played in Wal-Mart and I had every intention of winning. If I had my way we’d both be winners in the end.
My own hand had slowly made its way up his thigh and I lightly traced the outline of the bulge I found there, smirking when I saw Eric’s eyes close briefly at the sensation. His voice too remained steady while he said, “Wow, that’s a long time. Hopefully he’ll be willing to talk once we get there.” His fingertips flicked open the button to my jeans as he said the word ‘time’ and he had my zipper down by the word ‘there’.
I spread my legs a little to give him more access while trying to remain focused on the conversation. His fingers delved inside my panties and I heard a low growl come from his chest as he discovered the wetness waiting for him there. My hand automatically stroked up and down his length over his jeans in sync with his hand as I fought for something to say that had nothing to do with ‘faster’ or ‘harder’. It took me a minute when I finally said, “Maybe I’ll make him Gran’s signature pecan pie and bring it over to him.”
I flipped open the button to his jeans and the zipper practically went down on its own with my hand automatically wrapping around what sprang out to greet me. My thumb ran over his moistened tip causing Eric to let out a throaty, “Mmm…,” sound and my eyes darted to his face in triumph thinking he broke our unspoken rule first by acknowledging what we were doing.
Eric looked at me and smirked saying, “I love pie.” I lost the game and the capability to think clearly after that because two of his fingers thrust inside of me at the same moment he said ‘pie’ and my back arched while my hips lifted towards his hand. For a split second I thanked God it was the middle of the night and there wasn’t any way for anyone to see what we were doing, but I was already so worked up that it wasn’t long before I was praising Eric and God in tandem as I came on his hand.
He slowly withdrew his fingers and I watched as he licked them clean saying, “Yep, I love pie.” There wasn’t enough blood left above my waist to blush at his words and the sight of his erection pointing like a compass towards the North Star reminded me that my task wasn’t complete.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and leaned over the console tracing Eric’s right ear with my tongue lightly blowing air over the moist shell with my whispered words, “I prefer something a little meatier.” His breath caught in this throat and a hoarse, “Fuck,” left his lips as my own descended over his hardened length in the next instant.
Living with two gay men whose favorite pastime after a pitcher of margaritas was ‘Let’s make Sookie blush by talking about how to please a man’ came in handy. Eric was packing more heat than Tony Soprano, but I’d paid attention to Lafayette’s and Jesus’ drunken tutelage. I relaxed my throat and swallowed on every downward pass while maintaining a steady suction on my way back up. I felt Eric’s hands weave into my hair and he moaned each time he hit the back of my throat. It didn’t take long before I felt him swell even harder signaling his impending release so I let out a moan of my own and felt his body tense as he climaxed while grunting out a few choice praises himself. I swallowed down everything he had to give and his body visibly shuddered as I released him from my mouth with one last firm pull from my lips.
I sat up, proud that I’d been able to take in all of him, but my pride quickly turned to panic when I saw Eric leaning back with his eyes closed completely spent. I gasped about to yell at him to open his eyes, worried that we would crash, when I looked out the window and saw that we were stopped along the side of the interstate.
As I waited for my heartbeat to slow down Eric’s eyes eventually fluttered open and a sated smile adorned his face as he said, “Good God woman,” causing a smile of my own to appear. It took us a few minutes to compose ourselves and Eric pulled me to him for a toe curling kiss before we pulled back onto the highway.
We took turns driving and somehow managed to keep our interactions PG for the most part. It was with an obvious effort though and I began to wonder if I would ever, could ever, be tired of him. I seriously doubted it. Eric seemed to struggle keeping his hands to himself just as much as me so I felt better knowing I wasn’t the only one.
Whenever we took turns sleeping I found myself staring at him memorizing every detail I could. Whenever we were both awake I talked about everybody back home filling Eric in on the people we might encounter once we were there. Tara and JB for sure because I was hoping we could stay in the farmhouse since the only motel in town was pretty seedy. I wanted to keep to ourselves as much as possible though because neither one of us thought it was a good idea to advertise the fact that Eric was with me. I decided it was time to call Tara once we hit Birmingham Alabama.
“Hey Tara, it’s Sookie.”
“Hey Sook, did you get my email?” she asked.
“Uh, no. I haven’t checked it in a few days.” In actuality I couldn’t remember when I had checked it last, but I was sure it had been at least a week prior to meeting Eric.
“Oh, well JB and I finally bought a house. We’re actually just finishing up moving in today, but everything at the farmhouse is paid up through the end of the month.”
“Oh.” I wondered for a split second at what I was going to do with the farmhouse, but decided it was for the best at the moment considering we were on our way there. “That’s great Tara!”
“So you’re not upset with us?” she asked hesitantly. “We would’ve given you more notice, but the house we bought was about to be foreclosed on and we got a really good deal. I’m sorry if we’ve left you in a bind.”
I could hear the worry in her voice so I tried to reassure her by saying, “Of course I’m not upset. I’m happy for you guys. Besides, I was calling to tell you that I’m on my way back to Bon Temps now, so it’s fine. As a matter of fact, we should be there in a few hours.”
“We?” Tara asked.
I bit the lower lip of my big mouth not wanting to say too much about Eric so I replied with a noncommital, “Huh?.” Espionage and subterfuge was clearly not my forte.
“You said ‘we’,” she said undeterred. “As in more than just you. Who’s coming to Bon Temps with you?”
“Just a friend,” I quickly muttered. I changed the subject by asking, “Is the spare key still on the porch?” Lame Stackhouse. Lame.
“Yes, and don’t change the subject.” I heard the baby crying in the background and said a silent Halleluiah as Tara sighed saying, “I guess you’re off the hook for now, but you better call me once you’re settled. I want to meet whoever ‘we’ is.”
We quickly said our goodbyes and hung up while I mentally calculated how long I would have before Tara showed up unannounced. I figured we had about three days at most. I glanced over at Eric and was met with what was becoming his signature raised eyebrow plus sexy smirk expression which usually equaled Sookie minus panties. A very complex mathmatical equation. Not.
We stopped off at a supermarket close to Bon Temps to pick up a few things knowing there wouldn’t be anything to eat once we got there. When I picked up the ingredients for the pie I was going to make, the looks Eric was giving me caused the blush that had been MIA the night before to return with a vengeance. He just chuckled and kissed the top of my head before following me to the checkout.
It was dark out once we pulled onto Hummingbird Lane and a warmth spread through my chest when the farmhouse came into view lit up by the glow of the full moon. I couldn’t wait to move out when I lived here, but seeing it again now brought back all of the good memories I had of growing up. It surprised me just how much I’d missed it without ever realizing it until now.
I found the key hidden under the flower pot on the porch and unlocked the front door. Eric brought everything inside while I walked around turning lights on so we could see. Everything was pretty much how I remembered it since Tara and JB had left most of the furniture in place since they didn’t have much of their own after they got married. They had used one of the bedrooms upstairs so they would be across the hall from where they set up the nursery and Gran’s bedroom had remained untouched.
I was surprised that I had more happy thoughts and memories than sad ones seeing everything again. I had been devastated when Gran died, but now I simply felt a warmth in my heart just thinking about her. I pondered what she’d have to say about everything Eric and I been through recently as I pulled some sheets from the linen closet and made up the bed. Gran had always been pretty open minded, but thinking of Eric pulling the stolen SUV around to the back of the house at that very moment had me believing that even she wouldn’t have been that easy going. We had already decided to drive it to the Monroe Mall the next day to leave it there since my car had been stored at the farmhouse and I hoped it would be the end of our grand theft auto days.
I was dead tired, but I felt grimy from being on the road for the last 24 hours so once the bed was made I stripped off my clothes and climbed into the shower in the master bathroom. I had my eyes closed letting the water rain down over my head when I jumped at the feeling of Eric’s hands on my waist from behind and I abruptly turned around ready to chastise him for sneaking up on me. Instead, I ended up sputtering from the water I accidentally inhaled at the sight of him standing there in all of his naked and highly aroused glory. It was the first time I’d seen Eric completely naked since we were too busy doing other things the first time we’d gotten naked together. I had already known from the bits I had seen as well as felt that his body rivaled Michaelangelo’s David, but standing inches away from him while he wore nothing but a few drops of water and smile made my knees weak and my girly bits throb. It seemed I wasn’t as tired as I thought I was.
“I believe you owe me a bath, but I’ll settle for a shower right now.” Eric’s tone of voice was an octave lower when he spoke and I watched silently as he poured some shampoo in his hand and gently lathered it through my hair only breaking our gaze when necessary to see what he was doing. I enjoyed the feeling of his fingers lightly massaging my scalp as he rinsed the suds away before using those same fingers to gently comb the conditioner through. He lathered his hands with soap next and spun my body around so that my back was pressed against his chest with me rubbing up against his obvious arousal in between us like the harlot I seemed to revert to in his presence.
Starting at my right shoulder he lathered the soap down my arm all the way to my fingertips working out any tension he encountered before pulling my arm up above my head and resting my hand on the back of his neck. He repeated the process on my left arm before moving down to my breasts now that my arms were out of the way.
He must have considered them very dirty given the lengthy amount of time he’d spent getting them clean, but my only unspoken complaint would have been the fact that I was sure I would die if he didn’t move his hands farther down my body. No matter how many times I wriggled my hips or arched my back and moaned his name, Eric’s hands seemed to be perfectly content massaging and kneading my breasts. It felt great, but I needed more. I let my right hand drop down from his neck to, ahem, take matters into my own hands, but he quickly placed it back around his neck whispering “Patience…” in my ear which only served to make me that much more impatient.
Forever seemed to pass by when he finally, Finally!, lathered his hands with more soap and washed my abdomen and hips. He had to lean down some since he was so much taller than me, but he didn’t seem to mind. His hands ran back and forth from my hips to my inner thighs all the while avoiding where I wanted them the most. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it any longer the fingers of his right hand delved between my thighs with two of them plunging inside of me before pulling right back out. My hips bucked up towards his hands in a failed attempt at getting them back to where they belonged and a hoarse cry at their loss left my throat, but before I could voice any further protests they slid in once more.
My hips moved of their own accord in perfect rhythm with his thrusts when I felt his tongue on the side of my neck trailing down towards my shoulder. The coil low in my abdomen wound tighter and Eric used his other hand to part my folds while angling my lower half to allow the hot water to steadily beat down from the shower head onto my engorged clit. I could feel my inner walls spasm around his fingers when he suddenly bit down where my neck and shoulder met. He didn’t bite hard enough to break the skin, but the unexpected minor pain coupled with all of the other sensations he was causing threw me over the edge into orgasmic bliss.
The first syllable of crying out “Er…” had barely left my throat when he pushed my top half forward and filled me to the hilt from behind with the “…ic,” barely audible as his thrusts took my orgasm to a whole new level. My hands fell forward and braced against the safety handrail that had been installed for Gran as she got older. It turned out I needed it too because I had to hold on for dear life as Eric grabbed my hips and lifted me up while he furiously pounded into me from behind with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoing throughout the room. The teasing seduction was long gone with animalistic need having replaced it. All signs were pointing towards another orgasm cresting over the horizon, but the strength in my arms was giving out and my concentration faltered as I tried to avoid face planting into the tiled wall.
I heard Eric chuckle from behind and he pulled out long enough to turn me around and scoop me up in his arms before thrusting back inside with my body held in between his and the tile. My legs locked around his waist while my arms encircled his neck and my hoo-hah prepared to sing Amazing Grace paying homage to the deity that is Eric Northman like he’d risen from the dead on Easter Sunday. My lips devoured his in a demanding kiss and it only took three more thrusts before the church bells rang and the angels wept. I may have even shouted ‘Amen!’ into Eric’s mouth, but I can’t be sure because he had his own spiritual moment at the same time.
Eric continued to hold me upright while I regained use of my legs again and pushed the church metaphors from my mind as he languidly placed open mouthed kisses along my neck and collarbone before moving back to my lips. He was skilled in so much more than just knife fights and hotwiring cars with kissing topping the list. Could he have been trained in that too? I mentally changed his name from ‘Dances with Knives’ to “Master of Orgasms’. It slowly dawned on me that multiple orgasms left me a brainless twit so I focused solely on returning the favor of washing Eric from head to toe. I may have lingered a bit while washing his award winning ass, but really, how could I not?
By the time we toweled off and climbed into bed it was after midnight and no matter how much I wanted to continue worshipping my newfound religion, as soon as Eric gathered me into his arms I was out like a light.