[ONE-SHOT] Godric (Eric/Godric) (ENG)
Oct. 4th, 2009 09:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevenswellsTitle: Godric
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sevenswells
Rating: NC-17 FTW!
Fandom/Pairing: HBO's True Blood, EricXGodric
Warnings/Spoilers: This ficlet is based on season 2, episode 5, Never let me go, during the flash-back where we learn more about Eric turning into a vampire (vikings and breeches FTW!!)
Also, if you don't know about True Blood but read this anyway, please note that I use Eric's words in the series when I qualify Godric as "just a little boy" or constantly refer to him as "the boy". This is NOT shota, Godric was supposed to be around 16 when he was turned into a vampire.
Comments: This is totally un-beta-ed (didn't even re-read myself), and it's badly written, and it sucks, but I really HAD to write it, because this pairing kicks some serious ass (even though I'm really, really not convinced by season 2 as a whole). "Centuries of faith and love between us", KYAH! Also, this is dedicated toberylia , w00t!
Not "just a little boy". More like a wild animal.
Eric's senses were already dulled by the coming of death, but he immediately felt his power, the sinewy muscles of the boy's supple, nervous body pressed across his own, tense like a bow. He was much smaller, but every inch of Eric's body gave under the pressure: the warrior was completely overpowered.
He'd gone directly for the throat. Then again, most animals do.
He drank big, long noisy gulps, lapping up his blood from time to time when he couldn't swallow it all at once. The pain didn't bother Eric anymore, it was the noises that disturbed him, really. Hearing his life going away so rapidly, with such gusto, how... disheartening. Maybe the boy sensed something, because he stopped, retreated a little, leaving Eric's neck wide open and now Eric felt the discomfort of the tickle caused by the stream of blood running down there, passing across his shoulder, he also felt the tingle of cold air gushing into the wound. Sword wounds, he could deal with. Hell, even this animal's bite, he could stand: give him hard and fast and cutting, it was all good, but this trickle-y-trickle and tingle-tingle-y was way too... shabby. Eric was starting to get pissed off, again.
"Quicker." was the only word that crossed his gritted teeth, since it literally tore his throat to speak up, but his tone was commanding enough, in spite of his weariness. And that, to Eric's greater ire, caused his torturer to chuckle.
-I know, he spoke, looking highly amused, but, oddly enough, his voice remained soft and concerned, full of empathy. I'm still trying to get the hang of this. Please...
He licked with a rough burning tongue at the large wound on Eric's flank, the one that was supposed to make him join Valhalla with a slow and painful death, but noble still, and moreover, rightfully acquired.
-...Bear with me, finished the boy.
He lifted Eric's hips, hoisting his gigantic body with ridiculous ease, as if he were doing some cheap whore from the southern coasts; he pushed his tunic away and, seizing one of Eric's legs, bit inside the thigh like in a ripe fruit and resumed his bloodsucking. Eric stopped himself from crying out, because his throat was already so sore it would add yet another petty pain to his shabby misery; he almost cried out of surprise, though, when the boy's hand grabbed his cock and started to masturbate him rapidly.
-...blood'll...come down... faster, explained the boy in between gulps, as an answer to the screaming thought in Eric's spinning head : What kind of insanity is this?
Pleasure coming and going, near, so much near death that his vision went black intermittently, and at the times he could see, everything was blurred, and woven with the thought that it was inappropriate, ludicrous, his dying body was not supposed to react like that. All of a sudden, he felt his forces abandoning him at last, in one go, faster then he'd thought the boy had been right. His shaft finally started to fall limp in the boy's hand.
Right then blood poured and filled his mouth, thick and tasting like metal : not his; it came from above, from the boy's wrist that hanged above his face, blood pouring right into his dry open mouth. He drank, even though he was too sore and exhausted to even gulp down. It seemed the blood found its own way through his body, and he felt Life coming back, his muscles weren't aching anymore, his vision went from blurry to focused, extremely sharp and precise. He violently seized the boy's wrist and brought it directly to his mouth, planting his teeth deep into the boy's flesh. He now drank with the same disgusting noises that irked him earlier, and as he drank larger and larger quantities of the boy's blood, he felt his senses expand, all at once. He felt something else, too, that pulled at his very core: his eyes couldn't leave the boy, whom, it seemed, was surrounded by -- no, it was more like, he, Eric, was projecting -- it was heat, coming back in his loins, it was strength, incredible strength, it was a bond, a gift, of himself, of the boy that filled his mouth. The answer was shockingly simple: he finally understood it could only be love. He loved this boy fiercely, with all his might, with all the new blood that beat inside and ran down his body.
His penis was erect again, he knew, since his whole body craved the boy. The latter had stopped drinking. He loosened his breeches and straddled Eric naked. Never letting go of the source of pouring blood and never stopping drinking, Eric felt himself slide inside the boy, who was taking him in, all of him in, as easily as he did everything else. He just let out a little sigh of contentment when Eric couldn't go further.
"Stop, now, Eric."
Came the soft voice with the order Eric couldn't take. Gently but firmly, he deprived Eric of his wrist.
And just like that, the blood of Life and love was gone from his mouth. Everything stopped, from the beating in Eric's veins to his breathing. As his body was going away, bit by bit, cooling down, stiffening, there was only one thought that still anchored his soul to this world.
The boy knew Eric's name.
Which made him furious for some reason.
For it was not Life, but only Eric's fury that allowed him to straighten up, catch hold of the boy, with a scream of rage like on the battlefield. He seized the boy's hair with one big fist and looked him in the eye, roaring. In battle, this usually wringed some kind of reaction from his enemy, fear, or matching anger.
But the boy immediately burst into an uncontrollable fit of the giggles that unveiled his fangs, an upsetting image of innocence and bestiality. Eric was still hard inside of him. He put his light, fresh arms around Eric's neck, and started moving against him, lifting his hips up and down, laughing and gasping and hiccuping as he did so.
-Yes, the boy panted. You're beautiful.
Eric didn't know if this was life or death anymore, whether the demon had finally decided to take him down to Niffelheim with him or not. The pain was long gone and the pleasure he felt now couldn't be compared to anything he knew before. He couldn't stop himself, couldn't let go of the boy.
He fisted his hair once more, with renewed strength, as he thrusted, plunging inside the boy's body:
-Your... your name, he demanded.
His voice, he didn't recognize.
The boy answered:
-Godric.
And with the boy Godric's name haunting his last and first breath, Eric was dead, and born again.
**************************************
-All this for a colleague? For the sheriff of Area 9? Why?
Of course Bill wouldn't understand.
-Godric is my maker, Eric simply replied.
Author:
sevenswells Rating: NC-17 FTW!
Fandom/Pairing: HBO's True Blood, EricXGodric
Warnings/Spoilers: This ficlet is based on season 2, episode 5, Never let me go, during the flash-back where we learn more about Eric turning into a vampire (vikings and breeches FTW!!)
Also, if you don't know about True Blood but read this anyway, please note that I use Eric's words in the series when I qualify Godric as "just a little boy" or constantly refer to him as "the boy". This is NOT shota, Godric was supposed to be around 16 when he was turned into a vampire.
Comments: This is totally un-beta-ed (didn't even re-read myself), and it's badly written, and it sucks, but I really HAD to write it, because this pairing kicks some serious ass (even though I'm really, really not convinced by season 2 as a whole). "Centuries of faith and love between us", KYAH! Also, this is dedicated to
berylia , w00t!Not "just a little boy". More like a wild animal.
Eric's senses were already dulled by the coming of death, but he immediately felt his power, the sinewy muscles of the boy's supple, nervous body pressed across his own, tense like a bow. He was much smaller, but every inch of Eric's body gave under the pressure: the warrior was completely overpowered.
He'd gone directly for the throat. Then again, most animals do.
He drank big, long noisy gulps, lapping up his blood from time to time when he couldn't swallow it all at once. The pain didn't bother Eric anymore, it was the noises that disturbed him, really. Hearing his life going away so rapidly, with such gusto, how... disheartening. Maybe the boy sensed something, because he stopped, retreated a little, leaving Eric's neck wide open and now Eric felt the discomfort of the tickle caused by the stream of blood running down there, passing across his shoulder, he also felt the tingle of cold air gushing into the wound. Sword wounds, he could deal with. Hell, even this animal's bite, he could stand: give him hard and fast and cutting, it was all good, but this trickle-y-trickle and tingle-tingle-y was way too... shabby. Eric was starting to get pissed off, again.
"Quicker." was the only word that crossed his gritted teeth, since it literally tore his throat to speak up, but his tone was commanding enough, in spite of his weariness. And that, to Eric's greater ire, caused his torturer to chuckle.
-I know, he spoke, looking highly amused, but, oddly enough, his voice remained soft and concerned, full of empathy. I'm still trying to get the hang of this. Please...
He licked with a rough burning tongue at the large wound on Eric's flank, the one that was supposed to make him join Valhalla with a slow and painful death, but noble still, and moreover, rightfully acquired.
-...Bear with me, finished the boy.
He lifted Eric's hips, hoisting his gigantic body with ridiculous ease, as if he were doing some cheap whore from the southern coasts; he pushed his tunic away and, seizing one of Eric's legs, bit inside the thigh like in a ripe fruit and resumed his bloodsucking. Eric stopped himself from crying out, because his throat was already so sore it would add yet another petty pain to his shabby misery; he almost cried out of surprise, though, when the boy's hand grabbed his cock and started to masturbate him rapidly.
-...blood'll...come down... faster, explained the boy in between gulps, as an answer to the screaming thought in Eric's spinning head : What kind of insanity is this?
Pleasure coming and going, near, so much near death that his vision went black intermittently, and at the times he could see, everything was blurred, and woven with the thought that it was inappropriate, ludicrous, his dying body was not supposed to react like that. All of a sudden, he felt his forces abandoning him at last, in one go, faster then he'd thought the boy had been right. His shaft finally started to fall limp in the boy's hand.
Right then blood poured and filled his mouth, thick and tasting like metal : not his; it came from above, from the boy's wrist that hanged above his face, blood pouring right into his dry open mouth. He drank, even though he was too sore and exhausted to even gulp down. It seemed the blood found its own way through his body, and he felt Life coming back, his muscles weren't aching anymore, his vision went from blurry to focused, extremely sharp and precise. He violently seized the boy's wrist and brought it directly to his mouth, planting his teeth deep into the boy's flesh. He now drank with the same disgusting noises that irked him earlier, and as he drank larger and larger quantities of the boy's blood, he felt his senses expand, all at once. He felt something else, too, that pulled at his very core: his eyes couldn't leave the boy, whom, it seemed, was surrounded by -- no, it was more like, he, Eric, was projecting -- it was heat, coming back in his loins, it was strength, incredible strength, it was a bond, a gift, of himself, of the boy that filled his mouth. The answer was shockingly simple: he finally understood it could only be love. He loved this boy fiercely, with all his might, with all the new blood that beat inside and ran down his body.
His penis was erect again, he knew, since his whole body craved the boy. The latter had stopped drinking. He loosened his breeches and straddled Eric naked. Never letting go of the source of pouring blood and never stopping drinking, Eric felt himself slide inside the boy, who was taking him in, all of him in, as easily as he did everything else. He just let out a little sigh of contentment when Eric couldn't go further.
"Stop, now, Eric."
Came the soft voice with the order Eric couldn't take. Gently but firmly, he deprived Eric of his wrist.
And just like that, the blood of Life and love was gone from his mouth. Everything stopped, from the beating in Eric's veins to his breathing. As his body was going away, bit by bit, cooling down, stiffening, there was only one thought that still anchored his soul to this world.
The boy knew Eric's name.
Which made him furious for some reason.
For it was not Life, but only Eric's fury that allowed him to straighten up, catch hold of the boy, with a scream of rage like on the battlefield. He seized the boy's hair with one big fist and looked him in the eye, roaring. In battle, this usually wringed some kind of reaction from his enemy, fear, or matching anger.
But the boy immediately burst into an uncontrollable fit of the giggles that unveiled his fangs, an upsetting image of innocence and bestiality. Eric was still hard inside of him. He put his light, fresh arms around Eric's neck, and started moving against him, lifting his hips up and down, laughing and gasping and hiccuping as he did so.
-Yes, the boy panted. You're beautiful.
Eric didn't know if this was life or death anymore, whether the demon had finally decided to take him down to Niffelheim with him or not. The pain was long gone and the pleasure he felt now couldn't be compared to anything he knew before. He couldn't stop himself, couldn't let go of the boy.
He fisted his hair once more, with renewed strength, as he thrusted, plunging inside the boy's body:
-Your... your name, he demanded.
His voice, he didn't recognize.
The boy answered:
-Godric.
And with the boy Godric's name haunting his last and first breath, Eric was dead, and born again.
**************************************
-All this for a colleague? For the sheriff of Area 9? Why?
Of course Bill wouldn't understand.
-Godric is my maker, Eric simply replied.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-10-14 04:20 am (UTC)