October 2017



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Fic: A Fine Line (Blade: Trinity, Danica/King, NC-17)

Title: A Fine Line
Author: alyse
Fandom: Blade: Trinity
Pairing: Danica Talos/Hannibal King
Rating: NC-17
Content Notes: Violence, blood play, dub-con at best and potentially non-con. Set pre the movie
Genres: Established (non-consensual) relationship
Word Count: 5,150
Status: Complete, one shot
Disclaimer: Blade: Trinity, the motion picture, is owned by New Line Cinema. This is a not for profit fanfiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Aithine for the lookover. Written for Porn Battle XIV for the prompts Danica Talos/Hannibal King, serve, force, beat, lose and my [community profile] trope_bingo card square slavefic.

Summary: When Danica is bored, she looks for more interesting things to do. Like King, for example.


The party had been Asher's idea. The bad ones always were, no matter what Asher said about it. He seemed amused by the chaos that surrounded them, but Danica's patience - never more than paper-thin at the best of times - lasted only as long as it took for the first fledgling to get the fuck in her way.

Asher thought it was funny, at least until Danica ripped her head off - literally. And then, of course, he sulked, for all that he'd deny it, stalking into the crowd with a curse and a gesture that had Danica curling her lip, leaving her to her own devices. Typical. Like they couldn't have made more where that bitch came from.

He took everything far too fucking seriously.

She left him to his tantrum, casting her eyes around for something more interesting to do.

Like King, for instance.

And there he was, leaning against a nearby wall almost as if she'd wished him up. Maybe she had, or maybe he was finally starting to pay attention to his lessons, the ones that involved 'keep the fuck away unless I want you, and be right the fuck there when I do'. His arms were folded across his chest and he was watching events in the atrium below over the top of them, a sardonic glint in his eye. He didn't look up as she headed towards him, even though the clack of her heels rang out clearly over the laughter - and occasional scream - rising up from below.

"I'm bored," she announced once she was close enough, cocking her hip and waiting for him to entertain her.

He didn't disappoint. He didn't even bother looking at her as he drawled out, "Evening, Princess."

She followed his gaze, just in case there was something down there that could have legitimately caught his attention, drawn it away from her for a split second - and that's all it should have been - but no. Just a bunch of greedy wannabes feeding for the first time and lacking anything approaching grace about it.

This was what Blade had reduced them to - turning whoever, and whatever, they could just to keep up with him and his fetish for slaughter.

And talking of fetishes...

She considered her options, turning her head back towards King and eyeing him for a moment. And then she let that moment stretch out, watching the tension build in King's shoulders as the seconds ticked by, one by one. His jaw tightened, but he didn't take his eyes away from the scene below.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

She should have waited even longer, let it draw out until King finally snapped and looked at her, but then Asher was always telling her she was an impatient little half-pint, when he wasn't calling her a stone cold bitch. She stretched her hand out towards the expensive chandelier hanging over the atrium, admiring the way that it glinted off the ten carat diamond ring on her finger. Pretty. Like King was pretty, only the diamond was a hell of a lot harder.

The sound that rang out when she smacked King across the face was enough to dim the furore below for a moment, faces turning towards them before the scent of blood, the fear of their prey, dragged the fledglings back to their feast. She let her lip curl again - none of them had any sense of self-preservation, not that King was any better on that account.

King's fingers were pressed against his mouth when she turned back to look, the blood oozing up beneath them, and he wasn't watching the crowd below any longer. His gaze was back where it belonged - focused on her - and the look in his eyes was wary, watchful. The anger was there, yes, simmering just below the surface, but so was the fear.

It was the latter that had her stepping forward, moving into his personal space.

He didn't step back. He never did at this point, the push and pull of it all as familiar to her now as the sound of her own breathing. This close to him she could catch the sharp scent of his blood in the air, something unexpectedly sweet and strong, making her mouth water.

She hummed softly underneath her breath, fingers coming up to catch hold of his chin, ignoring his instinctive flinch back as she turned his face to and fro, examining the wound she'd left.

"Aw, baby," she crooned. "Did you forget who the fuck I am?"

For once, he stayed silent, still watching her warily as the blood dripped down over his chin. Perhaps he'd finally learned a little about self-preservation, and it was probably about time for that as long as he didn't end up being as boring as her previous pets. The cut on his lip had already healed and she contemplated it for a moment, wondering if she should smack him around again just open it up. In the end, scent of his blood still rising into the air made the decision for her, being as impatient for instant gratification as she always was. She leaned closer to him, licking the blood from his skin with delicate little touches of her tongue and enjoying the way that he froze in place, a sudden, wary tension rising again in his body.

"I'm bored," she said again, her mouth a bare inch from his ear and her breath brushing over his cheek. "Now, what are you going to do about that?"

He swallowed, his Adam's apple moving against her palm where it pressed against his throat. Her fingers curled, nails now digging into his skin but stopping short of this time of drawing blood. The threat was enough, and he did so hate it when she choked the breath out of him.

"Whatever the hell you want," he said.

Good boy.

She didn't say it out loud - he hadn't earned it yet - but the grip she had on his chin loosened and she let him pull back, slowly and still wary.

"So what do you say?" she asked, dropping her voice to approximate a low purr.

A sullen light flashed through his eye, the rage banked down but still there. She waited until it had faded away entirely, leaving something lost and a little empty behind. He swallowed again, his eyes searching her face, looking for some hint of what would please her, but she was an old hand at this game. He found nothing because she left him nothing to find.

She expected his gaze to drop again, or maybe for a brief surge of rage to flare through him, something piquant and interesting to spice up this deathly dull evening, but instead he sighed, the sound resigned and maybe even a little mocking. It sent a flicker of uncertainty through her and she did what she always did when she was caught off balance; she drew herself up to her full height plus her towering and tottering heels and snarled at him, fangs flashing in the light.

The guarded look returned to his eyes, but King had never been able to rein in his mouth, no matter the cost. "Am I right in thinking that you're looking for something like 'yes, mistress'?"

She raised her fist again, and he took a step back before recovering himself, his expression settling into something halfway between cautious and defiant.

"You're starting to try my patience, King."

"And here's me thinking you were complaining about being bored."

He had a point, not that she'd ever admit it. As frustrating as she found him, there was something exhilarating in the rage he inspired, something in the way it took her breath away, leaving her ears buzzing and her fingers tingling, her teeth literally aching with it, sharp shards of pain that felt almost like hunger.

She licked at her lips, King's gaze dropping automatically to her mouth, his own lips parting as he drew in a shaky breath. Fear or desire, she was never entirely sure which, but it didn't matter. She didn't give a shit for how King felt about things. All that mattered was to lift the suffocating boredom from her, and King was always entertaining. And not just because he was a good fuck.

There was an itch running down her spine, her skin tingling as she moved towards him again, reaching up with her thumb to trace over his bottom lip and smearing the blood that still hadn't dried. When she drew her thumb back towards her mouth, his eyes followed it, the expression in them now flat and hard, burning.

Hate was like love, if you looked at it in a certain way. Danica was used to looking at things from a different perspective, the kind came from surviving close to two hundred years and intending to survive at least five hundred more.

"So entertain me."

His mouth quirked at the corners, but there was no real amusement in the smile he gave her. "Your wish is, of course, my command," he said, pausing a beat before adding, "Mistress."

Sarcastic bastard. She gave him a smile of her own, all brittle, dangerous edges, and his faded away, leaving that ever-present wariness behind.

She turned abruptly on her heels, stalking towards one of the brightly lit offices that surrounded the lower atrium, not bothering to check if he was following her. Either he did or he didn't. She didn't think he'd reached the point where another pointed lesson or two was in order, possibly one involving sharp objects, the kind of lesson where she needed to break him all over again, but who could tell with King? She hoped not. That was the kind of thing she liked to take her time with and she was too impatient and on edge tonight to enjoy it.

Besides, judging by the fury of the party below it was already going to be hell to get the blood out of the drapes.

She didn't look back at him until she'd finally reached her destination, shoving the glass door open with the kind of bang that would have had Asher raising his eyebrows at her if he'd been around to hear it. But Asher, of course, was too busy fucking wannabes to pay any attention to his little sister. The thought was an irritating one, and it sent her mood plummeting. By the time that King finally followed her into the room, casting another one of those annoying wary looks back through the glass walls, she was already tapping her fingers impatiently against her leg.

King realised just a moment too late that he should be more worried about her and her moods than the fact that anyone walking past could and would see them. He turned back to look at her just in time for the back of her hand to meet his face again.

This time the ring opened his cheek, the blow hard enough to send him staggering to one side, his hand coming up automatically to check out the injury. The look he shot her was more fear than fury as he swallowed nervously and straightened up, and that helped soothe her rage.

She didn't bother explaining why she'd hit him. Sometimes he needed to be kept off balance, just to make sure the lessons sank in that little bit more firmly, make it perfectly clear to him that she was wholly unpredictable and that he'd never really know or understand her. Her brother was the only one who would ever understand her, the only one who should.

Instead, she simply reached up underneath the skirt of her dress and tugged her panties down, kicking them to one side and not caring how expensive they were. There was always more silk underwear where that had come from, and it wasn't as if this time she'd made King rip them off her body and then punished him for ruining them.

King's expression grew resigned, his fingers leaving his face and moving to the buttons of his shirt without her even having to prompt him. Perhaps he was actually capable of learning something after all.

"Pants, too," she instructed, heading towards the overstuffed, pale leather couch in one corner of the room. She'd never been that fond of fucking on a desk, not if there was a risk of her being the one on the hard surface. Something soft beneath her was much more to her liking. "Leave the shorts on for now." Naked dicks always looked weird to her until they were hard enough to be useful.

She made herself comfortable, ignoring King until she was good and ready for him, and even then she took her time, letting her gaze travelled slowly up and down his body, admiring the shape of him.

He was pretty boy; there was no doubt about that. Pretty and a good fuck, even if sometimes she had to remind herself of that just to avoid ripping his throat out in a fit of pique. His shoulders were broad, tapering to a narrow waist with well-defined abdominal muscles and the bulge in his shorts was nothing to be sniffed at.

He was already starting to get hard as she looked him over. Maybe Pavlov had a point when it came to training pets.

She spread her legs, letting her head fall back against the soft, plump couch cushion behind her. She felt rather than saw King settled between her thighs and she opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for him to start making her come.

There was a cobweb in one corner and she scowled, making a mental note that someone from the cleaning staff would pay - with their life if necessary. Maybe even if it wasn't necessary. It kept the rest of the kine on their toes.

King's broad palms settled on the inside of her thighs, easing them wider apart as he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. She reached down and fisted her fingers in his hair, jerking it sharply just to hear him hiss, to feel it huffing against her skin.

"Take your time. I wanted it slow and good."

He let out a sound, something that almost sounded like a strangled laugh, quickly bitten off. "When am I ever not good?" he asked mildly. Before she could answer - or reprimand - him, his mouth was pressed against her skin, moving slowly upwards, inch by agonising inch.

She closed her eyes again and gave herself over to sensation.

He was good. Even when she was as pissed as hell at him - which was often - she had to admit that King's mouth was a marvel, probably why he never shut the fucking thing. His tongue was now tracing concentric circles against her flesh and every now and then he pulled back just far enough to let his breath ghost over her skin, cool little puffs against the wetness his tongue had left that sent shivers through her. His fingers stroked lightly up the length of her legs, sliding teasingly under the edges of her dress, soft, fleeting touches that had her pushing her pussy towards him, impatient for the feel of him there.

Just at the point where she was ready to smack him around the head again, get him to hurry the hell up, he grabbed hold of her hips, jerking her towards him until her ass was hanging off the edge of the couch, the move so sudden that left her gasping with surprise. And then his mouth was finally where she wanted him, his tongue flicking out to slide between her folds.

She let out a happy hum, her fingers flexing absently against his scalp, holding him there but not forcing him closer, not yet.

True to his word, he took his time, each slow and steady move building up in intensity until she was shaking with it, her stomach tight with tension, her nipples hard and aching. He took her to the edge and then retreated again, switching up his moves until she was growling under her breath, her nails digging into his scalp now, hard and demanding.

"King..." she warned, her lips curling up in a snarl as he ignored her and pulled back.

"I thought you wanted it slow?" His tone was still mild, deliberately so, and he'd pay for that later. But right now she wanted to come, teasing over.

Maybe he needed a reminder of who was boss. Hint - it wasn't him.

Before she could take action, he lowered his head again, catching her clit lightly between his teeth and tugging gently. At the same time, he slid his fingers into her, two of them at once, so forcefully that it drove a grunt out of her.

He had big hands, broad fingers, and she welcomed the hint of pain, the feeling of being stretched without warning. Sometimes, she thought he might actually understand her, at least a little. Not that the thought ever left her with warm and fuzzy feelings towards him. Especially not now, when it was obvious that he was pushing it as far as he could, skirting just this side of insubordination in the hopes that she'd let it slide in the name of coming.

He was wrong, but then he'd never really been one for long term planning. She'd let it slide for now, when the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of her, his mouth hot and wet against her pussy, was driving her headlong towards orgasm. But she wasn't Asher and she wasn't King - she wasn't ruled by her dick. There'd be time to make King pay once playtime was over.

The pleasure rolled over her, enhanced by the thought of what she'd do to him later, her pussy tightening around his fingers the way that it would later tighten around his dick, drawing the feeling out. She arched her back like a cat, her thighs tightening around his head, holding him in place as she rubbed her pussy against his mouth, using him the way she always used him, the way he was starting to enjoy, no matter what he said. It was only once her orgasm had ebbed away, leaving her languid and satiated, that she finally let him go, amused by the way he fell back onto his ass, spluttering slightly as he wiped the taste of her away from his face.

"That was... satisfactory," she said, now even more amused by the dark look he shot her. "Make yourself hard. I haven't finished with you yet."

He rolled his eyes, but she was feeling too satisfied to make more of an issue of it than to kick her foot out and catch him on the side of his head. He ducked, dissipating the worst of the blow, and shot her another look, even darker this time, the familiar edge of anger barely hidden underneath it.

That was better. But even better was the way that his hand dropped automatically towards his crotch, his fingers sliding underneath the fabric of his shorts as he cupped himself.

She pulled herself back up into a sitting position, fussing with straightening her dress and her hair as King began to stroke himself towards full hardness, his gaze vague and unfocused as he conjured up whatever the hell images he needed to get himself excited enough to fuck her. She used to get pissed about that, the idea that he'd take his eyes off her when he needed to jerk off, but she had to admit that there was a certain satisfaction in letting him fantasise about someone else before confronting him with the reality of her. Of course, that didn't mean she was going to let that slide, either, but then what was it they said about sparing the rod and spoiling the pet?

She finally settled down and watched him, only now starting to get pissed that he was still ignoring her. In fact, the whole thing was taking too long and she rolled her eyes, pushing herself to her feet and stalking past him towards the open doorway, gratified when he flinched away from her as she passed.

Asher's fucking newbies were still getting under her feet, but at least one of them would serve a purpose. She cast her gaze around until she spotted one that was the exact opposite of King's preferences - skinny and blonde instead of brunette and built - and beckoned the stupid little slut over.

"Make him hard," she said, gesturing peremptorily towards King, who shot her an exasperated look. "Use your mouth."

The girl's gaze flickered uncertainly towards King before returning to Danica, and Danica swallowed down a sigh, holding onto the edges of her patience with immense effort and, she thought, an insane level of forbearance. "Your mouth, his dick. Is that too complicated for you?"

The fledgling shook her head, her eyes wide and fixed on Danica for a moment before she finally shuffled over towards King and dropped to her knees. Fucking newborns. Not that Danica expected this one to last for long, not if she gave in that easily. And if she looked like she enjoyed it a little too much, or if King did, then her life expectancy would be measured in minutes instead of the centuries she'd probably anticipated.

The girl wasn't anywhere near as good at sucking dick as King was, and Asher would probably regret turning her if he could see her now, but it was enough to get King hard even if it probably wouldn't have got him off. Danica waited until King's dick was stiff as it slid in and out of the girl's mouth, and then seized hold of the girl's hair, dragging her to her feet and hurling her out of the office with enough force to bounce the stupid little bitch off the railings with a thud. She picked herself back up onto her feet, her stupid face staring back at Danica vacantly, her mouth open and her lips shiny with her spit and King's pre-come, before she gathered enough wits about her to turn on her heel and flee.

Frankly, the stupid little bitch should have been thankful Danica hadn't ended her there and then. The only reason she still had her head was King's bored expression as she'd slaved over his dick.

When Danica turned back to look at King again, he was in the process of kicking off his shorts, leaving them in an untidy puddle in the middle of the floor. She stalked back towards him, pausing to kick them out of the way, and then gave him a good, hard shove; her hand landed in the middle of his chest and sent him stumbling backwards towards the couch.

He landed with a thud and another of those slightly mocking sighs. She ignored him, already impatient for the feel of his dick in her, and moved to straddle him, grabbing hold of his cock and guiding it into her with no preamble.

Jesus, he felt good and she felt the last of her bad mood fade away, the tension beginning to build in her again as she moved up and down on his length. King's hands came up to catch hold of her hips, steadying her as she moved on him. She glanced down at him; his eyes were half closed as he lost himself in the feel of her body surrounding him. She toyed with the idea of making him pay for that, too, but she was feeling mellow after coming once already and there was a limit to how many things even she could store up to repay him for at a later date.

The carrot and the stick, and she let her lips curl up in a small smile, knowing exactly what the carrot was in this situation. Like she'd always thought - men were definitely ruled by their dicks.

She closed her eyes, resting her hands on his shoulders and using the extra leverage that gave her to pick up the pace until she was virtually bouncing up and down on his dick. It scratched an itch, pleasure starting to spark up and down her spine, curling in a way that had her gasping and twisting in King's grasp. King's grip on her hips tightened as he jerked her towards him again, the angle now putting more pressure on her clit, racketing up the pleasure until she was gasping into his ear.

She lowered her face further, her mouth opening as she pressed it against his neck, letting her fangs sink into his skin. They went into it as smoothly as a knife into butter, his blood welling up and sliding down her throat, full and rich, making her shudder.

He swallowed down his curse, muffling it with the knowledge that any objection on his part wouldn't go well. His blood would never provide her with sustenance, depleted as it was by his own version of the vampire virus, but that wasn't the point. That had never been the point. This was about marking him, owning him, and never letting him forget it.

When she drew back, his blood painting her mouth like lipstick, his eyes were still hooded, his expression lost, almost bereft.

That was just the way she liked it.

She steadied her hands on his shoulders again, leaning back and increasing the rhythm of her moves until she was pounding herself up and down on him, reaching for her next climax and knowing it was close. He was close, too; she could tell from the hitch in his breath, the way his fingers were clutching at her, gripping her to the point of pain. It drove her onwards, determined to get there first.

She won, the pleasure coursing through her again, her shriek muffled against his skin and his blood smearing across her face. And then, with her legs still shaking and all of those little synapses still firing in her nervous system, a last few starbursts of pleasure, she pushed herself off him, leaving him high and dry.

King's curse this time wasn't muffled but heartfelt. He glared at her, not bothering to hide the fact that he was pissed off, and something like anticipation curled low in her belly. She smirked at him as he subsided, his expression petulant but acknowledging that he was beaten. However, it didn't take him long to recover himself, his face settling into a more neutral expression that experience had taught him was the only way he was getting out of this with his skin intact, trying not to give anything away even if he obviously knew it was too late for that.

"Now," Danica said once she'd caught her breath, "What to do with you?" She tapped one be-taloned finger thoughtfully against her lips, swallowing down the giddy glee that threatened to overwhelm her. King was so easy sometimes. It almost made up for the times when he wasn't. "Should I just let you jerk yourself off? That seems so... pedestrian. Maybe Asher would be interested in fucking you instead? Would you like that, King? I mean, sometimes it seems like you do, and sometimes it seems like you don't."

King shrugged, pasting a bored expression on his face. "That all depends on whether or not he uses lube. I mean, your brother can be a pain in the ass, but I prefer it when he isn't literally a pain in my ass."

Danica hummed a little at that, turning the idea over and over in her mind. There was a certain appeal to it, but she suspected that Asher would already have found other toys to play with. And then something else occurred to her, something that was simply so delicious that she couldn't resist.

"What about that girl?" she asked. "She was good enough to suck your dick for you. Maybe she'd let you fuck her as well."

It hit home - she could see it in the sudden widening of King's eyes. Of course he'd hate that. He was still fooling himself that he hated this, that he didn't crave her touch with every fibre of his being, that she hadn't broken him that completely.

He'd hate the idea that he'd do that to someone else.

She was still weighing up her options when King's hand wrapped around his dick. He held her gaze as he moved it slowly up and down, following her first suggestion down to the letter. She should probably punish him for that, as well, but... well, she wasn't quite ready to share him with anyone other than Asher, and the suggestion that she would, that she'd force him to force someone else, would torment him almost as much as if it had actually happened.

She was content for now to bide her time. She'd just file the idea away for a later date, maybe when she was finally growing bored of him and didn't give a fuck if he fucked someone else.

For now, she watched as King slowly jerked himself towards completion, fixing a look of abject boredom on her face until his eyes finally drifted shut as he lost himself in the feel of his own hand. Only then she could admire him openly. She'd chosen well, far better than Asher with his quantity over quality. King was attractive at the best of times, but never more so than now as his climax approached. Some people were just made for fucking, and King was one of them.

She moved closer to him as his hand speeded up, striving for orgasm until he finally tensed, his fingers white-knuckled around his dick. His teeth caught hold of his lip, his expression contorting into something close to pain as white ribbons of come splattered across his stomach and chest.

When he opened his eyes again, she was right there waiting. He swallowed, any pleasure he might have been feeling dampened down by his fear of her. She smiled at him, slow and sure, watching the nervousness ripple through him, and then she reached down, letting her fingers slide through slipperiness of come on his belly, moving lower until they pressed against the tattoo inked into his skin.

Her mark and hers alone.

"Mine," she said, smiling again and letting her fangs show, just to watch him swallow once more, something like resignation now settling into his eyes.

There'd be time enough to break him again later, time to play and time for fun. Even with Blade out there, slaughtering her kind with no mercy, she'd have all the time in the world once her plans came to fruition.

And she intended to spend a considerable proportion of all of those seconds, minutes, years and centuries reminding King of just how thoroughly she owned him.

The end