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Title: the end of the world (as we know it)
Author: alyse
Fandom: Blade: Trinity
Pairing: Abigail Whistler/Hannibal King
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 51,562
Warnings: Highlight to read: violence, illness, involuntary vampirism.
Summary: When the vampire virus starts to develop a resistance to the Nightstalkers' Daystar weapon, Abigail is left watching helplessly as King has to fight not just for his life, but for his soul and his sanity.
Masterlist: AO3 :: dreamwidth :: livejournal :: insanejournal
-o-
Previous Part: dreamwidth :: livejournal :: insanejournal
-o-
They met up with Stokes and Willows again, this time somewhere south of Las Vegas. Apparently it was home turf for them, but all Abby could think was how disappointed King was going to be to miss out on Vegas, especially since Celine Dion was back to playing Caesars Palace.
He'd told her more than once that Dion was a 'Canadian treasure', but she'd never been entirely sure whether he was serious about that or not, especially not as his eyes had always twinkled as he'd said it.
Hunting was easier this time, maybe because the four of them were now a little more used to working together as a team or maybe because this nest of vamps didn't seem to believe in out of sight and out of mind. Or that could be down to the Vegas effect - maybe even vamps lost their sense of proportion in this most sinful of cities, allowing themselves to be seduced by the gloss and the glitter, the chance to win big and the never-ending nightlife.
But off the Strip, where they hunted, was a different story, seedy and run down, no big winners here, just life's losers. The kind of territory a vamp could lose themselves in, feeding on the detritus left behind once the glamour had faded.
King would be in his element here, cracking obscene jokes as they checked out one strip joint after another. She'd seen more bare breasts than she'd ever cared to, and somehow she thought that even King might get sick of them.
Not that she was planning to put that to the test.
She spent her nights prowling with Sullivan, or haunting the bars with Willows, who seemed to know everyone and everything.
She spent her days sleeping and missing King.
King seemed to be missing her as well. It wasn't long before texts started arriving on her disposable cell, the one that couldn't be traced, at least in theory. It also wasn't supposed to have any personally identifiable information on it, but she couldn't bring herself to delete any of the messages that King had sent - the sly little comments, in-jokes that only the two of them would understand; the occasional 'u ok?', checking that she was still alive, still unhurt and coming home to him. The pictures of him and Zoë, candid little snaps he'd taken with the cell's camera, all awkward angles and a little grainy, but still showing him looking better than he had for a long time.
Willows caught her checking it once while they were on stakeout, the soft buzz of her cell giving her away. She gave Abby a knowing look, raising one eyebrow in a way that was familiar despite her not knowing the woman very well.
"Boyfriend?" she asked, a soft smirk playing around the corners of her mouth, and Abby nodded, surprising herself a little. It was still odd to think of King in those terms.
"Does he know what you do?" Willows asked next, showing the first interest in anything outside of hunting she had in the time that Abby had known her. "Or does he just think that you work away from home a lot?"
"He knows." Abby shrugged her shoulder, a little uncomfortable with Willows' direct line of questioning, although there didn't seem to be any malice in it. The woman was just curious, which made sense given her previous line of work. "He's one of us."
Willows raised her eyebrow again, an obvious encouragement for Abby to continue. It wasn't the kind of thing she'd do normally, preferring to keep to herself, but when it came to King, she was beginning to realise, she didn't mind talking about him as much. That didn't mean she was going to talk about him at length. Not to anybody else.
"He got hurt," she found herself explaining, scarcely believing that she was actually volunteering information and personal information at that, even as minimal as it was. "He's still recuperating."
"Yeah?" Willows asked absently, her gaze now fixed on the building they were watching. Her eyes narrowed - something had obviously caught her attention, but she continued, "Is he cute?"
Abby's cheeks started to heat up, making her thankful for the darkness inside the car. "I think so," she said quietly, hoping that Willows would let it drop.
It seemed that Willows was happy to, now that she had her sights on something else. She smiled slowly, something predatory in it as she placed her hand on the door handle, swinging the car door open and getting ready to step out. "Well, let's see if we can't get you back to him in a hurry, then," she said. "You ready to go kill some vampires?"
If it got her back to King a little bit quicker, she was more than ready.
-o-
They were gone a lot longer than two weeks this time, and if Abby had thought she was restless before they'd gone on this hunt, it had nothing on how restless she was to get home again.
A different home. While she and Sullivan had been making less-than-nice with what was left of the vampire population of Nevada, Caulder and Marta had apparently been scouting for a better base of operations, something they could use on a more permanent basis than the ramshackle, empty building they'd been using while King recuperated.
Abby wasn't sure how she felt about that. The thought reminded her too much of the Honeycomb Hideout, how safe they'd felt there and how false that sense of security had turned out to be. On the other hand, having a sense of permanency wouldn't hurt Zoë and it would be good to put down some kind of roots, have somewhere they could leave stuff, come back to after a hunt and not have to worry about bedding down and settling in.
Overall, however, she couldn't get too worked up about it. She was beginning to realise that whatever qualified as home for her, it wasn't a building; it was wherever Zoë and King were.
It was late when they finally pulled to a stop on the rough patch of ground that would serve them as a parking lot. Caulder's truck was already parked there, and Sullivan slid theirs neatly in next to it, switching off the engine and turning off the lights. This time, they didn't walk into a seemingly empty building. Caulder's silhouette had appeared in the doorway as they pulled up, the light from behind him making him nothing more than a featureless shape in the darkness, but she recognised him, the shape of him and the way that he stood. It was comforting, somehow, the idea that he was now that familiar to her, that he'd been waiting for them to arrive - a sense of belonging that she hadn't realised she'd missed.
He nodded to Abby as she walked up to the door, his world-weary face cracking into a surprisingly attractive smile. "It is good to have you back," he said, widening his smile to encompass Sullivan, who was following hard on her heels. "Both of you."
"Zoë?" The eagerness was clear in her voice and she didn't even try to hide it - she needed to squeeze Zoë to within an inch of her life, give her the kind of hug that Abby just didn't give to anyone else.
Caulder's face drooped for a second, something slightly sympathetic colouring his expression. "Marta put her to bed about an hour ago after she fell asleep in her dinner. She's been a little excited about you coming back, and I don't think King helped much to calm her down."
While that was a disappointment, Abby moved past it and onto her next obvious question. "And King?" she asked a little dryly, relieved when Caulder's answer started with a little huff of laughter.
"I think he was just as excited as Zoë to have you back," he said. "But he's working it off in the gym. I don't believe that anyone was expecting to see you until the morning."
"Someone," said Sullivan pointedly, giving her a telling look as he moved past her and headed through the door with his bag, "insisted that we drive all night."
She ignored the jibe - there'd been no malice in it and she had other, more important things to think about. Like where the gym was, for example.
The corner of Caulder's mouth quirked as he read her far too easily. She should probably worry about that. Later. "In the basement," he said, and if he had any other comments to make, he was smart enough to keep them to himself.
She nodded her thanks at him, moving easily past him and heading in what she hoped was the right direction.
It was habit to do a quick recon, even if she was eager to find King. Never undervalue the need to know all of the exits, her father had told her more than once, probably the only useful piece of advice he'd ever given her. She moved through the building rapidly, noting everything - the layout of the rooms, the positions of the doors, the location of all of the windows and whether they locked.
It seemed to have been a factory once, somewhere small and compact but now empty and abandoned. She had no idea what it had made - the floors were concrete, but there weren't any trace marks of machinery, nothing that gave her a feel for what it must have been like when it was still in use. There was a small locker room, with an open shower area from what she could tell when she peered around the door, and the plasterboard offices in back had been converted by Caulder and Marta into small, self-contained bedrooms, big enough to hold mattresses and not much else. She found Zoë asleep in one of them, curled up on her side with Mr Gigglesworth clutched to her chest. The room on one side of Zoë's was empty, nothing but a bare mattress on the floor, but the one on the other side was obviously King's. There was a cheap chest of drawers in one corner, but King's leather jacket was draped over the top of it and his boots were by the bed.
There was no sign of Abby's stuff, the little she still had left after abandoning the Honeycomb Hideout, and the urge to check the drawers in King's room, just to see, made her fingers itch.
But there was another itch that needed scratching, one that was growing by the minute.
She finally found stairs that led her down and then out into another open area, one that had obviously served as a loading bay. The faint scent of diesel still hung in the air, and the heavy metal roll-up doors at one end were mute testimony to its former use.
The room was well lit if a little cold, bright electric lights overhead humming and flickering, and she could see what Caulder meant about 'the gym' - he'd scrounged or stolen equipment from somewhere, and mats covered half the floor.
But all of that was forgotten when she spotted King, hands wrapped around one of the low hanging metal beams as he used it to do pull-ups.
She paused in the doorway, taking the opportunity to study him before he knew she was there. He looked good - better than good, so much better than he had the last time she'd seen him that the last of her tension, the last few lingering doubts and fears she'd had about his recovery, faded away at the sight of him. He no longer looked anything like a vampire - he looked exactly like he was, young and healthy, and exceptionally fit. He'd lost weight while he'd been ill, thinner and sleeker than he had been, but even so, every one of his muscles was clearly defined as he pulled himself up and lowered himself back down again. The air down here might have held a slight chill, cooler than the rooms above, but despite that his thin t-shirt was soaked at the back with sweat, showing just how hard he'd been working. The fabric of it clung to his skin, leaving little to the imagination, and her mouth went suddenly dry, a nervous stutter where her heart used to beat.
She should say something, let him know she was here, but all of her words had fled, leaving her tongue-tied and breathless. She moved, her boots scraping against the concrete, and King heard her, dropping back down to the floor and turning to look at her.
The wary look on his face disappeared as soon as he caught sight of her, replaced with a delighted smile that let her heart started beating again, even faster now.
"Hey," he said, pulling down his towel from where he'd stashed it over the same beam he'd been using to work out and wiping the sweat from his face with it as he walked towards her, a bounce back in his step that had been missing for weeks. "You're back."
As stating the obvious went, there were worse things he could have said. She opened her mouth to say something profound, something that would convey just how much she'd missed him without veering towards sickeningly sweet, but what came out was: "You look good."
She winced internally, realising just how dopey she sounded, but King didn't seem to mind. He grinned back at her, his whole face lighting up, and she'd like to be able to put that down to him simply being pleased about his recovery, and her noticing it. But there was a look in his eye, something slightly smug and amused, that told her that he knew exactly what had prompted her comment.
"Not looking so bad there yourself, Whistler," he said, confirming her suspicions. He slung his towel around his neck, taking her in with the long, slow look that didn't do anything to lower her heart rate but did a hell of a lot to raise the temperature in the room.
She swallowed, her fingers itching to reach out and touch him, slide across the planes of his chest, map every one of those muscles with her fingertips. It took a moment for her to remember that nothing was stopping her from doing that now, no need for restraint or denial, not after everything they'd been through.
Not after she'd already kissed him more than once.
He stopped within arm's reach, looking down at her, a cocky smile playing around the corners of his mouth. His eyes, however, were warm, something much more genuine in them, something real and only for her.
She reached out and touched, her fingers curling slightly as she pressed them against his t-shirt, feeling the steady beat of his heart underneath.
King leaned in and she tilted her face up towards him automatically, her eyes closing as his mouth met hers. He kissed her slowly and thoroughly, taking his time as though he, too, was realising that time was something they now had. His hand came to rest on her waist, his thumb stroking along her skin where her shirt had ridden up. The feel of his skin against hers sent little shivers up and down her spine, her lips parting in response, breathing him in.
His tongue met hers, stroking along her lips as gently, as mindlessly, as his fingers were moving against her skin, and heat pulsed through her, pressing her more firmly against him, her fingers twisting in his t-shirt and pulling him closer.
He pulled back and stared down at her, the smile vanishing from his face and leaving something hungry behind, something that didn't scare her this time. His eyes were wide, dark with want, but completely human.
He kissed her again, hard and fierce, his arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer to him, every inch of her body pressed up against his. She let out a sound, something soft and needy, and he swallowed it down, his hands moving restlessly over her back, one finally burying itself in her hair, tilting her head back as he explored her mouth.
Her knees had gone weak, something she thought only happened in badly written romances or stupid romantic comedies, not something that would ever happen in real life, not something that would ever happen to her. But kissing King like this was making her giddy, as though all of her hopes and dreams were coming true, all of her fears finally put to bed. She couldn't get enough of him, her hands familiarising herself with the shape of his body, slipping underneath his t-shirt and letting the warmth of him soak into her.
His skin felt like velvet, the muscles underneath hard and unyielding when she leaned into him, let him take her weight. Her fingers drifted upwards, sliding over the ridges and furrows of his abs and up into the coarse, wiry hair scattered across his chest. Everything about him was a pleasure, from the way he tasted to the musky scent of fresh sweat, from the strength of his arms to the softness of his skin.
He finally broke away, keeping his arms around her as he pressed his forehead against hers, panting more heavily now than he had been while he'd been working out. "Hey," he said again, his voice rougher now, filled with barely suppressed desire. "Want to take this somewhere more private?"
He had the best ideas sometimes, even if it meant letting go of him now, something she was strangely reluctant to do if it meant him taking his hands off her skin. She couldn't articulate it though, too lost in the shape of his face, now cupped in her hands, and the remembered taste of his mouth. She leaned in again, kissing him, letting that be her answer.
King let out a sound, something like a groan, when her hands slid down his back, over the fabric of his sweats to cup his ass. She pulled him closer, kissing him deeply and letting out a sound of frustration as she slid her hand underneath the fabric of his pants, hoping for skin.
She was disappointed - King was wearing boxers, and she wriggled her fingers free, making a second attempt, quite happy to strip him naked here if it meant she got what she wanted faster.
King laughed against her mouth, his arms tightening around her as his lips finally left hers, trailing over her cheek, down towards her neck. She didn't know how the hell he knew, whether it was from observation or because he was simply psychic, knowing her better than anyone else, but he fastened on the exact spot on her neck that had her knees going out from under her again, her fingers clutching at him as her head rolled back and pleasure sang along every nerve ending.
He pulled back just before he reduced her to an incoherent, twitching heap, his lips brushing against her ear as he murmured, "Well, I'm definitely filing that one away for future reference."
She might have resented it if she'd been capable of thinking, but all she could think about was how badly she wanted him: with her, on her, in her. She slid her hands into his hair, pulling him down for another kiss, nipping at his lip with sharp, even teeth and loving every gasp, every little shudder he let out. His hands were hard on her body, growing more demanding by the second, a feedback loop of lust building between them until she was shaking as badly as he was, her kisses growing frantic, hot and heavy.
When he pulled back this time, his eyes were half-lidded and his face flushed, his gaze dropping automatically to her mouth as he brushed his thumb along her lower lip.
"I've got condoms upstairs," he rasped, heat flaring in his eyes again as she nipped at the tip of his thumb. It was too far and she didn't want to stop now, didn't ever want to stop. And...
They didn't have to stop, not when she'd thought ahead, hoping even if she hadn't been expecting. She'd picked up a packet of three from a vending machine in a rest-stop bathroom and tucked them neatly into her wallet so that Sullivan wouldn't see.
"Wallet," she muttered, opening her mouth and sucking his thumb into it just to listen to his sharp intake of breath. "It's in my -" But his fingers were already working their way inside her back pocket because they'd known each other long enough to know everything, up to and including where they kept their cash.
"You're such a Girl Scout, Whistler," he said, rifling through her wallet and pulling a foil covered packet free with a triumphant expression. "I really fucking love that about you."
"I thought that was the cookies," she said breathlessly and he grinned at her again, the look on his face warming her all the way through.
"Cookies, condoms," he sing-songed, his fingers making fast work of her buttons. "It's all good." He undid the last one, spreading her shirt open and gazing down at her. "Jesus, you're beautiful."
She flushed, a peculiar sort of warmth prickling her skin as his eyes travelled over her form, obviously appreciating what he saw if the look in his eyes was anything to go by. His fingers followed his eyes, brushing gently over her skin, barely there touches that still had her gasping, swaying towards him on legs that were no longer as steady as they'd been.
His fingertips stroked over the lace edging of her bra, teasing her as his eyes flickered up to her face, reading her reaction. She licked at her lips and heat flared through King's eyes again as he lowered his face to hers, pressing his lips against her mouth and tracing the line of her teeth with his tongue.
She pressed closer to him and his palm cupped her breast, his thumb caressing her through the fabric. His mouth drifted away from hers, over her cheek towards her ear again, where he nipped at the lobe, sending another shivery wave of sensation through her. And then he moved on, tracing a line down over her throat, his beard rough against her skin.
He passed over the spot that made her tremble, moving lower, his lips tracing a path down her rib cage to the valley between her breasts. He rubbed his face against her skin as he went, each touch, each kiss ramping up the sensation until she was nothing but a quivering bundle of nerve endings. His hands moved up to push her shirt off her shoulders, sliding down her arms until he could finally ease it over her hands and let it drop to the floor. And then his fingers moved back, slipping under her bra straps, still teasing her as he ran his fingers along the length of them before he finally eased those, too, down over her shoulders.
She tugged impatiently at his t-shirt, desperate for the feel of his skin against hers, and he lifted his arms obediently, letting her pull it over his head. It joined her shirt on the floor and she was finally able to explore his chest to her heart's content.
It wasn't the first time she'd seen him shirtless - it was inevitable given how closely they worked together, lived together even before she finally admitted to herself that it was more than simply friendship between them - but it was the first time she'd had permission to touch and she seized the opportunity with both hands, running her fingers over his shoulders, down over the muscled planes of his chest. She flattened her palms against his pectoral muscles, loving the feel of the dark, curling hair crisp against her skin. She pressed her mouth into the hollow of his throat and he let out a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan. His fingers slid down her spine as she explored, finding the fastening of her bra. If she'd had any doubts about his relative experience, which she hadn't, the ease with which he unfastened it one-handed would have put her straight.
She pulled back from him, giving him the room he needed to remove her bra entirely, but when she tried to move closer to him again, he stopped her, his gaze fixed on his fingers as they followed the soft curve of her breast.
His mouth followed where his fingers had led, pressing soft, scattered kisses against her skin, each one of them lingering just long enough to leave her wet and wanting, lost in spiralling waves of desire.
She could have let him keep control, continue driving her out of her mind, but she'd never been one to let others take the lead; she sank her fingers into his hair, guiding his head - and his mouth - where she wanted it, letting out an audible gasp when his mouth finally settled on her nipple.
He took his time exploring that, too, his tongue circling the hard nub around and around, teasing her and tormenting her. Her fingers flexed mindlessly against his scalp until finally he took pity on her, grazing her nipple with his teeth and then sucking hard enough for her knees to give out again, the arm he had wrapped around her waist holding her up. And then, when she thought the pleasure would finally overwhelm her, his mouth moved on, his fingers replacing it as he mapped his way from one breast to the other, repeating his teasing as she shivered, lightheaded and lost in the feel of him.
His fingers moved down to the button on her jeans, unfastening it and slowly peeling her out of them, pushing them down her legs as far as her boots. She rested her hand on his shoulder as he knelt at her feet, feeling the play of muscles underneath his skin as he dealt with the laces and then tugged her boots off, her socks and her jeans following straight after.
He rose up on his knees, pressing his mouth against her underwear, his breath hot and moist as his tongue traced a track between her legs, dampening the fabric more than she already had. His fingers finally slid underneath the gusset, stroking gently over her damp curls as she clutched at his shoulders to keep herself upright. And then he was easing her panties down over her legs as well, leaving her completely naked to his gaze.
He sat back on his heels, his eyes running the length of her body before returning to her face. "God, you're fucking gorgeous," he said again, and she flushed, unable to hide it, not when he could see all of her. Not when the look in his eyes told her that he really believed it.
He pushed himself to his feet, reaching for her and pulling her back into his arms, his mouth finding hers again to share long, lazy, wet kisses that left her dizzy and aching for him. Her hands slid underneath the fabric of his sweats again, his boxers too, cupping his bare ass and pulling him more tightly against her, tight enough to feel the hardness of his cock pressing into the side of her stomach.
He let out a low groan, one that turned into a growl when she moved her hand around to the front and traced the long, lean line of his cock, the tip of it wet against the skin of her wrist. "Jesus," he said. "You're going to kill me."
She grinned wickedly up at him, pleased to have turned the tables. "Not yet," she promised, and he let out a gasping laugh, dropping his head to press his forehead against hers again.
"I want to fuck you," he murmured, smiling wickedly himself when her fingers stuttered in their stroking. "I want to lay you down on these mats and fuck you until you can't remember your own name."
"It's Abigail Whistler," she said, meeting his eyes steadily as she issued the challenge even though her heart was beating so rapidly now that he had to be able to hear it.
He smiled again, more slowly this time, and it wasn't so much wicked as wanton. He leaned in closer, nosing her hair away from her ear as he whispered into it, "But first I want to eat you out, make you scream. I've been told more than once that I have exceptional oral skills." He widened his eyes comically at her, but somehow she didn't think it was entirely a joke.
She let out a shaky breath, the heat of his words going straight through her and leaving her struggling for a comeback for several long seconds. She finally found it, but her voice was just as shaky as her breathing. "Yeah, I've heard that you don't know when to stop your mouth from working."
He laughed, his eyes bright and his body shaking with mirth, the sound of his joy making her smile in return. She was still smiling when his hands slid down her back, stroking over the smooth curve of her ass until his hands had a grip on the back of her thighs. That was the only warning she had before he was lifting her up, her legs instinctively wrapping themselves around his waist and her arms winding around his neck.
He bore her weight easily as he carried her over to the mats and she arched into him, sharing kiss after kiss after kiss, incredibly turned on by his show of strength. She'd never thought that she'd be the kind of girl to go for something like that, but she was beginning to discover all sorts of things about herself now that she'd finally admitted how she felt about King.
He set her down gently, steadying her as he kissed her again, hot and deep, easing her down towards the mats. She ended up on her back, his hands parting her thighs as he settled himself between them, his breath warm against her skin.
He took his time with that, too, back to teasing her. His mouth moved slowly over her skin, his tongue painting wet little swirls as he edged closer and closer to where she wanted him. This time he resisted when she tried to guide him, pushing her hands away from his head and trapping them against the mat with his. It shouldn't have been anywhere near as hot as it was, pinned down by him while his mouth worked on her, little teasing touches of his tongue against her clit.
She was panting and whining by the time he finally took pity on her, pushing his tongue into her as she bucked her hips, wanting more. And then he moved back to her clit, pressing his mouth over it, his tongue circling it and then flicking hard against it, back and forth as the pressure built.
She came apart calling his name, the weight of him holding her down, his hands still wrapped around her wrists so that she couldn't move, couldn't push him away. Couldn't do anything but come.
Just when she thought she couldn't bear it anymore, her clit so sensitive that even his breath against it had her shuddering and threatening to fall apart, he finally let her go and sat up, staring down at her with an expression that was ridiculously pleased. His beard was wet with her come and she couldn't resist him, pulling him down for another kiss - he smelled of her, and tasted of her, too.
He still had hold of one of her wrists when he pulled back again, his fingers spanning the width of it easily and his thumb rubbing absently along the faint red mark he'd left. She shivered again at the touch and he didn't miss it, lifting her hand to his mouth and pressing his lips against the underside of her wrist, where the skin was thin and sensitive, just to watch her shiver again, the look in his eyes taking her apart.
"You win," she croaked when she could finally speak, the words heavy on her tongue, and he smirked.
"I prefer to think of it as us both winning," he said, waggling his eyebrows at her.
She snorted, still too blissed out to call him on his crap, and the expression on his face softened, became less smug and more wondering, as close to vulnerable as it ever got. He reached over and gently pushed the hair out of her face, his fingers lingering on her skin.
"Your turn," she said, marshalling her liquid limbs and pushing herself up onto her hands and knees. He ran his eyes up and down her body again, naked appreciation on his face, and she resisted rolling her eyes at him, instead placing one hand firmly on his chest to ease him down to the ground beside her.
He went willingly, propping himself up on his elbows to stare up at her as she straddled him, lowering her head to kiss her way across his chest.
She took her time, exploring his body the way that he'd explored hers, finding all the spots that made him shiver, the ones that had him catching his breath, even the ticklish spots, the ones that had him squirming away from her, breathless laughter in his voice.
His nipples weren't as sensitive as hers, but his breath still caught in the back of his throat when she drew one into her mouth, sucking on it, a hint of teeth behind it. His eyes darkened when she slid her tongue along his treasure trail, and his cock thickened, hardening under her fingers.
He groaned when she finally eased his dick out of his sweatpants and into her mouth, exploring the texture of it with her tongue, the length and breadth of it, the slightly salty taste of it in her mouth. His musky scent rose from the dark, curling hair at his groin, and she closed her eyes, losing herself in the feel of him, learning those things about him that she didn't already know. Like how much he loved it when she flicked her tongue over the bundle of nerves underneath the head, or how his fists clenched when she took it as deeply into her mouth as she could, pulling his dick out slowly as she sucked until her cheeks hollowed with the effort of it.
"Okay, you win, too," he said raggedly as she circled the head of his dick with her tongue, teasing him the way he'd teased her. "Now I really, really want to fuck you."
She slid his dick out of her mouth with an audible 'pop' and cast her eyes around for the condom packet, finally spotting it where they'd left it in their hurry. She started to rise to her feet, but King was faster. He pushed himself to his feet and loped over to collect it, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and the dimpled jut of his hipbones making her mouth water. He raised one eyebrow at her as he sauntered back, obviously not missing the hunger clearly written on her face.
She held her hand out peremptorily for the condom, and he treated her to another long, slow smirk as she came close to snatching it from him, tearing it open while he kicked off his sweatpants and stood naked in front of her, completely at ease in his own skin. He let her roll the condom along his length, taking her time about it just to watch his eyelids grow heavy with lust as she teased him. And then she lay back on the mat, letting her thighs fall apart and giving him a come hither look that had his cock twitching and hunger blossoming clearly across his face.
He settled over her, bracing his weight on one forearm as he guided himself into her, and the feel of his dick pushing into her, stretching her, had her arching her neck, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she pulled him closer to her, desperate for the feel of more of him in her. But still he teased her, drawing it out as long as he could. His dark eyes were fixed on her face, watching what he did to her, how she felt when he moved slow and deep, the burn and stretch of it as he bottomed out at the end of every thrust. How her breath hitched when he switched the rhythm to fast and shallow, her fingers flexing helplessly against his skin as the friction built, low in her belly. How she bit her lip when he rolled his hips, the firmness of his flesh pressing against her clit with each inward thrust, rocking her backwards, losing her in sensation.
He was a quick study, probably paying more attention to her - her reactions, her unspoken needs - than anyone else she'd been with. Maybe she had Danica Talos to thank for that, or maybe it was just King's drive to be the best - the quickest, the strongest, the smartest, the funniest, and now the best fuck he could be. She hitched her legs up, crossing them high over his back, and he took the hint, sliding an arm underneath one knee and pushing it up towards her shoulder. Each thrust went deeper now, each roll of his hip pressing his flesh harder against her where she needed it.
The tension was slowly building in her again, leaving her balancing on a pleasurable tightrope, every movement of his body pushing her closer and closer to the edge.
He hooked his arm under her other leg, pushing both towards her shoulders as he quickened and deepened his thrusts. His hands caught hold of her wrists again, pinning them back against the mat, holding her steady and grounding her until he could slide his fingers through hers, holding her down while he held her hands. He held her in place like that as he pounded into her, faster and faster, deeper and deeper, the pleasure stretching out unbearably until felt as if every nerve ending was afire. The wave caught her, took her, turning all of her limbs to liquid and she came, long and hard, sharp little cries escaping her as her body contracted around him, pulses of pleasure running through her.
He followed her down with a strangled groan, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into her, his face pressed against her neck and his breath harsh and hot against her skin.
Her legs were starting to cramp and she wriggled a little, trying to get comfortable. He took the hint and let go, easing his fingers from between hers and bracing himself on his forearms again so that all of his weight wasn't on her. He made to pull out of her, but she let out a soft sound of protest, wrapping her legs around his waist to keep him there, and he laughed softly, his breath stirring her hair.
"That," he said, panting heavily even as he chuckled, "was fucking awesome."
She hummed softly in agreement, her fingers petting his hair, stroking through the sweaty strands contentedly. "Awesome fucking," she said when she had breath enough to speak, and King laughed again, his whole body shaking with it.
This time when he moved away, she let him go, watching lazily as he dealt with the condom and then collapsed on the floor beside her, a look of intense satisfaction on his face.
She thought about moving but that meant arguing with all of her limbs, which felt like lead. It was only when the sweat cooling on her body left her chilled that she found the energy to roll over, nestling herself against his side, where it was warm and welcoming. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him as his fingers stroked absently up and down her spine.
If he kept that up, she'd start purring and he'd never let her live that down.
"I needed that," she said quietly, sliding her arm across his waist and pillowing her head on his chest.
King chuckled softly. "Any time, sweetheart."
"I meant... I missed you."
"Yeah." King's fingers paused for a moment before they pressed lightly against her skin again. He turned his head, brushing his mouth against her hair. "I meant it. Any time, sweetheart."
She let out a soft hum of agreement, her limbs turning liquid again as exhaustion claimed her.
"Hey, you can't go to sleep here."
She snuggled into him, keeping her eyes closed. "Yes, I can," she murmured, the protest muffled by the yawn she tried, and failed, to hold in.
"Okay, you're right. You can go to sleep here. Just as long as you don't mind Sullivan walking in on us at some point."
That woke her up as effectively as a bucket of cold water. She and Sullivan might have come to an understanding, but that sure as hell didn't mean she wanted him to see her naked. She was pretty sure she'd reserved that right for King in perpetuity.
King was laughing at her as she gathered her clothes together, pulling on her panties and glaring at him when he showed no sign of stopping. "I take it you're not getting dressed," she said pointedly, and he shrugged his shoulders, mirth still clearly written across his face.
"I've got nothing to be ashamed of," he said, and her eyes automatically dropped to his groin, where his dick had softened, but was still as impressive as the rest of him. She flushed as soon as she realised what she'd done, but King wasn't going to let it pass without comment, even if his comment was limited to a very obvious smirk.
She rolled her eyes at him, fastening her shirt and not bothering with her bra, not when she had every intention of getting him naked again as soon as she got him upstairs, even if it was just to sleep.
She somehow doubted, however, that they'd just be sleeping, and she hoped the walls of their new offices-slash-bedrooms were up to the task, especially if Zoë was asleep right next door.
That was when it occurred to her again that she had no idea which room was hers. She glanced at King, hesitating, and he didn't miss that either, raising one eyebrow at her quizzically.
"Do you know what happened to my stuff?" she asked, aiming for subtle. Maybe she managed it, or maybe she didn't. Either way, it seemed the King's answer was going to be the same.
"Our room's next to Zoë's," he said, watching her reaction closely.
She schooled her impression into something neutral, trying to hide the warmth that flooded through her. She should be pissed that he'd made the decision without her, but it was difficult to get annoyed when her decision would have been the same even if they had discussed it. Besides, she knew where he was coming from, why he'd done it. They lived in each other's pockets anyway, and they'd wasted far too much time.
She limited herself to a nod, brisk and business-like, not missing the relief that crossed his face and was quickly hidden when she didn't call him on his presumption.
He cleared his throat, slightly sheepishly. "I love you. You know that, right?"
"Yeah." She did, but she couldn't quite suppress the inward wriggle of joy at hearing the words out loud again. "So do you think you could do me a favour? Could you try not to get bitten again?"
"Hey, at least this time I wasn't bitten by a hot chick, so you don't have to worry about that."
She busied herself with fastening her jeans, staring down at him. "Does this mean you've stopped questioning your sexuality?"
His brow furrowed for a moment before he remembered what he'd said, and then he rolled his eyes at her, although his amused expression ruined the effect of it. "I think I've adequately demonstrated my commitment to heterosexuality." He gave her a slow once over before smirking up at her and adding, with a glint in his eye, "Feel free to disagree."
Her mouth twitched. "I might need some more convincing."
"That right? Well, never let it be said I don't rise to a challenge." He grinned, widening his eyes at her again, his lechery deliberately overdone just to amuse her.
Her smile softened, a wave of affection for him washing over her. "I love you," she said gently, and his smirk faded, replaced by something small and pleased, if a little surprised.
"Do you know that's the first time you've said it?" he said.
She paused in the act of pulling on her boots, frowning at him as she cast her mind back. She must have -
She hadn't, not that she remembered clearly, although there was a lot about the last few weeks she didn't remember clearly, everything subsumed in her worry and her fear for him. King would remember better than she did, just like she remembered the first time he'd told her he loved her, the words burned into her brain and engraved on her heart.
She had to trust that he was right, but that didn't mean she was going to let him milk it.
"Well, I'm telling you now," she said, giving him a wryly amused look, one that said clearly she knew what he was up to.
"Well, let the record show that I said it first."
"There is no record, King."
"Well, there should be." He finally pushed himself to his feet, pulling his sweatpants back on and hunting around for his t-shirt. "Man, I need a shower," he said, wrinkling his nose as he tugged it over his head.
"We both do." She watched him get dressed, simply enjoying the moment, as weirdly domestic as that sounded inside her head. "And I really do. Love you, I mean."
"Yeah, yeah. You can say it as often as you like..." He shot her a sudden, mischievous grin, a light of sheer devilment in his eyes. "Still doesn't change the fact that I said it first."
"Dick," she said succinctly, and his grin widened.
He opened his mouth to come back with another smartass remark or two, then obviously thought better of it, the grin fading from his face and his expression turning tender. He reached up and stroked his fingers along her hairline, down over the soft curve of her cheek, and then leaned in to kiss her again. She was beginning to think that he was secretly a romantic, or maybe not so secretly, because when he finally pulled back he murmured again, "You can say it as often as you like."
"I'll bear that in mind," she said dryly, knowing she'd end up saying it more frequently than she'd ever thought she would and probably still less than he hoped. She gathered up her bra, leaving him to deal with the discarded condom. "Didn't you say something about a shower?"
He caught hold of her hand as she passed him, and kept hold of it as they headed towards the stairs. It was strange how well his hand fit in hers, and how quickly she got used to it.
Maybe she would say it as often as he hoped, especially since she was now certain that every time she did, he'd say it back.
-o-
Zoë's eyes were watching them tragically, a small pout on her face. Abby wasn't fooled - she'd seen that expression more than once, and some of the time it had even been on Zoë's face instead of on King's.
"No chocolate cereal for breakfast," she repeated, keeping her voice firm even when faced with Zoë's lip quiver. That one she hadn't learned from King.
Zoë turned tragic eyes on King, knowing that he was likely to be the easier option. He hesitated, casting a quick look in Abby's direction, one she returned with a frown. They needed to be consistent about these things, and he knew that.
He caved, like she'd known he would, but at least he had enough sense not to entirely contradict her 'no chocolate for breakfast' rule. "How about I make pancakes for breakfast when we get back?" he asked, and Zoë's face brightened.
But she was definitely learning a thing or two from Abby, as well, because she asked shrewdly, "With syrup?"
"With maple syrup," Abby said pointedly. "Not chocolate."
King wouldn't contradict her on that one since he was firmly of the opinion that the only correct way to serve pancakes was with maple syrup and possibly bacon if you were feeling decadent. It was one of the few times he thought that the addition of chocolate syrup to a meal was an abomination.
King met her eyes over the top of Zoë's head, flashing her a quick wink, one that had her smiling automatically in response. She'd move past that at some point, smiling at him just because she could. Probably.
"We ready to move out?" Sullivan asked from the doorway, tapping his fingers impatiently against his leg.
Abby nodded, all business, and then turned back to Zoë. "Be good for Marta," she said. "We'll be back in a couple of days."
"Because you're hunting." It wasn't exactly a question, more like Zoë parroting facts, but Abby nodded anyway, smiling as she took in Zoë's serious expression. It wasn't scared, just solemn, because Zoë had every faith that they would be back, trusting them to fight the monsters that still haunted her dreams sometimes and then come home to make her pancakes.
King slung his arm around her shoulders, reaching out to ruffle Zoë's hair, at least in part because he knew she hated it. Abby leaned into his body, enjoying his warmth and the feel of him holding her as Zoë pouted up at them, smoothing her hair back down again.
"Pancakes," King said solemnly, matching Zoë's tone with his own. "I promise."
Zoë's pout faded a little, trusting him implicitly because even at six she already knew what it had taken Abby a little longer to figure out.
King always kept his promises. Especially the ones he made to her.
The end
Author: alyse
Fandom: Blade: Trinity
Pairing: Abigail Whistler/Hannibal King
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 51,562
Warnings: Highlight to read: violence, illness, involuntary vampirism.
Summary: When the vampire virus starts to develop a resistance to the Nightstalkers' Daystar weapon, Abigail is left watching helplessly as King has to fight not just for his life, but for his soul and his sanity.
Masterlist: AO3 :: dreamwidth :: livejournal :: insanejournal
-o-
Previous Part: dreamwidth :: livejournal :: insanejournal
-o-
They met up with Stokes and Willows again, this time somewhere south of Las Vegas. Apparently it was home turf for them, but all Abby could think was how disappointed King was going to be to miss out on Vegas, especially since Celine Dion was back to playing Caesars Palace.
He'd told her more than once that Dion was a 'Canadian treasure', but she'd never been entirely sure whether he was serious about that or not, especially not as his eyes had always twinkled as he'd said it.
Hunting was easier this time, maybe because the four of them were now a little more used to working together as a team or maybe because this nest of vamps didn't seem to believe in out of sight and out of mind. Or that could be down to the Vegas effect - maybe even vamps lost their sense of proportion in this most sinful of cities, allowing themselves to be seduced by the gloss and the glitter, the chance to win big and the never-ending nightlife.
But off the Strip, where they hunted, was a different story, seedy and run down, no big winners here, just life's losers. The kind of territory a vamp could lose themselves in, feeding on the detritus left behind once the glamour had faded.
King would be in his element here, cracking obscene jokes as they checked out one strip joint after another. She'd seen more bare breasts than she'd ever cared to, and somehow she thought that even King might get sick of them.
Not that she was planning to put that to the test.
She spent her nights prowling with Sullivan, or haunting the bars with Willows, who seemed to know everyone and everything.
She spent her days sleeping and missing King.
King seemed to be missing her as well. It wasn't long before texts started arriving on her disposable cell, the one that couldn't be traced, at least in theory. It also wasn't supposed to have any personally identifiable information on it, but she couldn't bring herself to delete any of the messages that King had sent - the sly little comments, in-jokes that only the two of them would understand; the occasional 'u ok?', checking that she was still alive, still unhurt and coming home to him. The pictures of him and Zoë, candid little snaps he'd taken with the cell's camera, all awkward angles and a little grainy, but still showing him looking better than he had for a long time.
Willows caught her checking it once while they were on stakeout, the soft buzz of her cell giving her away. She gave Abby a knowing look, raising one eyebrow in a way that was familiar despite her not knowing the woman very well.
"Boyfriend?" she asked, a soft smirk playing around the corners of her mouth, and Abby nodded, surprising herself a little. It was still odd to think of King in those terms.
"Does he know what you do?" Willows asked next, showing the first interest in anything outside of hunting she had in the time that Abby had known her. "Or does he just think that you work away from home a lot?"
"He knows." Abby shrugged her shoulder, a little uncomfortable with Willows' direct line of questioning, although there didn't seem to be any malice in it. The woman was just curious, which made sense given her previous line of work. "He's one of us."
Willows raised her eyebrow again, an obvious encouragement for Abby to continue. It wasn't the kind of thing she'd do normally, preferring to keep to herself, but when it came to King, she was beginning to realise, she didn't mind talking about him as much. That didn't mean she was going to talk about him at length. Not to anybody else.
"He got hurt," she found herself explaining, scarcely believing that she was actually volunteering information and personal information at that, even as minimal as it was. "He's still recuperating."
"Yeah?" Willows asked absently, her gaze now fixed on the building they were watching. Her eyes narrowed - something had obviously caught her attention, but she continued, "Is he cute?"
Abby's cheeks started to heat up, making her thankful for the darkness inside the car. "I think so," she said quietly, hoping that Willows would let it drop.
It seemed that Willows was happy to, now that she had her sights on something else. She smiled slowly, something predatory in it as she placed her hand on the door handle, swinging the car door open and getting ready to step out. "Well, let's see if we can't get you back to him in a hurry, then," she said. "You ready to go kill some vampires?"
If it got her back to King a little bit quicker, she was more than ready.
-o-
They were gone a lot longer than two weeks this time, and if Abby had thought she was restless before they'd gone on this hunt, it had nothing on how restless she was to get home again.
A different home. While she and Sullivan had been making less-than-nice with what was left of the vampire population of Nevada, Caulder and Marta had apparently been scouting for a better base of operations, something they could use on a more permanent basis than the ramshackle, empty building they'd been using while King recuperated.
Abby wasn't sure how she felt about that. The thought reminded her too much of the Honeycomb Hideout, how safe they'd felt there and how false that sense of security had turned out to be. On the other hand, having a sense of permanency wouldn't hurt Zoë and it would be good to put down some kind of roots, have somewhere they could leave stuff, come back to after a hunt and not have to worry about bedding down and settling in.
Overall, however, she couldn't get too worked up about it. She was beginning to realise that whatever qualified as home for her, it wasn't a building; it was wherever Zoë and King were.
It was late when they finally pulled to a stop on the rough patch of ground that would serve them as a parking lot. Caulder's truck was already parked there, and Sullivan slid theirs neatly in next to it, switching off the engine and turning off the lights. This time, they didn't walk into a seemingly empty building. Caulder's silhouette had appeared in the doorway as they pulled up, the light from behind him making him nothing more than a featureless shape in the darkness, but she recognised him, the shape of him and the way that he stood. It was comforting, somehow, the idea that he was now that familiar to her, that he'd been waiting for them to arrive - a sense of belonging that she hadn't realised she'd missed.
He nodded to Abby as she walked up to the door, his world-weary face cracking into a surprisingly attractive smile. "It is good to have you back," he said, widening his smile to encompass Sullivan, who was following hard on her heels. "Both of you."
"Zoë?" The eagerness was clear in her voice and she didn't even try to hide it - she needed to squeeze Zoë to within an inch of her life, give her the kind of hug that Abby just didn't give to anyone else.
Caulder's face drooped for a second, something slightly sympathetic colouring his expression. "Marta put her to bed about an hour ago after she fell asleep in her dinner. She's been a little excited about you coming back, and I don't think King helped much to calm her down."
While that was a disappointment, Abby moved past it and onto her next obvious question. "And King?" she asked a little dryly, relieved when Caulder's answer started with a little huff of laughter.
"I think he was just as excited as Zoë to have you back," he said. "But he's working it off in the gym. I don't believe that anyone was expecting to see you until the morning."
"Someone," said Sullivan pointedly, giving her a telling look as he moved past her and headed through the door with his bag, "insisted that we drive all night."
She ignored the jibe - there'd been no malice in it and she had other, more important things to think about. Like where the gym was, for example.
The corner of Caulder's mouth quirked as he read her far too easily. She should probably worry about that. Later. "In the basement," he said, and if he had any other comments to make, he was smart enough to keep them to himself.
She nodded her thanks at him, moving easily past him and heading in what she hoped was the right direction.
It was habit to do a quick recon, even if she was eager to find King. Never undervalue the need to know all of the exits, her father had told her more than once, probably the only useful piece of advice he'd ever given her. She moved through the building rapidly, noting everything - the layout of the rooms, the positions of the doors, the location of all of the windows and whether they locked.
It seemed to have been a factory once, somewhere small and compact but now empty and abandoned. She had no idea what it had made - the floors were concrete, but there weren't any trace marks of machinery, nothing that gave her a feel for what it must have been like when it was still in use. There was a small locker room, with an open shower area from what she could tell when she peered around the door, and the plasterboard offices in back had been converted by Caulder and Marta into small, self-contained bedrooms, big enough to hold mattresses and not much else. She found Zoë asleep in one of them, curled up on her side with Mr Gigglesworth clutched to her chest. The room on one side of Zoë's was empty, nothing but a bare mattress on the floor, but the one on the other side was obviously King's. There was a cheap chest of drawers in one corner, but King's leather jacket was draped over the top of it and his boots were by the bed.
There was no sign of Abby's stuff, the little she still had left after abandoning the Honeycomb Hideout, and the urge to check the drawers in King's room, just to see, made her fingers itch.
But there was another itch that needed scratching, one that was growing by the minute.
She finally found stairs that led her down and then out into another open area, one that had obviously served as a loading bay. The faint scent of diesel still hung in the air, and the heavy metal roll-up doors at one end were mute testimony to its former use.
The room was well lit if a little cold, bright electric lights overhead humming and flickering, and she could see what Caulder meant about 'the gym' - he'd scrounged or stolen equipment from somewhere, and mats covered half the floor.
But all of that was forgotten when she spotted King, hands wrapped around one of the low hanging metal beams as he used it to do pull-ups.
She paused in the doorway, taking the opportunity to study him before he knew she was there. He looked good - better than good, so much better than he had the last time she'd seen him that the last of her tension, the last few lingering doubts and fears she'd had about his recovery, faded away at the sight of him. He no longer looked anything like a vampire - he looked exactly like he was, young and healthy, and exceptionally fit. He'd lost weight while he'd been ill, thinner and sleeker than he had been, but even so, every one of his muscles was clearly defined as he pulled himself up and lowered himself back down again. The air down here might have held a slight chill, cooler than the rooms above, but despite that his thin t-shirt was soaked at the back with sweat, showing just how hard he'd been working. The fabric of it clung to his skin, leaving little to the imagination, and her mouth went suddenly dry, a nervous stutter where her heart used to beat.
She should say something, let him know she was here, but all of her words had fled, leaving her tongue-tied and breathless. She moved, her boots scraping against the concrete, and King heard her, dropping back down to the floor and turning to look at her.
The wary look on his face disappeared as soon as he caught sight of her, replaced with a delighted smile that let her heart started beating again, even faster now.
"Hey," he said, pulling down his towel from where he'd stashed it over the same beam he'd been using to work out and wiping the sweat from his face with it as he walked towards her, a bounce back in his step that had been missing for weeks. "You're back."
As stating the obvious went, there were worse things he could have said. She opened her mouth to say something profound, something that would convey just how much she'd missed him without veering towards sickeningly sweet, but what came out was: "You look good."
She winced internally, realising just how dopey she sounded, but King didn't seem to mind. He grinned back at her, his whole face lighting up, and she'd like to be able to put that down to him simply being pleased about his recovery, and her noticing it. But there was a look in his eye, something slightly smug and amused, that told her that he knew exactly what had prompted her comment.
"Not looking so bad there yourself, Whistler," he said, confirming her suspicions. He slung his towel around his neck, taking her in with the long, slow look that didn't do anything to lower her heart rate but did a hell of a lot to raise the temperature in the room.
She swallowed, her fingers itching to reach out and touch him, slide across the planes of his chest, map every one of those muscles with her fingertips. It took a moment for her to remember that nothing was stopping her from doing that now, no need for restraint or denial, not after everything they'd been through.
Not after she'd already kissed him more than once.
He stopped within arm's reach, looking down at her, a cocky smile playing around the corners of his mouth. His eyes, however, were warm, something much more genuine in them, something real and only for her.
She reached out and touched, her fingers curling slightly as she pressed them against his t-shirt, feeling the steady beat of his heart underneath.
King leaned in and she tilted her face up towards him automatically, her eyes closing as his mouth met hers. He kissed her slowly and thoroughly, taking his time as though he, too, was realising that time was something they now had. His hand came to rest on her waist, his thumb stroking along her skin where her shirt had ridden up. The feel of his skin against hers sent little shivers up and down her spine, her lips parting in response, breathing him in.
His tongue met hers, stroking along her lips as gently, as mindlessly, as his fingers were moving against her skin, and heat pulsed through her, pressing her more firmly against him, her fingers twisting in his t-shirt and pulling him closer.
He pulled back and stared down at her, the smile vanishing from his face and leaving something hungry behind, something that didn't scare her this time. His eyes were wide, dark with want, but completely human.
He kissed her again, hard and fierce, his arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer to him, every inch of her body pressed up against his. She let out a sound, something soft and needy, and he swallowed it down, his hands moving restlessly over her back, one finally burying itself in her hair, tilting her head back as he explored her mouth.
Her knees had gone weak, something she thought only happened in badly written romances or stupid romantic comedies, not something that would ever happen in real life, not something that would ever happen to her. But kissing King like this was making her giddy, as though all of her hopes and dreams were coming true, all of her fears finally put to bed. She couldn't get enough of him, her hands familiarising herself with the shape of his body, slipping underneath his t-shirt and letting the warmth of him soak into her.
His skin felt like velvet, the muscles underneath hard and unyielding when she leaned into him, let him take her weight. Her fingers drifted upwards, sliding over the ridges and furrows of his abs and up into the coarse, wiry hair scattered across his chest. Everything about him was a pleasure, from the way he tasted to the musky scent of fresh sweat, from the strength of his arms to the softness of his skin.
He finally broke away, keeping his arms around her as he pressed his forehead against hers, panting more heavily now than he had been while he'd been working out. "Hey," he said again, his voice rougher now, filled with barely suppressed desire. "Want to take this somewhere more private?"
He had the best ideas sometimes, even if it meant letting go of him now, something she was strangely reluctant to do if it meant him taking his hands off her skin. She couldn't articulate it though, too lost in the shape of his face, now cupped in her hands, and the remembered taste of his mouth. She leaned in again, kissing him, letting that be her answer.
King let out a sound, something like a groan, when her hands slid down his back, over the fabric of his sweats to cup his ass. She pulled him closer, kissing him deeply and letting out a sound of frustration as she slid her hand underneath the fabric of his pants, hoping for skin.
She was disappointed - King was wearing boxers, and she wriggled her fingers free, making a second attempt, quite happy to strip him naked here if it meant she got what she wanted faster.
King laughed against her mouth, his arms tightening around her as his lips finally left hers, trailing over her cheek, down towards her neck. She didn't know how the hell he knew, whether it was from observation or because he was simply psychic, knowing her better than anyone else, but he fastened on the exact spot on her neck that had her knees going out from under her again, her fingers clutching at him as her head rolled back and pleasure sang along every nerve ending.
He pulled back just before he reduced her to an incoherent, twitching heap, his lips brushing against her ear as he murmured, "Well, I'm definitely filing that one away for future reference."
She might have resented it if she'd been capable of thinking, but all she could think about was how badly she wanted him: with her, on her, in her. She slid her hands into his hair, pulling him down for another kiss, nipping at his lip with sharp, even teeth and loving every gasp, every little shudder he let out. His hands were hard on her body, growing more demanding by the second, a feedback loop of lust building between them until she was shaking as badly as he was, her kisses growing frantic, hot and heavy.
When he pulled back this time, his eyes were half-lidded and his face flushed, his gaze dropping automatically to her mouth as he brushed his thumb along her lower lip.
"I've got condoms upstairs," he rasped, heat flaring in his eyes again as she nipped at the tip of his thumb. It was too far and she didn't want to stop now, didn't ever want to stop. And...
They didn't have to stop, not when she'd thought ahead, hoping even if she hadn't been expecting. She'd picked up a packet of three from a vending machine in a rest-stop bathroom and tucked them neatly into her wallet so that Sullivan wouldn't see.
"Wallet," she muttered, opening her mouth and sucking his thumb into it just to listen to his sharp intake of breath. "It's in my -" But his fingers were already working their way inside her back pocket because they'd known each other long enough to know everything, up to and including where they kept their cash.
"You're such a Girl Scout, Whistler," he said, rifling through her wallet and pulling a foil covered packet free with a triumphant expression. "I really fucking love that about you."
"I thought that was the cookies," she said breathlessly and he grinned at her again, the look on his face warming her all the way through.
"Cookies, condoms," he sing-songed, his fingers making fast work of her buttons. "It's all good." He undid the last one, spreading her shirt open and gazing down at her. "Jesus, you're beautiful."
She flushed, a peculiar sort of warmth prickling her skin as his eyes travelled over her form, obviously appreciating what he saw if the look in his eyes was anything to go by. His fingers followed his eyes, brushing gently over her skin, barely there touches that still had her gasping, swaying towards him on legs that were no longer as steady as they'd been.
His fingertips stroked over the lace edging of her bra, teasing her as his eyes flickered up to her face, reading her reaction. She licked at her lips and heat flared through King's eyes again as he lowered his face to hers, pressing his lips against her mouth and tracing the line of her teeth with his tongue.
She pressed closer to him and his palm cupped her breast, his thumb caressing her through the fabric. His mouth drifted away from hers, over her cheek towards her ear again, where he nipped at the lobe, sending another shivery wave of sensation through her. And then he moved on, tracing a line down over her throat, his beard rough against her skin.
He passed over the spot that made her tremble, moving lower, his lips tracing a path down her rib cage to the valley between her breasts. He rubbed his face against her skin as he went, each touch, each kiss ramping up the sensation until she was nothing but a quivering bundle of nerve endings. His hands moved up to push her shirt off her shoulders, sliding down her arms until he could finally ease it over her hands and let it drop to the floor. And then his fingers moved back, slipping under her bra straps, still teasing her as he ran his fingers along the length of them before he finally eased those, too, down over her shoulders.
She tugged impatiently at his t-shirt, desperate for the feel of his skin against hers, and he lifted his arms obediently, letting her pull it over his head. It joined her shirt on the floor and she was finally able to explore his chest to her heart's content.
It wasn't the first time she'd seen him shirtless - it was inevitable given how closely they worked together, lived together even before she finally admitted to herself that it was more than simply friendship between them - but it was the first time she'd had permission to touch and she seized the opportunity with both hands, running her fingers over his shoulders, down over the muscled planes of his chest. She flattened her palms against his pectoral muscles, loving the feel of the dark, curling hair crisp against her skin. She pressed her mouth into the hollow of his throat and he let out a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan. His fingers slid down her spine as she explored, finding the fastening of her bra. If she'd had any doubts about his relative experience, which she hadn't, the ease with which he unfastened it one-handed would have put her straight.
She pulled back from him, giving him the room he needed to remove her bra entirely, but when she tried to move closer to him again, he stopped her, his gaze fixed on his fingers as they followed the soft curve of her breast.
His mouth followed where his fingers had led, pressing soft, scattered kisses against her skin, each one of them lingering just long enough to leave her wet and wanting, lost in spiralling waves of desire.
She could have let him keep control, continue driving her out of her mind, but she'd never been one to let others take the lead; she sank her fingers into his hair, guiding his head - and his mouth - where she wanted it, letting out an audible gasp when his mouth finally settled on her nipple.
He took his time exploring that, too, his tongue circling the hard nub around and around, teasing her and tormenting her. Her fingers flexed mindlessly against his scalp until finally he took pity on her, grazing her nipple with his teeth and then sucking hard enough for her knees to give out again, the arm he had wrapped around her waist holding her up. And then, when she thought the pleasure would finally overwhelm her, his mouth moved on, his fingers replacing it as he mapped his way from one breast to the other, repeating his teasing as she shivered, lightheaded and lost in the feel of him.
His fingers moved down to the button on her jeans, unfastening it and slowly peeling her out of them, pushing them down her legs as far as her boots. She rested her hand on his shoulder as he knelt at her feet, feeling the play of muscles underneath his skin as he dealt with the laces and then tugged her boots off, her socks and her jeans following straight after.
He rose up on his knees, pressing his mouth against her underwear, his breath hot and moist as his tongue traced a track between her legs, dampening the fabric more than she already had. His fingers finally slid underneath the gusset, stroking gently over her damp curls as she clutched at his shoulders to keep herself upright. And then he was easing her panties down over her legs as well, leaving her completely naked to his gaze.
He sat back on his heels, his eyes running the length of her body before returning to her face. "God, you're fucking gorgeous," he said again, and she flushed, unable to hide it, not when he could see all of her. Not when the look in his eyes told her that he really believed it.
He pushed himself to his feet, reaching for her and pulling her back into his arms, his mouth finding hers again to share long, lazy, wet kisses that left her dizzy and aching for him. Her hands slid underneath the fabric of his sweats again, his boxers too, cupping his bare ass and pulling him more tightly against her, tight enough to feel the hardness of his cock pressing into the side of her stomach.
He let out a low groan, one that turned into a growl when she moved her hand around to the front and traced the long, lean line of his cock, the tip of it wet against the skin of her wrist. "Jesus," he said. "You're going to kill me."
She grinned wickedly up at him, pleased to have turned the tables. "Not yet," she promised, and he let out a gasping laugh, dropping his head to press his forehead against hers again.
"I want to fuck you," he murmured, smiling wickedly himself when her fingers stuttered in their stroking. "I want to lay you down on these mats and fuck you until you can't remember your own name."
"It's Abigail Whistler," she said, meeting his eyes steadily as she issued the challenge even though her heart was beating so rapidly now that he had to be able to hear it.
He smiled again, more slowly this time, and it wasn't so much wicked as wanton. He leaned in closer, nosing her hair away from her ear as he whispered into it, "But first I want to eat you out, make you scream. I've been told more than once that I have exceptional oral skills." He widened his eyes comically at her, but somehow she didn't think it was entirely a joke.
She let out a shaky breath, the heat of his words going straight through her and leaving her struggling for a comeback for several long seconds. She finally found it, but her voice was just as shaky as her breathing. "Yeah, I've heard that you don't know when to stop your mouth from working."
He laughed, his eyes bright and his body shaking with mirth, the sound of his joy making her smile in return. She was still smiling when his hands slid down her back, stroking over the smooth curve of her ass until his hands had a grip on the back of her thighs. That was the only warning she had before he was lifting her up, her legs instinctively wrapping themselves around his waist and her arms winding around his neck.
He bore her weight easily as he carried her over to the mats and she arched into him, sharing kiss after kiss after kiss, incredibly turned on by his show of strength. She'd never thought that she'd be the kind of girl to go for something like that, but she was beginning to discover all sorts of things about herself now that she'd finally admitted how she felt about King.
He set her down gently, steadying her as he kissed her again, hot and deep, easing her down towards the mats. She ended up on her back, his hands parting her thighs as he settled himself between them, his breath warm against her skin.
He took his time with that, too, back to teasing her. His mouth moved slowly over her skin, his tongue painting wet little swirls as he edged closer and closer to where she wanted him. This time he resisted when she tried to guide him, pushing her hands away from his head and trapping them against the mat with his. It shouldn't have been anywhere near as hot as it was, pinned down by him while his mouth worked on her, little teasing touches of his tongue against her clit.
She was panting and whining by the time he finally took pity on her, pushing his tongue into her as she bucked her hips, wanting more. And then he moved back to her clit, pressing his mouth over it, his tongue circling it and then flicking hard against it, back and forth as the pressure built.
She came apart calling his name, the weight of him holding her down, his hands still wrapped around her wrists so that she couldn't move, couldn't push him away. Couldn't do anything but come.
Just when she thought she couldn't bear it anymore, her clit so sensitive that even his breath against it had her shuddering and threatening to fall apart, he finally let her go and sat up, staring down at her with an expression that was ridiculously pleased. His beard was wet with her come and she couldn't resist him, pulling him down for another kiss - he smelled of her, and tasted of her, too.
He still had hold of one of her wrists when he pulled back again, his fingers spanning the width of it easily and his thumb rubbing absently along the faint red mark he'd left. She shivered again at the touch and he didn't miss it, lifting her hand to his mouth and pressing his lips against the underside of her wrist, where the skin was thin and sensitive, just to watch her shiver again, the look in his eyes taking her apart.
"You win," she croaked when she could finally speak, the words heavy on her tongue, and he smirked.
"I prefer to think of it as us both winning," he said, waggling his eyebrows at her.
She snorted, still too blissed out to call him on his crap, and the expression on his face softened, became less smug and more wondering, as close to vulnerable as it ever got. He reached over and gently pushed the hair out of her face, his fingers lingering on her skin.
"Your turn," she said, marshalling her liquid limbs and pushing herself up onto her hands and knees. He ran his eyes up and down her body again, naked appreciation on his face, and she resisted rolling her eyes at him, instead placing one hand firmly on his chest to ease him down to the ground beside her.
He went willingly, propping himself up on his elbows to stare up at her as she straddled him, lowering her head to kiss her way across his chest.
She took her time, exploring his body the way that he'd explored hers, finding all the spots that made him shiver, the ones that had him catching his breath, even the ticklish spots, the ones that had him squirming away from her, breathless laughter in his voice.
His nipples weren't as sensitive as hers, but his breath still caught in the back of his throat when she drew one into her mouth, sucking on it, a hint of teeth behind it. His eyes darkened when she slid her tongue along his treasure trail, and his cock thickened, hardening under her fingers.
He groaned when she finally eased his dick out of his sweatpants and into her mouth, exploring the texture of it with her tongue, the length and breadth of it, the slightly salty taste of it in her mouth. His musky scent rose from the dark, curling hair at his groin, and she closed her eyes, losing herself in the feel of him, learning those things about him that she didn't already know. Like how much he loved it when she flicked her tongue over the bundle of nerves underneath the head, or how his fists clenched when she took it as deeply into her mouth as she could, pulling his dick out slowly as she sucked until her cheeks hollowed with the effort of it.
"Okay, you win, too," he said raggedly as she circled the head of his dick with her tongue, teasing him the way he'd teased her. "Now I really, really want to fuck you."
She slid his dick out of her mouth with an audible 'pop' and cast her eyes around for the condom packet, finally spotting it where they'd left it in their hurry. She started to rise to her feet, but King was faster. He pushed himself to his feet and loped over to collect it, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and the dimpled jut of his hipbones making her mouth water. He raised one eyebrow at her as he sauntered back, obviously not missing the hunger clearly written on her face.
She held her hand out peremptorily for the condom, and he treated her to another long, slow smirk as she came close to snatching it from him, tearing it open while he kicked off his sweatpants and stood naked in front of her, completely at ease in his own skin. He let her roll the condom along his length, taking her time about it just to watch his eyelids grow heavy with lust as she teased him. And then she lay back on the mat, letting her thighs fall apart and giving him a come hither look that had his cock twitching and hunger blossoming clearly across his face.
He settled over her, bracing his weight on one forearm as he guided himself into her, and the feel of his dick pushing into her, stretching her, had her arching her neck, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she pulled him closer to her, desperate for the feel of more of him in her. But still he teased her, drawing it out as long as he could. His dark eyes were fixed on her face, watching what he did to her, how she felt when he moved slow and deep, the burn and stretch of it as he bottomed out at the end of every thrust. How her breath hitched when he switched the rhythm to fast and shallow, her fingers flexing helplessly against his skin as the friction built, low in her belly. How she bit her lip when he rolled his hips, the firmness of his flesh pressing against her clit with each inward thrust, rocking her backwards, losing her in sensation.
He was a quick study, probably paying more attention to her - her reactions, her unspoken needs - than anyone else she'd been with. Maybe she had Danica Talos to thank for that, or maybe it was just King's drive to be the best - the quickest, the strongest, the smartest, the funniest, and now the best fuck he could be. She hitched her legs up, crossing them high over his back, and he took the hint, sliding an arm underneath one knee and pushing it up towards her shoulder. Each thrust went deeper now, each roll of his hip pressing his flesh harder against her where she needed it.
The tension was slowly building in her again, leaving her balancing on a pleasurable tightrope, every movement of his body pushing her closer and closer to the edge.
He hooked his arm under her other leg, pushing both towards her shoulders as he quickened and deepened his thrusts. His hands caught hold of her wrists again, pinning them back against the mat, holding her steady and grounding her until he could slide his fingers through hers, holding her down while he held her hands. He held her in place like that as he pounded into her, faster and faster, deeper and deeper, the pleasure stretching out unbearably until felt as if every nerve ending was afire. The wave caught her, took her, turning all of her limbs to liquid and she came, long and hard, sharp little cries escaping her as her body contracted around him, pulses of pleasure running through her.
He followed her down with a strangled groan, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into her, his face pressed against her neck and his breath harsh and hot against her skin.
Her legs were starting to cramp and she wriggled a little, trying to get comfortable. He took the hint and let go, easing his fingers from between hers and bracing himself on his forearms again so that all of his weight wasn't on her. He made to pull out of her, but she let out a soft sound of protest, wrapping her legs around his waist to keep him there, and he laughed softly, his breath stirring her hair.
"That," he said, panting heavily even as he chuckled, "was fucking awesome."
She hummed softly in agreement, her fingers petting his hair, stroking through the sweaty strands contentedly. "Awesome fucking," she said when she had breath enough to speak, and King laughed again, his whole body shaking with it.
This time when he moved away, she let him go, watching lazily as he dealt with the condom and then collapsed on the floor beside her, a look of intense satisfaction on his face.
She thought about moving but that meant arguing with all of her limbs, which felt like lead. It was only when the sweat cooling on her body left her chilled that she found the energy to roll over, nestling herself against his side, where it was warm and welcoming. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him as his fingers stroked absently up and down her spine.
If he kept that up, she'd start purring and he'd never let her live that down.
"I needed that," she said quietly, sliding her arm across his waist and pillowing her head on his chest.
King chuckled softly. "Any time, sweetheart."
"I meant... I missed you."
"Yeah." King's fingers paused for a moment before they pressed lightly against her skin again. He turned his head, brushing his mouth against her hair. "I meant it. Any time, sweetheart."
She let out a soft hum of agreement, her limbs turning liquid again as exhaustion claimed her.
"Hey, you can't go to sleep here."
She snuggled into him, keeping her eyes closed. "Yes, I can," she murmured, the protest muffled by the yawn she tried, and failed, to hold in.
"Okay, you're right. You can go to sleep here. Just as long as you don't mind Sullivan walking in on us at some point."
That woke her up as effectively as a bucket of cold water. She and Sullivan might have come to an understanding, but that sure as hell didn't mean she wanted him to see her naked. She was pretty sure she'd reserved that right for King in perpetuity.
King was laughing at her as she gathered her clothes together, pulling on her panties and glaring at him when he showed no sign of stopping. "I take it you're not getting dressed," she said pointedly, and he shrugged his shoulders, mirth still clearly written across his face.
"I've got nothing to be ashamed of," he said, and her eyes automatically dropped to his groin, where his dick had softened, but was still as impressive as the rest of him. She flushed as soon as she realised what she'd done, but King wasn't going to let it pass without comment, even if his comment was limited to a very obvious smirk.
She rolled her eyes at him, fastening her shirt and not bothering with her bra, not when she had every intention of getting him naked again as soon as she got him upstairs, even if it was just to sleep.
She somehow doubted, however, that they'd just be sleeping, and she hoped the walls of their new offices-slash-bedrooms were up to the task, especially if Zoë was asleep right next door.
That was when it occurred to her again that she had no idea which room was hers. She glanced at King, hesitating, and he didn't miss that either, raising one eyebrow at her quizzically.
"Do you know what happened to my stuff?" she asked, aiming for subtle. Maybe she managed it, or maybe she didn't. Either way, it seemed the King's answer was going to be the same.
"Our room's next to Zoë's," he said, watching her reaction closely.
She schooled her impression into something neutral, trying to hide the warmth that flooded through her. She should be pissed that he'd made the decision without her, but it was difficult to get annoyed when her decision would have been the same even if they had discussed it. Besides, she knew where he was coming from, why he'd done it. They lived in each other's pockets anyway, and they'd wasted far too much time.
She limited herself to a nod, brisk and business-like, not missing the relief that crossed his face and was quickly hidden when she didn't call him on his presumption.
He cleared his throat, slightly sheepishly. "I love you. You know that, right?"
"Yeah." She did, but she couldn't quite suppress the inward wriggle of joy at hearing the words out loud again. "So do you think you could do me a favour? Could you try not to get bitten again?"
"Hey, at least this time I wasn't bitten by a hot chick, so you don't have to worry about that."
She busied herself with fastening her jeans, staring down at him. "Does this mean you've stopped questioning your sexuality?"
His brow furrowed for a moment before he remembered what he'd said, and then he rolled his eyes at her, although his amused expression ruined the effect of it. "I think I've adequately demonstrated my commitment to heterosexuality." He gave her a slow once over before smirking up at her and adding, with a glint in his eye, "Feel free to disagree."
Her mouth twitched. "I might need some more convincing."
"That right? Well, never let it be said I don't rise to a challenge." He grinned, widening his eyes at her again, his lechery deliberately overdone just to amuse her.
Her smile softened, a wave of affection for him washing over her. "I love you," she said gently, and his smirk faded, replaced by something small and pleased, if a little surprised.
"Do you know that's the first time you've said it?" he said.
She paused in the act of pulling on her boots, frowning at him as she cast her mind back. She must have -
She hadn't, not that she remembered clearly, although there was a lot about the last few weeks she didn't remember clearly, everything subsumed in her worry and her fear for him. King would remember better than she did, just like she remembered the first time he'd told her he loved her, the words burned into her brain and engraved on her heart.
She had to trust that he was right, but that didn't mean she was going to let him milk it.
"Well, I'm telling you now," she said, giving him a wryly amused look, one that said clearly she knew what he was up to.
"Well, let the record show that I said it first."
"There is no record, King."
"Well, there should be." He finally pushed himself to his feet, pulling his sweatpants back on and hunting around for his t-shirt. "Man, I need a shower," he said, wrinkling his nose as he tugged it over his head.
"We both do." She watched him get dressed, simply enjoying the moment, as weirdly domestic as that sounded inside her head. "And I really do. Love you, I mean."
"Yeah, yeah. You can say it as often as you like..." He shot her a sudden, mischievous grin, a light of sheer devilment in his eyes. "Still doesn't change the fact that I said it first."
"Dick," she said succinctly, and his grin widened.
He opened his mouth to come back with another smartass remark or two, then obviously thought better of it, the grin fading from his face and his expression turning tender. He reached up and stroked his fingers along her hairline, down over the soft curve of her cheek, and then leaned in to kiss her again. She was beginning to think that he was secretly a romantic, or maybe not so secretly, because when he finally pulled back he murmured again, "You can say it as often as you like."
"I'll bear that in mind," she said dryly, knowing she'd end up saying it more frequently than she'd ever thought she would and probably still less than he hoped. She gathered up her bra, leaving him to deal with the discarded condom. "Didn't you say something about a shower?"
He caught hold of her hand as she passed him, and kept hold of it as they headed towards the stairs. It was strange how well his hand fit in hers, and how quickly she got used to it.
Maybe she would say it as often as he hoped, especially since she was now certain that every time she did, he'd say it back.
-o-
Zoë's eyes were watching them tragically, a small pout on her face. Abby wasn't fooled - she'd seen that expression more than once, and some of the time it had even been on Zoë's face instead of on King's.
"No chocolate cereal for breakfast," she repeated, keeping her voice firm even when faced with Zoë's lip quiver. That one she hadn't learned from King.
Zoë turned tragic eyes on King, knowing that he was likely to be the easier option. He hesitated, casting a quick look in Abby's direction, one she returned with a frown. They needed to be consistent about these things, and he knew that.
He caved, like she'd known he would, but at least he had enough sense not to entirely contradict her 'no chocolate for breakfast' rule. "How about I make pancakes for breakfast when we get back?" he asked, and Zoë's face brightened.
But she was definitely learning a thing or two from Abby, as well, because she asked shrewdly, "With syrup?"
"With maple syrup," Abby said pointedly. "Not chocolate."
King wouldn't contradict her on that one since he was firmly of the opinion that the only correct way to serve pancakes was with maple syrup and possibly bacon if you were feeling decadent. It was one of the few times he thought that the addition of chocolate syrup to a meal was an abomination.
King met her eyes over the top of Zoë's head, flashing her a quick wink, one that had her smiling automatically in response. She'd move past that at some point, smiling at him just because she could. Probably.
"We ready to move out?" Sullivan asked from the doorway, tapping his fingers impatiently against his leg.
Abby nodded, all business, and then turned back to Zoë. "Be good for Marta," she said. "We'll be back in a couple of days."
"Because you're hunting." It wasn't exactly a question, more like Zoë parroting facts, but Abby nodded anyway, smiling as she took in Zoë's serious expression. It wasn't scared, just solemn, because Zoë had every faith that they would be back, trusting them to fight the monsters that still haunted her dreams sometimes and then come home to make her pancakes.
King slung his arm around her shoulders, reaching out to ruffle Zoë's hair, at least in part because he knew she hated it. Abby leaned into his body, enjoying his warmth and the feel of him holding her as Zoë pouted up at them, smoothing her hair back down again.
"Pancakes," King said solemnly, matching Zoë's tone with his own. "I promise."
Zoë's pout faded a little, trusting him implicitly because even at six she already knew what it had taken Abby a little longer to figure out.
King always kept his promises. Especially the ones he made to her.
The end