Title: A Lesson in the Temporal

Name:simba317

Characters: Sookie, Eric, Amelia, Bill, Tray, Pam

Disclaimer: I do not own the SVM, if I did, Eric would be mine. ;)

Author's Notes: This fic was first and foremost inspired by The Stooges' "I Wanna Be Your Dog." I really wanted this fic to have a dark, gritty feel to it. Plus, I'm a huge metal fan, so I knew I had to go for Iggy. He's proto-metal and proto-punk. I wanted something heavy…and he just fit. This takes place in 1969 because I wanted my musical cues to fit and I also wanted this fic to be about the end of innocence in many ways.

What I know about the 60s and 70s comes mostly from watching VH1 docs, reading Aerosmith's autobiography, Walk This Way, as well as Slash's and what Slash has said about growing up in LA during that period. So when I thought about that period, it had a lot to do with what Slash said in an interview in October of 2006 about how the Shannon Tate murder by Charles Manson's cult was really the end of innocence and free love in the LA area. That being said, things aren't going to get THAT dark, it's just what was going through my head writing this. I also got inspiration from the True Blood opening credits.

Big shout out to my beta and good friend sawyersmine/Ericcanbiteme for being my beta and the one who I've been sharing my vision with for the last month. You're one of my favourite fishbitches! Thanks to V4E as my second pair of eyes and to OV too.

Bon Temps, Louisiana was every bit my prison. Perhaps nothing more exemplified that than the tightness of the collar on my Sunday dress around my neck. It was my noose, always choking, ever tighter with every year that passed me by and I was still trapped.

I had few expectations, they were my chastity, my good manners and my marriage to a man that was appropriate in wealth and status to my own. My duty was to expand the prestige, wealth and business connections of my family and to bear sons.

I wanted nothing more than to burn and ignite under the hot, unrepentant sun to escape all this. But my ambitions could not bear flame like Icarus'.

In the unrelenting night I had always wondered, 'What about me? What of my hopes and dreams?'

I had been a good student, exceptional. I had wanted to go to Harvard for Literature upon graduation, but I was to be a lady and a damn good one at that. So here I was on my nineteenth birthday, two years down this path of this drudgery knowing that all roads were coming to an end, the noose was tightening and I couldn't even scream.

That July day was murderously hot and humid, as oppressive as the life that bound me. Our local church, the largest, oldest and most prestigious in Renard Parish was holding a bake sale for the local veteran's hospital. Naturally, I was made to host. After all, my father, Corbett Stackhouse, was the most decorated war hero of the Second World War in Bon Temps, not to mention from the wealthiest and oldest family here. It is also worth mentioning that I was his last eligible daughter.

The ladies in their prim dresses twittered about the hall regaling each other with their recipes and adventures in cooking. The room was only merciful thanks to the ceiling fans. Bon Temps had truly come out for the event. The town was a curious mix of esteemed families whose wealth came from old money or the former plantations in the area and the families who had worked for them, the middleclass and the poor.

Every now and then one of the twittering women would come over and wish me happy birthday. It was, "Happy Birthday, Suzie," by hundreds of people who cared nothing for me. I hated the nickname Suzie for my real name, Susannah. I much preferred my grandmother's pet name for me, Sookie. My formulaic and calculated responses to them held the approval of my mother.

Genevieve Stackhouse watched over me from the corner like a hawk, her eyes measuring any missteps I had with distaste. Her colouring was nothing like mine, her hair was chestnut brown and her skin was creamy pale. The only thing that hinted to our relation was our matching steely grey blue eye colour and the look of our face and body type. My blonde hair and sun kissed glow came from my father. She was of French heritage, really Cajun, but she only ever used the term 'Acadian'. Whereas my father was old money from Europe, hers had worked for it through the plantations and various business investments.

Every action, every word of mine was taken in by her critiquing eye. She paid special attention to my appearance making sure that my naturally wavy blonde hair that had been straightened and styled in a perfectly curled bun had not one hair out of place, that my hemline stayed ladylike, that my hands were placed just so, that my manner was pleasant. At the same time she was also patting herself on the back from the compliments my appearance drew for she had chosen my outfit- A sea foam green dress with a boat necked collar, short puffed sleeves and fitted bodice with a ruched skirt that flared past my waist and stopped near my knees, finished with a pair of flat patent leather Mary Janes and my grandmother's pearl necklace.

The necklace would have felt like a manacle around my neck, chaining me to the insisting tradition of my family, had it not been my dear grandmother's. Adele Stackhouse had been the one stabilizing factor in my family, my only saving grace. Without her, I felt lost. She had died just over a year and a half ago. Yet my heart still longed desperately for her warm, safe presence.

I was desperately alone. As the last Stackhouse sibling, I was the only one left in our palatial monstrosity of a house. Claude was studying law at Harvard after being forced into enlisting by my father into military service. His twin, Claudine, my closest confidante, was off in upstate New York, married and pregnant with her third baby. She was lucky to have actually fallen in love with a man that my parents could approve of. My other elder brother, Jason, had escaped military service, only by Claude's persistent insistence after fighting in Vietnam, was at Notre Dame on a football scholarship.

My best friend, Amelia Broadway, spent most of the year at Louisiana State University and it was just hard when all you had between the months were phone calls and letters. It was the same way with Claudine, only she was even further away and even more removed from me with how different her life was from mine. Amelia had been allowed to go to university. Hell, even encouraged. Of course, she wasn't a friend with the approval of my mother.

Her father, Copley Carmichael, was a man from a wealthy and prestigious family. Only he was deeply changed after seeing combat in World War II. He just wasn't the same. He and Amelia's mother had been married just before he went off to war, but their marriage fell apart in the years after and no child could fix it either. Copley was in construction and moved down to New Orleans for business, leaving his former family behind. Oh sure, Amelia and her mother still received money, benefits and a nice household from him, but the scandal was still a scandal. Not to mention that her mother had remarried to a roaming artist of some note who settled in Bon Temps, a clear step down from her previous prestige, even though his works fetched thousands and hundreds of thousands in galleries in New York, London and Paris.

At long last after hours of baking in the overstuffed church hall with insufficient cooling, the bake sale had ended and the only people who remained were the organizers. Unsurprisingly, all the left over goods were going to the food bank. Could I breathe a sigh of relief or drop down on a chair? No. On top of my mother and her criticizing eye were the society ladies and their equally criticizing eyes. A bead of sweat escaped from my brow. Internally, I sighed, outwardly I daintily took my handkerchief and dabbed it off.

Soon, we had packed up all the leftover food and were headed off to drop off the food into Mrs. Caroline Holliday Bellefleur's shiny new Lincoln. She had volunteered to drive the food over to the food bank. Apparently even the poor needed desserts. The well dressed cows were going home and a few more words bidding goodbye to people not even of my age group and I could drive myself home. My mother would be having tea at Maxine Fortenberry's. Thank God for that. I'd be picked apart to pieces, but at least I wouldn't need to be in the room.

When I reached the gothic inspired doors of the church, carrying a box of cake, there seemed to be some sort of commotion. A few of the remaining ladies had stalled and gathered, whispering amongst themselves. I vaguely wondered at their scandalized airs but thought nothing of it. That is, until I found the source of their commotion as I crossed the threshold onto the stone steps outside. Then all my thoughts became focused on that cause.

There, on the other side of the road across from the church steps, with the radio blazing a new rock n' roll song that my mother would wrinkle her nose at, was a god of a man hunched over the hood of a shiny red Camaro. Smoke billowed all about him from the hood of the car. From the heat of the day against my face, it was easy to see that the engine had overheated. He was shirtless and his beautiful tanned and sweaty skin glistened overtop lean, perfectly defined muscles in the sunlight. The shirt had become an oil stained mess in his hands as he used it in an attempt to fix the engine. Streaks of black oil ran over his chest and abdominals. He wore nothing but pair of worn blue jeans and he was barefoot. For a moment I wondered why his feet were bare and how he could manage it in the heat of the road, but all I could hear was the racing of my heart and the shallowness of my breaths. To my surprise, a heat spread throughout my limbs. I had never been so affected by a man.

The man braced his hands on the lip of the opened hood and raised his face to the heavens. His long blond hair streamed down his shoulders and back unbound. He was Thor asking why Odin had taken away his hammer. He sighed dramatically and on long strong legs went to lean against the driver's side door with his arms crossed across his immaculate chest to rest for a moment. He really was a mountain of a man now that I saw him all stretched out. I caught a glimpse of his face, every bit as perfect as the rest of him, strong jaw and noble nose. He began tapping his feet and bobbing his head to the beat of the song as if to relax. My ears caught a few strains. "Well I stand up next to a mountain and I chop it right down with the end of my hand." Voodoo Child, I realized, Jimi Hendrix.

"Well I pick up all the pieces and make an island, might even raise a little sand."

All of a sudden his eyes snapped to mine and I was pinned to the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen. They were like the war between the sky and the sea during a storm, violently beautiful in its destructiveness. My mouth went dry and I was caught by the strangest sensation of foreshadowing.

"'Cause I'm a Voodoo Child, Lord knows I'm a Voodoo Child."

Was he working some sort of magic on me? I didn't know. All I did know was that all of a sudden, he had pushed off the car and was bounding across the road gracefully, like a wolf, with a predatory grin on his face baring his teeth.

He came up the steps of the church to the gasps of the women around me. I'd forgotten about them somewhere along the way. When he stopped, his face was inches away from mine and his body even closer. I could count his fair lashes and tell you the exact colliding blue shades in his eyes. I could feel the heat from his body and the smell of earth, sweat and motor oil too. He was more beautiful up close.

"I said I didn't mean to take up all of your sweet time. I'll give it right back one of these days."

He looked down at me with mischief in his eyes. "Tell me," he purred as his eyes dropped and leered down the length of my body and straight back up to my eyes. He licked his lips sinfully, drawing my attention to a most delectable set of lips I had ever seen on a male.

"Yes?" I almost whimpered drawing a gasping breath.

"Could you help me out?" he said deeply. "I'm in need of assistance." He was from the north, Yankee, but in the sultry tones of his rumbling voice was something I just couldn't put my finger on, not quite an accent, but a slight inflection of something other.

"Perhaps with your…fine self?" His head tilted to the side, his eyebrow piqued. He smirked and made no effort to hide the innuendo of his words. His intent was obvious from his devouring gaze.

"I am a lady," I remarked firmly. No matter my attraction, I had morals and scruples.

His smile twitched and his nose wrinkled as he said, "Of course you are."

I saw red. How dare he? How dare he presume and make assumptions about me? His arrogance and his obvious pass…I wanted to slap him, slap off that smile.

My brows creased, I glared at him and ground out, "You should go. Now."

"You turn away one in need of help at this place of refuge?" he asked mockingly, in a falsely indignant tone with that damned smile.

"You pervert God's holiness in his very house," I seethed.

"Even God would love my perversions," he said easily, the words spilled undeterred from his tongue like a snake.

"Do you have an answer for everything?" I snarked. Maxine Fortenberry gasped. Oh my mother was definitely hearing this. Dammit.

A single eyebrow rose, "I do." His eyes glanced up at the sign on top of the door, 'Bon Temps Veterans' Hospital Bake Sale'.

When his eyes came back on mine they were crinkled with mirth, "I am a veteran."

"Of course you are," I repeated mockingly. Maxine Fortenberry was now muttering to Lettie Mae Thorton. She was scandalized enough to converse with a black woman. Shit.

I sighed; I must be a good Christian, "There is a telephone in the reverend's office down the hall to the right."

He smiled down at me triumphant, "Thank you," He paused. "Your name is?"

"None of your concern," I remarked and walked around his half naked body, down the steps and towards Mrs. Bellefleur's car to drop off the cake. I could feel his unholy gaze on me all the way down. As I turned towards the parking lot I could see him stepping into the church doors past my mother. He had the audacity to wink at her.

"If I don't meet you no more in this world, then I'll meet you in the next one."

At Mrs. Bellefleur's car, I was rearranging the boxes for safe transport when my mother's voice stopped me cold, "Were you talking to that…hippie? Susannah?" She spat out the word hippie like it was synonymous with a serial rapist and murderer.

I sighed again, facing her hard eyes, "Even hippies need God's help."

She harrumphed in reply.

A glass of alcohol landed behind me on the bar, shaking me out from my reverie as I was watching Amelia dancing with her boyfriend, Tray, with envy. I wished I could be part of that crowd dancing, talking, laughing, normal.

"No thanks. I'm 19."

"You look like you need it. I won't tell anyone. Promise." That voice! Whipping my head around, I was met with the amused blue eyes of the man I'd encountered at the church earlier that day. Right now he had a white t-shirt on. Damn shame. He seemed to be helping out Sam, one of Claude's school friends, out with the bar, Merlotte's. He ran the dive since his dad died.

I merely glared at him.

"I didn't put anything in it. Go ahead," he said as he pushed it to me, "Gin and tonic."

When I didn't respond, he sighed, "Truce?"

"Fine." I grabbed that glass and gulped it down quick. It burned all the way down my throat. I shook my head. He had made it strong.

He looked at me almost proudly. "What you got to drink about anyway?" I had heard this so many times.

"Don't mock me. You don't know me. You have choices. I'm breeding stock." Everything I had been trying to escape rammed back into me, my parents, the pending engagement to my suitor, Bill. It was eminent.

He let out a short laugh, extending a large hand, "I'm Eric Northman."

When I didn't respond again, he said, "Oh come now. You're a lady. I don't bite."

I rolled my eyes but humoured him. In my most monotone voice, I said, "Sookie Stackhouse, howdeedo?"

"So what's wrong with him?" he asked with an indulgent smile.

I groaned, I so didn't want to get into this. When I thought about Bill, only one thing came to mind, dread, "Nothing. I just don't care about him. He's a war vet, perfect for daddy's businesses and for my mama's ideas of family status. I'll just never be happy."

He nodded thoughtfully, "All of us laughing, none of us happy."

"All they talk about is free love, but love isn't free."

"So what would make you happy?" he asked suddenly.

"Well, I wanted to go to Harvard, study Literature, maybe teach," I said.

Unfortunately, my curiosity was piqued about him and I didn't have anything better to do. Not to mention, he seemed to keep my mind off my family. "What're you doing here anyway? Tending bar."

"Gotta pay to get my car fixed somehow." I nodded.

"What are you doing in this place? I doubt your parents would approve."

"They wouldn't." I gestured with my head towards Amelia, "See her over there? She's my best friend. She dragged me here for my birthday, so I could have fun, be normal. I made a deal with my mama. Host that bake sale and I get to spend my birthday with her, instead of getting engaged to Bill in some elaborate set up."

"And here I thought you were mature for your age," he said dryly.

"Oh yes, I have so much in common with women who need walkers," I replied.

"Where are y'all from anyway?" I asked. Something about him made me want to know more.

"St. Paul, Minnesota."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why are you so far south?"

He leaned on the bar, smirking, "Because I can."

"Right. Of course. Hippie."

Eric raised his eyebrow, "Please. They are too…desperately cheerful."

I couldn't escape the giggle that escaped my throat. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe he had intended it, but I was talking to him. Some man requested a drink and Eric was off, the spell was broken.

Unfortunately for me, by closing time, Amelia was nowhere in sight, nor her car. Anger pulsed through my veins. She must have driven off with Tray. Sam had gone hours before, of on some damned fishing trip.

A sense of helplessness ran through me. I'd have no choice but to call the house and have my father come fetch me. The thought made my hands shake, the things he'd say to me if he saw me here…

It was then I felt a hand cover my shoulder. Warmth flooded into my body. "You need a ride?"

Just as I was about to protest, he hooked a hand through my elbow, grabbed my coat and purse and dragged me into the parking lot. Only his Camaro and a few cars remained. Fishing his keys out of his leather jacket, he unlocked the passenger door, before doing the same to his.

For someone of his size, he climbed into the car pretty gracefully. His door slammed shut as he started the engine. "Come on. Get in."

I sighed. For some reason it felt like going in that car would signal a change for me, but I had no choice.

The drive was quiet after I gave him directions to my house. I told him to park a ways a way, lest my parents saw me. Amelia and I had worked out when we were 14 that the trees on the road were near impenetrable to sight through the windows of my house. He found it amusing when I told him to cut the lights.

"Do you want us to be discovered?" I hissed. He shrugged. I had the urge to slap him again.

Something glinted off the rear view mirror in the moonlight. A pair of dog tags taped together with white medical tape. "What's someone like you doing with dog tags?"

A pause… "I'm a grave robber," he said blankly. Something flashed in his eyes darkly.

A pregnant silence passed before he started laughing. Fuck it. I punched him hard in the arm and opened the door. Stepping out of the car, I thanked Claude and Jason for their lessons.

"Wait," he followed me out. Dammit.

I began walking to the gate, I could make it climbing over that fence even in high heels. Unfortunately, his long legs caught me before I reached it, blocking me.

He was smiling at me again. "The gentlemanly thing for me to do would be to drop you off at your porch. Since we have to forgo that, I'll settle for a kiss." Was he for real?

An indignant look crossed my face, but before I could respond his soft lips were on mine. His hand cupped my cheek gently and he was kissing me in a way no one ever had before, open mouthed, free, passionate. To my horror, I found myself responding, responding in kind. His tongue licked my bottom lip and my mouth opened just enough for him to run his tongue against mine. I pushed his tongue back and ran my tongue along his teeth. Soon he was determined to find my tonsils. And then I was fully making out with Eric, a practical stranger. I had never felt so much from just a kiss. I never wanted it to end.

When I broke for air, I was breathless and gasping. "I should go," I whispered, staring into his eyes.

Something clouded over in his eyes, he looked at me strangely. Maybe the kiss had gotten to him too? "Yes, you should." He sounded hoarse.

I snuck into my bedroom shaking all the way.

Avoiding Eric on Wednesday proved difficult. He had awakened something in me, I couldn't stop thinking about him and our kiss, but my life was thrumming all around me, telling me it was impossible. Besides, he was beautiful, yes, but a total asshole.

I could feel Eric's eyes on me all the time as I tried to disengage from the conversation and leave. Who thought filling up your Mustang could be so challenging? Eric was working at Tray's family's autoshop and gas pump and Tray wanted to make small talk just before I could escape unnoticed. Damn him.

There was something on the tip of Eric's tongue. I could see it on his face. He was temptation for me. He could ruin me. Everything in my body was screaming for him, but my mind was saying a strong 'hell no!' I was only lucky enough that Tray asked Eric to look at the carburetor of the Corvette he was working on, distracting him enough for me to make my exit.

By Thursday, I thought I was lucky as I was coming out of the library. I should have known that the fates had other plans. I felt an arm wrap around my shoulders as I walked along the street. I knew it was him from the moment I felt the sparks run through my body.

"Good afternoon, Sookie," he whispered in my ear, causing me to shiver.

I pushed his arm off me and continued walking. It didn't stop him, he merely followed.

Plucking the book from my hand, he looked at the cover, "Crime & Punishment, how depressing."

I snatched it out of his grasp, glaring the entire time, "Of course, you're a sociopath, aren't you?"

"You should be a good sociopath too and go on a date with me," he said just as soon as I finished.

I stopped in my tracks, balking, "What!?"

"Come. On. A. Date. With. Me." He repeated the words slowly.

"Are you crazy?"

"Would you like to see my medical records?" he asked with a smile, but something dark had crossed his eyes. His blonde hair flapped in the breeze.

"Oh come on. Live a little. What do you have to lose? Wouldn't you like to get out of that house on a Friday night?"

What did I have to lose? Everything. What was there to gain?

"There's nothing to gain," I said firmly.

"I'm good company."

"So far all you've done is insult me."

"Still on that are you?"

"Yes."

One second he was to my right and the next he had grabbed my hand with both of his with a sombre expression on his face, "Angelic Sookie, vision of love and beauty, I am prostrate that my crass words have insulted your grace and virtue. Allow me to humble myself and rectify my actions to you on a date."

I couldn't stop the smile that broke from my lips, nor the laugh that slid out, or the words when I uttered them, "Okay."

"Seven o'clock then? Tomorrow night. Same place I dropped you off on Tuesday night?" he said with a grin that was growing to melt me.

"Alright," I said, but when I caught Eric's face, his attention was elsewhere, dark. He dropped my hand slowly and walked around me.

Following his body I watched him approach Rene Lenier's chained up wolfhound. The poor thing was probably the saddest creature in the world. Let's just say that Rene was about as good to women as he was his dog.

Eric crouched down and patted his ears, then to my surprise removed his chain and collar. He pulled the dog up and pushed it on its way. It didn't take much encouragement; he gave us one last look and darted down the street.

"Why'd you do that?" I asked.

Something crossed in his eyes, something personal, "Nothing should be caged." I wanted to know what made those looks flash in his eyes.

As quickly as it appeared, it was gone again and for a second time, Eric's mouth was on mine, kissing me breathless. Sparks shot through my limbs and heat spread through my body. Out of my own accord, I'd wrapped my arms around his body, as his hands ran down my back. The things he did to my tongue and mouth were scandalous, but the same feelings that shot through me from our first kiss, echoed through me again.

When he broke off, I was happy to see he was as flustered as I was.

He ran his thumb across my lip, "I'll see you Friday, lover."

That night he took me to a dancehall in Monroe. I'd felt like the queen of the ball. We danced, laughed and talked all night. I would have been happy for those moments to go on forever, where I could just be in his arms and he'd twirl me around, where we were no different than any other couple, where I was no different from any other girl. The way he looked at me, like no one had ever looked at me before, his blue eyes storming in collision, it made my heart want to burst. I was lost forever to his eyes. When he kissed me, I thought I might explode. It felt like he could feel me, every pore, every crevice, right into my soul. I felt like I could feel his essence through his touch and I wanted it for myself.

If I could save one moment for the rest of my life, it would be right here, right then with Eric Northman as we danced and danced, like tomorrow didn't exist.

We later stopped in a 24 hour diner to eat a little. He couldn't take his eyes off of me. I suppose I wasn't much better, I couldn't stop looking at him. Amelia had snuck over earlier and helped me pick an outfit, a white halter sundress with red roses on the fabric. My hair had been left to hang in its natural waves about my shoulders and back. She had completed the look with red pumps and red earrings. I looked good. I'd be fried by my parents if they caught me in this outfit, but I found I didn't care. This was what normal people did. They went on dates with their honey and went to the diner for burgers and shakes. Normal girls got to stare at their handsome men in dark jeans and a stark white t-shirt.

We lingered at that diner. I didn't want the date to end. I guess he didn't either, like if it ended, the moment would be gone forever. We both sensed it. I knew then that all we could ever have was one night. Tomorrow our real lives would destroy us.

So when he turned off the road from the way to Bon Temps, I didn't stop him. I wanted one night, just one night. It would have to be enough.

He drove and drove along an unpaved road and then on the grass for awhile until at last he stopped. The summer night buzzed all around us, its thick heady heat wrapped us tight, the fireflies glowed and the stars shimmered over top the shadowed trees. We had reached a clearing on the banks of a dark lake with trees, guarding sentinels.

I didn't ask when he got out of the car, grabbed some wood and made a roaring fire, like a Viking pyre, a pagan offering to long forgotten gods. I helped him. He had left the radio in the car on and the music pouring out of its speakers was sensual and seductive.

When he laid down a blanket from the Camaro on the grass, I sat upon it, staring over the dark waters of mystery, the fathomless sky. I wished I could be the night.

When Eric kissed me, I kissed him right back. He played no games with me this time. His kiss was hard, rough, primal and passionate. It ripped across my body. I pulled him flush against my body. I wanted to be close to him, I needed to be close to him. His hands caressed my body in ways I had been untouched by any man before him. I felt every bit on fire. If this was hell, I welcomed it with open arms. I was beyond heaven and hell or sin and nothing could touch us. This was beautiful, not shaming.

His hands ran up the bare skin of my thighs and palmed my breasts through my dress. I was moaning and writhing on the ground like a wild thing while his touch ignited me and I wanted to touch him too. I ran my hands over his arms, his shoulders, back, chest and stomach, feeling the muscle and skin underneath the clothes. He was on top of me and when we both felt his bulge rub against me, we moaned. I could feel my panties grow dripping wet. All the while we kissed with fervour and I returned every feeling he stirred within me. Only I wanted more and so did he.

So when he undid the knot at my neck and pulled the dress over my head I could only smile. I ran my hands along his abs and finding the hem of his t-shirt, pulled it over his head. He laughed at my anxiousness. His body was just as beautiful as it had been before. I loved the way it glinted from the flickering light of the flames. I helped him with his pants and soon we were only in our underwear. A sudden fear replaced my previous boldness.

Eric's hand tilted my chin, so he could see my face, "What is it?"

"It's just…I'm…Eric, I'm a virgin," I whispered, I hated how my voice shook.

He kissed my cheek sweetly, "It'll be good, I promise."

He lay me down on the blanket gently and kissed my fears away. His hand was splayed on my bare stomach and tortuously dipped down until it was at the edge of my panties. Without preamble, his fingers slid inside and touched me intimately. I moaned.

"Oh Sookie, you are so wet," he groaned out. I felt bereft at the loss of his touch when he took his fingers and licked my juices off his fingers. But he only aroused me more when he said, "You taste delicious."

He kissed me then, running his hands in my hair. His amazing wonderful hands, they then slid down my shoulders and before I knew it was at my back and my bra was gone and he was kissing his way down my neck and onto my chest. The first open mouthed kiss over my bare nipple made my back arch into his touch as he licked and sucked at it. His other hand teased and pinched my other breast. My breasts and nipples were desperately aroused at his touch. My nipples were hardened and sensitive. He took advantage of that.

Palming my breasts, he smiled at me, "You have the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen." I blushed. "But what of the other parts of you?"

His hands came to my panties and pulled them clean off and then I was totally exposed to him. "You really are beautiful," he said licking his lips. Then his mouth was on me, licking my nub and his fingers were inserted into my folds, pumping into me slowly, tortuously. I was screaming and writhing on the ground.

When he emerged his eyes were burning. "What I really want is to be inside you."

"Then come inside me," I invited. He smiled and pulled off his boxer briefs. I had never seen a man naked before, but I knew then he was the only man I ever wanted to. He hissed when I touched his cock.

Before I knew it I was on my back and his cock was pressing against my slit and my maidenhood.

"This will hurt."

"I know, but just hurry up."

He smiled and pushed into me slowly. Pain shot through my body. I muffed my scream by biting his shoulder. When the pain stopped, I could hear a song coming into focus. It was "I Wanna Be Your Dog" by the Stooges. The dark, sensual song spurred me forward and Eric began to thrust into me as he wrapped my legs around his waist.

"…now I'm ready to feel your hand and lose my heart in the burning sands."

"Fuck, you're so tight," he said, gritting his teeth, trying to get some semblance of control.

"And now I wanna be your dog…"

He was so big, so hard and filled me up completely and the friction of his thrusts was driving me crazy, I couldn't get enough. His mouth was on my mouth, my neck, my collar bone and his hand was massaging my breasts and pinching my nipples all the while. I was lost to the sensations and the pounding riff of the song as he rammed into me again and again. I lost myself to the knife's edge of pleasure.

"And now I wanna be your dog…"

When his lips returned to mine to do battle with my tongue, I forgot about his hand until he began rubbing achingly slow circles on my clit while thrusting into me with more speed and vigour. I was screaming into his mouth. When he found my sweet spot, I was seeing sparks. When he hit it again and again, I was digging my nails into the large expanse of his back and scratching roughly. He let out a yell of his own.

It made me brave. I scratched him harder along his back. My hands wandered down to his ass. I had been made aware of it while dancing. It looked delectable. It felt even better. I kneaded and scratched it. He made a grunt of pleasure and rubbed my clit harder. But when I slipped my hand down to squeeze his balls, he really let me have it. He rammed into me even harder and I threw my head back, screaming his name. I was so close.

"Lover, look into my eyes," he said suddenly and my eyes snapped to his. In pleasure they were gorgeous, dilated, alive, clouded with lust and passion. I could feel him pulsing in me, his thrusting became erratic and then I felt my walls clamp down on his hardness and an overwhelming pleasure pour all over me. Not long after I felt his seed being emptied into my womb and looking into his eyes, our mutual pleasure fed each other's.

His head was resting next to mine and we were both panting when he pulled out of me and pulled me against his warm body to ward off the chill of the night. We were both naked but I felt no need to be dressed. Not with him.

"How'd you find this place?" I asked.

He smiled, "Driving around. I felt like a detour, an adventure."

His hands gently stroked my arm and back as I did the same to his chest and abs.

Right along his hip, I came upon a slightly raised portion of skin. My eyes revealed a long scar. I ran my finger along it. It looked painful. "Where'd you get it?"

His eyes closed in sorrow and he gripped me tighter, "Vietnam. He came at me out of the jungle with a machete."

"You really…"

"Yes, I got drafted five years ago," his voice took on a hard tone. A humourless laugh cut through the night, "I had an athletic scholarship, could have gone to university, but I didn't know what I wanted to do. I went on a road trip, driving across the country, searching for something. Never did find it. Came home to a draft letter. It tore up my mom and my sister. My father couldn't look at me for a week. He'd done everything he could to get me away from the draft. He got drafted in the Second World War."

"So I ended up doing two years over there until I got cut down in the jungle. I got a really bad infection so they sent me home. I did a lot of things, saw a lot of things. Worked my way up to sergeant of the army of nothing. Got a few medals that mean nothing. I came home and got into the University of Illinois. Now I hang my tags in my car just like my dad because I can't stand it. I haven't cut my hair in three years, like it actually means something. Every summer I travel the country in my car because I'm looking for something still."

A tear leaked from my eye and landed on his chest. I kissed his cheek in comfort. "Did you find what you're searching for?"

His eyes landed on mine, "I don't know. Maybe."

Eric fished through his jeans, pulling out a joint and a lighter. He took the first hit before passing it to me. I paused.

He smiled. "This, this is harmless…Everything else…" his voice grew dark, "I've seen too many junkies." I humoured him and took a hit.

"My brother Claude went, enlisted because my dad wanted him to. Dad's a vet of World War II as well. He wanted my other brother, Jason, to go too, but Claude convinced him not to let Jason go. He was so…different after. I got a sister too, Claudine. She's married and in New York right now. I miss her. You?"

"Three siblings. All younger. My twin brothers, Mikael and Kristoffer and our runt, Pam," he said with a smile, a genuine one. I could feel his real affection for them.

"Runt?"

"All of us brothers and our dad are well over six feet tall. Our mother is close to six feet too. Pam's 5'3" and the youngest, the runt," he explained.

"You must all take care of her, smother her to pieces."

"As much as she allows. She's feisty."

"Now I feel weird, we're talking about your little sister and we're both naked." He laughed and it rumbled through his body. I savoured this feeling of total contentment. I didn't have much longer. I hugged him closer. I felt something stirring inside me, something to hold onto, something I could keep forever. I stomped it down and away.

Too soon we were getting dressed, putting away the blanket and the flames were out, the joint was smoked. We were headed back to the main road, back to Bon Temps, back from this little excursion from reality. It was an unhappy car ride.

I fingered his dog tags hanging off the mirror and took them off. Peeling off the tape, I ran my finger along the raised edges giving me his information, his name, his blood type, religion, all pointless things about a human being.

"E.K.H. Northman?"

His lip twitched, "Eric Kristian Hjalmar Northman. My family's Swedish. My grandfather came to America and changed the last name from Nordman to Northman. You?"

"Susannah Adele Marie Stackhouse. German on my dad's side and Cajun on my mother's. She calls it French. My dad is descended from some old Bavarian nobles, old money. Changed the spelling of the last name too from Stakhaus."

He laughed, "Names are pointless. We can't define anything anyway. Not really. We can only try."

"Yeah," I whispered. I hung the dog tags back on the mirror untaped. No more hiding.

I awoke Saturday morning with the full knowing that my one night of happiness was gone and that my life was closing in on me from all sides. When I came downstairs, I was informed by my mother that we would have guests over in the evening for dinner. My father's investors from New York, Dallas and Chicago were coming to see him and the rest of the investors in Bon Temps.

This was it- The end. Their setup was upon me.

I had to get out of the house. I drove and drove, but the tears wouldn't stop, mourning everything I would never have.

A red light on Main Street brought me out of my thoughts, but it wasn't welcome, for who should see my car but Eric. He approached me from behind, but I drove off before he could stop me.

His fading image in the rear view mirror tore at my soul.

What seemed like hundreds of guests descended on the house that night. Their high society eyes all weighing my worth. We were all in the parlour after dinner and I couldn't be surprised when Bill cornered me at last, got down on one knee and presented an obnoxious six karat diamond ring set in platinum and framed by dozens of diamond baguettes under my eyes.

"Susannah Adele Marie Stackhouse, will you marry me?"

My hand landed against my mouth, my heart clenched and I could not stop the tears from falling. I felt faint, but their eyes were all around me, watching, waiting. My mother and father glared at me.

I wished his hair was long and blond and his eyes were stormy blue.

"Yes." A sob escaped my mouth and his slid the ring on my finger, pushing me into a cell.

I was damned.

Sunday came oppressively hot, as if the very flames of hell had descended on Bon Temps. A proper southern girl like me went to church. I was mourning. I wore black, the collar tight on my neck and gloves on my hands. I could not look at the ring on my finger.

We had just been settled in our seats when my mother sent me back to the car. She needed a fan. I sighed, of course, she did. Searching the interior, I found no such fan. I was just at the trunk, about to pop it open when a voice behind me stole my thoughts and my body.

"I don't like being avoided," he said. And suddenly he was too close, pressed fully against my back, his lips at my ear, my neck.

"I can't do this," I whimpered. Every bone in my body wanted to be close to him. I couldn't stop replaying the things we did that night in my head over and over.

"I never pegged you for a liar." His voice was heavy.

"Eric," it came out like a choked sob.

"Tell me you don't think about me all the time like I think of you," His voice was scratchy, low, like my devil, "Tell me I'm not driving you crazy, like you're driving me mad. Tell me you don't want me like I want you." He punctuated this by rubbing his arousal against my ass.

My body betrayed me, I moaned.

It was all the invitation he needed, his hand slipped under the hem of my dress and up the inside of my thigh to my panties. His fingers breached under and rubbed against the slit he had claimed when he took my virginity, finding me wet. All aroused for him. Only him.

Before I could think my panties were torn and ripped off my body and the hot air of the day hit my wet pussy. The next thing I heard was a zipper, and then he was bracing me and himself on the trunk of my parents' car and his dick had reclaimed my womb.

"I can't stop thinking about you. I want you all the time," he growled into my ear.

"Fuck me," I whispered hoarsely and then he was thrusting into me hard, fast and rough. He slammed into my folds, hitting that spot he found all the time, driving me insane. There was nothing gentle about it. His fingers rubbed slow circles on my clit and he bit down on my neck to stop a yell from escaping his mouth. It would mark but I didn't care. I returned each of his thrusts vigorously with one of my own, as his free hand cupped my breast through the conservative dress.

My legs were shaking when I felt him release inside me. It triggered one of my own, a few moments of solace. He pulled out of me, readjusting my dress. I leaned up against his body and pulled his arms around me. We were both panting.

Brushing my hair over my neck, I told him, "I have to go."

I broke from his arms as I walked back to the church, never looking back and without my mother's stupid fan. I felt his seed leak down my thighs as I opened the church doors.

A good night's rest was eluding me, like it had since Saturday. I woke up on the twilight of Sunday and Monday knowing that someone else was in the room with me.

"Eric?"

He was slumped in a chair in front of my bed. His hands were running through his hair. Something must have happened. Something horrible. Everything in his body was bent, broken, desperate.

"What's wrong?" I asked him, sitting up in my bed.

His eyes affixed on mine and I saw unspeakable pain behind them, his eyes were glassy with unshed tears. He could hear the whispers of demons. He shook his head.

I went and took his hand, "Its okay. You can tell me."

"Sookie…Sookie, I need you tonight. Please." His voice was cracked, begging. He was so hurt, so beaten.

"Okay." And I let him come over and pull off my nightgown and my panties as I divested him of his clothes too and I kissed him and let him bury himself inside me because he was so wounded. Maybe I could take away some of the pain for him.

I woke up when the sky was still grey on Monday morning. Eric was still in my bed. He was still holding me tight. We were still naked. It was perfect. I wished I could have this every day of my life.

I lay with him until my clock radio was set off and the soft music played, causing him to stir. A lump rose in my throat and I cursed fate. Of course it had to be "Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You," by Led Zeppelin.

He pulled me closer until the sleep ran out of his body and then he sat up and I could see the haunted look in his face.

"…Baby, I'm gonna leave you. I said, baby, you know I'm gonna leave you."

I ran my hand down his shoulder. "What happened?" I asked, whispering softly. The last thing I wanted to do was alert the household to Eric, the man in my bed I was naked with.

"Baby, baby, I don't wanna leave you. I ain't jokin', woman, I got to ramble."

He didn't say anything for a while, deep in thought. "I have to go. I have to go home…to St. Paul." The words were like a sucker punch. I didn't want him to leave, but it wasn't possible. He had to go sooner or later and I was engaged now. I never thought myself to be a whore and here I was, engaged to one man while I slept with another.

"I can hear it callin' me the way it used to. I can hear it callin' me back home."

He continued, his eyes guilty and his voice sad and broken, "My sister, Pam. She was in a car accident, a real bad one. They don't know if the surgery will save her. She's in a coma."

"Oh my God," I shuddered. I pulled him into a tight hug.

"I need to see if she's okay. I don't know what I'd do if she went and I wasn't there. I want to fucking break that fucker's neck that hit her," he muttered into my hair as he embraced me tighter.

"I know, I know," and I was crying again and I couldn't stop. Our time had always needed to come to an end. We would only ever have that one night, no matter how much I wished it wasn't so.

He was wiping the tears from my eyes and giving me a sad little smile when he said, "Come with me."

I pushed off him, shocked, "What?"

He brushed the hair from my face with his hand, "I love you. Come with me to Minnesota." I could only find truth in his eyes and it was breaking my heart.

"I can't," I sobbed, my voice cracking, "I can't."

"…I got to go away from this place. I've got to quit you…"

He pulled me back into his arms and rubbed my back saying, "Sookie, what do you have here? There's nothing to keep you. Nothing to hold on to. No one in your family worth missing."

I pulled away from him, grabbing the ring on my nightstand. I couldn't bear to wear it more than I had to. I showed it to him, his face blanched. "I'm engaged, as of Saturday night. I'm engaged, Eric."

His fingers took my chin and tilted my head up to look into his face, "Do you love him?"

"What does it matter, Eric?" I cried, brokenly.

"Do you love him?" he repeated, firmly.

"No, no," I answered as the sobs returned, "I don't love him."

"When will you be married? When will I lose you?" he asked, his voice full of emotion.

"They're saying the winter," I said, shuddering to think it.

He then took me into his arms and soothed me until the tears subsided. He ran his fingers along my cheek, "Listen, I don't know when I'll be back. Come with me. I can spare until tonight. I gotta wrap things up in Bon Temps, work one more day to pay off Tray's shop. I'll come to you under the trees, where I dropped you off the first night we met, at midnight. I'll wait an hour and then I'll go."

"If you don't come I'll understand, but if you do, I promise I'll try to make you happy for the rest of my life. I'll probably never get you all this…but I've got a place in Chicago and a job part time, when I'm not in classes. I've even got money saved up from the military. It's not Harvard, but you could study Literature. You won't starve; I'll take care of you."

"You've got to go," I said, hearing the stirring downstairs.

He nodded and began pulling on his clothes. I pulled on my flowing white nightgown too.

When he was finished, he pulled me into a hungry kiss, burning through my soul, one that could be our last.

He touched every feature of my face, memorizing it. I did the same to his.

"I've got to go now. Think about it," he said, kissing my lips chastely.

Walking towards the window, he gave me one last look, "Good bye, my lover."

Then he was climbing out of my window and disappearing into the new day.

My head was completely torn when I left the house that morning. How could I make a choice? Was it even possible? I made a decision and there was no going back. My life would be changed forever either way.

I did the only thing I could think of, I saw my best friend, Amelia.

She held my hand and hugged me as I explained the events of the past couple days, listening raptly. When I was done, she only told me one thing, "Follow your heart."

What if my heart was going to St. Paul, Minnesota, across the goddamned country? What if I didn't know for sure what I felt? What if it didn't work out, then what would I have? What if I stayed here? What if, what if…It was tearing my soul apart and I had no solace.

I found myself driving around town that afternoon, looking at all the places in Bon Temps where I had grown up, basking in all the memories, the corner stop we Stackhouse children got candy at, the ice cream shop Jason took me to when I hit my first softball, the library Amelia and I spent our summer at looking at all the books on Europe, the diner where everyone ate, Merlotte's where I first got drunk and Claude had to punch a guy that was hitting on me, the shop where Claudine and I found my bridesmaid gown for her wedding, Tray's family's autoshop where Amelia took me to hide out from my parents. Could they keep me here? Was this place really worth it? Was this who I was?

I ended up driving up to the end of Main Street and turning off on the road that led up to the church, the church that I had gone to every Sunday for my entire life, where I had prayed, asked for forgiveness, looked for a salvation that never came. It was the same church that would call me a whore and a sinner for what I did with Eric.

Driving up to those doors, I finally knew what to do. I stopped the engine and stepped out of the goddamned blue Mustang with the white roof that my parents had gotten for me for my Sweet Sixteen. I walked around the car and ran up the steps where I first met him not one week ago. Pulling open the doors, I ran through the lobby and into the sanctuary, not stopping until I reached a box near the altar, the donations box.

Taking the ring from my finger, I tossed the stupid thing into the donations box. I had never felt lighter.

Sneaking out of my room through my window had never been so goddamned difficult. It was like I could feel the very hounds of hell on my trail at every turn. Every noise, every rustle was a demon that would pull me back into that hell house. My body was shaking, even though I wore a coat. It was chilly that night. I looked into the heavens and prayed no one would see me.

I only packed a single bag. There wasn't much worth bringing along. There wasn't much I even liked. They were necessities, nothing more.

I had gone to the reverend and asked to borrow some paper, a pen and an envelope. I wrote Amelia a letter and put it in her mail box. I couldn't tell her today. She was a horrible liar and had vowed to go to Monroe with Tray, lest she spill anything.

Finally making it over the wrought iron fence, I sprang to my feet and ran, I ran as fast as I could with the wind running through my hair as if flames were flickering at my heels. When I saw the Camaro I could have cried, I settled for leaping into his arms when he ran out of the car to meet me. He held me close and buried his face in my hair, inhaling my scent, as if he couldn't believe I was real. I couldn't believe he was really here.

Then he kissed me with all the promise of a new life and new hope, a smile at his lips and a laugh at his throat. "You're real, you're here," he said reverently.

"I love you, you idiot! Of course, I am," I exclaimed, the words slipping out before I could stop them, but I meant them, just as he had.

He just smiled, boarding my things into his car. Rene Lenier's liberated wolfhound barked me a greeting from the backseat. I raised an eyebrow.

"He won't leave me either," he said, teasingly. I grinned and pushed him towards the driver's seat.

I held his hand the entire way as we crossed into Arkansas. I held his hand as the sun rose to a new day, one week after I'd met him, marking my new life. A life that was mine. Mine alone.

Three years later I was in Chicago, crossing the street to enter the club Eric owned with his sister, Pam. It was called Valkyrie. Pam had awakened, survived and after healing was right as rain and just as feisty as Eric had once told me. She was also my sister in so many ways. She helped me out when I was studying. I was only about a year away from graduating with a bachelor of arts in Literature.

Amelia had decided to come up after she graduated to open an art gallery and work in her own studio. Tray came with her too. He was a mechanical engineer, he had always loved working with cars and Chicago had infinitely more opportunities than Bon Temps. They had told me Bill married Selah Pumphrey not long after I left town for good. I kept in contact with all my siblings. I saw Claudine every now and then when she visited me or I visited her.

I noticed a man and a woman in clothes dripping with wealth exit a flashy limousine across the street, making me stop. I froze. They were my parents, Corbett and Genevieve Stackhouse. Their eyes landed on my form and took me in, the long flowing halter dress with the floral print that showed off my ample cleavage and shoulders, the wreath of violets I wore on my head made with flowers grown in our garden that accentuated my long loose, wavy blonde hair, the nearly two and a half year old boy with my wavy hair and his stormy eyes and strong jaw being carried in my arms and my belly which was just beginning to show again.

They looked at me with scorn in their eyes, muttering something about hippies and drugs.

But they did not recognize me when I walked passed them and I could only smile and laugh.

My laugh stirred him from some paperwork he was working on. He sat at a table on the floor of the club as I walked in the door. Thor the wolfhound barked a greeting at his feet.

Eric smiled at me and took our son into his arms, kissing my lips softly, running a hand along my stomach and the growing bump, "What's so funny?"

"I met my past and it didn't recognize me."

Okay, so holy crap, this was really an exercise on me being succinct, because I have a 10,000 word limit lol. I can't believe I actually did it. I'm at 9992 words without editing. You won't believe how many times I was checking my word count. Some other things that inspired me? The episode Independence Day from Roswell, that church Slash guitar solo outside of in the November Rain music video, the image of that church, Friday Night Lights, Tim Riggins and Lyla Garrity, Sawyer and Kate from Lost, Eric and Sookie's first meeting on True Blood. Maybe that movie Titanic.

My beta, EBCM noted that the proposal scene and the one where Sookie drove away from Eric were quick, like flashes, saying that, "I can see it cinematically play out giving the message that her life in Bon Temps and those moments are a blur and her time with Eric is the real thing." It was kinda funny that it ended up like that, but it was definitely me saying, 'Okay, what's important?' So they ended up like little vignettes. Word count definitely had something to do with it, but I really liked the way it played out. I mean, if word count wasn't an issue, Amelia would actually have dialogue lol.

"Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You" is my favourite vocal performance by Robert Plant ever. I wanted a third song. When this song came to me, I knew it would be perfect for the bedroom scene. The last thing that inspired Eric was the facemelting guitar solos. I was like, this is Eric strutting out. Call me anal retentive, but I wanted three songs and I wanted three songs all released within a year of July 1969 lol. I remembered hearing Slash do "Voodoo Child" on either the UYI Tokyo DVDs or on YouTube and also Slash and Zakk Wylde doing a cover at something for Gibson back in the early 90s that was amazing. So I found a live version of the Jimi Hendrix version and I was like, Eric song! That song was actually the hardest for me to find, but when I found it, I knew it was perfect. Go watch Zakk and Slash solo. It's godly. Also checkout the 'Voodoo Chile' video from Atlanta with Jimi, it's awesome. The song was renamed after it was published…so it's either 'Voodoo Chile' or 'Voodoo Child'. The song I'm talking about is called "Voodoo Child (Slight Return)".

I have to say I do actually have this whole world mapped out in my head. I mean, I kinda wanna write the road trip, Eric's family meeting Sookie, I mean isn't that just awesomely awkward? Hi! I brought home a girl I've known for less than a week! Sookie meeting Pam, Sookie discovering she's pregnant etc…but we'll see. I just know that Pam would tell Eric, "Free love, not free idiocy, you moron!" when she finds out. Oh, and whack him upside the head.

As always, I would love to hear your feedback! Hit me up with a line. If you can't send me a review, because the site is malfunctioning, I've decided to open up a post on my site to help you out and all authors as well. Go to http://bloodbonds(dot)wordpress(dot)com/2009/08/11/fanfiction-net-reviews/

~simba_317