A/N: Silly me for starting up a new story before finishing Dead without a Work Permit, but I`ve had this in the back of my head for ages and now it was blocking DWAWP – I couldn`t write any more before I got this story started.
This story is a deviation from my usual style. I don`t use a lot of `fuck` and `bitch` in my stories, but when you are dealing with an arrogant bastard and an ice queen, those are the words you have to use. Eric and Sookie hate each other here. Or so it seems.
The story takes place somewhere in Scandinavia and the football they are playing is the one some people (not naming names :-P) refer to as soccer. It`s not important to the story just where it takes place and it could have been anywhere, but this explains the use of kilometer instead of miles and why the football season is in the summer and not the winter. Plus it explains why football is frontpage news – as it is around here (and rightly so in my opinion. Football is my passion!).
I want to thank Rascalthemutant at the Alexander Skarsgård Library Forum for reviewing yet another story. I couldn`t have done this without you, you know!
And now I give you Eric and Sookie.
“You think you can charm your way out of exercising, Northman?”
I hated how she only used my last name. She had no problem saying Bill, Sam or even fucking Alcide, but Eric was apparently impossible for her to say. Only Quinn was also called by his last name, but that was by choice. His choice.
I smiled my girl-melting smile.
“So you think I`m charming, huh?” I even threw in a wink. Sookie was a bitch, but she had me by the balls. Unfortunately not in the good way.
“Try lazy. You are a lazy bastard, Northman, and now you need to go run the freaking short five kilometers I ordered you to run instead of pestering me when I have better things to do.”
I blew a fuse. She called me lazy, for crying out loud. I had worked hard to get where I was. No one calls me lazy. Least of all Sookie “assistant coach” Stackhouse.
The whole team had had three reactions to Sookie`s becoming our assistant coach.
First we were in shock. A female coach to one of the top teams in the MALE football league? Male coaches to female footballers were acceptable, but the other way around? No fucking way.
The second reaction had been smirking and sexual innuendo. We all wondered if she was a lesbian. She was a footballer herself and we all knew how women`s top football was. Full of lesbians. But when we saw her, we knew she was no dyke. The politically correct people claim you can`t see if people are gay, but Sookie was as straight as they come. In fact she was hot. And we all wanted to screw her.
The third reaction was groaning. Sookie turned out to be a bitch with a capitol B. She drove us hard with the physical training and never let us alone on the mental. Granted she got results, but would it have killed her to use a little bit of all that female charm she was carrying?
In just a month everyone on the team forgot that she was a woman. We even accepted her in our locker room. The coaches are always in the locker room after practice and after the games, but it had stirred up quite a commotion when she insisted on being there too. Shit, when I`m naked and a woman is looking, I really want it to be foreplay to hot sex. Not my coach yelling at me for poor performances.
Now I was doing the yelling. No one calls me lazy.
“You have no fucking idea about how hard I`ve worked to get where I am, Stackhouse! I am the fucking star of the team and I`m not about to take orders from a blond little bitch.”
Sookie looked at me with cold eyes.
“Will you shut up? You are in a hotel corridor and there could be reporters around any of those corners,” she waved her hand as to point at invisible photographers and journalists. “And they would just love to run the story of our `star striker`,” she made air quotation marks around “star striker”, “trying to dodge training when he has not scored a goal in five … no, six matches.”
“You bitch! That was a low blow.” I narrowed my eyes and opened my mouth to yell some profanities at her when she grabbed my hand and pulled me into her room.
“If it`s so important for you to yell at me, please do it here in my room and not out in the corridor. Even if you don`t care about your reputation, I do. Bad PR for you is bad PR for the team,” she looked at my running shoes and my track pants. “And you are so going running afterwards.”
She was so cool and collected, I wanted to shake her, shout at her, kiss her, just to get some kind of reaction.
I went for the kissing. Which earned me a slap.
“What the fuck, Northman?”
At least she was a little bit less collected. She was pissed. And if eyes could kill, I would have been a blob of blood splashed out on the floor.
I was most certainly not cool and collected. I was still tasting her lips on my mouth and feeling her slap on my cheek. Fuck. I was trying to get her out of balance and only managed to send myself into a high-speed chase of my adult self. Because a 16 year-old horny guy had definitely taken my place. I wanted to slap myself where she had slapped me.
“You can not kiss me and you know it, Northman. I`m your fucking coach. Or do you have some coach-fetish I didn`t know about? Have you kissed Andre lately? Do you go for owners too? Sophie Anne should be something for you, then?”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course I don`t kiss men. And I don`t go kissing any 60-year-old ladies either.”
“Nice to know that you have some standards,” she spat at me.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
She looked at me.
“Well, spit it out, Stackhouse. It`s not like you`re afraid of offending me.”
“You would kiss anyone, Northman. You`re a manwhore.”
“WHAT? I`m no fucking manwhore. It`s hardly my fault that I`m popular with the girls. Or that I enjoy their company.”
“Manwhore,” she taunted, a small but far from gentle smile on her mouth.
“Shut up, you frigid bitch.”
Her smile turned evil. Then she whispered “manwhore” one more time. I couldn`t help myself, I kissed her again just to shut her up. And got slapped once more.
“You do not kiss me, Northman.”
Then the strangest thing happened. She grabbed my long hair, fisted it and pulled me down to her and kissed me. Deeply.
My jaw was down below my knees, or so it seemed, when she pulled back.
“You don`t kiss me – I kiss you,” she said.
Fucking hell. Was this the Twilight Zone or some parallel universe? Sookie fucking Stackhouse just kissed me. Coach Stackhouse who had more balls than all the coaches throughout my career and she drove the team harder than a drill sergeant would. My body had screamed in pain so many times because of Sookie`s barking out orders of yet another lap around the football field or 50 more push-ups.
She kissed me.
My brain wanted to run out of this room. No good could ever come out of your coach kissing you with a mean look on her face. But my body had hijacked me and turned off my brain.
“What do you call women who kiss manwhores?” I asked feigning innocence.
“Freaking stupid, that`s what you call them,” Sookie said in a cold voice. “And manwhores bragging to other team-players are suicidal, okay?”
“Or else?” I couldn`t resist myself. I had the upper hand for once.
“Or else you are off the team. Or haven`t you read the memo saying `no screwing team members, staff OR coaches? Sophie Anne was so gracious as to send it out just after I was hired.”
And there my upper hand flew out the window. Then I listened closer to what Sookie had said.
“Screwing? You may have another concept of screwing than I have, having spent so much time in the lesbian league, but I only remember kissing here. I`m all up for rectifying it, though. I am a manwhore, after all.” I pouted my lips in a mock kiss.
Suddenly Sookie pushed me hard in the chest.
“Don`t” push “ever” push “call” push “Women`s league” push “lesbian league!” and with a shove, I was flat on her bed with surprise written all over my face. Sookie jumped me and before I could say anything she sat on top of me, pulling my hair and kissing my mouth.
It took me a good five minutes to remember that I was Eric Northman, I was THE Eric Northman; football star and lover extraordinaire.
I grabbed Sookie`s hips and ground her into my body. I was on fire. The Ice Queen had pushed me onto her bed and was kissing me frantically.
I remembered when she came to the club. We all knew about Sookie Stackhouse, of course. First of all she was the sister of famous striker Jason Stackhouse, the son of a bitch who stole my spot on the national team and won international fame and fortune.
Second she was quite the footballer herself, winning the cup and the series numerous times. That was in the ladies league, so we never thought of it as a big accomplishment, but she did have the trophies to boast of.
Third she had turned coach at a pretty young age, going through all four coach exams faster than anyone before her. Heck, Andre hadn`t even taken all four yet. And she had coached a lady team to win cup medals and series a couple of times too.
We all knew about Sookie and her success, but she was a woman goddammit. Women had no place in men`s football. It was bad enough to have a woman own the team.
Sookie wasn`t what you would call a knock out. We had seen pictures of her, of course. She was the little princes of the damned reporters who wanted to attract more female readers to the sports pages – and to give the horny men something pretty to look at. She was blond and she had large boobs, I suppose that was more than enough for most men.
But I had higher standards. I had dated most models in the country and Sookie was petty plain looking next to them. When Sookie turned up at the club on her first day, Bill immediately started whistling at her and I could see drool forming in the mouths of both Alcide and Sam. Some men are just too easy. A blonde in a skirt and they are rolling over like lapdogs.
Not me. I called her out on what she was. A pretty face to boost the club`s PR. Of course that earned me quite a lot of extra training. Sookie had me working so hard, I often had blood in my mouth at the end of the day. Stupid bitch.
Early on I decided I would crack her. No woman was as strong as she pretended to be and I wanted to get under that thick skin of hers and see what was there. I wanted to thaw the Ice Queen.
And here I was, in her bed, turned on like I never had been before, and she was still in control.
I pushed her over so that I was on top and got up on my knees between her thighs. I hadn`t noticed what she was wearing before, but now I realized that she had already changed into her pajamas. I yanked her pajama trousers off her, pleased to find that she wasn`t wearing any panties, and I ducked down to taste her most private parts.
Being a manwhore, as Sookie called me, isn`t something you brag about to your mother, but it does have its advantages. I was pretty talented with my tongue and I made sure Sookie had everything from my little box of treats. I licked and I sucked and I nibbled and I licked again. Sookie was writhing and moaning and I loved being the one who made her feel that way.
I looked at her face, but I was disappointed. Even if her mouth was moaning, her eyes were shut, which meant that I wouldn`t be able to see her orgasm wash over her.
“Look at me,” I whispered and her blue eyes met mine. Suddenly she bucked over, made a guttural sound and her hard eyes turned soft. For just a minute. But I took a mental picture of it and made sure I would remember the look in her eyes forever.
I was hard as a rock and quickly disposed of my track pants. I was about to enter her, when we both remembered something important.
“Condom?” we said simultaneously.
Shit! I didn`t fucking bring any condoms. I had NOT planned on having sex. I was on my way to run the damned 5 kilometers little Miss Ice Queen had insisted I run and now I had the opportunity to nail her good with everything I got, and the lack of a fucking condom was stopping me.
“Shit,” I said when Sookie got out from under me. She looked impressingly great in just her top. Granted she didn`t have the tall and lean body of the models I usually fucked, but she had an ass to die for. Round and muscular. Her hips and waist screamed `woman`, but her thighs were toned like the footballer she was. She would never be in Elle, but she could certainly be my personal centerfold.
She went to her bathroom and I could hear a zipper of what I guessed was her beautybag or wherever women kept their toothbrushes, make-up … and condoms. I cheered inside.
Sookie came back.
“At least you didn`t plan on screwing me since you didn`t bring a condom,” she said and threw a condom my way.
“But you apparently planned on screwing someone on this trip since you did bring one,” I half asked, half stated.
“So the bimbos you usually screw are not that responsible?”
“As responsible as the bimbo I`m screwing now, you mean?” I snickered.
She looked at me.
“Are you going to screw or talk? If you want to talk, you`ve come to the wrong place. I like to have my conversations with people whose IQ is higher than their shoe size.”
Fuck. She always had the last word. But then action speaks louder than words and I made a promise to myself that my actions would kill all of her cold and calculating words.
I quickly rolled on the condom and started to devour Sookie`s breasts while positioning myself at her entrance. She hitched her legs around my waist and I gripped her hips.
I buried myself to the hilt in her and thoroughly enjoyed how she gasped for air. I`m not the smallest guy in the world and most women appreciated my size. Sookie was apparently no exception.
Sookie fisted my hair and pulled me to her mouth and we fought for tongue-power while I tried to screw her brains out. Unfortunately my brains were starting to leave too. I had planned on staying in control and watching her losing it, but the intensity of this fuck was just too much for me. Soon I was moaning just as loud as Sookie and we were on the fast track to Orgasm City together.
Sookie let go of my mouth and attacked my neck just below my ear. As this was one of my most sensitive spots, I panicked at the thought of me coming ahead of her. Or that I would come alone. I slipped my hand in between us and gave her clit some strokes. Joy to the world – it made her scream and I could feel her contract around me.
She was coming and so was I. Never in my 32 years of existence have I experienced the much praised simultaneous orgasm, and I had seriously doubted it even existed. But now, with a woman I hated, a woman I wanted to break, with Sookie – I orgasmed with her. And it was indescribable. Amazing. Out of this world.
I collapsed over her body, not caring whether I crushed her. Actually I had no choice. All my muscles were paralyzed. And I felt great.
Judging from her breathing, Sookie shared my emotions. We lay there for a couple of minutes and then we suddenly remembered who we were in bed with.
“So I was apparently wrong about you,” I whispered into her hair.
She looked at me.
“I thought you were a frigid lesbian.”
“Yeah well, I was apparently right about you,” she countered.
“How so?” I didn`t really want to know, but I had to ask.
“You are here and not out running. You are a lazy bastard.”
“What the fuck?” I had worked my ass off for her orgasm and she called me lazy?
Sookie gave my shoulder a slap.
“Get up, Northman.”
I jumped out of the bed as if it was burning. As if she was burning. Which was ironic since she was the Ice Queen.
“You need to run pretty fast to manage those 5 kilometers before player curfew, Northman.”
I gaped. “What?”
“You didn`t expect me to let you off the hook just because we screwed?” She looked at me with amusement in her eyes, but it was no haha-amusement.
I pulled my track pants up and went for the door. I looked back at her.
“I was right about one thing, though. You really are a bitch.”
I quickly closed the door after me, not wanting to hear her response.
So what did you think of Eric and Sookie? I`d love to hear your opinion on these two passionate footballers.
A word of warning: There will be no lovey-dovey love around the next corner. Sex, probably, but a lot of name-calling too. So please don`t ask me to make Sookie sweet and gentle or Eric romantic and understanding. It`s not going to happen. Of course their emotions will evolve, but this is not your traditional romantic setting.
*Hides from incoming footballs*