That was good, he thought when he was capable of thought again. He slowly became aware of the girl underneath him, still on her hands and knees. Her muscles were trembling slightly, like she was having trouble supporting her own weight. That puzzled him until he realized it was his weight she was having trouble with. He eased off slightly, keeping her pinned. Whispered into her ear, "So you like it rough?"
The back of her neck flushed. "No. I like my sex and my violence separate."
He nuzzled her, caressed her breasts gently. Her breath caught. "Sure about that?"
"Yeah."
"So why was this better? You came this time. You didn't before." She stiffened, confirming.
Damn. Hopin' to be wrong about that. Something about this kid made him feel indulgent. Or something. He sure liked the adoring look she got on her face when he did something nice.
"Maybe I'm adjusting," she said, softly. He ran two soft fingers around a nipple, up the breastbone, to the throat. Caressed it, possessively. Enchanted by her rapid pulse under his hand.
Still, things to know. "Why didn't you tell me it hurt?"
She tried impotently to move away. Not goin' anywhere, kid. "Really want to know?"
"Yeah."
She glanced back over her shoulder at him. "Look. I've always kinda wanted to do this. But it was all so . . . sudden." She finished lamely.
"Jack . . ."
"What?"
"I know when you're planning on lying to me. Especially," he dropped his voice to a breathy whisper, "especially when I'm still inside you."
She tensed. It felt good, even though he was almost flaccid. She tried to move again, and he still wouldn't let her. Finally, her voice almost childish, "It's just -- if I told you it hurt and you didn't stop, it would have been kinda like rape."
Interesting. He grunted. He finally pulled out of her. Felt strange. He stood, found some other clothes. She had slumped to the sands when he let her go, as if her legs really weren't working. She wasn't looking at him. Damn, what's gotten into her now? I made sure she liked that. Finally, she rolled over, watched him dress. There was a question in her face. Finally, exasperated, he locked eyes with her.
"What do you want, Jack?" His voice seemed to echo through the cavern, giving it a weight he hadn't intended.
She stood, started gathering her clothes. There was a strange sadness to her face, and her shoulders had slumped. Her obviously evasive answer was still oddly earnest. "I want to get this chip out of my neck. I want us to live happily ever after, doing good works."
He started to laugh. Once he started, he couldn't stop. She dressed fast, walked away. Her body was rigid, like it was when she was a child when he used to make fun of her. That bothered him slightly. He managed to gasp after her, "My own little holy woman. You're one fucking lucky girl."
She wouldn't look at him. "Huh?"
"Because you're mine and I'm going to take care of you."
Mysteriously, that seemed to make her furious. "So that's also your decision, is it?"
Also? What's that supposed to mean? He stopped laughing. Smiled, letting a calculated amount of malice leak to the surface. "I think it was Abu's."
Her mouth moved for a moment. She gave him a murderous look. "Right. You think I'm his to give?"
"Looks like," he smiled a smile that had made armed men cower. "You're here."
For a moment he thought she was going to hit him. Amusing. She took a deep breath, and the sense dissipated. Not nearly as much fun. He said, casually, "Hey, I've got some stuff to do. You be a good girl while I'm gone? No wandering off to play with the scary monsters?"
She seemed about to say something. He was expecting her to shoot back shit, like she would have two weeks – eight years -- ago. Instead, she simply nodded, her eyes downcast, looking heartbroken. Like she was a puppy he'd kicked who still wanted to curl up on his lap. Annoying.
He grunted. Left, rolling the rock back as firmly as possible behind him.
Maybe this isn't a good idea, he grumbled to himself as he stalked back up to the inhabited levels. Having Jack cryptically grousing at him was not going to get fun.
You told her you wouldn't kill her today.
Didn't say nuthin' about tomorrow.
He stopped himself. You really are a piece of work. You spend a year bustin' your balls to take care of that kid. She is the first thing you think about every morning almost since you met her. Closest thing to family you've got. And you're thinkin' of killing her.
He took a deep, steadying breath. She's right, you're a problem solver. And she's a problem. A weak spot.
She was a weak spot before. What's different now? That I'm fucking her?
At that thought, his tension eased. Right. Big advantage to having her.
You'd kill anyone else who did this to her.
Did what to her? Protected her from monsters?
He forcibly derailed that train of thought. Focused on moving silently through the darkness.
And you'd kill anyone else you thought was thinking about killing her.
Fuck.
I really am a piece of work.
He stalked through now irritating darkness, thoughts swirling darkly.
If they want me to do it, it's probably hard.
Where did that come from? Do what?
Kill that guy.
Kill that guy. If they really do play straight with me . . .
A strange sense of longing stirred. To have a life where he wasn't hunted. To have a life that involved a girl he liked who would be his. Who he could fuck any time he wanted.
I'm trying to talk myself into this.
Killin's what I'm good at.
He'd arrived at Crustus's cave. It had been pretty well picked over already, but he had an idea that there might be hidden treasures. He stood in the middle, listening, looking, smelling.
After a few minutes of tracking the air currents, he followed a scent, a female scent, to a small alcove.
There was only sand and rock, but the scent was strong. Something was wrong with the rocks. He put his hands on the limestone like wall behind the alcove, rapped softly, hearing the echoes, feeling the vibrations.
Didn't take long until he found a rock that felt different. Found the center of the anomaly, pushed. The rocks groaned, parted.
He stepped through into a tomb-like cave that the raiders had missed. Smelled of pain and death and the malicious joy that so often reeked from prison guards. This is where they kept her. He took a deep breath. Not just her. Others before her.
Lotta death in this room.
Jack coulda been in this room.
His stomach twisted. The rocks started to slide back, as if to lock him in. He stepped back through, stared at the limestone wall. Found a pick axe. Smashed it into dust. Went in.
His target was a line of trunks, all padlocked. The first lock submitted easily to the pickaxe. Contained some women's clothing. Most of which he wouldn't bring back to her, but he found a few skirts and shirts that might be acceptable. He set them aside. Next trunk was full of toys. Manacles. Whips. Equipment whose use he could only darkly guess at. Gags . . .
He fingered one, thoughtfully, thinking of her screaming on the exam table. If those assholes are smart, they've got it all set up already. Added the softest of the gags to the pile of clothes. Found some rope. Tested it. Would take his weight easily. Added it to the pile. Opened the next trunk. Had to work to smash the lock off. Blinked.
Bones. They'd locked a girl in here, and she'd died, curled in fetal position.
Then he started to laugh. Killin' those fuckers was really a good deed. And it felt good. Maybe there is a place for me in this do-gooder adventure after all. He closed the trunk, smashed opened the next. There was a rucksack big enough for a body on top. He tossed that onto his pile. Some jewelry, that surprised him. What the hell, Jack might like jewelry. Added that. A few bottles of liquor. He smiled, added those. Rummaging around, he found some drugs. A small hand-held play back machine. A gun.
A big gun, the type they were absolutely not supposed to have, because of the risk of cave ins. They weren't even supposed to have laser cutting tools; fear they'd set off a chain reaction through the crystals. He tucked it into his waistband.
The drugs weren't recreational. Knock out drugs. Not really his style. Oh well, didn't weigh much. Could be useful. He packed everything into the rucksack that had once contained a girl. Headed out.
He wandered a long time without encountering anyone. The lower levels were often empty; most people seeming to believe that there were scary monsters down here. He'd never seen any evidence of one. Still, he'd half expected to find evidence of the soldiers. But there wasn't even a hint of it. Finally, he went back to his cave.
0o0o0o0
It was dark and the scent of gardenias was completely gone. Jack had rinsed her clothes in the pond, and they were draped over rocks, drying. He was slightly surprised to find that his were as well.
There was a smell of sweat. She'd worked out. Angrily. Angry at me? Why the fuck would she be angry with me? I've been a good guy.
Where the hell is she? She must have heard me moving the rock.
Why is it dark?
He could just call her name, but something stopped him. Instead, he tried to sense her. Smell was no help; her scent was in the air almost uniformly. She'd bathed, and not sweated since. That bothered him slightly. He would have liked to do it with her. Well, he could just toss her into the water. That caused a pleasurable sensation, deep down.
He tried to listen for her heart beat. Nothing.
The water's louder. She'd done something to the rocks, so instead of a soft mummer, the sound was rougher, more assertive, more covering. On purpose? She that smart?
Yeah, I think she is. Gotta watch that.
Think this through. Couldn't get out. She has to be somewhere with lots of rock between her and the door.
Couldn't get out . . . could she? Something itched. Her scent wasn't uniform after all. He turned and looked at the rock blocking the entrance. Noticed that the sand had been smoothed around the threshold. Something made him examine the rock. Something made him smell the rock. Her scent had sunk into the stone.
She tried to move it.
Shit, where is she?
Something like anxiety began to stir. He stalked her trail. Clearly, she had been walking the perimeter of the cave, touching things, her scent sinking into the rock in many places. She'd tried to move things.
He found her at last, sitting cross legged, leaning against the cave wall, among clear signs she'd been excavating. She'd found another sheet to knot around herself, one he hadn't really looked at before. He took a moment to enjoy the thin fabric draped over her breasts and hips, the absurd motif of apples and snakes curving just right. His anxiety faded. My own little holy woman.
She wasn't moving. Asleep? He touched her face. "Whatcha doin', kid?"
Her eyes opened, and for a moment, it was as if the woman he'd killed on Danaan was gazing back at him. Then she blinked, and it was just Jack's eyes looking out. "Same old, same old. Taking a break from ricocheting between blind panic and preternatural calm acceptance of my impending doom."
He snorted. "You sure got all educated up."
"Yeah. Had to do something with my time."
He crouched down, examined her work. She seemed to be excavating a prior stream bed through the cave wall, blocked by some sort of rockslide. Too small for him. Just about perfect for her.
"Tryin' to leave me, kid?"
She shook her head. "Just exploring my options."
He grunted, started moving the rocks back.
"What are you doing?"
"Don't want you playing with the scary monsters." Don't make me hogtie you, holy girl. You won't enjoy it.
"So you can leave and I can't? You don't come back, I'm just supposed to starve to death, alone in the dark?"
Why are you so pissed off at me? I came back. He took a gentle tack. "Kid, I was gone four hours. There's food for months here." He moved some larger rocks, rocks she'd have trouble moving, into the mouth of the tunnel. She was standing, fists clenched, an absurd pose against the graceful folds of her improvised sarong. Had a sudden urge to throw her down, screw her brains out. Started with a smile. "I brought you some things."
Her expression softened. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Come on." He gathered up the torch, switched it on. Gestured courteously, and she preceded him. She followed the light he played on the floor in front of her. Something about that pleased him.
He opened the bag on the bed. Rummaged through it, pulled out the girl clothing. "Sorry I couldn't find much."
Her expression softened even more. "Thank you, Riddick." She sat beside him, examined the clothes with an oddly relieved look on her face. Then her expression changed. "You didn't, uh, kill anyone for these, did you?"
"No." Killed them 'cause they pissed me off. He pulled out the jewelry, offered it to her almost shyly. She was watching him closely. "Didn't kill anyone for any of this." She took the jewels, examined them.
"Thank you. That was . . . sweet."
He pulled out the rope. Her eyes widened. "What's that?"
"Rope." He found what he was looking for, the liquor bottles. Opened one up, took a drink. Offered it to her. After a moment, she took a hesitant sip.
"Is that for me too?" She asked, nodding towards the coil with a false jocularity in her voice. "Didn't know you were into that stuff."
He nodded, sagely. "Good stuff, rope." Her body stiffened. He took pity on her. "In case we have to climb out of here or something." Or, yeah, if I want to tie you up. He smiled, affectionately. She seemed relieved. He pulled out the reader. "Found this too."
She smiled at him, started to laugh. "You old softy." She leaned against him like she used to when she was a kid. He liked it. He leaned back. Slipped an arm around her.
Then her tone changed. "What's that?" She was pointing at the gag half hidden in the rucksack.
"Don't worry about it."
"You're going to gag me?" Her voice rose.
"If I do bust us out of here, I might need to keep you quiet. They can make you scream, and all of your holy meditations ain't gonna stop that."
Her eyes were very big, and the moment where she relaxed against him seemed long gone. She took another drink. Looked fretful.
He let her go. "If they do, I can also give you a shot of these." Held up the needles. "Knock out drugs." She nodded. Gave him another longing look.
"What's up with you, kid?"
"Huh?"
"You've been acting weird."
"Tell me, Riddick, maybe you've got some experience in this. What is the normal reaction to being kidnapped by your own government and handed over to a homicidal ra—control freak.?"
He laughed, nuzzled her. "Kid, you sure got my number." Started nibbling on her neck. When she didn't respond, he whispered, roughly, "Anything I can do to make it better?"
Another deep shuddering breath. "Thanks, Riddick. But can you give me my life back?"
Not quite what I meant. Oh well. He'd figure it out as he went. Or not. Unknotted the blanket. Just like unwrapping a present. He started to kiss her again, delicately, gently, and after a moment, she laid down on the bed, seeming to invite him to do what ever he wanted with her.
He was as gentle as he could be, taking it as slow as slow could be, kissing and sucking and fingering and nuzzling. She was back to passivity, but occasionally soft noises came from her throat, as if she did like it.
After far too long, she murmured something that sounded like "relax and enjoy." It bothered him slightly for some reason he couldn't pin to the wall. But then she gave him rueful smile and a deep kiss, and her small hands were stroking him. He redoubled his efforts and it wasn't all that long before she was spasming under his fingers. He was inside of her fast enough to feel her muscles still involuntarily, rhythmically contracting, pulling him in deeper.
Maybe because of that, or maybe only because of slow buildup, his own release was mind blowing. Oh yeah. Relax and enjoy, baby. I could get used to this.
0o0o0o0o0
SG1987, thanks! No worries, my Jack is no wimp. Is she "in" on the plot? Depends on what it means to be "in" on something that society sets up without consulting you first . . .
Redplanetes, you made me titter. Oh yes, there is no place like a glittery cave with Riddick . . . not that it's necessarily a good cave to be in! As for the necrophilia thing . . . I can't say you're wrong there.
DevilWithTheAngelWingsOn, you made blush! Thanks for your many good words. I'm gratified you like Riddick's voice -- I've worked hard to get that voice and character there; some sort of synthesis of the hero and the monster. I also really liked the lines you pulled out. For the fairest, for the strongest, why not kill her . . . urg. Makes me worry about myself.
NotAfraidToLive, thanks! Glad you liked it.
krista-shadow, thanks! Yeah, poor Jack; she attached. She might get over it, depending on how things go . . .