This True Blood story contains sexual situations. That means it may contain adult concepts and sensuality.
If you're underage or offended by such things, you have been warned not to read the fiction.

This True Blood fanfic was written for the Yuletide Treasure fic exchange in 2010.

Not Much for Conversation

Cousin Shelley


Eric watched Pam approach, but he didn't need to see the look on her face to know her mood. He could feel it radiating through his bones. No one else would dare come up to him in a bitchy mood and complain in the way he knew Pam was about to do. She was the only one he'd ever let get away with it, in part because anger brought out all the different colors in her eyes.

"Eric. The new dancer? I want her dead," Pam said as she leaned against the chair Eric was sprawled in, watching over the Saturday night Fangtasia crowd.

"I'm not sure I heard you correctly. Did you say you want her dead, or you want her in your bed?"

Pam pursed her lips. They were hot pink, a shade that perfectly matched her dress. Eric approved.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Pam said. "Please allow me to be more clear. I want to disembowel her, and wrap her intestines around that pole."

Eric nodded. "I see. Have I ever told you how much I love your sense of restraint?"

Pam put a perfectly manicured hand on her hip. "You sit up here on your throne and watch all night, enjoying the view, but she keeps coming up to me. Either she's smacking that damn gum she chews or she's talking. She never. Shuts. Up. I want to drain her and hang her from the ceiling just so I can smack her corpse every time I walk by."

"But she is beautiful. And . . . open to suggestions," Eric said.

Pam's eyebrows went up at that. "Sadly enough, I don't think I'll ever find out. I'd have to cut out her tongue to stand being near her . . . and that would ruin all my fun." Her pink bottom lip puffed out in a pout.

Eric smiled as he thought about how he'd put the new dancer--Sheila? Selena? He really didn't remember, but knew it started with an S--through her paces the night before. She had a thing for tall, lean, light-haired men, and Eric was just her type, she'd said, more than twice.

She'd tried to talk in the beginning, dirty talk, which gave Eric a violent flash of the kind Pam was fantasizing about today, but in just a few minutes she'd been too busy moaning and gasping for air to call him baby or stud. She had a beautiful body, her breasts each a perfect handful, her hips just the right blend of curve and softness. And the tight warmth of being inside her, her fragrance, her taste, had all been exactly how he liked them. He'd enjoyed himself thoroughly, especially because she was so very eager to please.

He'd sensed that in her when she'd come in looking for a job. She hadn't disappointed him.

She'd tried to talk in the brief moments when he let her rest, and had mentioned that she was saving money from this job to make the move to California. She wanted to be an actress.

So he'd given the girl her first real acting job. He'd held her wrists down on the bed and drank from her while she begged him to stop. And he'd been more thrilled to discover that when he told her beg she was equally willing to beg him not to bite her as she was willing to beg him to fuck her.  

He had to admit, she'd been convincing. He felt the thrill of conquest and domination that he missed from the days when he roamed freely with Godric, taking what he wished, how he wished. He'd enjoyed it so much, it had been a true challenge to stop before he took too much.

They'd showered after that, to clean the blood away, Eric intending to dress and see to club business briefly before sleeping. But the sight of her lithe, wet body and the way the soap blossoms slipped down her breasts and belly convinced him that club business could wait.

She'd started talking again about acting, and how sexy he was, how hot, and he'd simply smiled and put his hand on top of her head, gently pushing her onto her knees. What was the term--oral fixation? Eric's new dancer didn't just chew gum and talk incessantly; she also knew plenty of other uses for that tongue.

"Eric, I do hope the way you're smiling means that I can kill her. Or we can both kill her. Just so she dies."

"Sorry, Pam. It's too hard to find good dancers. Besides, if I let you kill everyone who annoys you, the world's population would eventually be whittled down to you and me, and I don't relish the idea of living in fear."

Pam gave that little twitch of her head he liked so much, then she sighed. "But how do you stand her? You've never been much for conversation with humans."

He looked at Pam, deliberating. He could point out that when the girl was with him, conversation wasn't her priority. Or he could simply tell Pam just how eager she was to please. He'd seen the girl looking at Pam, watching her walk, admiring her. He knew that she'd jump at the chance to beg Pam yes and no, just as she had him. And Pam would no doubt enjoy shutting her up in that way, for at least a while.

He'd tell her eventually. But today, her little pout and the flames in her eyes pleased him too much.

"I love her stories," Eric said, looking at Pam with the most innocent expression he could manage. "They're very . . . stimulating." He left Pam standing next to his chair, her mouth fallen open in horror, and went to take the girl into the back to not talk to her for the rest of the night.