On one side of the envelope were two signatures over the sealed closure, Pam and Eric's. I flipped it over and on the neat, clean white paper were the words, "The Last Will and Testament of Eric Northman, In The Event Of My Final Death." My mind couldn't catch up with my heart, a sudden lurch after beating so quickly after the discovery of the ring. I settled my breathing, and couldn't let go of this overwhelming emotion of loss. Was he expecting his death? Was he doing something dangerous that I hadn't been told about? That I hadn't even sensed through the bond or his mind?

I freaked. I stuffed the envelope into the pocket, slammed the zipper closed catching the white envelope in the metal teeth. I couldn't worry about that at the moment. I needed to get out. I didn't have the time to look for shoes, a purse, a sweater, I needed to get out, so I did what I've practiced so well, I left.

Dead to Me: Chapter 22

After turning the first corner towards the elevator, I realized how silly this was. I also realized that Eric, my bonded, was very much awake. I picked up the pace to get out of the building or at least inside the elevator before he found me in the blacked out, vampire safe, floor.

The ring was not very Eric, made with a flourish; it achieved the feminine look and only identified itself as belonging to him by the price range. But yellow topaz? I know beggars can't be choosers but was that what he thought I would like? Was that what he liked? And suddenly, I realized that I knew hardly anything about Eric Northman. The Viking went out of his way to get to know me, to pick out things I liked, to protect me, and we knew nothing of one another. I tried to push my mind to certain lines of thought, to get myself the hell out of there, but really, the only thing I could think of were three things:

1. A Promotion Poster: I had found a sheet of paper announcing the new Fangtasia shirt. It was a deep green and seemed to tie in some form of St. Patrick's Day and Blood-thirsty vampires. The significance in the product was not the attractive cut that would define the bleach white muscles of Eric Northman, but that it was one of the few things that identified one of my "future-seeing, dizzy-making, scare-the-living-shit-out-of-Sookie, dreams." So sometime, in the next two weeks, expecting that St. Patrick's Day was the anticipated date for this shirt to be sold, my Viking would be wearing it, and I would be seeing him in it, but the significance of that fact was still lost on me.

2. A ring: it could mean a proposal, from the man who had feared commitment and honesty with me, that said a lot. Could two dates make that much of a turn-a-round? Well, no, he had to have bought it before our second date. We both knew that he was a commitment-a-phobe. After being a bachelor for over a thousand years, could you really blame him? No.

3. A will: did Eric see something in the future that I couldn't? Did that mean that he was going to die…

I was whirled around to come face to face with him. He was animated and I realized this whole time I had been thinking about his dead, still body in bed. The air must have rubbed his face enough to warm it because he seemed almost flushed.

"Eric," I cried out and jumped into his arms kicking air to meet him at eye level and crush him with a kiss. I had forgotten all that had me running seconds earlier. He tolerated my heavy, thirsty kisses until we reached a bit of a standstill. He was obviously upset that he woke without me in the room, and I was almost shaking with realization of what his finding me meant. I would be 'fessing up sooner than expected, and to something that may not please Eric.

He tolerated a few more throaty kisses before interrupting us by opening our hotel room door. I hadn't noticed the movement, but there was no way to deny that we had moved from my last destination.

"Lover, are you going to tell me where you were going, or am I going to connect the clues myself,"

"Dots," I corrected, and then blushed because we both knew why I had left, but he wanted me to say it aloud.

" You then," he mused before making eye contact and smiling with satisfaction at arriving at his intended point in our conversation.

"Well… I… I was bored."

"If we weren't in the situation we are in, I'd agree with you, lover," he said with a leer and allowed his eyes to drag over every centimeter of my buffed, scrubbed, exfoliated, trimmed, smooth, and shiny body.

"Right, well, we could say this is your fault," he raised his eyebrows although I couldn't decipher whether that action meant "don't go there," or "this is going to be a good one," but I decided to go with sticking to my train of thought.

"Well, you know that I'm not the type of the woman to wait for my husband to come home from work or wake up or whatever. I'm not a woman that's meant to be sitting still for several hours, especially if I haven't been laid recently."

Eric raised his eyebrows but still didn't say anything. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his persistence to sticking with his goal of making me admit to why I ran. I had hoped that the husband comment would at least get him off track, but he seemed surprisingly disinterested.

"So I got to thinking about how I don't know anything about you, and so I decided to pry a bit."

He scanned the room, his gaze flickering over the briefcase and then returning to my face. He didn't seem to acknowledge that it had been moved or tampered with. Instead, he waited.

"I found your will," I blurted out before he could examine my shame any longer.

"And you had a problem with my allocations?"

"I didn't read it"

Well, at least that was the truth. I had to admit that I was like Eric in a way. I was strictly tell only when asked plainly or tell only so much while still allowing your ass to be covered. The ring, and the flyer stayed locked up tight. I stuck with self-denial in the factor that I couldn't be honest with Eric when I expected him to change for me.

"So you thought that the copy of this document, that I keep on my person at all times, was 'FILL IN EMOTION HERE' enough to leave me alone, vulnerable and exposed, during my daytime sleep," he snapped, sarcastically—his hands still lingering from air quotes.

I was always surprised by how quick Eric could be, pushing and prodding like a doctor, looking for the bullshit, but not necessarily ever calling me a liar or blaming me. He wouldn't want to be called out on his own shit.

"Did you find anything else in that bag that you would like to talk about, Sookie?"

I shook my head.

"So be it."

That was it? So be it? We still stood chest to chest and I absently dragged my fingernails up and down his bicep while his hand stroked the center of my back. I started to recognize that we were more in sync. I couldn't help but think about how he had been the perfect boyfriend for the last week and a half. The calls came on time, the heavy kissing and petting but no tamale, the sweet nothings. I was waiting for the ball to drop, so he could keep his promise of messing up. I told myself that I would keep my promise of forgiving him.

Until that moment, I hadn't noticed the bond. It was thriving with emotions, and somehow, all of them were pleasant. I couldn't spot the difference between yesterday and today, but something made us feel melted together. As if the bond had changed from his and mine to ours.

"What time is it," I asked


"Let's go," I told him.

"Where are we going," he asked.

"Well, we have to get out of this room before I make you break your third date rule, and since I'm getting so impatient, I thought we could have our third date tonight."

"But I already have something planned for Thursday,"

"Do you really want to wait until Thursday to have sex," I asked him without thinking that he could be having sex, just not sex with me. I couldn't remember if we'd discussed the terms of this relationship. Were we exclusive? He couldn't be okay with me sleeping with someone else while we were doing whatever we were doing—but would it really be fair for him to fangbang his way through Fangtasia? Well, considering how patriarchal vampires could be—maybe so.

He seemed to sense my mood.

"Your mouth was saying one thing but your emotions were not along the same line," he established.

"That seems to be a fact."

I caught his annoyance.

"I don't want you to be so unsatisfied that you find comfort with someone else."

"Hmmm…" he tutted, "than let's go on your third date, lover."

He kissed the top of my head, before slinging his bag over his shoulder and pulling the handle on my little bag that I had seemed to forget about. It always shocked me when I saw him do something—human…domestic.

When we got in the car, I borrowed his phone to use the GPS, and gave him directions. Eric driving without knowing where he was going equaled a slower, but much more ticked off driver. When we got there, the humane society seemed closed; Eric knocked on the door and glamoured the attendant into letting us into the kennel.

"You aren't going to find anything pure and pretty here," Eric reminded me, looking down at boxes full of assortments of somewhat ugly dogs.

"Do I look like the pure and pretty kind of girl? Gosh, you sound like some of those white-power, Fellowship of the Sun people."

"Then what kind of girl are you?"

"This is what dates are for, Eric. To find out. We're going to find a dog we both like—I know we're supposed to start slow, but it never hurts to have a little extra company. Plus, we're doing something nice."

"Company to distract you from snooping. That sounds good my lover. I see. This is a form of glue---to share--- keep us together."

"If a dog is the only thing keeping us together than let me know—okay? Because, honestly, I try to not be in that much of denial."

He chuckled, and set off on his mission of finding me the perfect dog, and I looked for his. The cages were crowded and I tried not to think about how many dogs they had put down besides the ones they had shipped north after Katrina. There were a lot of pit bulls, one Great Dane, and a bunch of really thin, emaciated dogs that I didn't think would make it another couple months. I stopped at a Basset Hound. He was fat and reminded me of Eric's physical spirit. He was probably someone's pet. He didn't fit in here.

"I found the one that fits you," I echoed across the room, turning around and searching for Eric. He was bent over, fingers stuck between the gapes in the fence. If that dog bites his fingers off… how long would it take for them to grow back? I made myself swallow.

"I've got yours."

I walked to his side and examined the pup. He looked like a dirty Benji. Somehow, I just knew he would be a yappy dog. He did suit me though.

"He won't be much of a guard dog, though."

"Dogs are not supposed to be practical," I told him.

"Why can they not be both? Would you turn down a friend and someone to protect you?"

Insert friend with lover here.

"Alright, well, let's go look at yours."

I led him over to the Basset Hound and he stared at him critically.

"He belongs to someone."

I was surprised by his statement, and hurt that he didn't seem to like the dog as I thought he would.

"Yes, I guess he does," I said not trying to hide my disappointment.

"I like him very much, but he does not suit you," he said before dipping down for a peck on the lips.

I felt a sense of relief. If I knew anything about dogs, I knew that that drool would not treat my grandmother's hard wood floors right.

"I think we should look together," he said while interlocking his fingers with mine. I tried to disregard the flashback to over a year ago. Falling asleep with him.

"That's a great idea," I said while thinking how nice and normal we could be. We walked down the hall, examining dirty, unhappy, and mean dogs. We did not have an easy time agreeing. Somehow protective equaled mean and ugly. I wanted something to cuddle with during the day.

Eric found him. Theodore. He was locked up in a corner, by himself which Eric had told me was a bad sign. He didn't get along with others. He was rather ordinary, so ordinary that I had to have passed him when I was looking for Eric's dog and not noticed. But when Eric put his fingers through the holes, Theodore licked up and down the lengths of his fingers. I made sure to point out that they had this in common. Eric had a thing for sucking fingers—one of the few sexual motifs that we did not agree on, but I never told him that. Theodore was a Airedale/Pit Bull mix and he was big. He seemed to listen to Eric, following whistles and a few firm pushes. How were we going to get him in the 'vette?

But we did. I asked Eric to run through a drivethrough on the way home. Teddy, as I called him (Eric refused), shared French fries while we made the Eric-short drive home. We stopped at Super Wal-Mart and got some pet supplies including a purple collar that would shine off his dark fur. I couldn't help but find it funny that two blond-haired, blue-eyed individuals, would have a dark haired, brown-eyed dog. So much for dogs looking like their owners.

We got home around three and I sent Eric upstairs because he hadn't showered since at least before our date the night before. I took Teddy out and let him do a bit of searching on the property. Of course when I clapped, and hollered his name, Teddy didn't come. I guess a leash would've been a great purchase. A high-pitched whistle broke my chants and I turned to see Eric, half naked standing on the porch, and a galloping Teddy making his way to sit beneath Eric's feet.

We managed to get him fed and a bed of old blankets in a corner of the porch before heading upstairs.

"I didn't realize that Teddy would take away some of our time," Eric complained.

"We all have to make sacrifices."

"Says who? I thought sacrifices were in order for greater rewards in the long-run."

"Teddy will be the reward. We'll love him."

Some noise which I guessed expressed his doubt came from deep in his chest.

"Then maybe a reward now," I said with a quirky grin before licking my lips and pulling at the knot in the towel. Eric seemed to get the idea and his gracious plenty helped me loosen the towel while he allowed me to push him onto my bed.

We both moaned when he was free. I wrapped my hand around his girth, sizing it up, watching him watch me before dipping down to take a lick. I made a thorough examination of his gracious plenty, cupping his balls as I surrounded each side of his erection with my saliva before licking the underside of his head.

His cock was gorgeous – long and hard, the bulbous head dripping with pre cum. I could feel the blood pulsing through the thick vein that ran along his shaft, feeding his erection. I let go of him for a second, and nudged him to move higher on the bed so I could spread his legs giving me more access to his pelvis and making the position more comfortable than the wooden floor. He moaned as I held him again, as I leant over and licked him slowly from the root to the very tip, my tongue flicking away the bead of pre cum.

Eric watched as his cock disappeared into my mouth, my lips tight around him, his moans getting louder as I sucked on him, my head bobbing up and down. I released him to blow air onto the moist layer of saliva and precum forcing him to emit, "Sookie," and claw at the sheets. I smiled and brought my mouth back to cover him—warm him up, pausing until he found my eyes again. I sucked him deeper into my mouth, savouring the taste, the feel of him as his body began to tense as waves of pleasure rocked him. I reached down to cup and squeeze his balls, my other hand stroking up and down his cock.

As I felt his cum starting to rise, I stopped sucking and eased his cock out of my mouth, pushing it back against his body. I licked slowly along the edges of his pelvis, and then again, along his gracious plenty, onto his balls, and as deep as my probing tongue could reach. I lapped and sucked at his heavy balls, sucking them into my warm mouth.

Eric moaned out loud, and – reaching for my head – pulled me back onto his cock, pushing himself back into my willing mouth. He fucked my wet mouth, his hips bouncing up off the mattress as he held my head, his fingers entwined in my hair. I sucked on him, drawing him deeper into me with each thrust of his hips. I felt his balls tighten in my hand as his cum built up inside them, demanding release. I moaned as he fucked me harder, my hand stroking him in time with my sucking, in time with his thrusts.

I was surprised that I didn't mind this treatment. In some ways, it was erotic, and surprising, a twist and maybe even crack in the good boyfriend façade he had been keeping for the last couple of months. I released his balls so I could slip a hand down my black slacks and push both of our pleasures to another level. I had realized somewhere right after starting that Eric's pleasure was unlike any pleasure that the bond had given me before. It was our pleasure, and the idea of two mutual happy pre-orgasmic people together was forcing my hand down my panties. I reminded myself to breathe and I moaned on his head, making vibrations and a last thrust and accompanying gushes of liquid at the same moment I had made contact with my clit.

I slumped between his legs, panting from his experience of orgasm, and enjoyed his fingers running through my hair.

"I've never…"

"I know," I said. He sat up and I angled my head so I could look at him.

"I didn't hurt you, did I? I know we've never…"

I swallowed, and only felt a mild ache—nothing to complain about.

"Sookie Stackhouse," he said in a threatening tone.

"I was about to tell you no, Eric. You have to give me a second, humans don't recover as fast as vampires."

"Did I say that you could masturbate yourself without permission?" he said in the same tone. I suddenly realized that I was still rubbing my clit; my cheeks flushed. So much for time for recovery.

While that thought was processing, I was thrown and twisted so I was in the center of the bed, and Eric jerked my slacks off my body. He tore the strings of my underwear and suddenly, my hands rubbing my open pussy were exposed. He groaned and said something in a language I couldn't understand. He didn't have any trouble physically responding as well. I pulled my hands away.

"Don't stop," he commanded. So I reluctantly put my hands back.

My breathing grew heavier as I watched him watch me. Occasionally, he would give himself a stroke but mostly his eyes darted between my splayed sex and my eyes. I knew my face was splotchy from my closeness.

"I'm realizing that this isn't fair," he said, but I couldn't understand what he was saying. I was panting too loudly; I was so close.

Suddenly, my hand was removed from my sex and I whined, and considered begging for him to give it back. He was on his knees and pulled me towards him. I started to spread my legs, to give him a good angle so he could dip below me and enter, but he had a different idea.

He turned us so that we were facing the foot of the bed, and my dresser. My back was to his chest and his gracious plenty pulsed between our bodies. He sat back on his heels as he lifted me onto his thighs, spreading my body enough to mount me on his cock.

My head lulled backwards to lean on his shoulder as I tried to suck in air. It'd been weeks, and I couldn't imagine how it would feel to be empty again. He didn't thrust. Instead, he waited until I tried to look back at him, to tell him to get to it, but I couldn't see him in this position.

"Look forward, Sookie," he commanded.

I saw myself in the mirror above my dresser. My legs separated by his thighs so I could see myself exposed, his hand lingering above my clit while he thrust forward for the first time and I could watch him move into me. He moaned. I was reminded of how much a voyeur he was, and could feel myself getting wetter. Obviously, I am too.

He rolled my nipple between his thumb and index finger while tapping on my clit. I leaned back so he could go deeper making him pull accidentally on my nipple.

I screamed and came undone. He waited for my body to stop shivering and finally, when my mind came back to the moment, I realized the whole time we had kept eye contact.

"Please," I begged, "I need another,"

And so he complied---thrusting a bit harder, but massaging me slowly, making the orgasm build. I shouted his name urging him on. He stopped for a moment when I let my eyes wander to the ceiling. My neck was so tired, my body so weak from the need for another orgasm, but I made it back to his eyes---to watching the two of us fuck.

His thrusts became faster, and I pulled my neck away from him, having to tell him out loud that I trusted him to take my blood—more fairy enhanced than ever. It scared me how much I thought he would never hurt me.

He bit so smoothly that I knew it was intentional. He wanted me to cum with him this time. Only a few drags before licking the tear of blood that ran down my collar bone towards my nipple. He never made such a mistake. Bill ruined my sheets—not Eric. When he licked the trail off my chest and sweaty skin, I knew it was for my own voyeurism. I gasped and involuntarily shook. He smirked before confirming it with a wink.

"Your sweat is so sweet, my lover," he commented, before thrusting deeper and harder than ever before. I moved my body with his, trying to keep up. His eyes were still focused on mine even though they were dialated and his fangs still remained down. His mouth was slightly bloody. I couldn't help but groan. I didn't know how much longer my body would last. I took his wrist ignoring my mental battle of whether his blood would make the thoughts be any louder. I bit.

He jerked and let out a primitive grunt before slowing down. The fairy blood leaving some of his system. He gained his control and started to angle himself inside of me.

"Please Eric," I begged.

"You are mine, Sookie Stackhouse. You will belong to no other—You will cum on no other cock than mine. I was being stupid weeks ago, we both know that you belong on me, and to me. Tell me you're mine, Sookie."

My mind fought what any independent woman would, but he knew he would always have me when keeping my orgasm on a string out of reach. I could say it. It really doesn't count when we're naked and he's inside of me, does it?

"I'm yours."


"I'm yours, Eric."

He moaned and started sucking on the flesh around my throat. I squealed as he hit a certain spot, but he backed off, stringing me along. I watched him, my eyes pleading.

"You can cum, now, Sookie,"

And as if the thread had been cut, my body swung back and forth as he let loose a stream inside of me and I bit my lip to hold back the throaty holler that had escaped. My breath could not stay in my lungs and I collapsed, still splayed on top of him.

His hands lightly stroked my chest and stomach trying to be soothing and calm me. It surprised me that it was working. I was slowly falling asleep on top of him. Right as sleep caught me, I realized that he had given me permission to orgasm, but I was too exhausted to be frightened about what that meant.

A/N: So I realize it has been a LONG time since I've updated. I've had several messages asking me to finish up. I've known where this has been going since the beginning--it's just that I don't want to rush it, so then the story never gets written. I finally came to terms that I needed to finish this up not only because I've read almost all Sookie/Eric stories on the SVM but also because I've been rereading ones that haven't been worked on in over six months waiting for some more words to be put down on my favorites. It's miserable. I'm sorry to do that to some of you. So here's a bit for those that found this to be a favorite. I appreciate your patience, and comments. I assume there will be some new readers considering the growth of the SVM world since TB Season 2 came out since I wrote my last chapter and all. I hope you enjoy what I've created as well. Hopefully, since I've gotten a jumpstart, I'll keep it rolling.

--Also for practical purposes:

1) This wasn't edited by anyone except for me, because I haven't found a Beta. If there are too many problems, let me know, and I'll think about hunting one down.

2) This is Charlaine's world, I'm just playing in it.

3) Review, Review, Review. Thanks!