Blood, Sex, and Cocktails

With a sigh, I let my head drop to the counter and rest there for a moment.
"Des," someone said. "Dezzy, come on."
I raised my head enough to look up at her through bloodshot eyes.
"What," I groaned.
Fauna asked, somehow genuinely surprised, "Are you drunk?"
Stressing every word, I replied, "I fucking wish!" I added in a grumble, "God-damned tolerance."
"Then why are your -?"
"Probably because I may have possibly at some point in time for some period of time done something like," I said, but paused and took a calming breath so maybe my voice wouldn't crack and eyes wouldn't water as I concluded, "crying."
My voice didn't crack. Score 1 for Strength. But, my eyes did well up just a bit. Score 1 for BlondeSonOfABitchVampire.
"I didn't know you could," she commented as an attempt at humor. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
"He's an asshole. I've never asked him for a d*mn thing. He's got no right to make me feel like this."
She sat her tray on the bar, plopped herself down on a stool, and shot me an even more sympathetic look than she wore before. "Who's an asshole, sweetie? Feel like what?"
"Like punching him in the face. Like kissing every mouth-watering inch of him. Like tackling him and tearing him apart." I concluded, "Like anything."
"D*mn," she breathed. "Who are you talking about?"
Words weren't needed. I just took another long swig of Cuervo and vaguely nodded in his direction.
"Eric?"
"I don't see any other asshole vampires in the general area," I groaned and let my head drop again.
"I knew something was going on there!"
"At least someone will admit it," I grumbled, cheek to the bar.
"Huh?"
I sighed deeply. "Eric. He refuses to admit he feels anything. He refuses to admit he cares about me at all. He refuses to admit I’m something to him."
"Dezzy, he's a blood-sucker," she pointed out. "They’re not really known for emotional stability or openness."
“So I should give up?”
“Hell no! Just because he’s a -”
“Big, emotionally-stunted, dead baby,” I offered.
“Yeah. That,” she agreed carelessly. “Point is, just because he’s too immature and, sure, emotionally-stunted, to say something doesn’t mean you should give up. The opposite, actually. It takes two to tango, and somebody’s got to lead, but who says it has to be him?”
“You want me to proposition my vampire boss,” I asked, stressing every word, hoping that if a depressed, buzzed, mentally and emotionally unstable bartender could see the touch of crazy in that plan, a relatively sane individual could, too.
"I'm saying it wouldn't kill you to get the ball rolling," she said. "And, don't even say 'wouldn't be so sure.' Yeah, he's a vampire. Oh, har-de-har. But, he would never touch you and you know it."
Somehow, that last bit really got to me. As she picked her tray back up and strutted off, it stuck persistently in my mind; I just couldn’t shake it off. I had never given serious thought to Eric seeing me as prey, but now that my mind was so insistent on my trying, I found that I couldn’t imagine it. I couldn’t see him seeing me as a meal. Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe Fauna was right – he’d never touch me.

Yet, an hour or two later…
'Mmm, she tastes of fresh apricots...' I heard, as my big, blonde boss most assuredly was touching me – all over.
"Actually," I said as he started to trail kisses down to my neck, "it's fresh peach."
He froze in that moment, like a statue with his mouth open, fangs extended, ready to do something I realized in a distant way that I wasn't sure I was ready for him to do. The butterflies which had been fluttering around in my stomach stilled, wings frozen in mid-flap. It was a sickly stillness, and even as it began, I already desperately wanted it to end.
"What did you say?"
I knew my mistake almost before the words had quite escaped my mouth, so I lied. "Nothing. You must be hearing things." I don't imagine I was very convincing, especially to him. But, I had to try, right?
"Destiny," he said in a dark, warning sort of voice, almost a growl. "Why did you say that?"
"Because I'm a very very stupid little girl," I offered. "And because, remember how I said that though telepathy isn't my primary ability, I do catch stray thoughts every now and then?"
He just remained frozen.
"Those are almost always from Supes," I explained. "Vampires especially."
I had a d*mn good reason for never telling him - or anyone - about that detail. If they knew I could do that, the Vampires would have me shredded to ribbons before I could blink, and Eric d*mn well knew that. Maybe even he would now feel an urge to kill me in order to protect himself and his area.
"No one else ever hears about what you just told me," he said, and somewhere deep, deep down under the thick layer of ice that was Eric Northman, vampire sheriff, was a warmth that came through in those words, a neat little pile of smoldering embers. I nodded in agreement and he gave my neck a lingering, longing kiss.
The butterflies returned to their fluttering - that excited frenzy that brought me back to what I might call my senses. They told me that d*mn skippy I was ready for him to do what he wanted to do - had an overwhelming desire to do which caused the smoldering embers to flare up just enough to put a significant dent in the thick sheet of ice.
"Do it," I whispered, almost hissed. Who knows if I really wanted it that badly or if I was reflecting how badly he wanted it, maybe it was a mix of the two, but I was about ready to pry his mouth back open and force the fangs into my shoulder myself.
No need. He was glad, absolutely thrilled, to sink his teeth into me. In the first moment, I'll admit, it was painful and a small, pained sound escaped my lips. It was very, very obvious that he was holding on with every shred of superhuman strength to the behavioral leash he had on himself - in short, he was trying very hard to be gentle and it was very hard for him to do. Before I could even think that thought, the pain was gone and he was suckling at the wound. I had to admit the way it felt to have his tongue run over the raw skin as he lapped up the blood was, in short, very very good.