Title: Spiralling
Author: alyse
Fandom: Blade: Trinity
Pairing: Abigail Whistler/Hannibal King
Rating: R (eventually NC-17)
Warnings/Spoilers: None/set pre movie
Genres: Smut, first time
Word Count: 3,400 (this part)
Status: First part in an ongoing story, but this can be read as a standalone
Disclaimer: Blade: Trinity, the motion picture, is owned by New Line Cinema. This is a not for profit fanfiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Thanks to![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aithine for beta reading duties. Any mistakes remaining are my own. Title and quote from Spiralling by Jamie Woon. Written for my ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kissbingo card square 'other: staged'. There is more to this story, but the first part will stand alone and meet the requirements for my kissbingo card, and I ran out of time to expand on it the way I wanted. The rest will come when I've had a chance to write the smut ::g::
Summary: She was too comfortable with him sometimes.
-o-
Walking home, there ain't a trace of moonlight
You hold out your hand and everything is so easy
And I think that's the part that scares me
-o-
Abigail felt the music long before she heard it. Each thump of the bass spilling out into the night air sent a surge of adrenaline running through her veins, building up and up until she was thrumming with that as much as the beat. It tingled in her bones, tightened across her skin, and made her teeth ache, each pulse echoing the rhythm of her fierce, ferocious heart. Music, to her, was the siren call of battle: parry and thrust, not twist and twirl. But not tonight, not yet; she took a deep breath, consciously loosening each and every tense muscle until her fingers finally uncurled and hung, relaxed and ready, by her side.
King matched her step for step as she stalked through the streets, half-bouncing on the soles of his feet and full of unsettled energy that could be nerves or simply an impending sugar crash. Or it could be nothing; King had a hard time keeping still at the best of times and she could never figure out whether it was adrenaline that fuelled him and his mile a minute mouth, or whether it was simply down to him having too much personality to be confined within even his six foot two frame. Right now it could be both; when she glanced over at him, his face was set, grim and focused the way it usually was when they were heading into unknown and inevitably dangerous territory.
Her next step took her closer to him, close enough to nudge him with her hip. It pushed him off balance, and he stumbled through the next two or three steps, turning his head to glare at her. The look lacked any heat. King rarely got pissed at her; he reserved all of his genuine anger for one not-quite-person.
Abby raised her eyebrow at him, giving him a pointed look. When the confusion didn't clear from his face, she edged towards him again, leaning in to be heard. "Smile," she said, and matched her actions to her words. The expression felt more like a grimace on her face; she couldn't really blame King for his focus, not when her own heart was stuttering in her chest to the rhythm of the beat pounding through the sidewalks. "We're supposed to be..."
"On a date?" he said, too brightly. She scowled at him, but he simply grinned at her, wide and toothily, swinging his arm around her shoulders and tucking her against his side so that this time she was the one to stumble off balance for a couple of steps. "Smile nicely for the goons at the door, sweetheart."
Said goons weren't even looking in their direction, but she pasted what she hoped was an approximation of 'good girl looking for a good time' on her face as they grew closer, just in case that changed. It wasn't difficult when King had his arm around her - she was too comfortable with him sometimes - but it probably came across as stoned. She'd never felt too comfortable letting things show, but stoned would work, too. If they'd been further away from the door, she'd probably have said as much to King, just to watch the fake wounded expression he'd pull up from somewhere at the suggestion that she'd need drugs to date him, instead of just needing her head examined.
Before she could reconsider and say something anything, one of the bouncers on the door turned his heavily jowled face slowly in their direction, something about them attracting his attention. She took a deep breath, leaning further into King's body, and he shifted his weight easily, once again matching her gait as the two of them moved towards the club's entrance.
The club wasn't much to look at from the outside, all concrete and battered steel grilles, but the clientele spilling out onto the sidewalks were young and trendy enough to make up for it. They were hip and happening, and over the last few months they'd been dying by the dozen. Enough of them to finally put this particular establishment on the Nightstalkers' radar.
Abby didn't get the attraction - she didn't do the clubbing thing and never had. Once she was old enough, her nights had been given over to other pursuits and dancing was very low down on her agenda, unless it was the kind of dancing that resulted in her partner being staked. This was completely unfamiliar territory; she had no idea whether the length of the line spilling out of the club's entrance was normal for this kind of venue or this time of night. King was more the clubbing type, she thought - or had been before he'd run into Danica Talos and been vamped for his troubles - and he didn't seem perturbed by it. She took her lead from him, coming to a halt at the end of the long line and letting him drape his arms over her shoulders as she leant into the warmth of his body.
Waiting - whether usual or not for this type of place - left her twitchy and trying not to show it. She moved closer to King, trying to give off 'girlfriend' vibes and not to catch the eye of the bouncer who'd first spotted them and still had his head turned in their direction, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. It looked ridiculous, shades at 3 a.m., but when she turned to say as much to King - maybe even suggest there was a reason that the bouncer didn't want his eyes to be seen - King wasn't watching him. Instead, his gaze was passing over the other people in line as he absently stroked his hands over her back, heading downwards towards her ass.
She hoped - for his sake - that the move was absent and not deliberate, especially as she had her suspicions about exactly why he'd talked her into wearing this particular outfit.
King leaned in towards her and she tilted her face up, turning her head to the side so that she could hear him. To anyone else, it would look as though he was whispering sweet nothings in her ear; she suspected King would be good at that, especially as he could be full of shit when he wasn't trying to get into someone's pants. Instead, he asked, "Notice anything odd about this crowd?"
His lips brushed against her skin as he spoke, and she suppressed a shiver, glancing along the length of the line to hide it. She couldn't see what King meant at first, not until he leaned closer again and added, "No couples."
She got it then, though he wasn't quite right; when she leaned back a little, trying to give the impression that she was just impatient, counting how many bodies there were between the two of them and entrance to the 'exclusivity' of this particular night spot, there was another couple, about ten or so people in front of them. She could understand why King had missed them. They were wound so tightly together that it was difficult to tell them apart in the dark, at least until they broke apart for a breath.
She gave them a once over, mentally cataloguing them and then dismissing them as a potential threat. They were young - early twenties, she guessed, although that probably made them older than she was. Generically attractive, she supposed, and dressed like so many others in line, nothing to distinguish them from anyone else waiting except for the fact that the girl, in particular, appeared to be able to breathe through her ears and was wearing a skirt even shorter than Abby's. Maybe King hadn't had ulterior motives for suggesting what she wear, though that was difficult to believe, the way his hands were still moving slowly up and down her spine
But King was right about one thing - there was a noticeable lack of pairs in the line. Most patrons were groups of single women or single men, ebbing and flowing around each other with jokes and catcalls. Maybe that was just typical for Club Noir - you came alone and went home with anyone who would have you. She wouldn't be able to tell - she'd never been concerned with the normal patterns of dating, or even casual hook ups, just like she'd never really been concerned with the whole dancing the night away thing. But this particular couple seemed to have attracted the bouncers' attention; one be-suited behemoth was heading towards the pair, his eyes fixed on them. Even though he seemed oblivious to her and King, it didn't stop Abigail from tensing as he grew closer. King slid his arms around Abby's waist and tucked her more tightly into his body. It was a sharp little reminder to keep their cover and when she locked her eyes with King's she was met with a look that was just as sharp.
The shiver that went through Abby this time had nothing to do with the feel of King pressed up against her and everything to do with the thrill of the chase.
She slid her hands up his arms, letting her palms settle on the back of his neck and watched - a little less openly this time - as the bouncer unfastened the stained velvet rope penning them all against the wall and separated the couple from the rest of the mob, herding them towards the entrance. He ignored the jeers and protests from those who had been waiting patiently in front of them, staying stony-faced throughout.
Not that he had anything to worry about - the protests seemed half-hearted, more for show than anything else, and Abby frowned, a little nonplussed by it all.
King tilted his head down towards hers again. "This kind of joint, it's not how long you wait. It's who you know and how well your face fits."
He sounded way too knowledgeable about the whole thing for her comfort, although she got what he meant. It might have been an alien concept as far as she was concerned, but on a purely intellectual level it made a twisted kind of sense. It was all about hierarchy, positioning and status, things that screamed 'vampire' to her - what she was still confused about was that there hadn't really been anything to distinguish the two chosen from the rest of the line, nothing about them that said that they were the cool kids. Abby let her eyes trail over the clientele again, trying to figure it out. Most of those around them were attractive, in that kind of preppy, well-fed way that did nothing for her personally, and therefore much like the couple who'd been culled from the herd. Vampires liked to surround themselves with beautiful things - on a purely base level, they were all about the pretty and mostly about the hot; you only had to look at King to know that. But the chosen couple just hadn't seemed that special to her. Cute as hell, maybe, while they'd been kissing, but ...
She frowned, slowly turning the pieces over in her mind and trying to figure out where they fit. Somehow, she ended up pressed even closer to King; it made it easier to talk without being overheard, that was all. "Dex said that those going missing were evenly split male, female, right?" she murmured, and he nodded, twisting his head to look down at her, eyes bright and half-amused by her, as they always were. "So what if...?"
"They were couples?" He gave it a moment's consideration, and then shook his head, keeping his voice low. "Dex did some background checking - some of the vics, yes. But a lot of them didn't even know each other, just were unlucky enough to go missing on the same night. If that was down to our friendly, neighbourhood Homo nocturnalis, maybe that's because they like some variety in their all you can eat buffet. The couples we figured were just a convenient all-in-one combo pack."
Abby wasn't so sure. She glanced down the line again, at all of the boys and girls in front of them, preening and joshing with each other, leaning in for a brief exchange of words, a look, a touch. Some kind of connection, even if it was only for one night...
King was smart, very smart; he'd just learned to hide it and for good reason. When she turned back towards him, she could tell from the look on his face and his raised eyebrow that he'd reached the same conclusion she had. His expression was faintly admiring, either of the vampires' daring or of her reasoning, and by extension his. She couldn't tell and didn't want to ask. "Sex and death," he murmured, and his breath stirred the small, loose hairs curling down by her ear. "Welcome to Club Noir, boys and girls. You can check out but you can never leave."
"I thought that was Hotel California," she murmured, only half-listening to him while she continued to scan their immediate surroundings. He pulled back to flash a sudden grin in her direction, bright and fierce in his angular face.
"I'm impressed, Whistler. I didn't think you listened to anything pre-millennium."
Asshole.
One of the bouncers caught her eye, his face impassive and his own eyes hidden behind his ever-present shades. She suppressed the instinct to jerk back, out of sight and out of striking distance, and instead let her eyes drift on, trying to project an air of someone cold and already bored. The cold thing was easy; she had no idea why the hell anyone would choose to go out in so little, no matter what King's opinion on appropriate club wear had been. At least she'd won on the boots front, going for the flat soled and over the knee ones rather than the ridiculous stilettos that King had suggested that she wouldn't even have been able to walk in. These ones she could dance - and fight - in, and the fact that her skirt was so damned short meant that at least it wasn't going to get in her way.
The stilettos she'd gone for were ones that were sharp and silver, and fit neatly into the top of each boot.
King's hands were travelling downwards again, sliding over the curve of her back towards her ass. She loosened her hands from around his neck, moving them slowly over the hard planes of his chest and then around his waist, easing them under his jacket until they were resting in the small of his back. She was sure that from the outside it all looked very affectionate, even as her fingers were curling around the handle of the silver knife that King had stashed there, tucked into the back of his pants. King didn't miss it; his body shook lightly against hers as he held back his laughter, but at least his hands stayed where they were, resting in the small of her back and not progressing any further.
Good boy. She felt the corners of her mouth curl up in a reluctant smile. He could be a pain in the ass, but he was never less than entertaining.
The bouncer's eyes moved on, scanning the crowd, looking for something, and Abby had a feeling she'd figured out what. Whenever his gaze paused for a moment, it was usually on the thickest parts of the crowd, where emotions were the most unruly and the line ebbed and flowed like the ocean waves, which made sense if he was for real, but she didn't think he was. Maybe she was just projecting, wanting him to be a familiar, a wannabe, instead of just a poor schmuck who worked nights, but she'd gained an instinct for this kind of thing. If there hadn't been so many people around, if she managed to get him alone, she'd know for sure. This kind of waiting around bored her - she was more of a point and kick kind of a girl. King was the one who got excited by mysteries - the shit load of Sumerian artefacts they had scattered around the Honeycomb Hideout was testament to that.
She was tired of waiting; she slid her hands back up to King's neck, pulling his head down towards her.
She may have initiated the kiss, but King took control of it, exploring her mouth thoroughly as his hands slid around her waist and pulled her tightly against him. He took his time about it as well, slow, drugging kisses that went straight through her, her fingers sinking into his hair, pulling him closer. One of his hands moved up her back again, a slow slide of electricity that ended up with his fingers tangled in her hair. He tugged her head back, stopping just short of causing her pain; it was enough to send a sharp surge of shocked pleasure through her as he deepened the kiss.
By the time he finally released her mouth, she was panting, her heart pounding in her chest. Jesus, he was good at that. His fingers were still resting on her neck, tracing circles lightly against her skin as he stared at her mouth. She licked her lips and swallowed, and the bastard actually smiled, a little smirking quirk of his lips that was all too familiar to her.
If he winked at her, she was going for his knife.
She should step back, point made, and pin her hair up more securely; the hair-sticks she'd chosen for the evening - the sharp, thin silver ones that Hedges had made especially for her - were threatening to fall out, loosened by King's fingers. But then King reached up and smoothed one of the errant locks back, and the fingers he had resting on her neck exerted a gentle pressure until his mouth met hers again.
She thought that she was ready for him this time; she gave as good as she got, sliding her tongue into his mouth and nipping at his lower lip with sharp teeth. But when he jerked at that, his body hard against hers, his fingers weren't gentle any more. They were hard and greedy, digging into her flesh as his hands slid down to cup her ass, pulling her firmly against him, and, God, that sent a wave of heat coursing through her, leaving her gasping against his mouth, her own fingers scrabbling desperately at his shoulders.
When she broke free this time, his eyes were dark and dangerous, and her mouth felt swollen; when she licked her lips, his gaze dropped to her mouth and he wasn't smiling. He leaned in and took her mouth again, softer this time, back to slow, honeyed kisses that left her fingers curling helplessly against his arms.
"Get a room!" someone called out, and she jerked against King, abruptly brought back to the present. King dragged himself away from her mouth long enough to glare in the direction of their heckler, flipping him off defiantly. And then he turned back to Abby, pushing her hair out of her face and pressing his lips against the corner of her mouth.
She turned her head slightly, still kicking herself for getting distracted, but King simply let his mouth trail across her skin, pressing butterfly soft kisses against her cheek as he made his way towards her ear.
"We got company, babe," he breathed, and she shivered, fingers clutching at him again when his teeth scraped lightly against her jaw, a biting little kiss that left her aching and wanting.
The bouncer was smarter about it this time; he didn't just single Abby and King out from the rest, but opened the rope a little in front of them, pulling out another group of four or five before he nodded his head in their direction. King settled his arm around Abby's shoulders, guiding her out through the rope. As they headed towards the club's entrance, she slid her hand underneath his jacket, fingers curling into the belt loop on the back of his pants, within easy reach of his blade. No more distractions.
It was game time.
Author: alyse
Fandom: Blade: Trinity
Pairing: Abigail Whistler/Hannibal King
Rating: R (eventually NC-17)
Warnings/Spoilers: None/set pre movie
Genres: Smut, first time
Word Count: 3,400 (this part)
Status: First part in an ongoing story, but this can be read as a standalone
Disclaimer: Blade: Trinity, the motion picture, is owned by New Line Cinema. This is a not for profit fanfiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Thanks to
aithine for beta reading duties. Any mistakes remaining are my own. Title and quote from Spiralling by Jamie Woon. Written for my kissbingo card square 'other: staged'. There is more to this story, but the first part will stand alone and meet the requirements for my kissbingo card, and I ran out of time to expand on it the way I wanted. The rest will come when I've had a chance to write the smut ::g::Summary: She was too comfortable with him sometimes.
-o-
You hold out your hand and everything is so easy
And I think that's the part that scares me
-o-
Abigail felt the music long before she heard it. Each thump of the bass spilling out into the night air sent a surge of adrenaline running through her veins, building up and up until she was thrumming with that as much as the beat. It tingled in her bones, tightened across her skin, and made her teeth ache, each pulse echoing the rhythm of her fierce, ferocious heart. Music, to her, was the siren call of battle: parry and thrust, not twist and twirl. But not tonight, not yet; she took a deep breath, consciously loosening each and every tense muscle until her fingers finally uncurled and hung, relaxed and ready, by her side.
King matched her step for step as she stalked through the streets, half-bouncing on the soles of his feet and full of unsettled energy that could be nerves or simply an impending sugar crash. Or it could be nothing; King had a hard time keeping still at the best of times and she could never figure out whether it was adrenaline that fuelled him and his mile a minute mouth, or whether it was simply down to him having too much personality to be confined within even his six foot two frame. Right now it could be both; when she glanced over at him, his face was set, grim and focused the way it usually was when they were heading into unknown and inevitably dangerous territory.
Her next step took her closer to him, close enough to nudge him with her hip. It pushed him off balance, and he stumbled through the next two or three steps, turning his head to glare at her. The look lacked any heat. King rarely got pissed at her; he reserved all of his genuine anger for one not-quite-person.
Abby raised her eyebrow at him, giving him a pointed look. When the confusion didn't clear from his face, she edged towards him again, leaning in to be heard. "Smile," she said, and matched her actions to her words. The expression felt more like a grimace on her face; she couldn't really blame King for his focus, not when her own heart was stuttering in her chest to the rhythm of the beat pounding through the sidewalks. "We're supposed to be..."
"On a date?" he said, too brightly. She scowled at him, but he simply grinned at her, wide and toothily, swinging his arm around her shoulders and tucking her against his side so that this time she was the one to stumble off balance for a couple of steps. "Smile nicely for the goons at the door, sweetheart."
Said goons weren't even looking in their direction, but she pasted what she hoped was an approximation of 'good girl looking for a good time' on her face as they grew closer, just in case that changed. It wasn't difficult when King had his arm around her - she was too comfortable with him sometimes - but it probably came across as stoned. She'd never felt too comfortable letting things show, but stoned would work, too. If they'd been further away from the door, she'd probably have said as much to King, just to watch the fake wounded expression he'd pull up from somewhere at the suggestion that she'd need drugs to date him, instead of just needing her head examined.
Before she could reconsider and say something anything, one of the bouncers on the door turned his heavily jowled face slowly in their direction, something about them attracting his attention. She took a deep breath, leaning further into King's body, and he shifted his weight easily, once again matching her gait as the two of them moved towards the club's entrance.
The club wasn't much to look at from the outside, all concrete and battered steel grilles, but the clientele spilling out onto the sidewalks were young and trendy enough to make up for it. They were hip and happening, and over the last few months they'd been dying by the dozen. Enough of them to finally put this particular establishment on the Nightstalkers' radar.
Abby didn't get the attraction - she didn't do the clubbing thing and never had. Once she was old enough, her nights had been given over to other pursuits and dancing was very low down on her agenda, unless it was the kind of dancing that resulted in her partner being staked. This was completely unfamiliar territory; she had no idea whether the length of the line spilling out of the club's entrance was normal for this kind of venue or this time of night. King was more the clubbing type, she thought - or had been before he'd run into Danica Talos and been vamped for his troubles - and he didn't seem perturbed by it. She took her lead from him, coming to a halt at the end of the long line and letting him drape his arms over her shoulders as she leant into the warmth of his body.
Waiting - whether usual or not for this type of place - left her twitchy and trying not to show it. She moved closer to King, trying to give off 'girlfriend' vibes and not to catch the eye of the bouncer who'd first spotted them and still had his head turned in their direction, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. It looked ridiculous, shades at 3 a.m., but when she turned to say as much to King - maybe even suggest there was a reason that the bouncer didn't want his eyes to be seen - King wasn't watching him. Instead, his gaze was passing over the other people in line as he absently stroked his hands over her back, heading downwards towards her ass.
She hoped - for his sake - that the move was absent and not deliberate, especially as she had her suspicions about exactly why he'd talked her into wearing this particular outfit.
King leaned in towards her and she tilted her face up, turning her head to the side so that she could hear him. To anyone else, it would look as though he was whispering sweet nothings in her ear; she suspected King would be good at that, especially as he could be full of shit when he wasn't trying to get into someone's pants. Instead, he asked, "Notice anything odd about this crowd?"
His lips brushed against her skin as he spoke, and she suppressed a shiver, glancing along the length of the line to hide it. She couldn't see what King meant at first, not until he leaned closer again and added, "No couples."
She got it then, though he wasn't quite right; when she leaned back a little, trying to give the impression that she was just impatient, counting how many bodies there were between the two of them and entrance to the 'exclusivity' of this particular night spot, there was another couple, about ten or so people in front of them. She could understand why King had missed them. They were wound so tightly together that it was difficult to tell them apart in the dark, at least until they broke apart for a breath.
She gave them a once over, mentally cataloguing them and then dismissing them as a potential threat. They were young - early twenties, she guessed, although that probably made them older than she was. Generically attractive, she supposed, and dressed like so many others in line, nothing to distinguish them from anyone else waiting except for the fact that the girl, in particular, appeared to be able to breathe through her ears and was wearing a skirt even shorter than Abby's. Maybe King hadn't had ulterior motives for suggesting what she wear, though that was difficult to believe, the way his hands were still moving slowly up and down her spine
But King was right about one thing - there was a noticeable lack of pairs in the line. Most patrons were groups of single women or single men, ebbing and flowing around each other with jokes and catcalls. Maybe that was just typical for Club Noir - you came alone and went home with anyone who would have you. She wouldn't be able to tell - she'd never been concerned with the normal patterns of dating, or even casual hook ups, just like she'd never really been concerned with the whole dancing the night away thing. But this particular couple seemed to have attracted the bouncers' attention; one be-suited behemoth was heading towards the pair, his eyes fixed on them. Even though he seemed oblivious to her and King, it didn't stop Abigail from tensing as he grew closer. King slid his arms around Abby's waist and tucked her more tightly into his body. It was a sharp little reminder to keep their cover and when she locked her eyes with King's she was met with a look that was just as sharp.
The shiver that went through Abby this time had nothing to do with the feel of King pressed up against her and everything to do with the thrill of the chase.
She slid her hands up his arms, letting her palms settle on the back of his neck and watched - a little less openly this time - as the bouncer unfastened the stained velvet rope penning them all against the wall and separated the couple from the rest of the mob, herding them towards the entrance. He ignored the jeers and protests from those who had been waiting patiently in front of them, staying stony-faced throughout.
Not that he had anything to worry about - the protests seemed half-hearted, more for show than anything else, and Abby frowned, a little nonplussed by it all.
King tilted his head down towards hers again. "This kind of joint, it's not how long you wait. It's who you know and how well your face fits."
He sounded way too knowledgeable about the whole thing for her comfort, although she got what he meant. It might have been an alien concept as far as she was concerned, but on a purely intellectual level it made a twisted kind of sense. It was all about hierarchy, positioning and status, things that screamed 'vampire' to her - what she was still confused about was that there hadn't really been anything to distinguish the two chosen from the rest of the line, nothing about them that said that they were the cool kids. Abby let her eyes trail over the clientele again, trying to figure it out. Most of those around them were attractive, in that kind of preppy, well-fed way that did nothing for her personally, and therefore much like the couple who'd been culled from the herd. Vampires liked to surround themselves with beautiful things - on a purely base level, they were all about the pretty and mostly about the hot; you only had to look at King to know that. But the chosen couple just hadn't seemed that special to her. Cute as hell, maybe, while they'd been kissing, but ...
She frowned, slowly turning the pieces over in her mind and trying to figure out where they fit. Somehow, she ended up pressed even closer to King; it made it easier to talk without being overheard, that was all. "Dex said that those going missing were evenly split male, female, right?" she murmured, and he nodded, twisting his head to look down at her, eyes bright and half-amused by her, as they always were. "So what if...?"
"They were couples?" He gave it a moment's consideration, and then shook his head, keeping his voice low. "Dex did some background checking - some of the vics, yes. But a lot of them didn't even know each other, just were unlucky enough to go missing on the same night. If that was down to our friendly, neighbourhood Homo nocturnalis, maybe that's because they like some variety in their all you can eat buffet. The couples we figured were just a convenient all-in-one combo pack."
Abby wasn't so sure. She glanced down the line again, at all of the boys and girls in front of them, preening and joshing with each other, leaning in for a brief exchange of words, a look, a touch. Some kind of connection, even if it was only for one night...
King was smart, very smart; he'd just learned to hide it and for good reason. When she turned back towards him, she could tell from the look on his face and his raised eyebrow that he'd reached the same conclusion she had. His expression was faintly admiring, either of the vampires' daring or of her reasoning, and by extension his. She couldn't tell and didn't want to ask. "Sex and death," he murmured, and his breath stirred the small, loose hairs curling down by her ear. "Welcome to Club Noir, boys and girls. You can check out but you can never leave."
"I thought that was Hotel California," she murmured, only half-listening to him while she continued to scan their immediate surroundings. He pulled back to flash a sudden grin in her direction, bright and fierce in his angular face.
"I'm impressed, Whistler. I didn't think you listened to anything pre-millennium."
Asshole.
One of the bouncers caught her eye, his face impassive and his own eyes hidden behind his ever-present shades. She suppressed the instinct to jerk back, out of sight and out of striking distance, and instead let her eyes drift on, trying to project an air of someone cold and already bored. The cold thing was easy; she had no idea why the hell anyone would choose to go out in so little, no matter what King's opinion on appropriate club wear had been. At least she'd won on the boots front, going for the flat soled and over the knee ones rather than the ridiculous stilettos that King had suggested that she wouldn't even have been able to walk in. These ones she could dance - and fight - in, and the fact that her skirt was so damned short meant that at least it wasn't going to get in her way.
The stilettos she'd gone for were ones that were sharp and silver, and fit neatly into the top of each boot.
King's hands were travelling downwards again, sliding over the curve of her back towards her ass. She loosened her hands from around his neck, moving them slowly over the hard planes of his chest and then around his waist, easing them under his jacket until they were resting in the small of his back. She was sure that from the outside it all looked very affectionate, even as her fingers were curling around the handle of the silver knife that King had stashed there, tucked into the back of his pants. King didn't miss it; his body shook lightly against hers as he held back his laughter, but at least his hands stayed where they were, resting in the small of her back and not progressing any further.
Good boy. She felt the corners of her mouth curl up in a reluctant smile. He could be a pain in the ass, but he was never less than entertaining.
The bouncer's eyes moved on, scanning the crowd, looking for something, and Abby had a feeling she'd figured out what. Whenever his gaze paused for a moment, it was usually on the thickest parts of the crowd, where emotions were the most unruly and the line ebbed and flowed like the ocean waves, which made sense if he was for real, but she didn't think he was. Maybe she was just projecting, wanting him to be a familiar, a wannabe, instead of just a poor schmuck who worked nights, but she'd gained an instinct for this kind of thing. If there hadn't been so many people around, if she managed to get him alone, she'd know for sure. This kind of waiting around bored her - she was more of a point and kick kind of a girl. King was the one who got excited by mysteries - the shit load of Sumerian artefacts they had scattered around the Honeycomb Hideout was testament to that.
She was tired of waiting; she slid her hands back up to King's neck, pulling his head down towards her.
She may have initiated the kiss, but King took control of it, exploring her mouth thoroughly as his hands slid around her waist and pulled her tightly against him. He took his time about it as well, slow, drugging kisses that went straight through her, her fingers sinking into his hair, pulling him closer. One of his hands moved up her back again, a slow slide of electricity that ended up with his fingers tangled in her hair. He tugged her head back, stopping just short of causing her pain; it was enough to send a sharp surge of shocked pleasure through her as he deepened the kiss.
By the time he finally released her mouth, she was panting, her heart pounding in her chest. Jesus, he was good at that. His fingers were still resting on her neck, tracing circles lightly against her skin as he stared at her mouth. She licked her lips and swallowed, and the bastard actually smiled, a little smirking quirk of his lips that was all too familiar to her.
If he winked at her, she was going for his knife.
She should step back, point made, and pin her hair up more securely; the hair-sticks she'd chosen for the evening - the sharp, thin silver ones that Hedges had made especially for her - were threatening to fall out, loosened by King's fingers. But then King reached up and smoothed one of the errant locks back, and the fingers he had resting on her neck exerted a gentle pressure until his mouth met hers again.
She thought that she was ready for him this time; she gave as good as she got, sliding her tongue into his mouth and nipping at his lower lip with sharp teeth. But when he jerked at that, his body hard against hers, his fingers weren't gentle any more. They were hard and greedy, digging into her flesh as his hands slid down to cup her ass, pulling her firmly against him, and, God, that sent a wave of heat coursing through her, leaving her gasping against his mouth, her own fingers scrabbling desperately at his shoulders.
When she broke free this time, his eyes were dark and dangerous, and her mouth felt swollen; when she licked her lips, his gaze dropped to her mouth and he wasn't smiling. He leaned in and took her mouth again, softer this time, back to slow, honeyed kisses that left her fingers curling helplessly against his arms.
"Get a room!" someone called out, and she jerked against King, abruptly brought back to the present. King dragged himself away from her mouth long enough to glare in the direction of their heckler, flipping him off defiantly. And then he turned back to Abby, pushing her hair out of her face and pressing his lips against the corner of her mouth.
She turned her head slightly, still kicking herself for getting distracted, but King simply let his mouth trail across her skin, pressing butterfly soft kisses against her cheek as he made his way towards her ear.
"We got company, babe," he breathed, and she shivered, fingers clutching at him again when his teeth scraped lightly against her jaw, a biting little kiss that left her aching and wanting.
The bouncer was smarter about it this time; he didn't just single Abby and King out from the rest, but opened the rope a little in front of them, pulling out another group of four or five before he nodded his head in their direction. King settled his arm around Abby's shoulders, guiding her out through the rope. As they headed towards the club's entrance, she slid her hand underneath his jacket, fingers curling into the belt loop on the back of his pants, within easy reach of his blade. No more distractions.
It was game time.