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Luxuria- True Blood

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May. 8th, 2011 | 11:26 pm
posted by: rinaceous in rinfic

pairing: Eric/Pam, mentions Eric/Sookie and Eric/Pam/Yvetta
series: True Blood (tv-verse; season 3)
rated: PG13.
notes: Eric's a slut. :D Begins in Season 3, spinning away from reality...

It didn't take long for Yvetta to illustrate everything she had. It was... satisfying, on a very basic level. It was not mind-blowing or life changing or even particularly memorable, but then, what in his long life had been? Sitting at his desk, fingers tapping, Eric thought about that evening and what might happen later.

He could feel the tickle of Pam's mind against his own, her own lust bubbling away while she checked ID's. He doubted another night would pass before she'd have Yvetta, in one way or another. It has fine. He was used to sharing lovers with her and thought no more of it than he would drinking after her or washing his clothes in the same washer. Pam was an extension of himself in many ways, utterly his, his child, his progeny in ways that a human's genetic child could never be. Though he respected and loved her too much to do so, he could literally command Pam to do anything to anyone, including herself, at any time. He could tell her not to flirt with Sookie.

That was one person he didn't plan on sharing with her.

There was something about her that piqued his interest and he didn't plan on throwing away the tenuous connection he'd made with her with just a quick fuck. And that included Pam's own desire for the telepath. Now, if later she decided to come to him of her own accord, and expressed an interest in Pamela... that would be an entirely different situation completely. He quickly imagined a scene of them (limbs tangled, blonde hair intertwined, the noises he imagined Sookie might make and those he knew Pam made in pleasure) and closed his eyes, giving his head a quick toss. His jeans were now uncomfortably tight. He buzzed Pam.

She sauntered in a few moments later in heels that gave her another five inches and showed off her beautiful legs. He let her see his admiring glance and she quirked an eyebrow up as she eyed his tented pants.

"And this requires my assistance... how?" She let a bit of a purr slip into her last word, and he remembered his earlier chide to her: insubordinate.

He was interested to feel a bit of lust transfer to himself as she stepped closer. With every inch that she drew nearer, his blood sang out to hers, calling itself back together. He'd read somewhere about a human mother likening having a child to cutting one's heart out of the body and letting it run around outside, and it was an apt analogy, even more literal in the sense of a vampire's progeny. He'd felt the same helpless draw to Godric for a thousand years, the yearning of his blood to rejoin it's source, to slide skin to skin. From time to time, they'd indulged it. And of course, he'd made Pam as a companion in every sense of the word; he'd found her sexy as hell as a human, and that hadn't changed in a hundred years.

She stepped a little closer, skirting the edge of his desk. Then in a flash she'd opened his filing cabinet and tossed something at him so quickly that if he'd been human, he'd have suffered a concussion. But as the older and stronger vampire, he caught it easily, then eyed the item with curiosity and mild disgust.

"What is this?" The item looked like a little handheld torch- a flashlight- but it has a vulgar end that resembled the lower lips of a female.

"A fleshlight. They're very popular with lonely men, I hear. And so's Sookie Stackhouse!" she called back as she exited.

He cursed her, devil-woman, and stuck a finger experimentally into the open end of the strange device. It felt rubbery and vile.

"As if it would fit in this tiny thing," he grumbled.


Pam could taste Eric all over Yvetta's svelte frame, and it was almost as though he were there with them. It was overpowering, though she knew the girl had showered extensively. At least he hadn't given her blood, or else it would be even worse.

She was glad that he didn't mind her preference for female lovers and even seemed to encourage it. Then again, being as his leanings were much the same, it was logical that he wouldn't mind, and the fact that they often ended up sharing was just a bonus. There was a reason, after all, that she'd followed him into a dark alley a century before, and she'd begged and cursed and praised God in the few moments before he turned her because of those reasons. He was a towering, heart-stopping figure of a man, and he'd made her crave him from the second she caught a glimpse of her from behind her silly parasol.

And from time to time, she gave into that craving, because he was everything, where her life had ended and begun at the same time, the reason she was still on Earth a hundred years after her logical date of death and the reason she'd continue on for as many nights as fate would allow. Her body felt safe, her mind relaxed just being close to him, the blood that circulated pulsing out a beat that drummed Maker, maker, maker. It was like a dog's blind devotion. It disgusted and aroused her all at once, a heady combination.

Just a few nights ago, Sookie had strolled in in that silly lavender prom dress and it had taken considerable self-restraint to keep from exploring her. The thread of Eric's blood stirred in the telepath's body and triangulated the lust between the three of them, bouncing between them like a beam of light. So now she was settled between Yvetta's legs, because it was better than no outlet at all, and she did have fabulous assets. She gave an appreciative swirl of her tongue and felt the young dancer teeter closer to the edge, a curse slipping from her pretty pink lips in Estonian. She responded to it and gripped her knees, holding her as she trembled.

The phone rang, and she answered it with a sigh, because she knew it wasn't him. He didn't often bother ringing her in the modern way.


He was already in flight when he felt the first stab of pain from her, screeching across the bond. For a second he worried for Sookie, until he hit a wave of it so powerful that he nearly lost momentum. He concentrated an extra burst of speed, wondering why the Magister was attacking Pam.

Eric sped past the bouncer and fangbangers with utter ease and could not contain the pain and shock of seeing her on the rack, bound and spread eagle. Her eyes held pain that hadn't been there in a quarter century, not since she'd had to regrow a leg thanks to a stupid Were who was careless with his chainsaw. Eric had torn him into shreds so small that he'd resembled a heap of yarn rather than the remains of a living creature once he'd dealt with him.

And now, he would have to be cowed by the fucking Magister, Magnus. He admired Pam's cool head as she blamed Compton and rushed to back up her claim, then swiftly departed to build a plan to save her. The thought of life without her was not worth entertaining.

Days later, the pain had built through their bond to the point where he found himself wincing randomly, even from this distance. It was a relief to be heading back toward Pam, even as the ache surged more deeply as they approached Fangtasia. The last few hundred feet he covered with even greater speed than usual, blowing through the bar so fast that Ginger spilled a drink on one of the fangbangers and Yvetta slipped off the pole in surprise. He heard the last fragment of the conversation before he saw her; she was strapped to the table, bleeding, nearly broken as she taunted and gave the Magister tit-for-tat even as he held an eyelid open to pierce it. Eric slammed the door open to the basement and whirled down the stairs, snarling, "Enough!"

The broken whisper of his name through her lips, so joyful and thankful- "Eric!"- nearly undid him completely. He knew his face betrayed his emotions for a moment, and with a second's pause he reined them in, knowing he had to rely on Russell's superior political position to save his child. He summarized the situation quickly, the idle actions of selfish monarchs that cared not whose lives their meddling destroyed, then gradually eased his way over to Pam while they bickered and argued. He ignored them as he stroked her face, worry washing across his face as he softly asked her if she was okay. She nodded, the relief matching his own.

Her fear was staggering, and he needed to free her. As he wrapped his hand in a rag to protect himself from the silver chains, he was reminded of another time a few months ago when Sookie had freed him from another set of links, another torture table. But before he could release Pam, Magnus snapped at him, and he had to stop his efforts. He stared back at the slightly older vampire with something like disgust and mutiny, snapping his rag with malice, then turned back to stroking her face and hair, comforting her as best he could. Tears welled in her eyes, and he could tell they were an equal mix of misery and happiness. To see his Pamela, so strong and fierce, reduced to this was breaking whatever semblance of a heart he had left in his dead chest.

As Russell and the Magister drifted toward the table, he regrouped himself with the conversation, sharing a long look with the King before he exchanged Pam for the old Spanish vampire in a blurred movement that Eric barely caught, strapping Magnus to the table. Pam cried out and landed against the wall, standing unsteadily, and he crossed the room in a few strides to wrap his arm around her. She'd already begun to heal, and by the time Russell had begun to burn up the Magister in earnest, she was rapidly returning to her normal self, taunting her torturer. Then after a brief ceremony, the King showed the true depth of his madness by decapitating him. Beside him, his progeny gasped, and he shared her shock.

Russell and his new bride turned to go, and he turned and eyed Eric, clearly expecting him to follow. He paused, pulling Pam close again, and Russell simply nodded. He had progeny of his own, and understood what was needed now, and the two disappeared up the staircase, the Queen looking huffy and the King quietly pleased.

"It took you long enough," Pam drawled, even as she shifted closer into his arms, tucking her head under his chin as he held her. He let his hands wander up the ruined skintight shirt she wore, and they both relished the contact as the bond hummed and sang with relief and pleasure. For the moment, they were safe again.

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