I'm With You

Summary: AU. Riddick and Fry are on the run, together.

Rating: Mature.


Fry woke up with a start. It was pitch black and completely quiet. For a second, she forgot where she was. Instinctively, she reached out beside her, only to find a warm empty space on the bed. She sat up, clutching a sheet to her naked breasts.

"Riddick?" she called out, her voice rough from slumber.

"I'm here," came Riddick's deep gravelly voice, which even after all this time, never failed to send shivers up her spine.

She whipped her head towards him. By now, she had become adept at finding and recognizing Riddick in the dark. It proved to be a useful skill. He turned on the lamp by the chair where he sat, keeping the light at its dimmest. Fry rubbed her eyes and squinted at his silhouette.

"What are you doing up? Did you sleep at all?"

"I thought I heard something outside," he said, nodding towards the door to their room.

"And ... ?" she whispered.

He sighed. "And nothing. I checked. But whoever or whatever it was might come back."

Fry rolled her eyes. "You're being paranoid. No one knows we're here, you made sure of that. You ALWAYS make sure. I bet you searched this entire fucking building before deciding we could stay here." She patted the space on the bed next to where she sat. "Now come back to bed."

He turned and stared out the window, silent.

"Riddick?"

"We've been on this planet long enough," he said steadily, still looking out the window. "We better get a move on."

"Riddick, look at me," she told him. He finally, reluctantly turned to face her.

In the year that they've been on the run together, moving from planet to planet, Fry had gotten very good at deciphering the enigma that is Richard B. Riddick. She's learned to search beneath his unflappable often-expressionless exterior; to read his eyes and interpret his body language and even the subtle shifts in the inflection in his voice. He only ever allowed himself to be vulnerable around her, a fact that she never took for granted. And right now, she could read fear and doubt in his eyes. He was afraid that maybe she had become too tired of running. That maybe this time was finally the time she'd ask to be left behind. That maybe she'd finally come to her senses and realize that she didn't want to spend the rest of her life with him after all.

Fry smiled at him warmly, reassuringly. "Then we'll pack our things and we'll get going tomorrow," she said. "We'll move to wherever you want us to move."

His body relaxed and he smiled back at her, just as warmly, his eyes catching the glow from the lamp.

"Now that that's settled," Fry purred, wanting nothing more than to take his mind off of his worries. "Would you mind taking your damn pants off and coming back to bed?"

... ...

"OHHHH, FUCK!"

When Riddick caught a glimpse of Fry's wanton smile, he surged into her a bit more forcefully, causing her to gasp and grab fistfuls of the sheet around her. He was never an overly vocal or expressive lover, but she knew just how to squeeze her muscles around his cock to drive him wild and elicit that kind of loud reaction from him.

Fry was down on her elbows and knees, the side of her face flat against a pillow, as Riddick pistoned into her relentlessly from behind. She felt drops of sweat from Riddick's chest trickle down her back, his fingers seeking purchase on her slippery hips.

"Oh God, don't stop, don't stop ..." Fry moaned, pleading, grinding her ass so far back into him she had her arms almost outstretched in front of her.

Riddick let out a guttural groan, falling forward and over her but keeping his weight on his elbows. He hooked his arms under her shoulders and doubled his efforts, withdrawing almost completely out of her before thrusting back in deeper and harder than ever before.

Just a little … bit … more ...

"Baby," he whispered in her ear, his voice strained and desperate. That was all it took to send Fry into her third orgasm of the night. Fry buried her face into the damp pillow to stifle her cries as she came, shuddering violently. Riddick held her tight from behind, still pumping his hips even as he groaned loudly and spilled hotly into her.

Fry lost track of how long it took before the pleasurable spasms that wracked her body subsided. She only hazily felt Riddick plant wet, hot kisses down her jaw and lick the sweat off her neck. And she swore she heard him mutter "… fucking sexy bitch will be the death of me …" before he rolled off her and onto his back with a satisfied grunt. She, too, flipped on her back, all her muscles aching in protest. The room was quiet again, save for their panting and the slight rustle of the sheets.

Fry had just enough energy to scoot closer to Riddick 'til their shoulders touched. They stared at each other, grinning, both still trying to catch their breaths. They were sweaty and sticky, and the sheets clung to their skin in a most uncomfortable way, but they couldn't care less.

It would be morning soon.