This is just a little one-shot comedy/parody I wrote to provide a “missing scene” from the Episode in Season 2 called “Scratches.” This occurs after Dr. Ludwig has healed Sookie of the Maenad scratch and after Bill is dead for the day. It was originally written to make my partner in crime—Scorp (CDB33)—laugh. I found it in an “abandoned” file this morning, got inspired, reworked it, and thought I would post it for kicks.
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Only the original characters and original plot are the creation of the author; however, no profit has been made from this work. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. The characters and events in this story have been inspired by True Blood and The Southern Vampire Mystery series, as well as the Hagar the Horrible comics.
I’m proud to report that this little parody was nominated for a You Want Blood Award (2014)! Thanks!
Eric motioned for Pam to go to her coffin with a flick of his wrist.
“You’re not coming?” she asked, looking down at the human woman lying on the table.
“Soon,” Eric said.
“Can I stay too then?” She licked her lips.
“No!” he thundered. “Leave us.”
Now petulant, Pam walked out of the room, mumbling about owed shoes and the selfishness of makers.
Eric just chuckled.
As soon as his child was in the basement, Eric looked down at Sookie’s unconscious body. Her bare back was still stained with her own blood, and his fangs clicked down. He could see the swell of her ass under the blanket that was covering her.
“Mmmm,” he sounded as he took in her luscious form more closely. He wanted to take it in even more―to study all of Sookie’s assets.
Eric was startled as the proverbial devil appeared on his shoulder, encouraging him to take advantage of Sookie’s unconscious state; however, his devil was in the form of the stereotypical Viking the idiotic humans always pictured—complete with a horned helmet and a raping/pillaging mentality. In fact, the only difference between the “devil” and Hagar the Horrible was that it had Eric’s face.
Ironically enough, the “angel” which had appeared on his other shoulder was also in the form of a Viking—except it was the kind of Viking his human father had raised him to be, the honorable kind that would sack only the villages of their enemies and bed only the thralls who were willing. And—though clearly horny—that Viking certainly wasn’t wearing a horned helmet!
Even as the devil/Viking encouraged Eric to pillage at will, the angel/Viking reminded Eric that he wanted Sookie to choose him, not to be repulsed by him. He also reminded Eric that there was no way in hell Sookie wouldn’t know it if he did pillage her. She would awaken sore in all the “right” places, and even though she might be initially stirred by the feelings he left behind in her body, she would soon hate him for taking advantage of her in her unconscious state.
“Plus,” Angel-Viking said reasonably, “just because you’re a vampire doesn’t mean you have to be some kind of perverted necrophiliac!”
Both Eric and Devil-Viking arched their brows and looked at Angel-Viking incredulously.
“He’s a vampire who has slept with other vampires! Plus, he has an ego bigger than his cock!” Devil-Viking pointed out. “If that’s not a necrophiliac, I don’t know what one is!”
“He does have a point,” Eric stated, looking back down at Sookie. He almost growled because of her beauty and the arousal she stirred within him.
Angel-Viking popped Eric in the ear to get his attention. “Use your big head, dumbass. Do you really want her to hate you?” He glared at Devil-Viking, “And you know what I meant! I know he’s a necrophiliac, but—at least up until now—he’s never taken advantage of anyone unconscious!”
“Are vampires ever really conscious?” Devil-Viking asked philosophically, trying to deflect from the point.
“Oh shut it!” Angel-Viking said. He looked at Eric pointedly. “If you want to clean her up, that’s okay—nice even―but be good!”
Listening to the Angel-Viking, Eric nodded. “Be. Good,” he repeated to himself, even as he adjusted his painful erection a little. He was determined to bathe Sookie clinically and respect her modesty. But the thought of not bathing her at all never entered his mind.
He rushed to the employee bathroom and brought back some soap, a washrag, towels, and a bowl of water. As he moved the wet rag slowly over Sookie’s back, he realized that he’d actually been quite frightened that he would lose her when Bill had brought her into Fangtasia that night. Of course, she wasn’t really his—not yet at least. However, he’d still been quite worried—upset even—at the thought that she would be leaving this world before he’d gotten the opportunity to taste her.
Devil-Viking yelled out, “You ought to just do it! After all, you could bite, drink your fill, and then heal her without her ever realizing it!” He continued conspiratorially, “You could even force some of your blood into her, creating a tie that she is totally unaware of!”
Angel-Viking tried to crawl around Eric’s shoulder to hit his doppelganger. When he couldn’t, he cautioned Eric, “Sookie would see that as a form of violation akin to rape.”
Knowing Angel-Viking was right, Eric nodded, though he wondered how long it would be before his growing compulsion to put his blood into Sookie won out.
Even though Eric kept his hands above her waist as he finishing washing and then drying her, his contact with Sookie had only increased the size and pressure of his now-raging erection. But when his fingers lingered right above where the blanket began, he managed to stop himself from molesting her in her sleep—barely.
“That would just be creepy,” Angel-Viking reminded him.
“Pillage, pillage, pillage!” Devil-Viking chanted.
Trying to ignore both of the little Vikings, Eric glanced toward the back of the club—to the door which was labeled “employees only.” He knew that Ginger would be arriving soon to watch over Sookie for the day, and he planned to order his minion to procure some appropriate attire for Sookie. Then Ginger could dress Sookie so that she would feel that her modesty had been kept intact.
However, in that moment, Eric remembered that Ginger was too inept even to attempt to dress the woman lying unconscious before him. Ginger had been glamoured quite a bit, and although—oddly enough—he trusted her to be alone at Fangtasia—even when he died there for the day—so that she could accept deliveries and the like, her dressing someone would have been beyond her current skill-set.
Eric thought about his own day man, Bobby, and how Bobby had to go over to Ginger’s home every day to help the poor, over-glamoured girl dress herself. He cringed. The memory of the day Ginger had come to work with her bra on her ass was enough to convince Eric that—at least when it came to the simple task of dressing oneself or others—Ginger had been glamoured too much.
Thus, unless he was going to leave Sookie naked from the waist up, he had to be the one to dress her—no matter what the two little Vikings on his shoulders thought about that. He quickly went to his office and grabbed the red Fangtasia T-shirt that he’d been wearing earlier. The idea of Sookie wearing something with his scent made his cock even harder. Plus, he chuckled, Bill would be pissed that Sookie smelled of him.
“What are you up to?” Angel-Viking asked.
“Community service,” Devil-Viking deadpanned.
“Shut up!” Eric commanded both of them.
When he returned to Sookie’s side, he wondered if it would be wrong to sneak a peek as he dressed her.
As if reading his mind, Devil-Viking yelled, “Hell no! Peek away!”
Eric looked at Angel-Viking.
This time, Angel-Viking didn’t argue. He just shrugged, looked down at Sookie, and adjusted his own erection.
Eric took a moment to admire the fact that even the imaginary, miniaturized versions of himself on his shoulders were well-endowed.
“Necrophiliac,” Devil-Viking snarked quietly.
Being careful to lift Sookie so that she would not be disturbed while he put the T-shirt over her head, Eric took a look at her gorgeous breasts. And when his hand “accidentally” felt one of them as he was adjusting the shirt so that it would cover her completely, he smiled, but uttered a whispered apology to Angel-Viking all the same.
“Don’t apologize to me,” Angel-Viking chastised.
“Sorry,” Eric whispered to Sookie through his smirk.
Angel-Viking rolled his eyes and huffed disapprovingly.
“Don’t forget the other one,” Devil-Viking ordered.
Angel-Viking glared at his counterpart. “One could be construed as an accident. Two could not be!”
Eric sighed, but stopped his hand from copping a feel of Sookie’s other perfect breast even as he gave the one in his hand a final, gentle squeeze.
“Perfect,” all three Erics said at the same time, for once in total agreement.
Eric settled Sookie back down onto the table and then realized that under the blanket she still had on her “Daisy Duke” shorts. He shook his head, thinking about how uncomfortable those would be—for her.
“Don’t even think about it,” Angel-Viking said.
“Don’t think at all!” Devil-Viking agreed. “Just do it!”
“That’s not what I meant!” Angel-Viking insisted.
“She’ll be uncomfortable if I don’t,” Eric said to his imaginary companions. He placated Angel-Viking, “I’ll behave this time. I swear!”
“Fine, but no looking!” Angel-Viking ordered.
“Agreed,” Eric said, with a subtle wink toward Devil-Viking.
Almost reverently and very deliberately so that he could savor the action, Eric unbuttoned Sookie’s shorts, and when he unzipped them, he tried to keep his mind off of what was under that zipper.
Devil-Viking wasn’t helping matters. “Pillage, pillage, pillage!” he recommenced his chanting.
“Be good, be good, be good,” Angel-Viking chanted to oppose his counterpart.
In truth, Devil-Viking’s argument seemed better to Eric at the moment.
Carefully, Eric shimmied the shorts down Sookie’s body and was happy to see cute black panties underneath them.
“Stop looking!” Angel-Viking admonished even as his own eyes were locked onto the black lace. Once more, he adjusted himself.
“Don’t listen to him,” Devil-Viking said. “Even he’s looking! Plus, he’s a fucking prude.”
Both Angel-Viking and Eric rolled their eyes at that.
“Just because I’m not a creeper, doesn’t mean I’m a prude,” Angel-Viking insisted. “Hell, I’d be happy to fuck her right now—if she wasn’t completely oblivious!”
Eric sighed. “He’s right,” he said to Devil-Viking. “We should wait until she chooses us—or at least until she’s conscious.”
Eric’s conversation with the yin and yang of his conscience was interrupted when he heard a loud crash in the back. He sighed as he removed his hand from Sookie’s ass cheek, where it had “accidentally” fallen as he’d once again straightened the Fangtasia T-shirt—for the sake of her modesty, of course.
Angel-Viking gave him an indulgent look, while Devil-Viking smirked.
“That noise will be Ginger,” Eric said with frustration. “She probably tied her own shoe laces together—yet again—and is tripping over everything.”
Devil-Viking growled at the fact that Ginger was interrupting his fun. He figured that he could have convinced Eric to do something very naughty if he’d had only five more minutes.
Eric sighed. He had instructed Bobby—several times—to get Ginger shoes with Velcro, and now his day man would face his wrath for not following his orders carefully.
With regret, Eric left Sookie’s side, brushing the little Vikings off of his shoulders as he went. Neither one of them seemed too happy about that, but Eric was tired of hallucinating about his conscience. He figured his fantasy was a product of his being too close to Sookie’s open wounds all night. Fairy blood was certainly thought to be intoxicating to vampires, and Eric felt like he had some kind of contact high or something.
All in all, Eric was proud of himself. He’d managed to stay a gentleman—mostly, at least. He’d bathed Sookie with care and dressed her (and undressed her) with even more care. Her modesty would still be intact—at least as far as she knew. He was, however, unapologetic about copping just a little feel. And he told himself it hadn’t been too creepy to sneak that peek either; it had just been a little peep after all—hardly even a glance. Moreover, his main motivation in bathing and dressing her HAD been to care for her.
“Keep telling yourself that, Romeo,” Devil-Viking said with a smirk before Eric brushed him off his shoulder again.
Eric heard another crash as he went into the back. “Fucking Ginger,” he muttered as he saw her sprawled out before him, shoe-laces tied together and bra over her jeans like a belt.
I hope you enjoyed that! If you want to know where I came up with the “bra in the pants” idea and you like Ellen Degeneres, click here.
A Viking on his Shoulder .pdf Hi, here's the .pdf of this story if you want to download it. I hope you'll leave a comment for me regardless. I love to hear what readers think--even if they are reading the story a long time after it was written. Thanks!