AN: This little ditty is a direct result of an emotional twitter conversation, and is dedicated to peppermintyrose. You know you love it.
All About the Devil Peen: The Legend of the Permaboner
I have something to confess, but you have to promise to keep it a secret. Okay?
Well, I have this problem. It's small; minor really. No. Wait. It's huge. Well, the problem is small, but the problem area is huge, if you know what I mean.
It's just that lately, I haven't been able to – and this is the part you have to keep to yourself – um… keep it up.
Don't get me wrong; I'm a vampire. I don't have erectile dysfunction problems. It's just that lately I haven't been able to keep it up more than four, maybe five hours at a time. After that, I need a break to recuperate.
I know that sounds ridiculous. And it was. I'm Eric Northman. I don't need a rest period for the gracious plenty. I've had more women than you could shake a stick at, and that was just within the last week. If you were so inclined to shake a stick at every woman I'd been with over my 1,000 year lifetime, you'd deplete the rain forest.
It wouldn't be the first forest that was depleted on my behalf. I could claim credit for the depletion of the forests in what is now England. See, I was visiting my good friend who was a Sheriff of what is now Area Twelve in England, but had then been known as Nottingham. It had been a great time – no rules or regulations, none of this blood in a bottle crap that was so popular nowadays. Well, as we all know, all good things come to an end. That particular good thing came to an end when some asshole got his knickers in a twist because I got into his lady's pants. Or dress. Whatever. Either way, the lady in question – Marion if I remember correctly – wasn't worth the fuss. But this Robin Hood guy thought she was, and he went on a rampage when he found out I was a vampire. With his band of merry men (they were named that for a reason, I can personally vouch. Friar Tuck should've been called Friar Fuck as far as I was concerned), he cut down all the trees and made them all into wooden spikes. He somehow managed to get the locals in on it - some kind of crazy claim about redistributing the wealth if they banded together. Steal from the rich, give to the poor. Boo hoo. The things people will unify over are sickening. Obviously, all of that hard work and rabble rousing didn't help him get me. The Sheriff didn't fare as well.
But, enough of that. The bottom line is that this little problem with my big problem area has really screwed up my schedule. In the not so distant past (ahem, two weeks ago) I used to spend ten out of my twelve waking hours licking, biting and fucking the stream of willing women that came through my door. Women came from far and wide to… well, come at my hands and gracious plenty. On average, I'd fuck about 20 different women a day; 30 minutes of pleasure per woman. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am. No really – thank you.
But lately, I haven't been able to fuck more than ten women a day. I'd be able to get in seven or eight before the pecker got a little peckish (God, I love puns). After that, I might be able to rally for two or three more fucks, but the fun is kind of sucked out of it when all you can think about is keeping it up. Hell, Bill Compton could probably outfuck me at the moment.
Pam told me I needed to fuck it out. I've tried just about everything I can think of – one girl, one guy, two girls, two guys, three girls…well, you get the drift. Nothing seemed to excite me anymore. I'd fucked blondes; I'd fucked brunettes; albinos; hell, even a ginger or two. It didn't help. Then, I moved onto supes – werewolfs, werefoxes, werebunnies, even a troll. Nothing. Nada.
My once-legendary wood had taken a licking, and not in a good way. No one knows, of course. They can't know. I'm the Sheriff of Area Five. It wouldn't do to know that the Sheriff had lost his ability for indiscriminate fucking. That might be enough to cost me my position.
Just last year, the Sheriff of Area Two in New York was demoted because she didn't have a spontaneous orgasm when a virgin was brought in front of her. Ridiculous. I didn't have that problem. At least not yet. Why, just last week, when Bill brought in that tasty, virginal morsel with the crazy name I can't remember, it was like the inside of a twinkie exploded all over my leg. I had no problem keeping my erection that night, let me tell you. Kaboom. It's hard. Blam. It's hard. Splurt. Yep, still hard. But that was the last time I had the ten gun salute south of my belt buckle.
My appointment tonight was my last hope. And no, I wasn't seeing some supe doctor. I knew what they'd do. They'd give me Viagra and tell me to hope for the best. Pfft. As if I hadn't tried that already. It's not hard to kill an old man who has to take pills to get it up, after all. I took the whole bottle at once, and while the boner did last a bit longer, it still deflated like the Goodyear Blimp that had been hit by a stray spear.
Pam set up the meeting for me. What other reason did you have lackeys, if not to do things like this? Of course, Pam is more than just a lackey. She's my child, and I love her as such, even if she does come up with some pretty ridiculous ideas. Just last week, she'd suggested I get a throne for Fangtasia. Can you believe that? A throne. Who in the hell did she think I was? Queen fucking Victoria? Though, I knew from personal experience exactly how much fun QV had on the throne.
But this meeting she arranged more than made up for that suggestion. It wasn't that I didn't know the man in question, but there are certain individuals where you have your people call their people. The man in question was due at Fangtasia at any moment. I'd dressed with care, wearing a pair of skintight red leather pants with my favorite black Fangtasia t-shirt (business first!). I'd had more than my fair share of offers to peel the pants off me – okay, it's true, I was the Sheriff and everyone in the bar was my fair share. But the visitor had insisted I go snatch-free until after his treatment, so I turned them all down.
At exactly 12:15, there was a single knock on my door and in came the man of the hour. Now, you might expect someone of his history and reputation to look a little more foreboding, but he doesn't; it's part of his self-defense mechanism. Everyone expects the Devil – "Bub" to his friends – to be some big, imposing dude with cloven feet and a pitchfork. He's not, though he has something resembling a pitchfork in his pants. More of that later. He's nothing like the images that are shown in human books; in fact, he bears an uncanny resemblance to Danny Bonaduce, little Danny Bonaduce when he was on the Partridge Family. No one expects little Danny Bonaduce to steal your soul. Well, at least they didn't expect it before he started to take steroids – thanks to Bub's interference; but that's another story.
After exchanging pleasantries, we got right down to business.
"I hear you have a slight problem," Bub said.
"It's not so slight, if you know what I mean."
We both laughed, knowing exactly what I meant. He'd seen it. He'd touched it. It all goes with the territory of being a vampire.
Bub doesn't have this problem; has never had this problem. There have been numerous articles and books written about The Devil's Peen, not to mention the seven part miniseries the History Channel had filmed with the Devil's conquests testifying to his permaboner, and how well he used it.
"I have a solution, "he said. "But it's going to cost you."
I was pretty sure there wasn't a thing in the world I wouldn't give for the ability to keep my wood in oak and beech condition. "I've got no soul to barter Bub."
He laughed and shook his head. "Child's play Eric. Child's play. If I needed a soul to get anything done, I'd be as bankrupt as California right now. No. Something else entirely."
I raised my eyebrow and leaned back in my chair. "I need a sacrifice."
"As much fun as that would be, you know that's illegal these days."
"I don't need their death," he said nonchalantly. "I just need to fuck them. Here in your office. While you and your problem area watch."
That'd be easy enough. There were always fangbangers desperate to do anything to win my favor, even fuck the Devil.
"Virgin," he added, almost as an afterthought. "And two of them. One man; one woman."
Well, shit. Other than that chick with the crazy last name, I couldn't tell you the last time I ran into a bonafide virgin. It made this sacrificial thing that much harder to get done, all this mindless sex people were having this day and age.
"Don't worry," Bub said. "Pam has taken care of it."
Good Pam. I really would have to give her some kind of reward for her trouble. Maybe that little witch I'd met down in New Orleans. I'd have to think about it.
The door opened again, and this time Pam came in, followed by a man and a woman who were panting at her every command. They were either drunk, or glamored; possibly both. I couldn't care less. The woman looked like your typical virgin – decent looking, okay rack, but her eyes were too full of hope. I knew she was the type of girl that watched romantic comedies and was waiting for her Prince Charming. Well, she was 27 years old. Prince Charming wasn't coming. The man, on the other hand, looked like he'd faint if he ever got to see boobs up close. Good thing he wasn't going near any boobs.
"Excellent work Pam," Bub said, taking a step forward and running his fingers down the side of their faces.
We set up the sacrificial circle, spraying my blood and semen around my desk in order to direct the energy from the sacrifices towards me. Don't get squeamish on me here; it's not like any of you haven't seen blood or semen before. Bub was impressed that I was able to produce the second half of the equation in great quantity (hello, smelling two virgins is like a banana cream pie in my pants). In most cases, Bub wasn't called in until it was already too late. Good thing I was a planner with a semi.
Bub dropped trou in the middle of the circle, and the infamous Devil's peen sprang free. It was quite impressive, if I say so myself - split down the middle pitchfork style (the basis of the legend) and solid as a rock. Why, due to the size and scope of the pitchfork, you hardly noticed that he looked like he had Ronald Weasley in a headlock between his thighs.
"Shit," Pam said, running her tongue across the sharp tip of her fangs. "I never would've expected such a little man to have such a huge package!"
"He's the devil," I said, rolling my eyes. "Who would have a bigger boner than the Devil?"
"Is it always so…hard?" she asked.
"It is," Bub responded. "Haven't you heard of Devil's Tower? It didn't get that name on accident."
The sacrificial virgins began to get a little squirmy (it is just impossible to find good people these days), so Bub got down to the dirty work. He grabbed the girl first – no use scaring her, and let's face it, the guy is probably going to get excited just by watching. Judging by the small tent he'd pitched in his pants (and I mean small) even in his haze, our male sacrifice was turned on by the show.
He wasn't so excited when it was his turn. With ne'er a flaccid moment, Bub tossed the deflowered girl to the side and called for the man.
"What's your name?" he asked, thrusting his hips towards the dazed man in a continuous motion.
"Hoyt," he said, backing up until he ran into my desk.
"Well Hoyt," Bub said with a laugh. "I want you to squeal like a pig."
And he did.
The minute that squeal passed the man's lips, I felt a swirl of magic around me. With one quick glance at the crotch of my leather pants, I knew the permaboner was back, bigger and better than ever.
"Hot damn," I said, jumping out from behind my desk. "I think you fixed me!"
Bub nodded and pulled up his pants, reaching his hand out for the money that was due. Hey, the Devil did do things for free, even things he enjoyed doing anyway. It was the principle of the matter. In this time of assimilation, even the Devil tried to blend in, and everyone else took money for services rendered. It's not like he needed the money; he's the Devil.
One check and two virgin sacrifices later, and Bub was on his way out the door with Pam on his heels.
I sat back in my chair, spreading my legs to accommodate the bigger, better gracious plenty that had sprouted from my boxer shorts. Yes, I think I would be making up for lost time tonight. And tomorrow. I had always tried to give each of the fangbangers thirty minutes – a bit altruistic of me really. But right now, ten minutes would be sufficient as far as I was concerned.
I pressed the small button on the side of my desk – the one that alerted Pam that the GP was ready for take-off, and boy did it ever take off. Twenty-four fangbangers later, and it was time for me to get home. Even my permaboner can't fuck in the day time.
Two weeks and three hundred fangbangers later, and I was back in the saddle. Tonight was going to be a good night. A great fucking night. Bill Compton was due back in Fangtasia, and he'd been ordered to bring the little blonde he'd brought with him last time. Turned out she was a telepath. A virgin telepath. I'd be deflowering her wiliwili, no question about it. I could pencil her in in the ten o'clock spot; though she was a virgin. I should probably give her thirty minutes. Yes, that would be sufficient.
I dressed with care, making sure the GP was shown to the best advantage. I'd rummaged through my closet until I found exactly what I was looking for – a pair of red, spandex pants. The leather was usually good enough for displaying my gifts, but I wanted tonight to be extra special. It wasn't every night I got to get up close and personal with a virgin.
I got a few prerequisite fucks out of the way – I couldn't let the permaboner go to waste, not even for Crazy Name herself – and was headed out to my table when I saw her. There was something different about her, something I couldn't quite put my finger on.
I watched as she waltzed up to the bar, ordering whatever drink girls like her ordered as Bill talked to Pam. She really was delectable, and now that I knew I could go for twelve hours straight, I knew I was prepared to take her on.
I changed my direction, heading straight for the empty barstool to her left.
"Hello," I whispered into her ear.
Her head snapped up and she looked over at me, the look of shock quickly replaced by disdain. "Hello Mr. Northman."
"Eric," I said.
She rolled her eyes and turned her head towards Bill, who was following Pam across the bar as I had instructed her to do. What a fool he was bringing such a treat to my bar and then ignoring her, when I was here to offer her a better option.
"You look good enough to eat," I said, leaning into her ear.
"I don't think I'm going to take that as a compliment coming from you. No offense."
"None taken. What's your pleasure, lover?"
"My pleasure?" she asked, a blush crossing her face as she looked over at Bill. I remembered at that moment to breathe, and that's when I knew what had changed. She didn't smell the same.
"You're not a virgin!" I exclaimed.
"Not that it's any of your business, but no I'm not."
"How exactly did this happen?" I could feel the beast within me rising. This was my woman, whatever her name was. I was supposed to claim her.
"Well, you see, when a man and a woman love each other, sometimes they choose to express their love by something we call sex," she said, the laughter brimming over in her eyes.
"I know that!" I spat out. I would have to show her; show her exactly what that kind of behavior got her. "I meant who? You were a virgin last time you were here."
Her eyes widened with shock and she shook her head at me. "How would you know that?"
"I'm a vampire," I said, sitting up straighter, "I can smell these things."
"That's disgusting," she said. "What exactly does a virgin smell like? Flowers and springtime?"
"No," I said, anger rising inside of me. She was mocking me. "But once you are used, I can smell the man on you. In you."
"Ew," she said, laughing slightly. "How unfortunate for you, always smelling another man on the women you're with."
"They soon forget," I said with a shrug. "I have been told I'm an excellent lover."
"I'm sure you have," she scoffed.
"I'd be willing to show you. I can do it better than Compton there," I leaned back, spreading my legs to show her exactly what she was missing. Her eyes followed down the length of my body and bulged at the site of what was barely hidden behind the red lyrca.
"Jesus Christ Shepherd of Judea," she cried out, looking up at me. "Do you have to have a license for that thing?"
"What, like a concealed weapon permit?"
"Something like that."
I laughed, thrusting my hips up towards her. "Wanna give it a go?"
"Is it always hard like that?"
"Yeah," I said with a shrug. It had been ever since Bub did his little thing.
"That must be uncomfortable."
"It's convenient," I said. "I'm always ready to fuck you, lover."
"It's Sookie. Sookie Stackhouse." She blushed, looking down at the hem of her white dress. "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass on that."
"You're Bill's?" I asked with a laugh? "What does that mean?"
"It means I am not going to have sex with you. Not now. Not ever."
I looked over at the crowd of fangbangers that had amassed and was watching our interchange. "You can't be serious."
"I've never been more serious," she replied.
"I could have any of those women over there. Or men. Any of them."
"Then go to it," she said simply.
"You don't want to fuck me?"
I pushed up off my stool. "You'll change your mind, lover. And when you do, I will be ready and waiting." I waved my hand over the front of my pants. "Promise you'll think of this next time you fuck Compton."
Her eyes widened with shock as I turned around and walked away. I could feel her eyes on my backside as I walked towards the fangbangers – these pants did things for all of my assets.
I wouldn't be losing any sleep over Sookie Stackhouse. Not any more time either. She'd come around to me. They all did.
Until then, I had to do my duty. I had a legend to uphold – The Legend of the Permaboner.
AN: Never fear, this was just a little fluffy one-shot. We will resume our normal programming later in the week. :D
Hope you enjoyed it!