Polly Plummer (nutkin) wrote,
Polly Plummer
nutkin

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Fic: The Fastest Way to Get Over Someone (Alcide/Sookie)

Ah, yes, the next stop on my pancake tour of fandoms: TRUE BLOOD FIC. I've been in love with this show for ages, so it's about damn time.

Title: The Fastest Way to Get Over Someone
Paring: Alcide/Sookie
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6,500
Summary: If Bill doesn't own her anymore, that must mean she owns herself. She can make her own decisions, good or bad.
Notes: This is total TV 'verse, set during 3x05 and rife with spoilers for that episode. With special thanks to valiant, who loves Alcide as much as I do.




It's late when they finally get back from Lou Pine's, but Sookie's schedule is still more or less nocturnal, anyhow. She's used to catching a few hours of sleep when she can, and midnight can find her just as tired or alert as noon, depending on what sort of week it's been.

Alcide collapses on the couch when they get inside, tossing his keys on the coffee table and rubbing at his eyes wearily.

Sookie hesitates for a minute in the living room, not totally sure if she should say something. She's still getting used to his abruptly changing, loudly-voiced mood swings, and if he's finally settled on brooding, she's not going to be the one to get him riled up again.

"I'm just gonna go get cleaned up," she finally says, reaching to unpin the black wig Janice lent her. He glances over at her as she shakes her hair out, and smiles wryly.

"It was a pretty good look for you."

She can't tell if he's teasing her or it's an observation, so she just makes a face.

"Scratchy as all hell. I think I'd rather be called a cream-puff and get manhandled next time."

"There isn't going to be a next time," he says, his expression going stern.

"I know," she says. "I heard you before. Why don't you try to relax a little? I have to change out of these clothes, but then we can talk about everything. If you want."

He gives her a short, surly shrug that reminds her of Jason.

"Hell, I'm not going anywhere." He waves at her dismissively. "Go get yourself sorted out."

"I will," she says, letting a note of testiness creep into her tone as she walks away.

The bathroom doesn't look quite as decimated as the rest of Alcide's place, but then, bathrooms don't tend to have a lot of furniture. She turns on the hot water and finds a washcloth in the barren, sad-looking cupboard, carefully avoiding her own gaze in the mirror.

Bill hadn't come for her.

She knows she shouldn't be surprised – and knows it doesn't necessarily mean anything. If her hunch is right, and he's being held against his will by some weird werewolf-vampire coalition, he probably just couldn't escape to rescue her.

But then, she reflects, scrubbing at the trashy eye make-up Janice had spent an hour applying, she's seen Bill Compton burn himself alive walking through sunlight to save her before. If he was doing well enough to say nasty stuff to her about Lorena on the phone, he should be well enough to break free when he sensed that wave of panic crash over her as a room full of redneck bikers hopped up on V started shifting into wolves.

Sookie pauses, finally looking at herself: she managed to pluck one set of fake eyelashes off on the drive home, but the other is still firmly in place. This ridiculous corset thing she's all laced up in makes her look like a lady of the night, she's covered in weird fake tattoos, and she's searching for someone who already told her he doesn't want to be found.

"I'll find you, anyway," she mutters, yanking the laces of her top open and pulling it off. She leans in closer to the mirror and peels the other fake eyelashes off, feeling a little better when her face finally looks like her own again. "I will not be tossed aside like some disposable fang-banging tramp."

She nods at herself and rinses the washcloth, setting in to scrub off the fake tattoos. Whatever Bill's gotten himself mixed up in, she thinks, she'll just have go mix him back out of it.

It's a thought process she's been going through for days now, gearing herself up and then psyching herself out again. No matter how many times she resolves to figure this thing out, some nagging part of her brain pipes up to remind her that he had a point on the phone – she had a point when she turned down his proposal. Even if she loves him, they aren't necessarily good for each other.

Sookie turns the tap off when she finishes scrubbing away the design on her hip, holding the corset against her chest as she turns to make a run for the bedroom. She's already got one hand on the bathroom light switch when she catches a glimpse of another tattoo in the mirror. It's the twisty barbed wire wings Janice stenciled between her shoulder-blades, assuring her it would frame the corset top just right. She peers at it over her shoulder, making a few futile passes at it with the washcloth, but it's right where she can't possibly reach.

"Can you give me a hand in here?" she hollers through the open crack in the door.

Alcide's eyebrows go up sharply when he appears in the doorway, and she blushes, holding her shirt over her chest and stomach awkwardly.

"I just—" She turns to show him the tattoo, gathering her hair with one hand and nodding at the washcloth on the counter. "I can't reach this one."

Alcide nods and picks it up, flicking the tap on and running it under the hot water.

"You did a good job tonight," he says, wiping at the design on her back. "Really held your own in there. I was impressed."

"Don't let the blonde hair fool you, mister," she says, glancing over a shoulder at him. "I can handle myself. I've even been in a few fight-fights in my day."

He chuckles, scrubbing a little harder. "And when was your day? Grade school?"

"Junior year of high school, thank you very much."

"What, you steal somebody's boyfriend or something?"

She doesn't answer right away, twisting her hair and tugging it over one shoulder.

"By then, everyone in Bon Temps knew I was a telepath. Or something like that. I'm not sure any of them really knew what was happening, but they could tell I was different. My best friend, Tara, has always been a tomboy – tougher than any other girl I know – and she usually stuck up for me, so I never knew how bad it was." Sookie shrugs, feeling the scrape of terrycloth against her skin. "One week she was out with the flu, and it was like open season. By Wednesday I'd been called so many names I just snapped. Started decking people left and right."

Alcide gives an amused huff as he rinses the washcloth.

"Did the names stop?"

"One way or another," she says. "I got suspended for the rest of the week, and by Monday Tara was back. My gran was mortified about the whole thing, but my brother Jason thought it was hilarious. I don't think he's ever been so proud."

"I bet. I can't imagine having a little sister. It's bad enough having an older one who can look out for herself." He wrings the washcloth out with one hand and sets in on the other side of the tattoo. "If you were my responsibility full-time, I wouldn't let you out of the house."

Alcide pushes a stray piece of her hair out of the way, his damp knuckles brushing across the back of her neck. He keeps his hand at her shoulder, like he's holding her steady as he works, his thumb brushing her skin lightly every time he scrubs.

Sookie's cheeks warm a little, for no good reason. It's not any different than when she patched him up after that brawl the day before, she figures, but she's suddenly aware of how undressed she is, and pulls the flimsy corset against her chest a little tighter.

Alcide pauses, and she can hear him pull in a slow, deep breath, like maybe he just noticed the same thing she did. It makes a funny tingle run through her.

"Uh, anyway," he says, tossing the washcloth in the sink. He rolls his shoulders and looks away from her bare skin. "You want a beer or something?"

She glances at him in the mirror, but it seems like a genuine offer.

"Sure," she says, after a beat. "Guess I deserve it, after the day I've had."

Alcide chuckles, but it sounds pretty grim.

"That makes two of us."

Sookie ducks into the bedroom and tugs on some normal person clothes before wandering back out to the living room. He's sitting on the couch when she gets there, a beer in hand and another one on the coffee table.

"Well, now I can say I've been to a vampire bar and a werewolf bar," she says when she perches next to him, tucking a foot under her. She picks up the beer and takes a long pull off of it. "You suppose fairies really exist? That might be more my scene."

Alcide snorts. "Nothing would surprise me anymore."

"You okay?" she says. "I can't imagine what you're going through right now."

He fixes her with a sharp look.

"You can't? Looks to me like we're going through the same thing. Turns out we don't really know people we thought we did."

"But you did know," she can't help but point out. "You just didn't care. Bill has never... he isn't like that."

"People change, Sookie. The sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be. Debbie wasn't always so bad. I'm not a total fool; I wouldn't have fallen in love with someone who treated me like shit. She just got restless. It happens."

"Bill's been alive almost two hundred years. He's done all kinds of stuff. Been all kinds of places. I don't think he's got anything to get restless for."

"Or maybe that makes him even more likely to wander. Loyalty isn't in a fanger's nature. They do what they want, when they want, and they don't care about the consequences."

"Oh, and werewolves are so much better?" Sookie folds her arms, holding onto her beer by the neck. "Debbie doesn't strike me as the kind who's very loyal to anyone."

"You wouldn't get it," Alcide says, picking at the label on his beer. "She might not be faithful to me, but she's still loyal. She can't help it. It's instinct. A pack is family, whether or not everyone gets along."

"I grew up in Bon Temps, Alcide. I know all about unrelated extended families you can't help but care about." She touches his shoulder, surprised again at how warm it is under the flannel. She can practically feel his heartbeat under the fabric, like he's more alive than she is. "I really am sorry. That can't have been easy to see."

He looks at her almost warily, like he's not accustomed to genuine sympathy, and then smiles a little. She gets an unbidden surge of thoughts flying through her head – couldn't understand, not really, nice thought though, wish she could – and pulls her hand back abruptly.

"Hearing things again?"

He sounds kind of amused, taking a swig from his bottle and setting it on the table.

"It's not personal," she says reproachfully. "I don't mean to do it, it just kind of... happens."

"I'm a werewolf, Sookie. I know all about supernatural impulses you can't help but give into."

"Look at you," she grins, pleased. "Cracking a joke! I didn't think you had it in you."

"I'm just full of surprises," he agrees, getting to his feet. "You want another beer?"

She hasn't even finished the last one, but she didn't spend four years as a barmaid without picking up a few tricks. He shakes his head as she knocks back what's left and holds the bottle out.

"Sure."

Sookie stretches out on the couch and studies the cracked ceiling while he pads around in the kitchen. She can tell Alcide thinks she's a fool for it – you don't need to be a telepath to pick that up – but it's not that easy to give up on Bill. It's only been three months, but those months were like something out of one of Gran's romance novels. He loves her; she's his human.

But vampires go through lots of humans, reminds an irritating part of her brain. You told him yourself it couldn't last forever. Looks like you were right.

Back when he claimed her, the very idea of belonging to him had been sexy. She liked feeling like she really belonged to someone – she barely knew her parents, and while Gran doted on her more than she deserved, their relationship didn't have many rules or boundaries. In Bon Temps she usually felt like an outsider, the ties of that small community never extending far enough to fully include someone so different.

With Bill she felt owned, protected, and she loved it.

Now... now she doesn't know what to think about it. Bill said she wasn't his concern, which sounds an awful lot like she isn't his at all. The blood bond still connects them, but that's the same relationship she has with Eric. And Eric sure as hell doesn't own her.

She owns herself now, she figures. It's kind of a lonely thought, but it's a powerful one, too.

Sookie frowns and rubs at her forehead as Alcide reappears.

"Everything okay?" He parks himself where he was sitting before, right next to her on the couch.

"Fine," she smiles, taking one of the beers in his hand. "Sometimes my own thoughts are even more irritating than other people's, is all."

"What's that like?" he says. "Listening in on people. Seems damn useful."

"Try damn frustrating," she says. "My whole life, I never had a crush on a boy. You want to know why? Because there wasn't any mystery. I knew if he was staring at my boobs, or thinking nasty thoughts about Shelly Flackerton, or liked weird stuff in the bedroom. And don't even get me started on trying to see a movie in a theater. Imagine everyone in the room talking through the whole thing, except instead of making comments about the movie, it's all stuff about their sex lives and money problems and pet cat that needs to go to the vet."

"That does sound annoying."

"Infuriating," she corrects. "I had to walk out of the Batman sequel halfway through, I was so fed up."

"Didn't miss much." He settles back into the couch cushions and swings his boots up on the coffee table. "Overrated crap."

Sookie laughs – really laughs, astonished at how good it feels.

"What?" Alcide says defensively. "It is."

"Just…" She shakes her head. "Here I am, sitting next to a werewolf, and we're talking about bad movies."

"You brought it up," he says, like he feels this is some kind of judgment on him. Sookie nudges his arm.

"Come on, you have to admit that's funny. A werewolf and a telepath discussing modern cinema? We're like the set-up for a bad joke."

He gives a husky laugh and looks down at his beer.

"Yeah, I guess we are." He looks back up at her and tilts his head, suddenly reminding her of a dog. "You can really see the best in everything, can't you? I was just sitting here thinking we're a regular Lonely Hearts club."

"Why's that?"

"Well, we've both been dumped, and we're oh-for-two on our attempts to win 'em back." Alcide takes a pull off his beer. "Sounds like cause for a pity-party to me."

"Could be worse," she counters, taking a sip from her own bottle. "We could be drinking alone."

He seems to chew on that for a minute, and then shrugs and lifts his beer in her direction.

"Here's to unlikely drinking buddies."

"Amen," she grins, clinking in.

*

Two hours later they're more than halfway through the twelve pack in the fridge. Sookie's settled into the couch next to him, curled on her side and resting her head on her hand. It's been a while since she's been good and tipsy, seeing as Sam turns a blind eye to everyone but her when it comes to drinking on the job, and Bill can't exactly drink alcohol.

When she voices this train of thought, Alcide studies her closely.

"It must be weird," he finally says, "sharing your life with someone who can't live."

She's pretty used to defending her lifestyle choices at this point, but after four beers that comment catches her by surprise.

"It is," she says honestly. She looks down at her bottle, then back up at him. "But that's what love is all about, isn't it? Making sacrifices for the person you want to be with, because you care about them so much?"

He gives a rueful laugh and scratches at his beard.

"That's a nice thought."

"It's true," she says, furrowing her eyebrows. "Come on, you're telling me you never had a girlfriend who treated you right?"

"Going by your definition, I don't think anyone but Bill Compton has."

Sookie takes another swig of her beer, shutting her eyes when she gets a fresh onslaught of unwelcome thoughts.

Lucky bastard doesn't deserve it, what I wouldn't give, wish Debbie had an ounce of that, she sure is pretty, can see why Eric's so—

She blinks a few times, trying to clear her head. It's getting harder to filter him out, now that she's gone warm and hazy around the edges. She's reminded of the few misguided times she tried to go to high school parties and ended up running away with a splitting headache and too much information.

"Sorry," Alcide says gruffly, misinterpreting her expression. "I shouldn't keep bringing him up."

"No," she says, swallowing and forcing herself to smile. "It's fine. I don't mind it."

"Yeah, you do. I can tell."

"Oh, are you a psychic now, too?" she says archly.

"Every time he comes up, you get afraid," he says. "I can pick up on that kind of thing. It comes with the heightened senses."

"You can smell fear?" she says, half-joking and half-incredulous. He doesn't smile.

"Something like that."

"I'm not afraid," she says, but if it sounds like that much of a lie to her own ears, Lord knows what it sounds like to his wolfy hearing.

"Would it be such a bad thing if you were?" he bursts, startling her. He sits up and runs a hand through his hair, and she has to brace herself against a rush of, fucking dangerous undead sumbitches. "Maybe you should be afraid, Sookie. Maybe you should be mad. Your boyfriend ran off with a pack of disloyal werewolves, dumped you, and now we find out these weres are serving a fanger? Even if you do find him, he's obviously involved in something pretty fucked up, and that doesn't sound like the person you think you love."

Sookie's bottom lip trembles before he's finished, and in the silence that hangs around afterwards her shaky, muffled sob sounds louder than it should.

"I know," she says thickly. "I know. He said we're over, and I guess we really are. I'm not his anymore. It just – hurts, is all."

Alcide sighs heavily and, for the second time in as many days, pulls her in against his side and lets her cry on his chest.

Aw, shit, now you've done it, made her cry again, didn't mean to scare her even more, she's a nice girl, not used to that, really stuck my foot in it, such a dumbass.

"It's not your fault," she sniffs, too upset to bother pretending she didn't hear that. "It's no worse than what I've already been thinking."

"Yeah, well," he says shortly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and gripping her tight. "Don't mean you need to have it shoved in your face. I got a short temper, and you shouldn't be on the receiving end."

"I noticed," she says, scrubbing at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. That sharp wave of emotion subsides a little, and she clings to the nearest distraction. "Are all werewolves as hot-headed as you?"

"Most of 'em are worse. Those pricks down at Lou Pine's aren't anything special. We've all got some of that in us."

"I can't imagine you being like that," she says, looking up at him. It's true, and seeing his face up close like that hammers it home. He looks rough around the edges, but there's kindness in his eyes. "You're not cruel like them."

The side of his mouth ticks up in one of his humorless smiles.

"You don't really know me," he points out.

"I can see inside your head," she says, swiping at her nose with her wrist. "Even their thoughts were mean and hard, but you're different. In the three days we've been working together, I haven't overheard one untoward comment."

Sookie can feel his chest rumble under her cheek when he laughs.

"Maybe you haven't been listening close enough."

Her skin goes warm suddenly, flushing all the way through like it only does when Bill does something really dashing.

It takes her a minute to realize why she associates it with him – no one else has ever been able to say or do anything to turn her on. She hadn't been lying when she said she gave up on Bon Temps boys a long time ago, and since Bill came along the only other man who's shown her any genuine interest in Eric, but she's always known that's more about Bill than her.

She just gazes up at Alcide, feeling that heat pool in her cheeks.

"Can I listen now?"

He studies her face, his gaze clearly moving from her own down to her lips, her wet cheeks, her neck (where she's suddenly, keenly aware there are bite marks only somewhat hidden by her hair), and then back up.

"Go ahead," he says. "But I'm not making any apologies if you don't like what you hear."

Sookie straightens up a little, not totally sure why she's doing this. She's flirting with someone who isn't Bill, when she was practically engaged a few days ago. That's the kind of thing loose women do. It's practically Arlene Fowler territory, but for some reason that thought isn't dissuading her like it should.

Bill left her. Bill screwed Lorena and told her about it. She doesn't belong to anyone, and she can make her own decisions, good or bad.

She moves slowly when she reaches up to touch Alcide's throat, her fingers finding his pulse just under either side of his jaw. His skin is hot to the touch there, warm like a sunburn and rough with whiskers.

—fucking beautiful even doing this damn weird thing, just want to kiss that pretty little mouth, show her what it's like all hot and sweaty with a man who's alive, bet she's even prettier when she comes—

Sookie makes a ragged little noise, her breaths suddenly lurching in her chest, but she doesn't pull away.

Yeah, bet she'd sound like that, fuck, I just wanna put my mouth on her—

"Do it," she says. Her face gets even warmer when she opens her eyes and looks at him. "I want you to."

"You sure about that?" They're close enough that she can feel his breath on her lips, and even that simple thing feels like a novelty after all her time with vampires. It makes her go a little light-headed. "We still gotta work together, and I'm not looking for things to get messy."

Sookie moves her hands, slipping them around to cup the back of his neck.

"Shut up and kiss me, Alcide," she says impatiently. "Before you start talking some sense into me and ruin both our nights."

He's on her in an instant, kissing her hard and deep and pushing her back along the length of the couch. It's been so long since she's kissed someone with a pulse that her senses reel from the shock of it – his whole body is like a furnace up against her, his tongue hot and sweet when it pushes past her lips and rolls against her own.

She whimpers when one of his hands slips under the hem of her shirt, skimming up her side and gripping her tightly.

"If I get too rough, you say something," he says, panting against her face. "I ain't used to girls who can't bite back."

"Oh, I can bite back," she says. "Don't you worry about me."

The look on his face gets darker, and a hot, sweet thrill swells in her stomach when he scoops her up in his arms. It's not like Bill's superhuman strength – she can feel the sinewy strain of his muscles as he carries her to the bedroom, hear the thud of his heartbeat in his chest.

The bed bounces lightly when he tosses her on it, and Sookie scrambles to peel her t-shirt off. Alcide just watches when she reaches back to unclasp her bra and tosses it to the side.

"Damn, you're a sight to see," he says, popping open the buttons of his flannel. She lets her gaze move down to his chest when he gets it open.

"You too."

His teeth flash in a grin before he tumbles on the bed with her, tugging her shorts open and pulling them down her legs in one swift motion. The panties she's been wearing aren't a particularly nice pair – they're simple and girly, like most of her clothes – but when she looks down and watches his big hand rub her pussy through them, they feel like the sexiest thing she's ever worn.

"I could smell you getting wet in the bathroom earlier," he says, his fingers grinding against her clit. She shuts her eyes and sucks in a breath at how warm it feels. "I just didn't know if you'd do anything about it."

She moans helplessly, her legs splaying wider automatically to give him better access. That's almost too embarrassing to think about, but it makes her skin flush with pleasure, too.

Alcide makes a low, feral noise when her hips jerk up into his touch, and suddenly he's tearing her panties off, snapping them down her thighs and easing a finger right up inside of her. It's a sudden shock of heat, right where she wants it the most.

"Are you – glad I did?" she manages.

Alcide chuckles. "You could say that."

His thoughts roll over her as he twists that finger and adds another one, but they're scattered and overheated, just a steady patter of, so sweet, wanna slide right into that, bet she knows how to handle herself, this is something else, wonder how that pretty pussy tastes.

Instead of putting her off, like those kind of thoughts usually do, it just makes her want it even more. There's no mystery here, and right now that feels like a good thing.

"Oh, God, Alcide," she mutters when he settles between her legs. He keeps those fingers up in her when he shoves his face there, his tongue rubbing in strong, warm strokes against her clit. He licks her as savagely as he kisses, the scratch of his beard against her skin shocking her nerves.

"God," she huffs again, looking down at him dazedly and flopping back to stare at the ceiling. "Your mouth – it's just so hot, I've never felt anything like – oh, God—"

He sucks at her sharply, making the heat in her belly spike, and fucks her on his fingers, nice and deep. It feels like she's burning from the inside out, and her whole body tenses when she realizes that's how it'll feel when he actually puts it in her.

"I want you to – fuck me," she pants, her hips arching when his tongue strokes her a little more dead-on.

Don't worry. The thought echoes through her head, loud and clear, the way they do when he's thinking something directly at her. You're gonna come on my cock, too.

She moans, twisting her fingers in the bedspread as the full weight of that idea slams through her.

"Yeah," she says, "yeah, I will, oh – oh—"

She cuts off sharply when he curls his fingers just right, the rhythm of his tongue getting steady and persistent. He's lapping at her, wet and rough and hard – like a dog – and before she can think it through she reaches down and grips his hair, holding his face up against her body throbs and flies right over the edge.

That's it. I'm gonna make you do that again.

It takes her a minute of shuddering and gasping before she realizes that he didn't say that, either – his mouth is still working at her with the same intensity, his tongue not even slowing.

Sookie brings her other hand over to slide through his hair, hooking one of her legs over his shoulder as she feels the tension starting to twist up in her again.

"Keep – keep going," she breathes, nodding pointlessly as he grinds his fingertips against that place deep in her pussy.

The second one comes on easier than the first, starting slow and warm and just building, until it's crashing through her limbs and making her fingers tighten in his hair, her hips lifting right off the bed.

She just stays like that for a beat, lost to everything but how good it feels. There's a warm noise running through the back of her mind that she realizes is the thought-equivalent of Alcide's low, rough laugh.

"Son of a bitch," she gasps, sliding one of her hands down to push at his shoulder, and yanking at his hair with the other.

His chin and cheeks are glistening when he pulls back. She gets another little shiver when she sees it, reaching down to rub some of the slickness off. Alcide grabs her wrist and licks it from her fingers, hitting her with the full, warm weight of his gaze as he does it.

"My God," she mutters. "Where did you learn to do that like... that?"

"It's a were thing," he says, letting go of her hand and sitting up. "We might be a bunch of alcoholic rednecks, but it's pretty hard to beat our stamina."

"Is that so," she says distantly, watching as he stands up and shucks his jeans and boxer-briefs.

Sookie's mouth falls open a little when his cock bobs into view. It's as big as the rest of him, thick and red and crossed with veins. There's a smudge of wetness right at the tip, and she gets a thrill in her stomach just imagining how hot it would feel in her mouth.

He picks his jeans up off the floor and rummages for his wallet, materializing a condom and tearing the packet open with his teeth.

Oh, right, she thinks dumbly. She's never actually seen one in person, since Bill couldn't get her pregnant. But Alcide could. He could knock her right up, because werewolves are alive – because he's alive.

He hoists one of her legs up, wrapping it around his waist as he settles over her. The head of his cock brushes up against her pussy, making her whole body throb again.

"God, just put it in me," she says, wrapping her arms around his neck and squirming. "I've never been more ready for something in my life."

He tilts his head, breathing hot and damp against her face as his dick drags lower, slip-sliding through the wetness that's still smeared on his lips.

The wind goes out of her when he pushes it in, filling her up in one thrust. It's big – so big it takes her a minute to adjust the feeling of it settling in her that deep. She can feel the thick head nudged right up against her cervix, the whole length of it warming her from the inside out.

"Oh my God," she breathes, blinking up at him rapidly.

"You okay?"

"I'm more than okay," she says, flexing around him and rolling her hips.

Alcide's mouth ticks up in a little grin as he starts to move – long, steady thrusts, each one a little sharper than the last. He studies her face at first, like he's gauging how hard she can take it, but she just hooks her other leg around his waist and pulls him in tighter.

"Damn, Sookie," he says, his tone admiring and his voice gruff.

She leans up to kiss him again, pretty sure that she's never going to get over how good that feels in its own right. The taste of her pussy hits her in an instant, lingering there between them as he rubs his tongue over hers in a dirty, hot glide.

He groans low in his throat, tangling one hand in her hair so he can angle her back and get in deeper. It makes her head spin, the way he's fucking her open and moving her around, like he has all the power. She can tell in some distant way that he won't hurt her, but she can also tell he's not holding back – he's fucking her like a werewolf. Not like she's delicate and breakable.

"Huh," she breathes when he breaks that kiss off, his fist tightening in her hair. She sighs out the only thing she can think right then, overwhelmed with it. "You're so – strong."

His lip curls, his shoulders flexing as he suddenly grips her and sits up, pulling into his lap so she's sitting right on his cock. She sways there, but it only takes her a second to steady herself, pinning her knees against the mattress at each side of his hips and taking over.

She can't get over how different it is – there's so much of him to hold onto, he's so solid and thick with muscle. She's aware of every place he's touching her, the heat of his body surrounding hers even as it burns her up from the inside.

She runs her hands up over his shoulders, twisting her fingers in his shaggy hair as the tension starts building under her skin again.

He grips her hips, helping her move on him, and she catches another train of thought: yeah, I told you I was gonna make you come again, and you are, huh?

"Yeah," she pants, "I am, oh, God."

His eyes go wide, like he's still surprised when she hears those things, but the hand in her hair tightens, his hips moving to fuck up against her every time she rocks down on his cock. She loses a ragged moan every time it stabs up against that place he was working with his fingers, and she drops her forehead against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of his sweat and aftershave and everything that's so human.

"Sookie," he says, low and rumbly right against her ear.

She comes even harder than she did before, flexing around the length of his cock over and over, her hips twisting to grind it in deep. She's barely even aware of him moving her again, easing up on his knees and gripping her waist with one arm as he picks up those hard, jabbing strokes.

"Fuck," she pants, "Alcide—"

"I know," he growls, the sound of his voice rough over the slick, smacking noises of their skin every time he hits home. "I got you."

He does have her, she thinks, tightening her thighs around him as he pushes her back down on the bed. She hasn't even quite come back to herself yet when he starts to lose it, his expression darkening and his fingers digging into her hips. His thrusts go sharp and jerky, and he lets out a noise so gravelly and harsh it reminds her of earlier, when he was about to turn.

Sookie runs her hands up his arms and grips his shoulders, feeling the roll of muscle in them as his whole body tenses and throbs – over her, around her, all the way up in that deep place inside her.

"Holy shit," he says, ducking his head and moving a few more times, slow and easy.

"Tell me about it," she says weakly.

He looks up and stares at her for a second, then kisses her again. It's as hard and fierce as it was before, like he's still got all this energy rattling around in him, even after that. His teeth catch on her bottom lip, tugging at it a little before he pulls away and slides out of her.

She watches with some interest as he takes the condom off and ties it, chucking it at the wastebasket across the room. He quirks his eyebrows at her when he notices, and she shrugs lazily.

"I've never done it with one of those before," she says, stretching languorously. "Vampires can't have kids or anything, so it never came up."

"Really?" Alcide scratches at his chin as he lays back down next to her. He isn't any shyer about manhandling her now – he scoops her up and tugs her in against his chest with a good-natured grunt. "Huh. Never thought about it like that."

Sookie rests her head on his chest, listening to the loud, unmistakable pound of his heart as the rhythm evens out. They just lay there for a while, the loose-limbed feeling of pleasure making her mind nice and quiet. For the first time in days, everything finally seems still.

"So," she says lightly, "you still think we qualify as a Lonely Hearts club?"

She tilts her head to look up at him, and finds him already staring down at her.

"Hell," he says, his tone tinged with something like amusement and affection. "I don't know about you, but I'm not feelin' too lonely anymore."

Sookie glances down at her hand, where the engagement ring Bill gave her should be. It still hurts – nothing can change that, not yet – but right then it's offset by the warmth of Alcide's body against hers and the hand that's digging into her hair again.

She knows he can get through his awful break-up in one piece, because she's too much an optimist to think otherwise. Good things happen for good people, even if it takes a while for the universe to sort it out. And that must mean she'll get through her own troubles in one piece, too.

"Yeah," she says, smiling up at him. "I don't reckon I'm too lonely right now, either."
Tags: fic, fuck yeah alcide, true blood
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