InsaneJournal

WHO: Buffy Summers and Eric Northman
WHAT: It was bound to happen. Tiny mouthy blond and sexy vampire.
WHEN: Saturday night.
WHERE: Eric's mansion
RATING: Eventual RSmut, be aware!
STATUS: Complete.

There were a lot of things that could be said about the apocalypse. With the rules at home, full-fledged warfare was kept quiet, on the rare instances that it happened, but here, there was no containing the zombies. Civilians knew about it, though they were quick to blame it on anything but the supernatural, but that meant they didn't need to worry about who saw what. On the off-chance that the humans who witnessed it kicked up a fuss, Eric was more than happy to glamour them and send them on their way.

What he didn't like, however, was the sheer amount of zombie guts that managed to find their way onto almost every inch of him after a successful evening. It meant that he'd made a beeline for the shower as soon as he'd come home, staying there until the water ran clean, and even after it had gone cold.

The phone call, mere moments after he'd stepped out, had been somewhat surprising, but Buffy was coming back with Godric, and he'd never turn down a few hours in the basement with one of his favorite sparring partners. It simply meant that he pulled on a tracksuit, more suited for the amount of rolling they were likely to do, than the silk pajama pants he favored. His hair was still dripping a little, sticking to the back of his neck, when he met them at the front door.

Buffy liked Godric. She was never very comfortable with quiet people, although Oz helped temper that over the years, but he had this unusual sense of calm that made her feel calm too on the way over. He even gently tried to reassure her that humans sometimes needed time, like she didn't already know that, and she'd just weakly smiled at him. He said farewell at the door to both of them, apparently tired from the night, and Buffy was left alone with Eric. It'd been a tense time at Slayer Central, with lots of questions and arguing, and she came out of it practically radiating stress and a need for serious, instant violence.

She almost constantly wore sweats and a tank top now, because it was allowed her the more fluid of movements in her fighting outside, and they were easy to interchange and to clean. It wasn't just night for her that she came reeking, it was night and day, and she wasn't just tired physically, she was tired mentally and emotionally as well. Being the leader, the protector, the guardian, 24/7 was bound to kill her one of these days. She twisted blond hair up into a tight ponytail and hopped up to ruffle some of his wet hair. Yes, she had to hop, because he was just that much taller than her. Giant! "You're just going to have to take another one, you know."

Eric made a half-hearted effort to duck away from her ruffling (half-hearted only because if he truly wanted to get away, he could have, and he tried to play fair with friends), offering her a grin. "It will be quicker this time. I won't have to scrub away zombie entrails," he replied. She knew how that was, of course. Even under the scent of soap, there were some things that didn't go away, and his sensitive nose could still pick up traces of what they both tried so hard to scrub away. It would probably be weeks before any of them were rid of it completely.

With her that close, it was easy to sweep her up into his arms and make his way downstairs to the training room. He did it mostly because he could -- even with her Slayer strength, he was still stronger, and she was tiny. It was his way of getting back at her for messing with his hair. Once downstairs, though, he nudged the door shut with his foot and loosened his grip to allow her to get away.

"I know," she groaned. "Sometimes I fear that months after this is over I'll still be finding bits of zombies somehow. Like sand when you go to a beach." And the fact that it meant almost the same to her was just the sad tale of how gory it was to be a Slayer. If she had his keen sense of smell she'd probably spend an entire week in the shower just trying to scrub it off of her. Blech! She squeaked when he swept her up and barely had time to protest before they were already downstairs, squirming out of his arms and stumbling a few steps. Whoa. Dizzy.

"Holy crap, don't do that again," Buffy whined but managed to pull it together fast. Eric was definitely faster than her vamps, and that's part of why she liked working out with him. He held back and she knew it, but he also presented a bit more of a challenge. Unless Buffy wanted to kill, she was always holding back, and with him she could let just a bit more of that control go. She lifted a hand to rub her neck, rolling it to try and get some of the tension out of it before they began. At the moment she felt coiled tightly, and she fought better when loose. "Thanks for asking Godric to help. He's pretty awesome." She meant it too.

"Sorry. Sometimes I forget that you're not from my world." He knew, logically, the differences between the species of vampires, but she seemed so comfortable with them all -- him, the ones from her world -- that he forgot that sometimes, the differences were glaring. And maybe even a bit startling. Her approval of Godric made him smile again, and he inclined his head. "It was no problem. And yes, he is ... awesome." Even after a thousand years, it could easily be said that he still worshiped Godric. There were few things the older vampire could have done or asked of him that he'd have denied, and the love and respect was fairly obvious.

"How did everything go?" he couldn't help but ask. She was certainly tense -- he'd felt it in the line of her body when he'd brought her downstairs, and even Godric had seemed a little more subdued than usual. It meant maybe things hadn't gone as smoothly as they'd hoped.

"You don't have any Slayers in your world. We'd be out of a job if what you say about your laws and systems are correct." If only the same could be said in her world. The vampires never seemed to have any laws, although there were a few demon clans who did, and it was usually all a mess. She turned to face him and smiled at the expression on his face. "You two are tight, huh? It reminds me of me and Giles. Although obviously you guys have a more serious connection, being blood and all." Buffy had a reasonable idea of the way sires worked, and she knew that both Angel and Spike were very connected to their sires. It just wasn't in quite the same loving, respectful way she saw with the two of them.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, crossing arms against her chest. "Not as well as I wanted. I'm glad he's such an understanding person, because we're very wary of vampires in our house." Eric knew why, she'd told him enough before about the vampires in their world and how vicious, violent, and evil they could be. "Faith gave me a lot of trouble. I don't know why I'm so surprised. She's never given me anything but trouble." There was a bitterness in her voice she didn't like to hear, so she shook her head sharply to try and chase it away. "Not everyone took the offer, but I'm satisfied with the ones that did." Including her, of course. And she felt fine so far. Better than fine, really. She'd be feeling great if it wasn't for the rippling anger flaring at her.

"You'd be surprised. We take care of our own problems, of course, but I'm almost certain the human police would have a job for you. They've even hired vampires to help out." It was a pointless debate, but still a line of conversation that she'd opened. "He is my maker. It is everything to a vampire." Friend, brother, parent, child, lover -- it was all of them and none of them, and Eric realized there was no good way to describe it. It was something you either understood or you didn't, and you couldn't completely understand it unless you had experienced it.

Then she was speaking of Faith, and he found himself shaking his head. "She is jealous of you, and jealousy breeds conflict. It's fairly obvious to any outsider." He'd only met Faith a handful of times, and only in passing, but it had been clear, even then. "But it is her loss. I suspect she might be stubborn enough to refuse it, even if she ends up bitten. Do not concern yourself over the ones who didn't take it. They might change their minds. Or they won't. You've done all you can."

"I'd be a good cop. Sergeant Summers!" Buffy didn't think she'd be a good detective; she wasn't exactly great with the clues and the following information to a logical conclusion. But if they had a place where she could fight evil doers and enforce laws, she was their girl. Then again in her world she was not actually qualified for anything, except retail or working at - shudder - a fast food place. Been there, lived that horrifying lifestyle. When Wood gave her the job at the school ... well he gave it to her for the wrong reasons. She wasn't able to be anything other than the Slayer.

His words about Faith were not ones she exactly argued against, although she wasn't sure if it was true or not. He wasn't the first person to say Faith was jealous, but all she could wonder was of what? "I hate that she can still get a rise out of me. Everyone else I can deal with, but the second she starts something ...." Buffy ended up like this. Tense and defensive and uncertain. "I know, I know. I did what I could." It just wasn't enough. "Forget it. This is all stupid whiny Buffy." She smiled and crouched immediately into a fighting position, her little fists made and ready for him. He knew by now that her cavalier attitude and small build were all smoke screens for the warrior inside, and when words were pointless, only action could really help. "En garde. Or ... whatever!"

"Everyone's allowed to whine once in awhile. Especially when they're looking out for as many people as you are." Dropping into a stance was a pretty clear indication that the conversation was over -- at least for the moment -- and he gave her a long, appraising look. To go easy on her to start with?

He very quickly decided not, and maybe it was cheating, but he was suddenly right there, behind her, an arm looping around her waist to toss her (relatively lightly, all things considered) to the mat-covered floor. Best to start off without throwing punches, right? He thought so.

She didn't bother to answer because she was in predatory mode now, but the hazel eyes did acknowledge his words with a flicker of gratitude. Buffy was good now at keeping everything together in public and seeming the hard, controlled General, but those that knew her better saw through it. Having one part of her life being easy would be nice, for once.

Oh that was so cheating and she swiped a leg at his knees from the ground, spinning on the floor to roll back onto her feet in one swift and fluid motion. Now she felt like things were smoother, comfortable. This was where Buffy lived, and she no longer minded being an adrenaline junkie. "You are such a cheater," she said with a flash of a feral grin. Once he was steady on his feet again she went at him more intensely, shooting and dodging punches like they were in an elaborate orchestrated dance.

When Eric went down, he went down hard, though it only took him a moment to recover his footing. "Nobody ever said I fight fair, you know," he had to point out, and then they were moving, trading blows at rapid-fire speed. It was easy to find a rhythm, kicking and punching and blocking, and the minutes stretched out.

Eventually, he let a punch connect, a sacrifice in order to get a firm grip on her upper arm, which he used to flip her over onto her back. He backed off, grinning, and there was just a hint of fang indenting his lower lip. (He didn't mean anything by it, and there was no threat there; it just tended to happen when he was having fun.) "You have to be faster than that," he didn't resist the urge to taunt, though the throw had mostly been to give her a chance to breathe for half a second.

"Like I'd expect you to fight fair anyway," she laughed back. There were some people that just were fun to fight with, and Eric was one of them. He just made it entertaining and fluid and never let up on her more than he had to. One of the problems with training against Spike or Angel was that their emotions often got in the way. It could be construed differently, either a punch would be an insult or they'd hold back or ... well, the other or. It just was never simple. And right then Buffy could really use simple.

She didn't celebrate her punch, or not really all that much, because then he had her arm and she inwardly winced. When she slammed onto her back she had no choice to breath since any wind she did have was knocked out of her. She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of lying there too long, putting her hands behind her head and pushing, back flipping up and onto her feet again. "You suck." Her grin was an answer and she went back to him, throwing a few close punches and then feinting to the left. One foot was placed firmly on the floor and she twirled into a side kick to his stomach, kicking him backwards.

"Well, yes, vampire." Lucky for him, he didn't need to breathe, which meant quipping while sparring was easy. Of course, it meant his attention was semi-divided, and he fell for it when she went to the left, and a moment later, he found himself on his back on the floor, staring up at her. Since he was already down there, he found there was only one way to go: he swung his leg out, catching her behind the knee, and bringing her down with him.

Jerk, because she loved to quip and it was nearly impossible when really going at it against him. Buffy sometimes could just make a sarcastic comment from her expression or eyes alone, but it wasn't the same. She knew what he was going to do next and tried to back up before he could, but the bastard was fast. When she crashed down she angled herself specifically to land on top of him, pinning his arms down to the ground and sitting high enough up that he couldn't use his legs to twist under her either. "Slayer," she replied with a smirk.

There were any number of methods he could have used to throw her off, most of which would have been dubbed cheating, but instead, he settled back, raising a brow. She could have the upperhand for the moment. Besides, he wasn't exactly complaining about being exactly where he was at the moment. "Touche." Pause. "Are you going to let me up?"

She blinked, a little caught off guard that he didn't throw her off or try to fight for dominance like usual. He was probably doing it on purpose, so she kept her hands on him. "Maybe, maybe not. Why don't you make me?" In the midst of a fight like this her eyes often became a charged, grassy green, challenging and bright.

"If you insist." Even without leverage, it was easy, once he put his mind to it, to free his arms, and from there, it was a simple matter of placing his hands on her hips, and bucking up, and shifting her weight to the side. But if she wanted to play that game, he was more than happy to oblige, and he followed her, using his own weight, rather than strength or leverage, to pin her to the floor. "I think I like this position a bit better," he mused, raising up just enough to grin down at her.

Okay, maybe she was being stupid. She knew daring him was a bad idea and would get her into trouble, but Buffy did that sometimes. She didn't fight too much when he twisted her over and sighed, lying deceptively still beneath him. The bucking up did not do good things to her calm. It was no secret to anyone that sometimes the fighting and the exhilaration drummed up her blood until she was, well, excitable. He'd mocked her for it not too long ago, and so she rolled her eyes impetuously but didn't struggle. Yet. "Don't like a woman on top, huh?" She quipped and tested his grip on her wrists, eyes narrowing slightly.

"What can I say? I like being in the driver's seat." He might have teased her over her ... excitement, but with his body pressed so close to hers (all in an effort to keep her pinned until she conceded, of course!), he would have been hard pressed to deny his own excitement. Part of it had to do with her quickly beating heart, the promise of fresh, hot blood, but most of it was her. There was an attraction there, no doubt. If Eric had a type, it was petite, feisty women, and Buffy certainly fit the bill.

The question was, what to do about it? Damned if he knew.

Oh hell. Typical Buffy. Put her in a room working out with a hot vampire, and it was only a matter of time before she ended up in this position. She'd given up on feeling guilty about being attracted to them awhile ago, because what could she do really? It just was fact. It was the thrill and the danger and their serious sexiness, but it was also that they were her equal. She didn't have to be careful with them. That was understandably appealing to a lonely girl who could never find one of her own who could match her. She felt him against her and he wasn't exactly pulling away, and her thoughts went immediately to Spike. They weren't together, not really. They were still in their complicated little shuffle dance where nothing real was happening, and it was killing her.

And she knew it must be killing Eric too, because he was in the same position with Sookie. Loving someone and for one reason or another just not being able to be with them. "So now you're in the driver's seat," she conceded quietly. Swallowing hard, greenish eyes not hiding much from him. They were speculative, curious, and yeah, lustful. "What're you going to do?"

He loosened his grip on her wrists, giving it a moment of debate before he released his hold entirely, though he didn't make any move to climb off of her. "I think ... I'm going to do whatever you'll let me," he said after a long, internal debate. Was it cheating if the girl you were in love with barely even tolerated you? Being in the same city with a Sookie that would have thrown him under a bus given half-a-chance was difficult, made even more difficult by the fact that even the undead had hormones. His own rules, rules that ensured their safety, meant that he denied half his nature at any given time, and to not even have the release that a warm body in his bed provided? Made it next to impossible to stand.

But once a decision was made, he didn't stop to overanalyze it or think about it. His hand moved to skim along her side, fingertips delving under the hem of her shirt. If she wanted to stop him, now was the time.

She appreciated that he was moving slowly enough that she could break away if she wanted to. Buffy only had sex when it was part of a relationship (even disturbing ones) or intention to have one, so the idea of 'friends with benefits' hadn't entirely crossed her mind. It had, maybe, but she'd ignored it. Now however she couldn't see the problem. She liked Eric. They got along well and understood one another, and it wouldn't be a big deal. She knew about Sookie and he knew she had a complicated situation herself, so there were no lies here. And she needed it, god how she needed release of some sort.

She wasn't stupid. There would be consequences. She just didn't really care. Her freed hands immediately lifted to the zipper of his tracksuit jacket and she slowly pulled it down, eyes keeping on him the entire time in case he shied away. When it was open she ran one hand down his bare chest, the cold skin so familiar to her. Then confident it was at least somewhat okay, she propped herself up on elbows and leaned forward, brushing her lips against his.

He didn't shy away from her touch, though he did shift a little to wiggle out of the jacket once the zipper was undone, letting it fall by the wayside. Warm hands against his skin was enough to make him shiver and draw an involuntary breath. Her lips on his signaled go, and he curled a hand around her neck, drawing her up so that he could kiss her with enough force to bruise. Centuries of practice meant he could explore her mouth with his tongue without drawing blood from the fangs that he couldn't have tucked away at that point, even if he wanted to.

Eventually, he released her and broke the kiss so that he could rise up off of her enough that he could tug her tank-top up and over her head, dropping it with his jacket. He dipped his head to run his tongue along her collarbone, his hand coming up to palm her breast through the fabric of her bra. Taking it slow was torture, but it was a torture he didn't mind.

Buffy only did tentative at first, but all it took was a sign of passion from Eric and she shed off the insecurity without a second's pause. She met his kiss with equal fervor, an arm reaching up to grip around the back of his neck so she could hold herself up close against him. She'd only felt fangs a few times in these moments, and although at first it startled her, she quickly forgot about it and let her tongue explore him equally. She wasn't kidding herself; she knew exactly what he was, and if she hadn't accepted that, she wouldn't be doing this.

When he pulled back she sucked in a ragged breath, not so happy with the change but that was tossed aside when she realized what he was doing. Arms moved to let him slide it off easily, her head dipping back when his tongue touched her collarbone and she didn't even bother to stop the relieved moan from spilling out. He probably didn't see the smile because he was busy, but while he was distracted she moved a knee up and pressed it against his chest, following swiftly before he had a chance to fight back. This turned him over onto his back, because what could she say, she liked driving too. To make it up to him she unsnapped her own bra and tossed it to the side, leaning down to not-at-all-innocently bite his shoulder before slipping her mouth along his neck.

Eric was surprised, but not disappointed, by the sudden turn of events. He didn't bother to try to stifle the happy groan -- because, let's be frank, in a nest of vampires, every one of them could hear what was going on in the house at any point in time if they bothered to listen, but after the first year or so, they learned to pretend to ignore it -- and he reached for her, drawing her back over him. If she wanted to be in control, he was fine with that, for the moment.

His arms curled around her and his hands slid along the smooth line of her back, down to her ass, then back up. No point in lingering for too long. If she could tease, then so could he.

Buffy could pretend she was surprised, but she really wasn't, at least not her part of it. This was basically her thing. She was only surprised that she wasn't backing down, and even more surprised that he wasn't. It was a good, good thing. He wasn't taking back control immediately and this gave her the chance to explore. Eric was a very handsome man and he was at least twice her size, so there was a lot to check out. For instance, bouncing a quarter of his abs did come to mind when she lowered herself down to trace the lines with her tongue, wondering if there was such a thing as an ugly vampire where he came from. She saw the others. Even the fangs were hot. Damnit.

When she came back up to his mouth she arched her back so her front rubbed provocatively against his. With her knees on either side of him there was no doubt in her mind that he wanted her and wanted this, grinding down against him and grinning against his lips as she dipped down for another kiss.

Oh, that was just plain evil, but two could play that game. He tightened his grip on her hips, pulling her down a bit more firmly, and struggled against her to sit up, breaking the kiss. It put them in the perfect position for him to kiss her collarbone, to trail his mouth along her shoulder, and then to dip his head down to nip at her breast. His fangs pressed in, but didn't break the skin, when he sucked her nipple into his mouth, rolling it against his tongue.

Buffy almost laughed at his reaction, but she gasped against his mouth when he pulled her down harder. Then he was sitting up and she was more comfortably straddling him, sitting easily in his lap. The collarbone was one of the perfect spots for her, and she was basically putty in his hands by the time he was at her nipple. This time the gasp only turned into a sharp moan, moving her hips against his and then letting this move her up in a clear sign for more. Her hands moved to his broad shoulders and she dug nails in, hard enough for him to feel it but not hard enough to make a mark. "Eric," she murmured in encouragement.

He smirked against her breast -- putty in his hands, indeed -- and it was fairly easy for him to shift, to reverse their positions in the space it took for her to breathe, laying her gently on her back and kneeling between her thighs. Her other breast was sadly unattended, and he couldn't have that, so he switched, lavishing it with the same attention the other had received, even as his thumbs hooked into the waistband of her pants, easing them down.

Damnit, before she even thought about it he was turning their positions again, and she pouted prettily. Not that the pout lasted since he was making her body buzz with delight, and she momentarily allowed her eyes to close and just to enjoy the feeling. Of course he was good, he was a thousand years old. She moved her hips up so he could pull the pants off them, kicking it off at the ankles, and then her legs showed off an impressive flexibility. She reached down to pull out the drawstring with nimble finds and used her feet to push them down his thighs, although since he was on his knees he would have to do the rest. Her hand was free now to touch and stroke him, fingers wrapping around the base and experimentally moving from top to bottom. Nice. Guess he really didn't need that enlarger at all.

He shimmied the rest of the way out of the pants as soon as he was able, eyes closing as a shudder ran through him at her touch. It had been far too long, even though in reality, only a few weeks, and he allowed himself a moment to enjoy the feeling before lightly brushing her hand aside. "You've been driving me crazy for weeks," he muttered against her skin, even as he moved, trailing his mouth from her breasts down her belly. He bypassed her groin entirely, settling on elbows and pressing a kiss to her inner thigh, high up enough to tease.

The whole time her hair was up and getting more straggled by the moment, so she finally just tugged it out of the pony tail and let the blond waves free. This was definitely not the time to be restrained in any way. "Tell me about it," she laughed breathlessly, squirming the lower his mouth got. Then the bastard was messing with her on purpose and she slapped a hand on his shoulder, still chuckling. "That gift of yours didn't help in the least." Buffy wasn't usually one for foreplay, but he was already driving her crazy so why the hell not. Her legs spread a little more in clear invitation, fingers moving from his smooth back into his hair.

Part of it was about foreplay, but a good portion of it was about making sure that she was loose and limber. Some women liked a bit of pain in the heat of the moment, and it was near unavoidable with him, but he certainly didn't want to cause any lasting damage. "I'm sorry I don't sparkle," he teased, grinning up at her. "I'll do my best to make it up to you." He pressed another light kiss to her thigh (the blood there was incredibly tempting, but he wouldn't press his luck, not yet) before he touched his tongue to her.

The scent was one thing, but the taste was incredible. Most people said vampires lost their sense of it -- which was true, to some extent. Solid food all tasted the same, bland and unappetizing, but he'd found over the years that women? Were almost better than any of the foods he'd eaten during the month he'd been alive. Which was perhaps why he enjoyed this so much. In some ways, it was a sensory overload, and he couldn't help the low, appreciative hum. Delicious.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "If I wanted a sparkling penis I would've ...." whatever she was about to say was completely forgotten because he stopped teasing. She was currently very angry with herself for waiting this long, if this was what she was missing. Buffy wasn't exactly inexperienced with sex, she had two somewhat long term partners she tried all kinds of things with, but it still did not come easily to her. The letting go part. She was required to keep it together most of the time, so when she actually could shed off the control and have some fun? It was a saving grace. Something she could easily get addicted to, if she wasn't too careful.

"God, Eric," she moaned and tried not to grip his hair too hard, but it was difficult when he was setting her body on fire. Small waves of pleasure kept rocking up her spine, spurring him on with little movements of her hips and content noises. Eyes were shut tightly as she let him take control, but the higher she climbed the sharper her movements got and the tighter fingers became against his head. When her gaze snapped open it was pure feral want and she tugged very clearly on his hair. When his head lifted she was grinning and pulled the same move he had earlier, bucking up and pushing his shoulders back so she was shifting the power again. She knew he wouldn't like it so she endeared herself to him by immediately kissing down his stomach and sucking the tip of him into her hot, greedy mouth.

He might have complained about it, if given half a chance, but then her mouth was on him and any thoughts of complaint flew out the window as his head hit the mat. What she lacked in experience (which was a good thing -- Eric wasn't particularly fond of women who had amassed as much experience in a single human lifetime as vampires did over centuries), she more than made up for in enthusiasm, and he couldn't bite back the moan. "Good lord," he groaned out, but he wasn't content to simply lay back and enjoy the ride.

He was careful not to jostle her when he reached for her, shifting her around so that he could return the favor. Being undead had its advantages -- particularly in the not needing to breathe area -- and he was more than happy to dive right back in, working her with his thumb as he licked and sucked at her, determined to make her scream.

Buffy had her shy moments when it came to sex, but she was usually up for experimentation if given the option. This was not something she'd ever tried, but she'd heard of it before. He didn't seem to mind that she was certainly not as experienced as he was - how many people could be? - and she was reassured by that throaty groan. Besides ... he could always teach her what he liked. Mrrrowr.

When he first shifted her around she wasn't certain, but then his mouth was on her again and she moaned. It came out muffled and vibrated around him, taking him a little deeper and setting a hand firmly at the base to keep a hold. The other hand's job was to try to keep her from collapsing on him, touching the floor beneath them. Her hand and mouth worked in unison, stroking and sucking in an attempt to work him up to her level, but it really wasn't fair since he already had her at a disadvantage there. Not that she was complaining. Oh no. Right then she wasn't capable of speech even if she wanted to, because he hit a particular sweet spot and she did exactly what he wanted. She screamed and didn't care at all that it was unfair, because then she was filled with an intense bliss. Fine. He won first. Her hand still worked against him involuntarily, the sucking in of air actually going for her since it hollowed her mouth around him tightly.

He barely gave her a chance to come down before he was working her back up again (sometimes, it was a game to him to see exactly how many orgasms he could coax out of a willing body), but, oh, she was good. He wasn't a screamer by nature -- in fact, Eric was mostly very quiet about everything -- but he had to pause, lifting her off of him just enough to give her a low warning, "If you keep doing that, I'm going to go." Not that he'd complain. In fact, he didn't complain when, less than half a minute later, he was true to his word, muscles spasming in release.

Ha, turnabout was fair play. He couldn't see her smirk but he might be able to feel it against his most sensitive skin. The warning didn't seem to bother her at all, and she only grew in confidence knowing that she was giving as good as she got. She teased him more just to irritate him, sliding her tongue in a languid circle at the tip, and then took him as deep as she could reasonably take and giving a low moan. That seemed to do it and his warning did prepare her, so she was ready and swallowed. Twisting around so she was right side up on him again, legs sprawled on other side of him, she licked on the part of his throat where he'd have a pulse if his heart was beating. "I'm guessing," she drawled and sank her entire body down on his so there was a centimeter of space between them, "that like other vampires you recover quickly." Buffy bit down slowly and carefully on his bottom lip, and she rolled her body against him from top to bottom. "What do I win if I'm right?"

"What do you think you get?" he asked with a low laugh. He caught her face between his hands, kissing her. It was a complete turn-on that he could still taste himself in her mouth, much as he imagined the reverse was true, and he didn't have time to go soft before he was becoming visibly excited again. Eric didn't resist the urge to rub against her belly, and a moment later, he rolled, flipping them both again so that she was on her back.

He rose onto his knees, one hand on the floor for balance, and used the other to get everything properly aligned. He rocked his hips forward, pressing against her, but not yet making the move to go all the way. "Ready?" he had to ask, just to make sure. He just didn't want her to tense up and hurt herself.

"I'm hoping something that doesn't sparkle," she replied with a grin. The kiss was eagerly returned and yes, it was more than a little hot to taste one another on their joined tongues. Not that she could admit that because it would sound icky out loud. Buffy didn't even mind when he rolled on top, because she'd get him back for that eventually. Later on she might not be so willingly pliant to his dominance. For now it wasn't a problem to lie back and sneak a look at his body over her, impressed even now. Maybe she'd get a chance to really look at another time, because let's face it, he was kind of worth staring at. Buffy might have a thing for vampires, but they were all undeniably hot!

His concern for her was actually sweet, something she didn't expect at all, but she understood why. She was half his size and then some, but her sharp intake of breath when she felt him against her wasn't from fear. It was definitely anticipation. Her only warning to him was a crooked little smile and an amused glimmer in bright eyes, and then she pushed her hips up against him and he was inside her before he knew it. She adjusted quicker than any other human might have, since it was in her bloody to take what most people could not, and one hand ran over the back that she was so fond of. It was nice. The other caressed his jaw, helping him meet her eyes. "I'm a Slayer," she murmured, "I won't break."

"I'm beginning to realize that," Eric replied in kind, taking a moment to become accustomed to it. Having the most sensitive part of him suddenly enveloped in warm, wet flesh was always a bit disorienting, always nearly enough to send him over the edge again, but a thousand years had given him enough control that it only took a few seconds to adjust. He droppd his head to mouth at her collarbone, fangs just barely pressing in but not enough to break the skin as he began to move, slowly at first, then with a little more vigor as he found a rhythm that seemed to work.

If she was honest with herself, the best part about sleeping with vampires - and yes, she was almost an expert on it by now - was she didn't have to worry about hurting them. Riley was a nice, strong guy, but she still had to be careful and never let him know that she was. Even in climax if she pushed up against him too hard she could've broken something. In a way that was what was appealing about her to vampires too: she could take it and she was warm and alive. Kind of a heady combination. He felt amazing, and Buffy was no passive lover, she was moving in time with him, spurring him on as legs wrapped around his waist tightly. Her hand moved to the back of his neck and pulled him up to face her, kissing him violently.

He couldn't help the low, plaintive whine when she drew him away from the so-tempting vein at her throat, though it was swallowed by her mouth on his. He didn't mind a distraction too terribly much, though, and he was more than happy to kiss her, biting at her lower lip as they moved. She was right, though -- there were few humans who could take the physical punishment of sleeping with a vampire to the point that he didn't have to tone everything down. Not that he usually minded, of course; it went with the territory, but it was a nice change of pace, and groaned against her lips as he slid a hand beneath her to control the pace a little more, giving him the chance to slide nearly all the way out, and thrust back in as far as she could take him.

"Jesus," she couldn't help by mutter when he slid out and in like that. In fact it was amazing she could think of words, because it pretty much exploded brain waves instantly. Her hand on his back spasmed and she drew her nails on his skin, gripping him. One heel dug into his ass and pulled him to her a little faster, not afraid to get demanding when he was doing things like that to her. Buffy did feel the need to flip him over, to ride him into oblivion, but she was letting him take the control here, and boy did it feel great. The next thrust he did moved her entire body up a few inches, gasping out of their kiss, and she growled into his ear. "Keep doing that."

It wasn't often that Eric had a problem with languages, but right then, with his head so cloudy with the feel of her, even his native tongue would have taken a bit more brainpower than he possessed. It took him a moment to register the fact that she'd said something, and a moment more to mentally translate it. "Wouldn't dream of doing anything else," he muttered, and the words came slowly, followed by something that was likely old Swedish.

Arching his back allowed him to dip his mouth to her breasts again. They were lovely, admittedly, but it was the strong heartbeat that kept drawing him back there, though he had presence of mind not to bite. Not yet, not without permission. He skimmed the blunt edge of his teeth across her nipple, muffling a groan with her skin. "Please." It came out in Swedish first, before he remembered his English, and he knew he was begging. He didn't care.

Buffy wasn't used to feeling such camaraderie in the bedroom. There were moments with Riley and Spike when they were able to laugh at things, but it took awhile before the shyness eased away in her relationships. With Eric they were already friends that liked to tease, so it seemed natural to laugh at him. Just a little strange in a moment of blind passion, with him buried deep inside of her. She heard the Swedish and noted it away for another question, but right now? Kinda busy.

When she felt the fangs on her breast she blinked through the hazy bliss and tried to look down at him. It didn't make sense at first, what he was asking, but slowly it dawned on her and dismay flickered upon her face. There was only one vampire she ever allowed to bite her by choice, and that was Angel. She'd heard before there was a thing about it with vampires and sex. Even with her trust of Eric, it was a lot to ask of a Slayer, but it was the please that did it. He was asking, not demanding or forcing, and when he moved against her again, she felt herself reaching the peak and couldn't muddle through why not. "Yes," she whispered to him, since he needed real confirmation. Her nails bit into his skin in slight anticipation. "Not the neck," was all she said, because explaining that would not be fun.

He rolled his eyes up to look at her, momentarily unsure, but she seemed certain enough. It wasn't that he wanted to turn her into a buffet; it was the taste he craved, the taste and the trust. The neck and the thigh were the easiest places to draw from, but one left marks, and the other was inconvenient. The breast, for a true feeding, wasn't ideal, but it was good enough for what he needed.

He slid out, caught her on the thrust back in, using that as a distraction from the inevitable pain, fangs finally breaking the skin to either side of her nipple. His tongue flicked acoss her nipple as the blood filled his mouth, and damn, if it wasn't enough to nearly send him over the edge right then and there. He shuddered, barely clinging to his control, though he had the presence of mind to adjust his mouth, to withdraw his fangs from her flesh. The bleeding slowed, then stopped near immediately, thanks to some combination of his saliva and the blood she'd taken earlier.

It would be wrong to say she didn't tense at least partially, but pain wasn't new to her and she was curious. Intensely, morbidly curious. It always came down to blood, and she'd be lying her own blood wasn't rushing at the moment. Nor that the feel of his fangs on her skin didn't turn her on, because Buffy was just messed up like that. Oh well. She'd embrace the messed up if it meant having amazing sex with handsome, willing friends.

The thrust did exactly what he intended because she was too busy rearing from that, and when she realized he had already bitten her, all she could feel was pleasure and a weird pain-in-a-good-way warmth in her breast. Slayer blood was said to be incredible for vampires, and she wondered if he felt that way. She might've asked dreamily, but then she found her entire body tensing almost like in agony, and her second orgasm hit her suddenly and wildly. She'd been dancing on the edge so long that it took her by surprise, and she threw her head back and thrust up into him, pushing her breast closer and inadvertently taking him so deep he was pressed entirely to the hilt.

Between the warmth of her blood in his belly -- and it was incredible, there was no denying that, though he lacked the ability, at the moment, to analyze it -- and the feel of her clenching around him, his control shattered a moment later and he tensed, followed quickly by the relaxation of release. He drew an unnecessary breath, letting it out slowly against her skin, raising up off of her enough that he could give her a long, appraising look. "Wow." He didn't yet make any move to separate, to get off of her, though that didn't stop him from giving a few teasing thrusts, simply enjoying the warmth of her.

It took her several moments to come down off that particular high, and she still felt a little like she was floating. Everything kind of seemed easier and nicer all of a sudden. Pft. Apocalypse. Zombies. Whatever. Her legs around his waist relaxed a little but stayed raised up, eyes a crystal green when they opened to look up at him. If she had any blood to rush up to her face she'd probably blush at his one very ego-pumping word, but she was flushed all over as it was. "Yeah?" Buffy's grin was lazy and satisfied, running her hand through his hair. "I'll second that wow, and raise it an awesome." He was thrusting again and she whimpered, knowing it probably wouldn't take long for either of them to start again. She laughed throatily and leaned up to kiss him in a deceptively innocent way. "Could we move this to the bedroom? Because I'm not anywhere near done with you." Hey, if she was getting a free pass, she was going to take as much as she could out of it! She just didn't want her back to hate her for it later on.

"That means moving, doesn't it?" Aw, and he sounded so disappointed about that, particularly when he was plenty comfortable right where he was. But the promise of more made him rethink his position, and he was on his feet before she could blink, lightly pulling her up by her hand, then sweeping her up into his arms. Logically, he could get them there faster -- likely with fewer questions asked about their nudity, and he leaned down to whisper into her ear, "Actually, I think I have a better idea. Have you seen my bath tub?"