Caught in a Bond
A deep dive into the Eric/Sookie dynamic. Slightly angsty romance. Set in late season 3 (just after episode 34), this story is based on one snippet: Eric and Sookie kiss for the first time, and then he chains her in the basement. Read on for an alternate approach to what happens next, a direction that Alan Ball is very unlikely to go anytime soon… if ever.
PLEASE note that I've only seen some short clips from season 3, not entire episodes. The clips just serve as a jumping-off point for me; I've diverged pretty significantly from some of the show's recent plot points, so please don't get offended or confused by that. Spoiler alert in case you don't want to know anything about season 3.
I'm also a big fan of the SVM books, and I chose to write from Sookie's POV only, as the books do. These are great characters, especially Sookie, Eric, and Pam, and I've tried to stay true to their voices. This story is much closer to the show's version of Sookie's universe than the books' version. Sadly, I don't own 'em, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Rated M for tart lemons in some chapters.
Finally, this is my first fanfic in years, so feedback is very welcome. Pease let me know what you think!
I shrieked his name again, and heard the basement door slam shut, then the grating of a lock thrown. He'd barely spared a glance for me as he'd tossed me on the floor down here, chained me up, and departed. The shock of it, of the whole evening really, started to sink in. I tested the chain, and the heavy metal collar that was already hurting my neck. The chain was bolted to the floor, to a metal loop in the dirty concrete floor, near a massive pillar. It was too short to allow me to stand.
With an awful rush, I realized this might be exactly where I'd found Lafayette wounded and broken after more than two weeks of abuse. Would Eric leave me here that long? Longer? What if he never came back, as he was clearly so worried about?
With hope, I thought of Bill. We'd been through some very bumpy times recently, and if I had a dollar for every vamp who told me not to trust him I'd be able to get new tires for my old car, but somehow I knew that Bill would save me if he could. Even if he had mixed feelings about it. But where was he? I was 65 miles from Bon Temps – could he even hear me? Would he sense that I was in trouble, and not just in a bad mood? I said a quick prayer that he was on his way.
But Pam, she was right here, upstairs. Pam would let me go… maybe not right away, but Pam (probably) wouldn't let me rot away if Eric never returned. So I yelled myself hoarse for Pam, and was hugely relieved when the basement door suddenly opened and a pair of shiny high-heeled boots came into view on the stairs. She came down the first several steps and peered at me over the handrail.
"I can't let you go." There was no empathy or regret in her voice, but I hadn't really expected any.
"Pam, wait! Where did Eric go? When's he coming back?" She was my lifeline to the world now, so to speak, and I had so many questions.
"Oh, he's got a plan," she drawled with thick sarcasm. "A crappy plan, but what do I know?" She sounded miffed. She turned to leave.
"Pam, I have to pee." This earned me a dramatic, put-upon sigh. Vampires often forget about basic human needs.
She returned a few minutes later and stomped down the stairs with a 5-gallon bucket and a roll of toilet paper. Lovely. She set them down just within my reach, and looked around the gloomy space. A weak light bulb set half-way down the stairs was the only light; vampires wouldn't even need that to see clearly.
"I was hoping that he'd put you in that sex sling… thing… that he has down here," she purred, and in the dim light I could barely see her fangy smile. This was Pam's way of cheering me up.
"Just chains for me," I said, and this reminded me all over again of the indignity of my predicament. I was furious and frightened, but the feel of Eric's earlier kisses still buzzed through my head. It's an understatement to say that he messes with me. I started to sob.
"Oh, God," Pam huffed coldly. "Stop."
"Why? Why did he lock me up?" The tears weren't stopping, and I let my misery roll through me. "I didn't do anything! How can he… kiss me… and then just leave me here, like this? How?"
"He shouldn't have kissed you," Pam said flatly, "but I think he's… trying to protect you."
"From what?" I sniffled and wiped the tears from my face.
"From who. Russell, of course. That fucking freak."
From upstairs, the thumpa-thumpa-thumpa sound of music started. Pam glanced at the stairs.
"I have to go… duty calls. I'll send Ginger down with some food later."
"Wait!" I called, but she'd moved with vampire speed, and the door slammed shut again.
I had little sense of how long I'd sat on the cold floor. My cheap Timex watch was on my nightstand at home, where it did me no good at all. I gave up trying to identify songs playing upstairs – they all just sounded like pounding base. I was also about to give up on Bill. Where the hell was he? Surely hours had passed, by now? I stewed.
Much later, Ginger arrived. Music blasted through the open door, then subsided as she shut it. "Sookie?" she called softly.
"I'm still here," I said dully. By now I was full of quiet fury and despair. I could smell my pee in the bucket five feet away, which was just gross. I was also surprisingly hungry, so I was more glad to see Ginger than I'd ever been. She came down the stairs in her gawky way, like a spider might attack her at any moment, which wasn't an unreasonable fear. A paper bag crinkled as she held it out to me. She had a huge smile on her face, so I knew she'd been glamoured. Again.
"Here you go, hon," she said happily. "I hope you like it."
I took the bag and opened it. There was a bottle of soda, and some kind of sandwich in paper.
"Thanks, Ginger," I sighed.
"No problem at all," she said, just as friendly as could be. She was still smiling like she was waiting for a big tip. "It's real busy upstairs. I gotta go."
"OK," I said. "Thanks again." She skittered away, and the door locked.
I slept leaning against the pillar, but it was fleeting, restless and uncomfortable. When the basement door flew open and hit the wall, I gasped and sat up immediately, my heart racing. Eric rushed down the steps, and he knelt down in front of me. I couldn't see his face, but I felt his hand brush my jaw, a thumb over my lower lip. His other hand was jammed into a pocket, fumbling with something.
"Goddamn it, Eric, what the –" I may have tried to kick him.
"Sookie, shh. We don't have much time." His tone was low and urgent, and he ignored my anger.
"Unlock me right now" I hissed at him.
"You have bugs down here," I said furiously. "It's disgusting."
The padlock at my neck clicked open – a beautiful sound – and I jumped to my feet. And fell right back down. After so many hours of sitting, my legs protested any other posture. Eric scooped me up and ran up the stairs. The club was silent and mostly dark. I caught a glimpse of Pam in the hall, looking pale and tense. And then we were in Eric's office.
He sat on the big leather sofa, and arranged me on his lap, holding my shoulders with his arm, my legs stretched out. It felt blissful to be out of the basement. My earlier plan to berate and shame him into an elaborate apology faded when I saw his eyes. They were frighteningly dark, a little wild. His whole body radiated tension, and his hold on me was starting to get painful.
"What is it? What's going on?" I asked quickly. I'd settle for some kind of reason, some explanation. He could apologize later.
Pam entered, and then closed the office door and leaned against it. He flicked his eyes to her, some silent communication. She had two sharp wooden stakes in her hand.
He looked back to me, and his iron grip on my arm relaxed fractionally.
"Sookie, I provoked the king. He's on his way here at this moment."
"Russell?" The thought of Russell heading anywhere near me turned my stomach into a tight knot. Our first (and only) meeting had chilled me.
Eric nodded. "The sun rises in just over an hour. If we stay alive until then, I can kill Russell Edgington at dawn."
When you spend a lot of time with vampires, these sorts of sword-rattling statements begin to seem almost normal. But I was getting more frightened, not less, and questions swirled in my head.
"Just give him what he wants," Pam said sharply. Eric shouted something at her in a language that sounded like it was all consonants. She glared at the ceiling, but stayed quiet.
I knew that something bad was coming, maybe as bad as Russell's imminent arrival.
"Sookie, I'll need your blood. A lot of it."
It wasn't a request; he wasn't asking for permission.
"You're hurt…" I breathed.
"No. Your blood will let me survive the sun. As it did for Bill."
The shock must have shown on my face, because Eric's brows lifted. "Bill didn't tell you?" he asked quietly.
"I'm gonna start a list of the things Bill hasn't told me," I said bitterly. So my enticing part-Fairy blood also allowed a vampire to withstand the sun's rays. My heart started pounding. Any vampire who learned of this would want to own me. I would never be safe.
"Does Russell know about my blood?" I asked, urgently.
Eric nodded once. "Bill told him." One more for the list.
"Is that why Russell wants me? Why he's coming here?" Suddenly Eric seemed very noble, fighting like this to protect me. Or, fighting like this to possess me? And I wanted to know what had happened to Bill. If Eric hadn't killed Bill already, I wanted a shot at him myself.
Eric hesitated just a moment. "No. Russell and I have a larger, older score to settle. But I certainly don't want him to get his fangs on you."
"Two birds, one stone," Pam said, a little too brightly.
"Leave us, Pam," Eric murmured, his eyes not leaving mine. Without further comment, she did, though she slammed the door hard.
"Do you trust me?" He asked softly, and I closed my eyes and nodded. I actually did – mostly, and for no firm reasons that came immediately to mind - but really, what choice did I have?
His lips touched mine softly. It was like a ghost of our earlier kiss. He shifted us both a bit, my head now resting on the arm of the sofa. One of his hands gently held my jaw and tilted my head, just so, for an angle that was to his liking. I met his eyes briefly – his were determined, mine were getting teary – and then he bit.
I whimpered at the initial stab of pain, and then he started to drink and a bolt of arousal swept down my spine, spidered across my ass, and landed sharply between my legs. I gasped and my body writhed. I could hear Eric swallowing the first mouthfuls of my blood, wet sounds, the pressure of his bite both painful and sinfully good. I felt, more than heard, a purring from his chest.
This was unlike any love nip from Bill. My hips lifted and fell. Without pausing from his work at my neck, Eric's grip on my jaw tightened, and he threw one of his legs over mine, to keep me still. But his other hand wound through my hair, and his fingers slowly combed through my locks again and again, trying to soothe me.
I found I couldn't speak. My whole body was buzzing with sensation. I kept my eyes closed. Against my hip, I could feel Eric's erection, but he was all business now. I felt the intensity and focus in his body; he wasn't frenzied. He wouldn't drain me accidentally. After a time, I started to feel… sparkling, would be the only way to describe it. I saw pretty little bursts of light behind my eyelids. Eric was still drinking. I began to feel chilled. I shivered, and felt Eric squeeze my shoulder.
And then I felt nothing.