Blue All Over?

Summary:

This is a PROMO STORY written for the launch of FANGBANGERS ANONYMOUS: THE TB/SVM WRITERS DIRECTORY. Eric finds himself brooding as he thinks about how things ended up for him at the end of True Blood.

Beta:

Kleannhouse

Banner Artist:

Sephrenia

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“Ginger!” I yelled, looking down at the invitation in my hands.

The invitation for a party that had occurred the week before!

Goddammit! I was tired of incompetence! First the creators of MY show—and, yes, people watched the show for me, so it was MINE—fucked up all the plotlines. And now THIS!

“Master?” Ginger asked as she barreled awkwardly into the main room in Fangtasia where I was sitting on my throne and going through some correspondence.

“What is this?” I demanded, holding up the piece of parchment in my hands.

“Paper?” she tried.

“I know that it’s paper!”

“Um—mail?” she tried again.

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Ginger, I am asking why I have just gotten this invitation today. It is already the 6th of May, and the launch party was on the 28th of April.”

“Oh, well—um—I—um—forgot about it being delivered.”

I stood up angrily. “Forgot? How come you can manage to get me the bills every day? And all the fucking catalogues associated with Pam’s myriad of purchases? How come those arrive steadily and THIS was not brought to me immediately.”

“Well—uh—that wasn’t delivered by the mailman,” she defended.

“And who delivered it?”

“A special courier?”

“And that didn’t convey to you that this item was special!?” I yelled, causing her to step backwards in fear.

And arousal.

Figures.

“Uh—sorry, Master,” she stammered, looking down. “If you want, you can—uh—use my body as punishment?”

Definitely arousal—on her part.

I sighed a longsuffering sigh. “Ginger, do you not remember the last time we tried that?”

“Oh yeah!” she said dreamily. “I got to touch it!” she added with triumph.

“Yes—with your hand—only!” I reminded with a shake of my head.

In truth, my “sexual” encounter with Ginger—if it could be called that—was one of the least satisfying of my long life. After about thirty seconds of awkwardly groping at me and grinding against me—and messing up my fucking hair—she’d cum and then fallen off of the fucking throne for good measure. I’d been prepared to give her the full Northman treatment that night.

And why was that? Maybe I’d felt like I’d owed her for years of trying to be of service to me. But mostly, I’d wanted a goddamned distraction that would last more than a minute! I’d needed it after reading ahead in my script and seeing that Sookie was going to end up knocked up by an extra, and I was going to end up peddling my wares—considerable though they were—on late-night infomercials.

Just the night before, I’d caught my New Blood infomercial televised right before a Sham-Wow! commercial.

“I’ve lived a fucking thousand years for this?!” I muttered to myself.

And then—of course—there was the added insult that reused footage of me on my throne was to be added to the final show when I would have been delighted to display myself for the cameras for some fresh footage.

Yes—I’d had pent up anger inside of me that night, and I had been willing to channel that anger into lust inside of Ginger.

As it had turned out, I’d had to use my own hand to do the job in order to distract myself after Ginger had fallen asleep on the dais following her prolonged orgasm.

I’d been little more to her than a fucking washing machine on the spin cycle that night!

Of course, I’d been just as ill-used by the creators of both my show and the series of books about me. But, thankfully, their tomes about me were now over, and a more deserving crew of writers who truly appreciated me had fully taken over the work.

And that made the current situation even worse! Because of Ginger’s incompetence, I’d let this group of writers down, for I’d missed attending the launch of the Fangbangers Anonymous WordPress site, a website designed with the express purpose of highlighting stories mostly about ME! And, even more disappointing was the fact that Sookie would have likely been there, given the number of authors that favored bringing us together!

And, with Bill now starring as sludge in his very own hole in Northern Louisiana—entertaining only worms—I knew that I’d have been able to easily entice Sookie into renewing our “association.” And no goddamned extra would have stopped me either! Hell—I speculated that the director of the final episode hadn’t shown the extra’s face because it was so disfigured!

But now that the show and books were over, the rules had fucking changed! No more would I have to be encumbered by those who purposely strove to rip me and my beloved apart by forcing us to act through the most ridiculous scenarios imaginable!

“So?” Ginger asked, pulling me from my thoughts. “Can I make it up to you—on your throne?”

“No, Ginger!” I yelled. “In fact, the only way that you could make this up to me would be to print up advertisements for the new website.” I smiled evilly. “Actually, no. I have a better idea. I will design flyers and have them printed. And you will place one onto the windshield of every car that you see between here and Anchorage, Alaska. And then you will do the same on your way back.”

“But master! That would take years!”

“Exactly,” I said. “By the time you return, I just may have forgiven you for this oversight.”

“But I’ll surely run out of flyers,” she said hopefully.

“Do not worry. I will make sure that there are oodles and oodles of them waiting for you to pick up along your route. And I will expect you to distribute them all.”

“Yes, Master,” she said with disappointment. “But—um—when I get back, could I—uh—touch it again?”

“No, Ginger!” I said impatiently.

I shook my head as she scuttled from the room. Sinking back onto my throne again, I looked again at the invitation.

It had been issued on April 20, so I would have had plenty of time to prepare for my meeting and inevitable seduction of Miss Stackhouse.

Of course, one might ask why I didn’t just go track her down in Bon Temps and take her even now, instead of brooding on my throne.

The truth was that I’d tried. In fact, as soon as the last episode of my forced labor was over, I took off into the air and flew at top speed toward her home. Sadly, I’d been God knows where at the time because of the whole re-used footage fiasco, so it had taken me a while to get to Bon Temps.

And by the time I finally made it there, she was gone. The rumor mill in that redneck town indicated that she had moved away from Bon Temps, dyed her hair blue, and was now a bisexual! Of course, the latter item intrigued me greatly; thus, in addition to looking for her myself, I had hired several people to try to find her whereabouts. However, she’d proven to be elusive.

Glancing back at the invitation, I knew that the writers involved would have known where to find her. In fact, she had likely been at the fucking party! So I could have been saved from the effort of looking for her myself—if Ginger had simply not forgotten to give me the fucking invitation!

My anger boiled over again as I read the gracefully written document in my hands:

April 20, 2015

Dear Mr. Northman,

Your immeasurably unforgettable presence and your immeasurable “gracious plenty” are requested at the launch party on April 28, 2015 for Fangbangers Anonymous, The SVM/TB Writers Directory of Fangfuckingtastic Fanfiction. All authors attending as well as the site administrators will be happy to service your every desire and need—over and over and over again.

RSVP not required—not for you.

Sincerely,

Hisviks

I felt myself getting hard as I reread the invitation. Hisviks had “serviced” my needs many times in the past—as had most of the other authors who were listed on the slip of paper that had come with the invitation.

“Goddammit!” I yelled out into the empty room.

At least I’d thought the room was empty.

“Something bothering you?” asked an alluring voice I’d not heard since that horrible scene when I’d rejected her invitation into her house and flown back to Fangtasia—only to suffer from Ginger’s antics on me and my throne.

As if I would have ever not accepted her invitation! As if I would have ever convinced her to talk with Bill instead!

As fucking if!

Gods—the writing at the end of the final season of MY show had been horrific!

“A lot is bothering me,” I said to the blue-haired vision walking toward me.

“Anything I can help you with, Mr. Northman?”

I leered. “Abso-fucking-lutely. But last I heard you were knocked up and married to an extra.”

She nodded. “I had twins. They’re lovely. But the extra looked so much like Bill that I eventually staked him—out of habit,” she said dragging her finger alluringly over her collarbone.

“You staked a human?”

She shrugged. “Oops?”

I chuckled.

“So—blue hair?”

“You like?”

“Blue is my favorite color,” I said.

“I thought that your favorite color was red.”

“Not right now,” I grinned. “Tell me,” I said, sitting forward in my throne, “is your hair blue all over?”

She laughed, but didn’t answer. “I have missed your sense of humor, Eric.”

“And what else have you missed, Sookie?”

Her eyes wandered brazenly toward my still-hard cock, which was even more anxious to get out of my pants now that its favorite playmate was in the room.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said coyly. “You know I tried visiting you here before, but I was told by Pam that you were off with some woman named Jane and that all the recent sightings of you had been generated by stock footage.”

“I did do a little traveling,” I replied, “but I cannot remember if one of the women I spent time with was named Jane. Sadly, most women are completely forgettable to me.”

“What about me? Am I forgettable?” she asked moving toward me and unzipping her dress at the same time.

“You are utterly unforgettable, lover,” I assured.

My fangs jetted down as she stepped out of her dress to reveal absolutely nothing underneath.

Comfortingly, the carpet didn’t match the drapes. Blue down there would have been—odd.

“I haven’t been able to forget about you either, Eric,” she whispered before licking her lips. “And I’ve had a particular fantasy in mind ever since the show started, though—of course—the writers never fulfilled it,” she added bitingly. “In fact, I was utterly disappointed when I read the script indicating that you were going to be fulfilling my fantasy with Ginger!”

She crawled up onto my lap. The contrast of my fully clothed body and her fully naked one was both infuriating and arousing.

“Did you read enough to know that I never even entered her that night?”

“But she did touch it,” she grinned naughtily, even as she opened my zipper and did the same. Of course, her fingers were much more welcome and appreciated than Ginger’s had been.

I moaned, “Oh, gods, yes, Sookie!”

“What if I decide to claim this as my own? What if I decide not to let you ever use it again unless you have my permission?” she asked, stroking me just the way I liked to be stroked.

“Yes,” I moaned again. In that moment, I would have agreed to anything. We could always negotiate more specific terms—later.

Much later.

Without another word, Sookie took my cock out of my trousers and sank down upon it.

I moaned again as I thrust upward. She was so wet for me—wet and wanting. Who was I to deny? However, I made sure to keep a tight grip on her. I didn’t want her cumming undone and falling from the throne.

Fool me once . . . shame on . . . shame on you. Fool me . . . can’t get fooled again.

I realized that I’d messed up the commonplace phrase, but—in my defense—my thoughts became jumbled as Sookie quickened her pace and bent forward to kiss me.

Plus, I wasn’t a native speaker!

“I missed this so much,” she panted when she came up for air. “And there’s so fucking much to miss!” she added as she drew her body from mine tantalizingly slowly, inch by inch as if to emphasize just how much of me there really was.

Thankfully, she lasted a lot longer than Ginger had, but—given the fact that we’d not been together in so long—neither of us lasted too long. Still, I used both my fingers and my cock to make sure that she’d cum twice—before I sank my fangs into her neck and made her cum again as I released into her body.

After I’d healed her small wounds, she slumped against my still-clothed chest, obviously trying to catch her breath.

“You know—more than just my hair has changed,” she said alluringly after her panting had lessened.

“I had heard that you’d become more adventurous,” I shared. The only question was—was I willing to share her.

“So—is Pam around?” she asked.

My cock immediately hardened again at that thought. You see—it did have a mind of its own! And it looked like I was willing to share.

“No,” I said sadly. “Last I heard, she’s off channeling her inner witch somewhere.”

“Too bad,” Sookie sighed.

“So—are there any other ladies around?”

“Only Ginger,” I said, my cock deflating a bit. I guess I wasn’t willing to share with just anyone.

“I’d be in!” Ginger yelled from the back where she’d likely been watching the video feed. I sighed.

“No thank you, Ginger!” yelled Sookie.

“Ever polite,” I grinned.

“Well some things haven’t changed about me.”

“Will I be enough to satisfy you for the rest of the night?” I asked with a rakish grin, even as I thrust upward to rake against her G-spot.

“I think so,” she grunted. “But you might want to call Pam—for tomorrow night.”

“I already have,” I answered before flying Sookie over to the bar.

After all, the show’s writers had overlooked a few fantasies of my own as well.

The End.

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A/N: Again, this story was written to promote the launching of Fangbangers Anonymous, the SVM/TB writers’ directory started by several wonderful people who have volunteered their time and talents to making the site quite useful and beautiful!

Fangbangers Anonymous is a single WordPress site that guides readers to all the amazing writers out there, some of whom have (completely or partially) left. The site features profile pages of its members with links to their stories and personal sites but also contains a blog focused on reviews and all things surrounding the TB/SVM fanfic fandom. Be sure to check it out and discover some other amazing writers at .com or use the direct link in my author’s profile. (this paragraph was written by the creators of the site.  I have lifted it for this post.)

Hisviks, one of the site’s architects, asked me to write a promo story a couple of weeks back; however, her email ended up in the “junk” folder, so I saw her request only after the site had launched. But that might have been lucky—if you liked this story, that is—since it would have never come about if Yahoo Mail didn’t sometimes put things from my approved contacts into the trash!

I know that I mixed fact with fiction into this little piece, and—no—I don’t in any way, shape, or form want Anna Paquin to stake her “Bill-look-alike” hubby.

However, I did have fun incorporating some truths. Anna Paquin did, in fact, become blue-haired after the show. And she came out as being bisexual several years ago. Alexander Skarsgård—as Tarzan—did gallivant around with “Jane,” I’m sure, when he filmed Tarzan (which is in post-production now.) And Kristin Bauer van Straten is definitely channeling her inner witch as Maleficent on Once Upon a Time. Love her!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little ditty. And—if you haven’t visited the directory yet, please check it out! It’s a wonderful tool for finding stories and authors—and for remembering items you might like to revisit! Plus, all the cool kids are visiting—and geeks like me too!

-C Kat

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Beehl's Bane .pdf

Above is a link to the .pdf version of this short story in case you want 
to download it.

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