A/N inspired by Pam in Pastel's 'Sookie in a Sex Shop'. I've been playing with this idea for a while now, but in this one they're the way Charlaine made them – human, telepathic girl and devilishly Nordic vampire.


really, I shouldn't be blushing. Should I? I've had sex. A lot of sex. Recently. Well, in general. But all with the same man…vampire. You get my drift. So, yes, I've been intimate with someone, been naked, wet, dirt-covered, blood soaked, horny, tired, angry, heart broken…all with one man…vampire. So standing in 'Babes in Toyland' in Baton Rouge shouldn't be that big a deal, right? I look up from a rack of absurdly titled adult films, both human and supe themed, and I try not to giggle at the more obvious titles: Frankenpenis. Intercourse with a Vampire. An American Werewolf in London – 'London' in this case is a balloon chested blonde with tacky nails and bad skin. The 13th Porno… ewww…that's just wrong! But there goes my hand, grabbing the box, flipping it over to see what they've done to further butcher Michael Chriton's Eaters of the Dead. There's a dark haired guy, obviously of eastern descent to portray Ibn-Al Farrad…Holy walkin' talkin' Jesus – is that…I almost drop the box as my eyes land on one of the men cast to portray a Nordic warrior…that can't be…please tell me it's not…

"Ah, some of my earlier work."

I yelp, surprised, spin, clutching the damned film box to my chest and find that annoyingly suave Eric Northman grinning back at me. Wait, did he just say 'some of my earlier work'? I glance back at the box and then back to that damn smirk. To the box again, squinting, then back to Eric. It's not him, I can see that now, but the resemblance is uncanny. I smack his shoulder with the box and huff, spinning to put it back.

"Sookie Stackhouse, I must say, this is the last place I expected to find you."

"And for some reason, your presence is not so surprising." I narrow my eyes at him. "Are you following me?" I whisper tightly.

He cocks an eyebrow, amused, sure of himself, and his grins crookedly before leaning down to my space. "Great minds think alike, Sookie." He winks and looks about the store.

"I doubt that," I mutter, making my way far away from him. This is what I so did not need tonight! I'd driven here with Tara last night for a girl's weekend and we had come across the shop after dinner this evening. I find myself standing before a wall of every sexual stimulator known to man…er…woman? Human. And they're all arranged in chromatic order, from the yellow 'Havana Banana Rama' that looks more or less like the innocent fruit it stole its name from to a more ominous 'Black Knight'. That's kind of self explanatory but hold mother, that thing is HUGE! I blush as I cock my head and contemplate it.

"Everyone has a kink, Sookie. Different strokes for different folks. I myself…"

I held up a hand, bristling that Eric had followed me over here. "I don't need to know what kind of strokes you like…" My mouth claps shut and my cheeks burn as beside me, Eric chuckles, deep and smooth. I feel it all the way between my thighs and I squirm on the spot.

He's stopped talking for a moment. I feel the air stir behind me and then his cool breath is on my neck, his fingertips barely stroking my shoulder as he moves behind me. "Are you sure?"

I don't answer him. I choose to ignore him. Or at least I try to. He's just…standing there, leering at me with that infuriating grin that tells me he doesn't need to be a mind reader to know what I'm thinking. I'm sure my blood is pounding a mile a minute and he's taken a deep breath through his nose – Bill told me once that he could smell my…arousal. A bit unsettling at first, but he assured me that it was quite intoxicating. I wonder if Eric finds it just as…stop it, Sookie! I scold myself. Billbillbillbillbillbillbill…

"You know, I don't like to brag…"

I snort at that, but let him continue.

"But I have been around the block once or twice. Perhaps…" he trails off, waiting for me to turn to him, to acknowledge him…and I do, spinning, my hair fanning out and no doubt tickling his nose and the chest exposed by his black tank top. He smiles again, a little more genuine than usual, and he flicks his eyes away as if…he's… embarrassed? Shy? Somewhat apprehensive, but it passes and soon those glacial blue irises are locked on me. "Shall I help you find something…suitable?" And then I feel the cool, tingling slide of his eyes as they flicker down my body, lingering on my breasts, hips…thighs…

"No thank you," I answer, a little too breathlessly, and I lick my lips subconsciously. His pupils dilate then, nostrils flared, and he is suddenly a lot closer than he was a moment ago. I gulp. Blush more, open my mouth to protest. "I don't think…"

"Yes you do," he says smoothly. "All the time, I bet. You think about it. You're an interesting creature, Sookie, more so than the average woman." He licks his lips and I think I whimper at that. "I bet you think about it a lot." He doesn't even give me time to register what he's saying and he's got my hand in his and he's turning to lead me to another section of the store.

I pull against his grip but his fingers tighten on mine and he drags me along. I admit I'm curious as to where we're going. I glance over my shoulder to find that Tara has started a conversation with a clerk and they're bantering quite well. I feel another tug on my arm and I gulp and suddenly I'm smashed against Eric's side and his hand is falling to my hip.

The wall is…glittering. There, displayed on glass shelves, nestled against smooth velvet cloths, halogen lamps glinting are some of the most…highly erotic and…beautiful…

"Glass," Eric whispers gently, and he bends so that he can speak directly in my ear.

I am dazzled by the smooth craft of them, the different ribbons of color swirling, the bumps and swirls and curves, bulbs and tear drops…I swallow and am very aware of how hot it is there even if I can feel the cold of Eric's should as it slides against my bare back. I had bought a new halter top that morning, pale yellow with lace trim. Had to wear it; it was new. You understand. Paired it with a pair of denim cut offs that, if they were any shorter, were likely to get Gran turning over in her grave. Hell she was probably turning backflips already – why am I thinking about Gran??!!

"Can I take something out for you?"

Another clerk has found us and I jump and turn, pasting on a forced, broad smile. "Oh, no I…"

"Yes," Eric answers swiftly, his tone cutting me off. He then turns to me and nudges my attention back to the case. "Do you see something you like?" He is challenging me. I can see it in his eyes and the way he stands – something is lurking there, wanting to know just how far I'll go with his game…and then something that lies below that tells me Sookie, this isn't a game. Eric wants you. And you like it.

Fuck. "The blue one," I smile, turning and pointing a finger to the case to the one that is pale aqua glass, shot through with a ribbon of sapphire.

"A fine choice," the woman begins, sliding behind the counter and unlocking it. She lays a black velvet cloth on the topside of the counter and takes out my choice. "Hand made. The best thing about these is that you can pop em' in boiling water and heat em' up real nice." Her gaze lingers on Eric for a moment. "On the other hand," she continues with a grin, "stick em' in a freezer and it's like a popsicle." Her lips look sinful forming that last word and she winks and sets it down to wander away and let me have a more personal look.

My fingers curl against the glass counter for a moment, contemplating whether or not I should actually touch it. It's not like it's an obvious sex toy. It's kinda pretty, actually. I draw a finger tip down the smooth curve of it, smile at the raised bumps on one end.

"It's a good choice for G-spot stimulation," Eric says matter-of-factly and I look to him, curious.

"G-spot?" Now, I'm not a complete prude, I do know about it but I've just never…been able to reach that…yet.

When he smirks I want to slap him – it's so…condescending and patronizing.

He nods, and proceeds to give me a very in depth lecture. "This end," he begins, holding up the rod of glass and tapping the end that's tear drop shaped, "when applied at the right angle at the right spot with the right pressure, will make you see stars." He pauses. "You do know the spot I'm talking about, right? Next time, when you're alone in your room, all snug in your bed, I want you to slide those pretty little fingers under your panties – you look like the kind of girl who wears her panties to bed – and get comfortable. Right inside, if you hook your fingertips along the upper wall and go like this…" and he proceeds to demonstrate with those long, graceful fingers, a gentle 'come-hither' motion with two digits… "you'll feel it. And trust me, you'll know when you've found it. Now, if you keep on rubbing there, you're going to feel something…kind of like you have to pee…"

"Eric!" I hiss, glancing down to the clerk. She's smiling, but her eyes are trained on a High Times magazine.

"Shh, this is important. You want to do it right…right?"

Actually, I want you to do it. Right. Right now. I nod quickly, dreading the smug satisfaction on his face.

He turns his body then and blocks me from the clerk, his hand trailing around my hip but not breaking the contact. With his other hand he reaches up, smoothes my hair back from my neck and strums my pulse with his thumb. My gaze is in his.

"This is where this," and he smiles, waving the glass casually, "comes in handy."

Oh this is not good. Not good, not good, he's…not really going to…

"Now that you're hot," he murmurs with a little shrug, a tip of his head.

Shit, he is. Oh, he's going for it and I'm hopping on for the ride.

"And very, very wet," he continues. His blue eyes blaze. "Slip it inside. Tilt it back to that spot." He is quiet now, his voice a low rolling hum that makes me pulse in lovely places.

"You'll know what to do." He chuckles. "Because you know how you like it. How you crave it. I know it, Sookie.

"It feels so good, Sookie," he whispers thickly. The blue in his eyes goes smoky. "It's right there below the surface, you can just taste it on your tongue and feel the tingle in the pit of your stomach and the small of your spine. Now do it harder." He hisses through is teeth, inhaling, and his eyes flutter closed for a moment. They snap open suddenly and he glares at me. "Breathe."

I feel a tremor run through me. I suck in breath desperately and I am suddenly very aware of two things:

My panties are soaked.

Eric Northman is tutoring me on the finer art of getting myself to a fantastic orgasm.

Hell, he could probably keep talking and I'd have a little death right there. My breath is erratic, I'm squirming on the spot and how does he do that with just his voice?

"Don't neglect that perfect little pearl of flesh, Sookie. Touch your clit." His words are thick, whispered like smoke. "And just when you think you're going to go blind and your hips are bucking…your back is arching…so good, Sookie. Just let it go. And scream for me."

The shrill chirp of a cell phone breaks the spell and Eric straightens as if he wasn't just trying to talk me into an orgasm and he pulls out the phone. He speaks Swedish. Pam, then, on the other end. He snaps the phone shut a few seconds later and smirks at what I can only think is my flushed skin, glassy eyes, over-licked lips…my lipstick is probably a little smeared.

"Business calls. As always, Sookie, it is a pleasure to see you."

And just like that he's gone, headed out the door and into the night and I'm left standing in damp panties staring at a case full of pretty glass toys. I drum my fingers on the counter and sigh, trying to dispel some of the tension around me. The girl behind the counter moves, takes the piece I had been looking at and proceeds to clean it before slipping it into a little black velvet bag. She drops that into a non descript red opaque plastic bag and hands it to me.

"I've used an anti-bacterial cleanser on it but I recommend boiling it for at least five minutes before you first use it. A mild soap will clean it every time after – it's not porous like latex."

"I…" I stare at the bag in her hand dumbly. "I'm not buying…"

She nods. "Don't worry." Her gaze flicks to the door that Eric has just left out of. "He is."