Trinity

Chapter One: End

Disclaimer: I definitely don’t own Abigail Whistler, Hannibal King, or Zoe. I already checked that out with King and Marvel said no. So go talk to them about a Nightstalkers spin-off. Talk to Meridian1 if you like anything in this story as she was likely responsible for it. That’s what you get for pre-reading, Merd! While you’re doing that, go read her stories because they are both numerous and kick-ass. Also this fic is not for the eyes of children. It contains adult language, references to violent acts, and spicy sexual situations. Please consider yourselves warned and shove off if you’re too young or too easily offended by any of the above. As for the rest of you, please enjoy.

Abigail Whistler removed the last of her extensive weapons and placed it reverently on the table. She still had the stake in her boot and an extra knife hidden in a side pocket of her pants, but compared to her daily wardrobe, she was completely unarmed. It felt strange, as though she was naked in front of strangers, but she dismissed the feeling. The biological warfare that Blade had unleashed on the vampires of the world had slowed life down for the Nightstalkers. Abigail was obviously grateful, but it left her feeling itchy. She had realized for the first time since she’d started following in her father’s footsteps that she didn’t know what to do with her life when she wasn’t hunting vampires.

Blade had apparently jumped right back into the game, probably going across the country in order to find the vampires that hadn’t come into contact with the Plague yet. She and King had dragged him back to the base from the vampires’ tower, thinking he would have to stay with them for a few weeks to heal. Of course they’d been wrong. Abigail had entered his room the next day only to find it empty, with quite a number of the injection packs that had been cooked up for him missing. He hadn’t left a note, but he had left her a rifle next to a picture of her dad and his family. She was grateful.

Abigail made her way to King’s room, still quietly mourning how quiet the base was. The replacements for their cell had moved in days ago, but they were still cautious. They snuck about as though it would save them from their predecessors’ fates and gave the remaining members of the original Nightstalkers wide berth. Abigail didn’t mind. It gave her time to read to Zoe. They were already on The Lost Princess of Oz. Abigail was amazed at how well Zoe was taking the loss of her mother. Amazed and incredibly sad at the necessity of that resilience.

Abigail paused at the entrance to King’s room. He hadn’t bothered to clean up the mess Drake had made of his bachelor’s pad; it was inconsequential compared to the rest of the base but still fairly smashed. However, she did notice that he had moved the TV closer to his bed. The damage to his left eye hadn’t been as devastating as it could have been, but he was still having trouble seeing out of it. She had expected him to make some jokes about the eye patch Caulder was making him wear, but he’d been uncharacteristically silent about the whole ordeal.

In fact he’d been quieter in the past few days than she’d ever seen him before. Even when she’d helped him escape from the vampires’ clan and Sommerfield had given him the formula, he’d been wisecracking about the pain it put him through. That had been the first time that Abigail had heard one of his infamous vampire jokes. It had been a crude one about menstrual cycles that she hadn’t found amusing at that time of the month.

King was standing at his large window, staring sedately out. The sunlight made his bare skin gleam and Abigail couldn’t help but admire the strong muscles of his back. The wound on his shoulder was healing nicely, but thanks to his ex’s ministrations it would leave a nasty scar.

“Hey,” she said quietly, not bothering to knock.

“Abby, what brings you to my humble abode? I’d offer you a seat, but Count Dracula apparently needed all of the chairs for toothpicks.” The words were light and if he had been talking to the new guys, they would have thought that he was in a good mood. Abigail knew King better. He hadn’t even turned to look at her.

“How’s your eye?” she asked, coming up beside him and sneaking a peek at his profile from the left side. He looked tired, more than she’d ever seen him before.

“Well, Caulder tells me I won’t have a future career as an operator on the Pirates of the Caribbean, but the good news is I’ll be able to make some money there this summer.” Since she was on his blind side he turned sideways to face her. This had been her intention and she let herself smile slightly at his comment. With his hair all tousled from sleep, the eye patch, and his lean bare chest, pirate wasn’t such a bad comparison. She let her eyes wander over to the bandage on his right shoulder.

“How’s this doing?” Abigail tentatively reached out to touch the wound, her fingers gentle and probing. He caught her hand in a fierce grip.

“It’s super. I’ve already named it. What’s up?” he asked sharply.

“I’m worried about you,” she said honestly.

“I’m great. Thanks for the concern.” To her disappointment he let go of her hand. However he didn’t move away and while he had sounded a little annoyed, his voice had lacked the usual sarcasm she’d come to expect from him. “Have you heard anything from Blade?”

“No,” Abigail finally looked away, upset over his uncharacteristically business-like tone.

“Yeah, well, I guess it was a little too much to expect a nice tip, but a number would have worked too.” King sounded frustrated and Abigail was struck by the sudden urge to smack it out of him. Most girls would have gone the shoulder massage route, but King had dated a vampire. He wasn’t the massage type.

Abigail knew the exact moment when she had first realized that she wanted King. It had been five minutes after she’d seen him, singing a bawdy song off-key from the cage Danica had put him in as punishment for a practical joke that she hadn’t found very funny. Abigail had been infiltrating the vampire’s lair, searching for a girl she’d known from her childhood. She had released King under his promise to help her find her friend. Looking back now, Abigail still wasn’t sure what had made him decide to help her. She had initially suspected that he’d just wanted to piss off his mistress, but when they’d found her friend, a corpse of three days, he asked her to take him with her.

It hadn’t been that long before that her father had shared with her group the cure for early vampirism but in that time Sommerfield had already improved it dramatically. Abigail had been skeptical of King’s motives, of course, but in one his rare moments of stoicism, he’d begged her to cure him. She had and when he’d turned out to be a great addition to the fledgling group of misfits she’d found herself with, she didn’t regret it. The instant desire she had felt, however, was a source of constant regret. Her father had made it clear that personal relationships and vampire hunting didn’t mix.

So she’d buried whatever feelings she’d started developing and the two had worked together peacefully for the most part, exchanging the occasional jab but mostly cohabitating as perfect partners. Abigail had been fine with it. Relieved even to be able to focus so much on her work.

That had changed the moment she had found Sommerfield crucified in the lab. While she’d buried a few odd acquaintances, she’d never had such a close friend ripped from her so suddenly before. The death of her father hadn’t hurt her nearly as much as the death of the original Nightstalkers had, her family for years all taken out in one fell swoop. With the new responsibility of raising Zoe on her hands and with the world nearly free of vampires, Abigail was starting to think tentative thoughts of a normal life and how King could fit into those plans.

“Oral sex for your thoughts,” King said, breaking Abigail out of her musing. She blinked up at him and a lazy half-smile crossed over her full lips.

“Cheap bastard,” she murmured and the half-smile spread into a full one as he let out a surprised laugh. He’d accused her of being too serious at least once an hour in the past few years and she was happy to find that she could tell a joke he would find funny.

“Hey, I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but there’s nothing cheap about what I’m offering.” King smiled smugly at her, but there was an edge back into his voice. Involuntarily her eyes traveled down to the glyph on his lower stomach, half-hidden under his loose pants. His gaze followed hers and then led the glance back up.

“How do you feel about…?” Abigail let her voice trail off as she indicated the vampire’s mark on his body.

“Danica finally going to hell like I’ve been telling her to for years? Pretty damn good.”

“Yeah? That mean you’re over that whole bad girl thing now?” Abigail forced herself be bold and her fingers skimmed over the top of the mark, her nails scratching into it lightly.

King hissed slightly, his eye widening as he looked down at her.

“I’m going to say yes here,” King said finally.

“Good.” With that Abigail slid her arms around his neck and leaned up to kiss him hard. A surprised second passed and then his arms were around her waist and he was pulling her up tightly against him. It was good, better than she had let herself dream late at night when even exercise wouldn’t tire her out. His mouth was a little dry from the medication he was still on, and his beard scratched her in an unfamiliar way, but his tongue was enthusiastic as it waged war on her own. He showed more skill at manipulating the skin around her teeth than any man she’d ever kissed before. She didn’t suppose it was a coincidence.

After a few moments breathing became an issue once again and they pulled away simultaneously. King still looked pretty shocked as she began playing with the skin over his glyph once more.

“This is different. Are you planning on making this our new team greeting? Because I’m really good with it.”

Abigail laughed and kissed him quickly again.

“You want me to kiss our new teammates? The blonde with the Feng Shui fetish might like it.”

King blinked at her. “Can I watch?”

Abigail stopped playing around with his mark and grabbed the sides of his pants, pulling him aggressively towards her.

“I want you, King.”

Their mouths met again in a hungry battle, teeth clashing and tongues wrestling across the field. Her hands rose up to his back and she clutched at those delightful muscles she’d admired earlier. His hands found their way to her ass and he kneaded the flesh gently for a few moments before lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and drew back a moment to pull her shirt off over her head.

“I am a lucky boy,” Kind said simply, the wonder in his eyes as he looked at her making her tingle all over.

She pulled his head over for another series of bruising kisses as he swung around. He lowered her onto his bed, managing not to lose contact with her mouth until her back was flat on the blanket. She unhooked her legs so he could move back and she smiled encouragingly at him as he began fighting with his belt.

“You sure about this? Because I don’t want to wake up tomorrow with an arrow in a delicate place.” Again he would have sounded like he was joking to anybody else, but Abigail knew him better. She could hear the doubt and fear in his voice over this change in their relationship.

Never one to waste words, Abigail answered by unzipping her pants and pushing them down. She kicked off her shoes, knocking them almost dangerously close to King’s bare feet. Then her pants were flung completely off, leaving her in an admittedly functional rather than sexy bra and a black thong.

“Right.” King nodded and began battling his belt in earnest. Abigail didn’t know if his lack of depth perception was throwing him off, but she didn’t really want to wait any longer. So she sat up, her hair falling over her shoulder as she quickly undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants. She slid the pants and boxers down in one quick pull and he kicked them away.

Abigail wasn’t a person who made a big deal over things, but the leisurely look she allowed herself for his lower half explained to her why Danica had kept his admittedly irritating ass around for five years. His face was intense, with the dark and purposeful glower he could usually only manage during battle. It excited her more than she would ever let him know.

She held out her hands and he took them carefully, smiling slightly at the contact. She didn’t have to ask what was funny. They both had the rough calloused hands of warriors, hardly appropriate to a tender afternoon of lovemaking. Abigail smiled softly back and started drifting back down towards the bed, pulling him along . He followed obediently, his eyes never leaving her face as he climbed onto the bed. He ended up kneeling between her slightly parted legs, his arms on either side of her shoulders as he moved in for another kiss. This one, tender and exploratory, told her how this session was going to proceed.

His lips traveled down to her neck, where they lay light circles on her skin with some help from his teeth. For the time Abigail decided to let him lead and just enjoyed his ministrations. Her eyes widened slightly and then fluttered gently closed to the sound of her own soft moan when he found the sensitive skin between her neck and left shoulder. Her hands were loose on his forearms as he made nearly every piece of her collarbone feel appreciated with sweet easy kisses. His tongue dipped into the hollow between her breasts and she shivered once in sharp excitement.

“King,” was the soft whisper she barely recognized as her own.

“Beautiful,” he said quietly and again all traces of his usual sarcasm were nowhere to be found. “You’re beautiful, Abby.”

Her eyes lazily opened when she felt his hands slide heatedly under her, struggling for a bit to undo the clasp of her bra. She was feeling too much like liquid goo to help him but he managed it anyway and soon the slight breeze stealing through the room found her bare breasts. She shivered again, this time from the sudden cold and pulled him closer again for a few comforting kisses.

The sensation of his bare chest brushing against her own was incredible. She would have been mostly satisfied with it for the next few weeks, but he had other plans. Soon she felt his large rough fingers sliding tenderly over the tips of her breasts, falling down to cup them and moving down her stomach to her hips. The rest of his body followed suit until his abdomen was resting in between her legs and his mouth was engulfing the skin around her right nipple. Abigail gasped sharply, a shapely leg rising up to rest against his hip, her toes wiggling into his skin.

“That tickles,” he complained around her breast, reaching down to grab her foot. She giggled and slapped his back as he began tickling her sole. He abandoned this diversion in order to concentrate his mouth’s efforts on her other breast. This time he waited longer before touching the nipple and teased the skin around it until she was making a high whining noise that she wouldn’t have liked at all if it hadn’t made him finally take the tight skin into his mouth, twining his tongue around it and sucking forcefully.

After a few more minutes she wouldn’t have been to take it any longer, but he read his partner’s body just as well in the bedroom as he did on the battlefield. He began to make another torturous descent along her body, nipping at the sensitized flesh of her stomach, fucking her bellybutton slowly with his tongue, and trailing hot kisses across her hipbone.

Suddenly all movement stopped and Abigail glared down at him as he slid off the end of the bed. He stepped back a few steps and regarded her speculatively.

“The hell are you doing?” she asked, the words harsher than the uncertain sound of her voice. She barely recognized the hesitant woman speaking her thoughts. There was a brief moment when she was certain that he was going to walk out. She could imagine the jokes he would tell to the new guys about how she’d thrown herself into his arms.

“You need to sit up. I don’t want to sit in a chair while giving cunnilingus. That’s not comfortable.” Her fears were instantly assuaged and a wide grin spread over her face. She scooted up with racer speed, her back soon flush with the front of the bed. However she kept her knees together and she raised her eyebrows at him.

“Cunnilingus? That’s a big word for you.”

“I’m trying to impress you.”

“I think “The Amazing Race” is a great show,” she said suddenly.

“And I think “The Simple Life” was completely underrated. Why bring it up now?” He paused at the foot of the bed, one knee already up, and stared at her in confusion.

“That was my thought. Now you owe me.” She nodded her head down.

King laughed, the sound making her more aroused than even the lovely foreplay had. He knuckled his way across the bed, lying his body flat on the comforter and grabbing her thighs.

“What are your interest rates? I’m going to need a time frame here.”

“They’re really high. I don’t know if you can work hard enough for that long.”

“Oh, I can work pretty hard for a really long time.” As King talked he worked on getting her thong off. Finally she took pity on him and lifted her ass slightly. She hooked her fingers into the band of her thong and began pulling down.

“Please, allow me. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.” King brushed her hands away and replaced them with his own. His large hands were warm on her already heated skin as he slid the thin garment down her legs. It ended up hanging from one ankle where it was unceremoniously kicked onto the floor with the rest of their clothes.

He licked his lips at the sight of her neatly trimmed pussy and flashed her a sudden smug grin.

“Now this is going to be fun,” he said and then lowered his head.

A few minutes later, when the blinding bursts of pleasure rocketing throughout her body allowed her pause to form coherent sentences in her mind, she couldn’t help but think that fun was a bit of an understatement.