Eric nudged Godric. “She’s at it again,” he whispered as he glanced toward his Maker to make sure he was watching her progress instead of pining after his Cara.
Godric obligingly looked over at the busy writer, and allowed a brief grin to grace his firm lips. “Ah, yes, so she is.”
The Other Eric, the one fervently wishing the short round brunette was writing about himself, snorted. “She had best come up with something good. Can you believe it? She’s got me writing letters to Sookie. Letters! Gagh,” he spat. He wanted action and romance, and while he doubted that the so-called writer would let him, he wanted to command Sookie to look at him while he poked and rubbed her internal love cave until she screamed his name. He loved it when she screamed…it made him feel like such a man. He sighed his impatience dramatically.
The Other Godric, the one on the back burner for so very long, scoffed at the other vampires. He had been patiently waiting to continue his own story with his own Cara for months upon months now. The waiting was killing him, but he kept a firm hold… anticipating was, indeed, half the pleasure. “Patience, my dear friends, patience. She is only one woman with many more responsibilities than just writing her stories, or “fics” as I’ve heard them called. You must allow her flighty muses a chance to settle down.”
For the millionth time that night, Other Eric once again wished that this Godric of such respect and fame had been his Maker. He would readily admit that he was thoroughly envious of that Eric for having such a kind, generous, knowledgeable and respectful Master. The ancient vampire had such a presence, such a personal power about himself, and had a reputation the world ’round for being calm, cool, and collected.
Ah well, he considered, at least this idiot writer, who had him writing fucking LETTERS of all things, was attempting to write his story. That Eric could fuck off for the time being. And this writer did have a reputation for giving her stories “happily ever afters” – a nice consolation for having to wait for so damn long.
The gathered vampires turned en masse at the growled explicative, and all but one was alarmed to see who had joined them in their collective waiting. However, seeing a third and a forth Eric in their midst didn’t surprise them a bit.
They all nodded warily and shuffled a bit to make room for the tall blond torturer.
“Andre,” welcomed one of the Erics as he shoved a warm bottle of Royalty Blended toward the slightly younger vampire. At least this writer had the sense to provide them with something better than that putrid True Blood everyone faked a rave about but no one believed.
“She’s on a new story? Really? Like she wasn’t slack-assing on enough already,” Andre ranted furiously. “I’ve got too much to do for her to be wasting her time like this! I have a fight to prepare for, a kingdom to take over, my Mate to prepare to take her rightful place as my queen, and my normal duties to perform! I don’t have time for this shit!” He flung himself into his seat and banged his fist on the table.
Other Godric just smiled in understanding as he placed a restraining hand on Andre’s clinched fist. “Calm yourself or risk worrying your Mate, young one. Your time will come.”
The Erics watched as Andre did, in fact, successfully attempt to calm himself. Shocked, a couple of the Erics wondered just how much power this Mate of his held over him. No one controlled Andre except Queen Sophie-Anne, and even she worked “with” him, never “over” him.
The writer once again drew their attention as she rose to make herself another cup of coffee. Well, Godric didn’t notice…he had returned to contemplating just how to get into his Cara’s pants. Although it was hit and miss there for a few minutes, he had truly enjoyed spending time with her in her apartment, and she seemed to have enjoyed it, too. Was it too soon to fuck her yet? They had talked, after all. He really wanted to fuck her. And drink her, too, but mainly he just wanted to thrust his hard, cool man part into her soft, warm, wet woman part over and over until they screamed each other’s names. Then he wanted to do it again. And again…
Eric smirked as he gave up on trying to keep his beloved Maker’s attention focused, then sighed as he thought once again about this Sookie who was driving him crazy. Why couldn’t she just admit that she wanted to fuck him as much as he wanted to fuck her? Well, maybe not quite as much, after all he did have more than a thousand years of sexual experience and knew much more than she the pleasures that could be gotten from flesh rubbing against flesh. He hated having to admit that he was just as captivated by her fire and her loving generosity as he was with her luscious body.
As the writer finally went back to her seat with two cups of coffee – did she really need one for each hand? – one of the newest Erics began thinking about his own problems with his own Maker who was curiously absent from this impromptu meeting. He had to do something about rectifying the situation with the FoTS, and he had to be sure that Raban, he mentally cursed the name, paid for his crimes. The only reason he was wasting time watching the slow-ass writer was because the upcoming chapter, the one everyone was waiting on, was her responsibility instead of the other co-writer of his story. He admired how well the two writers had managed to work together, and hoped they were serious about giving his story a happy ending.
Finally! Success! Her pudgy little fingers were actually banging out words on that rather dusty keyboard! Ahhh! A whole page! She’d managed to write a whole page! There was progress being….shit.
Annnnd, here comes a cat. Admittedly he was a beautiful cat, very large with long solid-black fur and a fox-like tail, but damn, he couldn’t entertain his own self to save his life, could he?
Seeing how things were going, Other Godric shook his head and rose. “Erics, Andre, my son,” he nodded toward his own Child silently observing the proceedings. He was happily Mated with his own Sookie, but didn’t mind providing silent support to the Erics, and others, who weren’t yet so lucky.
“I bid you adieu. My story is many more months away, so I shall return to my own Cara. Godric,” he called, hoping to gain the ancient vampire’s attention, “whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.” He chuckled at his likeness’s guilty reaction. “Your Cara, if she is anything like mine, will always surprise you and keep you on your toes. Give her time, let her come to know who you really are, and her love will heal all your wounds. You may trust me, and yourself, on this. Treat her with patience, complete honesty, and respect. Allow your humor to shine through, and your intelligence. She will amaze you.” He held the other vampire’s eye long enough to be sure that his warning and advice were accepted before turning to the vampires not his own.
“Erics? The same advice applies to you, and to you, as well, Andre. Always respect your women, treat them well and with loyalty, compassion, and sensuality. Never command or order them for they will not accept your domination. They are your equals and you will fair best if you remember that at all times.” When he sensed their discomfort at his last statement, he paused to regain their complete attention.
“Yes, you are older and much more experienced than they are. Yes, it is your responsibility to protect them, and to guide and educate them about your world. You will do this in a loving manner,” he commanded strongly, “because you love them, not to own or command them in any way. Yes,” he snickered at their confused and disbelieving expressions, “I said “love” because that is exactly what you feel for your ladies. You will see,” he assured them softly.
“Take your time, use your words, and never order, compel, or belittle them. Listen to them, and ensure that they hear you and your words. Remember that this is all new to them, and allow them the chance to grow and bask in your respectful admiration.”
With a nod, the ancient vampire was gone.
Slightly shocked and with much to consider, the other vampires slowly departed, each lost in his own thoughts.
The writer grinned.
The muses drank her other cup of coffee and apologized for biting her thumb.