Nothing any of the other crew had said made it past the euphoria so dense it fogged in all his wondrous disbelief. Never, never ever had he gone for one of those women and not been royally fucked, and not just literally. Sex with Abigail Whistler ought to have ended in his being brushed off while he was still interested, tormented by the pleasure he could never again have, or it should have been awkward and dragged on too long, long past his interest's death-like sex with Danica after a while.
No way had he gotten laid then driven home with Whistler's mouth around his dick. And no way, no way, was she coming into the shower now for anything other than hygiene. So used to the do-it-and-done-with-it reaction, he thought nothing of Abby turning on another shower head and joining him the shower. Despite her post-coital attentions, the lingering peace between them lasted. Sexual tension lost some of its power when the desire was satisfied. The brush-off burn wouldn't start to ache until tomorrow morning.
"Whistler," he greeted her, shaking his head under the water, rubbing at the suds with his knuckles. It just wasn't the same. His scalp itched something fierce, as though it was trying to crawl off his head-as if, now that it remembered the nails of a woman, it would never accept his again.
"King."
He stiffened. That had come from somewhere near his shoulder blades, where, his brain worked out, Abby's mouth would be if she were standing right behind him. But, of course, that would mean she would have to be standing behind him, close behind him, and that ship had sailed. Hadn't it?
Then, there! Dear. God. Lithe fingers worked through his sodden hair, grasping at the roots and tugging gently, then nails raked over his scalp, massaging all the way down to his neck and up again. The Abby who was not, in fact, naked and nearby, pressed her body against his back. The slickness of the contact made him shudder and smile.
"Whistler."
"What?" Her fingers still worked their magic, descending from the nape of his neck over his arms.
"You sure you know what you're doing?" The way this ends, he knew, was she got bored or he did, she got hurt or he did, usually by being left wanting more. And he wanted more. Her body was flush against his back, from the round softness of her breasts-that was new-to the silky firmness of her belly-that was old, but still welcome. Still, more. He needed more, wanted more. If she came at him like this, he was going to take more.
Her lips were on his shoulder; she sprayed water into his ear as she leaned up to be heard over the spray of water. "You have a problem with what I'm doing?"
"Do I look like a complete idiot?" Turning his head, King shot her his best shit-eating grin. "Don't answer that."
"Afraid of the truth?"
"Afraid of being smart." Because, if he was right, he was shit out of luck. He hadn't had much luck with women in his life, not for years, thanks to one very special little lady. Maybe this was payback. Time to start liking the underdog's chances. He turned to face her. Without her shoes, she lost a little height on him, so a kiss was a stretch. But after the sprains that kissing Danica had given him, a few inches was nothing. Not when it brought that body, fully exposed to his for the first time, into contact with his.
And, of course, it helped when she jumped up onto his hips, grasping him around the waist with those to-die-for thighs. He slipped, landing hard on one hand and his ass. No time to break the kiss, their teeth clicked together when they fell. Abby tossed her head back and giggled, a bubbly, gargling sound thanks to the shower. He rubbed his teeth, sore and amazed.
"You okay?" She asked, recovering from her laughing fit enough to look him over with a serious eye, exactly what, with her naked body wrapped around his, he didn't want.
"Fine, fine. I'm used to bruises. Love 'em. Have a collection, actually. I'm going to name this one after you, Abby," he rubbed at his lower back and wincing.
"Lucky me," she said, closing in on him again.
"Come on, Dex, I'll give you a handicap. Three second head start, your choice of map, weapons, teammates...come on, you can't get better than that."
"Fine, but capture the flag only. Nothing long and drawn out, man," Dex caved. Sommerfield perked up, grinning to herself.
"What's funny, Mom?"
"Yeah, Sommerfield, what's funny?" Dex sounded defensive.
"Nothing, just listening to you whining," Sommerfield chuckled. "Go play video games, boys. And, Hedges?"
"Yes'm?"
"Don't beat him too badly. He sulks for days when he loses."
Hedges sputtered, "But I'm giving him..."
"Don't start. You could play that game using your tongue and you'd still beat him."
"Would you like to see what else I've mastered using my tongue?"
"Hedges," she warned, putting an arm around Zoe. She heard Hedges shuffling away, beating a hasty retreat. At her side, Zoe leaned into her, encouraging her to continue reading. "One moment, baby," she cooed to her daughter. Zoe understood, settling against her quietly while she listened, concentrating on the entire base at once.
It was an instinctual thing, like checking the locks on the door before going to sleep. She periodically checked on the sounds and smells of the base. With each of their little group distracted in one way or another, they might not see what she could sense coming first. When things were quiet, which was rare, she listened to reassure herself all was well. In one direction was the clicking of the clunky heater, rich with an greasy thick scent; she'd never get used to oil-based heat. In another, the groaning of the pipes feeding water into the shower room. She hid a smile at that last one.
"Come on, Dex, you said you would!" Came Hedges' voice, elevated but distant, maybe a hundred feet from where she sat with Zoe. Dex's answering rumble was lost in the roar of the game starting up and the ensuing blares of gunfire. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially not when Dex's curses carried over the din. Zoe immediately clapped her hands over her ears and burrowed into Sommerfield's lap.
"Dexter Reagan, you watch your mouth!"
"Sorry, Sommer! Won't happen again!" There was a solid second before he broke his promise. Hedges crowed, and Dex came back with, "Fuck you, geek!"
"Dex!"
"Mom, don't listen," Zoe said, calmly. Sometimes, she forgot that Zoe took to bad language better than she did. Bad language you couldn't always help, she'd said, and Zoe did her best to filter out what she could. It was a little scary, this grown-up child she had raised.
"I know, Zoe, but you know I can't help it," she smiled. The raucous video gaming would go on for hours, and she could hardly police their language the whole time. Zoe and she had only a few more Curious Georges to get through before she graduated up to some of her childhood favorites, the Oz books next, maybe The Chronicles of Narnia after that. "Now, where were we?"
"He swallowed the puzzle piece," Zoe informed her, helpfully.
"Right," her fingers drifted over the raised Braille words, taking them in as Zoe did the pictures.
With her reading aloud and tensions mounting over kill ratios and the like in the common area, only her ears detected the white noise of the showers running for well over an hour. Running and running and running. She raised her voice, consciously ignoring sounds she knew she alone could hear. Abby would owe her in the morning.
