Fic: Lesson in Love, (R)
Jan. 11th, 2013 07:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nursedarryTitle: Lesson in Love
Fandom/Pairings: True Blood, Godric/Eric
Rating: R
Word Count: 2500
Warnings: Not if you just read this, then stick you head in the sand :) Actually, there’s some blood and dead people. Hello, vampire fic.
Summary: First-time fic. Fluffy smut. Prequel to Feels Like I’ve Always Known You, kinda. Although it probably helps to read that one first.
Author’s Notes: Written as a gift for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jelly_baby23, who’s shared so much with me in this fandom, I can’t begin to thank her enough. Thank you, too, to delphipsmith who leapt head-first into this fandom and came up with some great suggestions. Thanks also to sati_lotus for the new box of crayons.
Disclaimer: Hooker, please – I don’t have anything to do with these guys.
“Try again,” Godric instructed. Eric had completely decimated the body of the thrall who inhabited the hut they’d come upon that night. The man’s wife lay unconscious beside his corpse. “Drink without butchering the body.”
“Do you want me to leave her alive?”
Godric smiled fondly at his Child. So skilled, so self-assured, but always wanting to run before walking. “I don’t think you’re ready for that. And besides, it is not necessary. They are food, nothing more.”
Eric wouldn’t have held these people in high regard even when he’d been alive, but as they’d not been his enemy or possessed of anything of value, the Viking would have had no reason to slaughter them, either.
Godric gave Eric’s suggestion no further thought. He knew his Child still held a mortal’s feelings towards the world, but those, like the rest of his humanity, would soon die away. Then he’d return to being the most beautiful of killers that Godric had seen in a long time.
After the first day, having woken at twilight with a confused but cherished Child in his arms, Godric had felt compelled to explain why he’d killed Eric’s comrades. He knew that Eric would not easily forgive and forget. Rather than tell him that he’d have killed an army to get to him, Godric had explained to Eric that their deaths had been of no consequence. Stealth had not been necessary and there’d been no reason to spare them in his pursuit of Eric.
But it would soon be time for Eric to understand that it was in his best interests to occasionally keep a low profile – that speed and glamouring were not always enough to assuage superstitious humans, who, en masse, could be just as dangerous as the werewolves and other supernatural beings. This was a lesson that would not come easily to Eric. Having told his Child that he was more powerful than almost anything they might encounter, Godric had to make him appreciate that subtlety could be just as effective as brute strength. Which was why Godric was leaving feeding without killing to last. Eric would first need to learn to apply his warrior’s instincts to every aspect of his life in death. Then he could still take with little regard to his victims, but in a fashion that cast no suspicion upon himself directly.
“I want to try. I do not want to be a monster all the time.”
Clearly, Eric had not made the transition fully if he still thought himself a monster. Though that was the last thing Godric had thought when watching him earlier, even at his most bloodthirsty.
“If you wish,” he conceded. “Try to drink carefully, as you have done from me.”
Godric had been feeding Eric from his wrist, just as he had when he made him. He would create the wound himself so Eric could get the full benefit of his clumsy swallows around new fangs. Lately, though, before succumbing to sleep in their hidden cave, Godric had allowed Eric to bite his wrist himself, practising for just this moment.
Godric watched as his Child drew the woman close and sank his fangs into her throat. It was done delicately, but as the blood flowed, Eric drank greedily and clearly with little regard to the pulse he must not have felt stutter and finally stop. Eric cast the body away with a growl.
“That was fine, Child. Look, you’ve not mangled her the way you have the other.”
“She is still dead,” Eric said, sounding more angry at himself than upset about the woman’s demise.
It was a start, at least. “You will learn to control that too,” Godric said kindly. “We will practice more. Are you still hungry?”
Eric looked from the corpses to his Maker. “Why does no one taste as good as you?”
If Godric could blush, he would have.
And something in him stirred, a long-forgotten memory of his own making, of his Maker, gone from him too soon – killed by others of their kind, for wealth or power, Godric never knew why. He’d escaped the city that night, but with the taste of his Maker’s blood on his lips and the feel of it racing through his veins.
He’d asked the same question in those first few nights. And now here was Eric, who’d been the loveliest human that Godric had tasted in a millennium, asking too.
Godric chose not to answer, instead leaning down to haul the bodies of the thralls out of the hut; the wolves would have them over the next few days, allaying the suspicions of any master or neighbour that something more sinister had been the cause of these people’s deaths.
“Come,” Godric ordered when he was satisfied that they’d left no evidence of their visit. A battlefield was one thing, you could leave bodies strewn for miles. But this land belonged to someone who worked it, who owned thralls and animals. He and Eric could not afford to be discovered. The cave Godric had chosen for their refuge during the day was half-hidden in a rocky outcropping above a large stream. It was secluded and difficult to approach without being heard. But it was still on someone’s property, and if found, it could endanger their safety.
The sun was still some hours away as Godric and Eric made their way back towards shelter. They had considered taking the fur coverlets with them from the hut, but this too would have looked suspicious. Whoever heard of wolves stealing away anything but unfortunate peasants or their pets? The furs and rugs Godric had collected earlier were still there, although they had no need of them to keep them from feeling the cold. But the pelts were comfortable to rest on, especially when pulled into the dank rear of the cave where the daylight could not reach.
They hadn’t yet reached the cave when Eric demanded another attempt at feeding more subtly. And more of his Maker’s blood. “Let me try again. I want you.”
Godric smiled, good-naturedly accepting that his Child meant to practice on him, rather than interpreting the subtler meaning the words invoked. He stopped and looked around with his powerful night vision. He listened for anything other than the normal nocturnal forest sounds and, sensing none, sat down on the cold ground and motioned to Eric. “You may drink from me but you must not gash me open. Use your fangs as you have just done, but take smaller mouthfuls. When I tell you to stop, you must. Of course I cannot die, but I want you to learn to control your thirst or it will control you.”
“Yes,” Eric grunted, and Godric doubted he’d heard a word of what he’d said.
“Any wound you make will heal, but on a human, that takes time or our blood, and you can spare neither. Our blood is sacred, I will not have you waste it.”
Again, it seemed Eric had heard nothing; instead he was looking Godric up and down as one would a delicious meal – which, at that moment, he was.
“I want you,” Eric repeated.
Now Godric looked up at his Child in confusion. “You may have me. As I’ve said.”
Eric squatted on the ground in front of him. “Lie down,” he ordered and Godric complied. The tone Eric used was reminiscent of the one he’d used on in battle when shouting orders at his comrades. It was very compelling.
Eric loomed over his Maker then slowly lowered himself upon him. Godric was strong enough to withstand Eric’s weight, but was perplexed over his Child’s choice of position. Then he felt the scrape of Eric’s teeth against his throat, and quietly moaned before he could stop himself. It was such a sensual feeling. He wondered if Eric knew the effect he was having, and was almost disappointed when Eric moved away.
Then Godric felt a large hand run up his left thigh. It stopped when Eric reached his torso.
“Good,” Godric said, trying to focus on the lesson. “The blood flows most freely from the neck and the thigh. You must remember that if you’re in haste. You may drink from me there if you wish, but heed my words. Practice finesse. Remember, in a human, you can feel the pulse weakening, you will know when to stop. But you must learn to control yourself, or you will never master your hunger. We are not savages.”
Eric didn’t look convinced. And didn’t behave anything but savagely as he pulled down Godric’s deerskin trousers from his waist to just above the tops of his boots, then settled himself between Godric’s legs.
Godric turned his head and closed his eyes, savouring the pleasurable weight of Eric’s body against his own. A gentle touch tickled the skin of his thigh as Godric, almost painfully sensitive to his Child’s slightest movement, felt him searching for the right spot in which to sink his fangs. There would be no pulse, no warmth, just the smell of Godric’s blood beneath the skin. Godric felt Eric pause momentarily, and guessed that he had recognised his Maker’s scent; it was primal, something one never forgot. Just as Godric had never lost the taste of his Maker’s blood, neither would Eric lose the taste of his. The closeness of this connection was echoed by a surge of physical intimacy as Eric’s fangs slid into Godric’s flesh.
Eric had listened to his advice, or at least he was learning. He took smaller mouthfuls of blood than he had of the hapless humans. Godric noted this, but became distracted by the soft sounds Eric made as he drank. Eric’s hands came up to hold Godric’s hips and he pressed his mouth more fully over the wound. Still he did not gulp the blood and Godric was pleased at Eric’s temperance.
He was also very hard, had become so the minute Eric bit him. He tried to ignore the sensation, just as he’d done every other time Eric had fed from him, by taking several unnecessary but steadying breaths. He did not want to distract Eric from his feeding, but neither was he sure he wanted Eric to notice the effect he was having on him. Before, it hadn't been so obvious. Or so Godric hoped; Eric had been too busy gulping down his blood and Godric hadn't been nearly naked.
He took another deep breath as Eric's tongue lapped at the wound he'd created. Godric was surprised to find that his hand, by its own volition, had reached for his Child's hair and tangled itself there. Eric responded with a moan that sent another flush of desire straight through Godric. He closed his eyes, willing himself to stay in control.
But any shred of restraint he might have maintained disappeared when Godric felt Eric's hand leave his hip and wrap itself around his cock. Godric startled, panicked, and tried to sit up, only to hear Eric growl possessively. Eric shifted his position, pressing Godric back onto the ground and pinning him there, and then his mouth engulfed Godric’s cock.
"Eric…" Godric moaned, and his fingers pulled at Eric's hair. His Child ignored his cry, or perhaps took it as encouragement, and sucked more vigorously. The wound on Godric's thigh healed without Eric's mouth to keep it open, but neither of them was now thinking about the lesson on feeding.
For Godric, release at the hands of another was a centuries-distant memory. Delighted but confused, he could do nothing but respond instinctively, fingers of his other hand curling into the soft ground, eyes squeezed shut.
Underneath it all – the desire, the love, the true nature of his attraction to Eric – was their bond. It flared to life, uniting them through their souls as firmly as they were united in body. Godric's heart swelled to life, the flame of passion igniting his cold blood to the point where he could swear he felt a thumping in his chest. Waves of longing coursed through his body; surely they were passing through his blood into his Child. Would Eric feel it too? Was his Child also so affected by this communion?
Eric moaned again and Godric erupted into his mouth. He felt paralysed with lust, unable to move beyond the thrashing of his head from side to side, hair falling into his face and clouding his vision further.
Slowly coming to his senses, he felt Eric swallow around him, then disengage, crawling up Godric's body. Had he a mind to drink from Godric's neck again? Godric would never know, for before Eric could strike, he flipped them both over and lying across his Child, kissed him hard. He poured every ounce of feeling into that kiss, willing Eric to understand how precious he was, how cherished and how alluring.
Godric reached between them, never moving his mouth away from his Child's and tore at Eric's trousers. He thrust his small hand into them, grabbing the rigid flesh and stroking it hard and fast. Eric's cock swelled in Godric's palm and he thrust into it, crying out into Godric's mouth as he came. Silently thanking the gods his Child shared his feelings, Godric vowed to give Eric the life he'd promised.
For a long time after, they kissed slowly, softly, neither acknowledging what had happened. But Godric knew that things had irrevocably changed. Could he spend eternity as father, brother, son and lover? Godric was determined to try, and it was he who finally broke the silence.
"I love you." He'd never said the words before and was surprised at how easily they spilled out of him now.
Eric looked up into Godric's eyes, the lines at the corners of his blue eyes deepening as he smiled. He made no reply, but reached up with a strong arm and, wrapping it around his Maker, pulled their mouths together again.
* * *
It was nearly dawn when they reached the cave. Silently they pushed the blankets and furs together and lay down on them, holding each other close. They would again fall asleep in each other's arms as Maker and Child. But this time they would wake as something much more.
Fandom/Pairings: True Blood, Godric/Eric
Rating: R
Word Count: 2500
Warnings: Not if you just read this, then stick you head in the sand :) Actually, there’s some blood and dead people. Hello, vampire fic.
Summary: First-time fic. Fluffy smut. Prequel to Feels Like I’ve Always Known You, kinda. Although it probably helps to read that one first.
Author’s Notes: Written as a gift for
jelly_baby23, who’s shared so much with me in this fandom, I can’t begin to thank her enough. Thank you, too, to delphipsmith who leapt head-first into this fandom and came up with some great suggestions. Thanks also to sati_lotus for the new box of crayons.Disclaimer: Hooker, please – I don’t have anything to do with these guys.
“Try again,” Godric instructed. Eric had completely decimated the body of the thrall who inhabited the hut they’d come upon that night. The man’s wife lay unconscious beside his corpse. “Drink without butchering the body.”
“Do you want me to leave her alive?”
Godric smiled fondly at his Child. So skilled, so self-assured, but always wanting to run before walking. “I don’t think you’re ready for that. And besides, it is not necessary. They are food, nothing more.”
Eric wouldn’t have held these people in high regard even when he’d been alive, but as they’d not been his enemy or possessed of anything of value, the Viking would have had no reason to slaughter them, either.
Godric gave Eric’s suggestion no further thought. He knew his Child still held a mortal’s feelings towards the world, but those, like the rest of his humanity, would soon die away. Then he’d return to being the most beautiful of killers that Godric had seen in a long time.
After the first day, having woken at twilight with a confused but cherished Child in his arms, Godric had felt compelled to explain why he’d killed Eric’s comrades. He knew that Eric would not easily forgive and forget. Rather than tell him that he’d have killed an army to get to him, Godric had explained to Eric that their deaths had been of no consequence. Stealth had not been necessary and there’d been no reason to spare them in his pursuit of Eric.
But it would soon be time for Eric to understand that it was in his best interests to occasionally keep a low profile – that speed and glamouring were not always enough to assuage superstitious humans, who, en masse, could be just as dangerous as the werewolves and other supernatural beings. This was a lesson that would not come easily to Eric. Having told his Child that he was more powerful than almost anything they might encounter, Godric had to make him appreciate that subtlety could be just as effective as brute strength. Which was why Godric was leaving feeding without killing to last. Eric would first need to learn to apply his warrior’s instincts to every aspect of his life in death. Then he could still take with little regard to his victims, but in a fashion that cast no suspicion upon himself directly.
“I want to try. I do not want to be a monster all the time.”
Clearly, Eric had not made the transition fully if he still thought himself a monster. Though that was the last thing Godric had thought when watching him earlier, even at his most bloodthirsty.
“If you wish,” he conceded. “Try to drink carefully, as you have done from me.”
Godric had been feeding Eric from his wrist, just as he had when he made him. He would create the wound himself so Eric could get the full benefit of his clumsy swallows around new fangs. Lately, though, before succumbing to sleep in their hidden cave, Godric had allowed Eric to bite his wrist himself, practising for just this moment.
Godric watched as his Child drew the woman close and sank his fangs into her throat. It was done delicately, but as the blood flowed, Eric drank greedily and clearly with little regard to the pulse he must not have felt stutter and finally stop. Eric cast the body away with a growl.
“That was fine, Child. Look, you’ve not mangled her the way you have the other.”
“She is still dead,” Eric said, sounding more angry at himself than upset about the woman’s demise.
It was a start, at least. “You will learn to control that too,” Godric said kindly. “We will practice more. Are you still hungry?”
Eric looked from the corpses to his Maker. “Why does no one taste as good as you?”
If Godric could blush, he would have.
And something in him stirred, a long-forgotten memory of his own making, of his Maker, gone from him too soon – killed by others of their kind, for wealth or power, Godric never knew why. He’d escaped the city that night, but with the taste of his Maker’s blood on his lips and the feel of it racing through his veins.
He’d asked the same question in those first few nights. And now here was Eric, who’d been the loveliest human that Godric had tasted in a millennium, asking too.
Godric chose not to answer, instead leaning down to haul the bodies of the thralls out of the hut; the wolves would have them over the next few days, allaying the suspicions of any master or neighbour that something more sinister had been the cause of these people’s deaths.
“Come,” Godric ordered when he was satisfied that they’d left no evidence of their visit. A battlefield was one thing, you could leave bodies strewn for miles. But this land belonged to someone who worked it, who owned thralls and animals. He and Eric could not afford to be discovered. The cave Godric had chosen for their refuge during the day was half-hidden in a rocky outcropping above a large stream. It was secluded and difficult to approach without being heard. But it was still on someone’s property, and if found, it could endanger their safety.
The sun was still some hours away as Godric and Eric made their way back towards shelter. They had considered taking the fur coverlets with them from the hut, but this too would have looked suspicious. Whoever heard of wolves stealing away anything but unfortunate peasants or their pets? The furs and rugs Godric had collected earlier were still there, although they had no need of them to keep them from feeling the cold. But the pelts were comfortable to rest on, especially when pulled into the dank rear of the cave where the daylight could not reach.
They hadn’t yet reached the cave when Eric demanded another attempt at feeding more subtly. And more of his Maker’s blood. “Let me try again. I want you.”
Godric smiled, good-naturedly accepting that his Child meant to practice on him, rather than interpreting the subtler meaning the words invoked. He stopped and looked around with his powerful night vision. He listened for anything other than the normal nocturnal forest sounds and, sensing none, sat down on the cold ground and motioned to Eric. “You may drink from me but you must not gash me open. Use your fangs as you have just done, but take smaller mouthfuls. When I tell you to stop, you must. Of course I cannot die, but I want you to learn to control your thirst or it will control you.”
“Yes,” Eric grunted, and Godric doubted he’d heard a word of what he’d said.
“Any wound you make will heal, but on a human, that takes time or our blood, and you can spare neither. Our blood is sacred, I will not have you waste it.”
Again, it seemed Eric had heard nothing; instead he was looking Godric up and down as one would a delicious meal – which, at that moment, he was.
“I want you,” Eric repeated.
Now Godric looked up at his Child in confusion. “You may have me. As I’ve said.”
Eric squatted on the ground in front of him. “Lie down,” he ordered and Godric complied. The tone Eric used was reminiscent of the one he’d used on in battle when shouting orders at his comrades. It was very compelling.
Eric loomed over his Maker then slowly lowered himself upon him. Godric was strong enough to withstand Eric’s weight, but was perplexed over his Child’s choice of position. Then he felt the scrape of Eric’s teeth against his throat, and quietly moaned before he could stop himself. It was such a sensual feeling. He wondered if Eric knew the effect he was having, and was almost disappointed when Eric moved away.
Then Godric felt a large hand run up his left thigh. It stopped when Eric reached his torso.
“Good,” Godric said, trying to focus on the lesson. “The blood flows most freely from the neck and the thigh. You must remember that if you’re in haste. You may drink from me there if you wish, but heed my words. Practice finesse. Remember, in a human, you can feel the pulse weakening, you will know when to stop. But you must learn to control yourself, or you will never master your hunger. We are not savages.”
Eric didn’t look convinced. And didn’t behave anything but savagely as he pulled down Godric’s deerskin trousers from his waist to just above the tops of his boots, then settled himself between Godric’s legs.
Godric turned his head and closed his eyes, savouring the pleasurable weight of Eric’s body against his own. A gentle touch tickled the skin of his thigh as Godric, almost painfully sensitive to his Child’s slightest movement, felt him searching for the right spot in which to sink his fangs. There would be no pulse, no warmth, just the smell of Godric’s blood beneath the skin. Godric felt Eric pause momentarily, and guessed that he had recognised his Maker’s scent; it was primal, something one never forgot. Just as Godric had never lost the taste of his Maker’s blood, neither would Eric lose the taste of his. The closeness of this connection was echoed by a surge of physical intimacy as Eric’s fangs slid into Godric’s flesh.
Eric had listened to his advice, or at least he was learning. He took smaller mouthfuls of blood than he had of the hapless humans. Godric noted this, but became distracted by the soft sounds Eric made as he drank. Eric’s hands came up to hold Godric’s hips and he pressed his mouth more fully over the wound. Still he did not gulp the blood and Godric was pleased at Eric’s temperance.
He was also very hard, had become so the minute Eric bit him. He tried to ignore the sensation, just as he’d done every other time Eric had fed from him, by taking several unnecessary but steadying breaths. He did not want to distract Eric from his feeding, but neither was he sure he wanted Eric to notice the effect he was having on him. Before, it hadn't been so obvious. Or so Godric hoped; Eric had been too busy gulping down his blood and Godric hadn't been nearly naked.
He took another deep breath as Eric's tongue lapped at the wound he'd created. Godric was surprised to find that his hand, by its own volition, had reached for his Child's hair and tangled itself there. Eric responded with a moan that sent another flush of desire straight through Godric. He closed his eyes, willing himself to stay in control.
But any shred of restraint he might have maintained disappeared when Godric felt Eric's hand leave his hip and wrap itself around his cock. Godric startled, panicked, and tried to sit up, only to hear Eric growl possessively. Eric shifted his position, pressing Godric back onto the ground and pinning him there, and then his mouth engulfed Godric’s cock.
"Eric…" Godric moaned, and his fingers pulled at Eric's hair. His Child ignored his cry, or perhaps took it as encouragement, and sucked more vigorously. The wound on Godric's thigh healed without Eric's mouth to keep it open, but neither of them was now thinking about the lesson on feeding.
For Godric, release at the hands of another was a centuries-distant memory. Delighted but confused, he could do nothing but respond instinctively, fingers of his other hand curling into the soft ground, eyes squeezed shut.
Underneath it all – the desire, the love, the true nature of his attraction to Eric – was their bond. It flared to life, uniting them through their souls as firmly as they were united in body. Godric's heart swelled to life, the flame of passion igniting his cold blood to the point where he could swear he felt a thumping in his chest. Waves of longing coursed through his body; surely they were passing through his blood into his Child. Would Eric feel it too? Was his Child also so affected by this communion?
Eric moaned again and Godric erupted into his mouth. He felt paralysed with lust, unable to move beyond the thrashing of his head from side to side, hair falling into his face and clouding his vision further.
Slowly coming to his senses, he felt Eric swallow around him, then disengage, crawling up Godric's body. Had he a mind to drink from Godric's neck again? Godric would never know, for before Eric could strike, he flipped them both over and lying across his Child, kissed him hard. He poured every ounce of feeling into that kiss, willing Eric to understand how precious he was, how cherished and how alluring.
Godric reached between them, never moving his mouth away from his Child's and tore at Eric's trousers. He thrust his small hand into them, grabbing the rigid flesh and stroking it hard and fast. Eric's cock swelled in Godric's palm and he thrust into it, crying out into Godric's mouth as he came. Silently thanking the gods his Child shared his feelings, Godric vowed to give Eric the life he'd promised.
For a long time after, they kissed slowly, softly, neither acknowledging what had happened. But Godric knew that things had irrevocably changed. Could he spend eternity as father, brother, son and lover? Godric was determined to try, and it was he who finally broke the silence.
"I love you." He'd never said the words before and was surprised at how easily they spilled out of him now.
Eric looked up into Godric's eyes, the lines at the corners of his blue eyes deepening as he smiled. He made no reply, but reached up with a strong arm and, wrapping it around his Maker, pulled their mouths together again.
* * *
It was nearly dawn when they reached the cave. Silently they pushed the blankets and furs together and lay down on them, holding each other close. They would again fall asleep in each other's arms as Maker and Child. But this time they would wake as something much more.
