#thedan

He allows his eyes to wander, merely studying the eerily quiet cabin. There is a lump on the couch, though from the soft snores coming from it, he knows it is only Diantha; as dead to the world as Pam is. All he can see from his current position is her back as she lies curled on her side, her mane of wild hair cascading down the couch, nearly touching the floor; though he’s not entirely sure when it grew so long.

Eric’s eyes never leave her, as if he thinks she will realize he is staring and will jump to attention. But she just continues to snore, sleeping as easily as a child and not the heir to the demon throne of Hell; or whatever she was getting at the previous night. At this reminder, Eric’s eyes narrow, and he slowly turns his head toward Pam once more. Who do you really belong to? That’s what the monstrous demon had asked Pam after he had bitten her and tried to force himself into her mind. That’s what had stopped him, made him hesitate; that’s what had led to his biggest mistake.

Eric rolls his head closer, inhaling deeply with his nose by Pam’s hair. But all he can smell is her, and the light fragrance of roses; no doubt from her favorite shampoo when Diantha cleaned her up the previous nights. He smells nothing out of the ordinary; nothing that would make him question who she belongs to. With great effort, he maneuvers himself onto his side, the better able to run his nose along her throat, and her shoulders; he even sniffs along her chest, stopping only when he reaches her folded hands.

“Are you sniffing me?” she says by way of greeting, causing Eric’s eyes to snap up to hers, finding her staring down at him in amusement; without their bond, he did not even feel her consciousness stir.

He greets her with a blinding smile, hefting himself onto his elbows so that he can press his lips against hers. “Maybe,” he finally answers her as she fingers rise to stroke his uninjured cheek, “Do you feel sniffed?”

Pam giggles, nodding her head as Eric dips his head to her shoulder, inhaling once more. “What are you trying to smell?” she asks after a moment, when he rests on his side beside her once more.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his eyes flickering toward the sleeping demon again, “I don’t smell anything…or anyone…” His frown deepens, and he leans closer. His tongue darts out, just the tip, to taste the small drops of blood that have formed on her face from her scratches. Even the small taste causes him to moan, and he rolls the drop around on his tongue, still staring down at her. “I don’t taste anyone…” he murmurs. For some reason, this only infuriates him; and his selfishness raises its ugly head. “That thing said you belonged to someone,” he reminds her, “And I want to know who.”

Pam catches his chin before he lowers his head again, her brow arched in a way that make him sure she will recover once more. “He tasted you,” she assures him, “He sensed you. I belong to you, Eric.”

Their names both start with Th

Theo and Thranduil Thedan and Thraiden

0.o