Ch. 13

I cut my bangs with some rusty kitchen scissors

I screamed his name 'til the neighbors called the cops

I numbed the pain at the expense of my liver

Don't know what I did next all I know, I couldn't stop

"Mama's Broken Heart" Miranda Lambert

Riddick burned. His veins. His nerves. His skin. From the inside out, he burned. He knew from the shifting light in the room that he'd lit up like a candle, ghostly luminescence swirling under his skin in time with his heartbeat. If he'd had a mirror, he probably could have seen the handprint on his chest, brighter than the rest of the glow. And, he suspected, a lip print on his forehead, fresh from his latest dream. He sure as fuck felt them.

He never could tell where dream ended and reality began with the Furyan woman who talked in riddles even more confusing than River's. At least with the girl he could usually piece some sort of whole from the bits. Riddick snarled and sat up, scrubbing at his face the way he wanted to scrub her from his mind. It wouldn't work though; he knew it wouldn't. Same way he knew that Shirah had been trying to shove him around her gameboard ever since he first woke up with silver eyes and a violet cast to his vision. Her latest words still hovered in his ears as he took a deep breath and willed the glow away. Stones building a wall, blood to cement it in place, a job half done. What the fuck was she talking about, anyway? Cryptic bitch. He hoped River never met her. He had the feeling that the two of them would get along like fire and pure oxygen, and he'd be the one incinerated in the blast.

Fucking women.

That called to mind another question. How the hell was he going to do this? How was he going to last on this ship till they reached their destination? He'd done his best to plot a course for the dot labeled Haven on the system map, wanting nothing more than to find a place for Kyra to rest and get the fucking hell away from this ship. From River. From the girl who'd crawled inside his skin and made her home there; sinking hooks into parts of his heart and mind that he'd sworn never, never to let anyone touch again.

But she wouldn't have him without words, and that was a line he was not prepared to cross. Bad enough he'd stayed. Gotten her to safety when she went down. Killed for her. He'd had every reason in existence to leave her there and take the ship. Get the fuck out of the way of the trouble that followed her wherever she went. Ever since she'd popped out of that cryo box, she'd been a magnet for it.

For the third time in his life, he'd choked when he should have saved himself. Now he was stuck back on this boat for who knew how long, breathing in apples and rain, hearing her heartbeat and her breath, knowing that she knew he'd kill for her again. Over and over, if need be. He'd decimate the known planets for her because he couldn't fucking not. He couldn't not want her, want her near, want her under him, even wanted her to try to kill him some more when her mind snapped. She knew it. He was no good at blocking her and he'd been doing anything but since she'd woke up.

And still she wanted the fucking words.

But he couldn't make himself do it. They wouldn't come. He couldn't open himself up to that, to the chance that she'd take the words and their intent and be the one to leave. She still didn't have an answer to his question. The possibility that she'd take the opportunity to get away from the trouble that followed him was enough to lock his jaw on the words his animal had tried to force out his mouth. He wouldn't do it. Better to burn up from the inside out than watch her walk away.

The glow wasn't going away. In fact, if past experience was anything to go by, it was worse. Almost to the level of blasting out of his body and frying anything in range. Wouldn't that just make his fucking night? Was he a walking EMP? Could he shut down the whole ship? He was half tempted to go down to the engine room and see. Or the bridge. Some place with a lot of really vital electronics that he could-

He yanked his head up as the wrongness in his ears finally registered in his brain. The ship was powered down. Almost completely. The engine wasn't running and he could only barely hear the fans moving air through the ducts. He hadn't noticed at first because he never used on the lights in his bunk and the beat of his own heart in his ears had pretty much drowned everything else out. Growling, he headed for the door. If the girl was up and about, let her get an eyeful. At least his clothes in covered most of it. Maybe it would finally scare her off. His animal gaped its mouth and panted out a laugh at the idea. He snarled in reply.

The girl was nowhere in sight. He couldn't hear her heartbeat in her bunk. The galley was silent, too. He poked his head into the bridge in the half hope that she'd be curled up in the pilot's chair. She wasn't there, but he did get a couple hints as to what was going on. The screens were all dimmed to their lowest setting, none of the engine readings showing. Instead a timer lit the forward most part of the console, numbers ticking backwards, little icons and characters pulsing slowly. He snorted and leaned in for a closer look. Shrunk down in the lower half of the screen, below the timer itself, was a star chart. It was too small for him to make out any names, but it didn't look anything like the one he used to set course for Haven. He straightened, eyes narrowed and thoughts racing. What the fuck was going on here?

He stepped back out of the bridge and into the hall that led to the cargo bay, turning thoughts and possibilities over in his head. That's when he noticed, as he looked at the darkened hall, that even the little emergency lights down near the floor were out. And he'd stopped glowing. Probably because he'd set aside his rage while he tried to figure out why engine was down. He gave a mental shrug and kept going. Not like he wanted to be a beacon. He liked the dark better. The light in his veins was, in the end, more of a liability than an asset. 'Sides, he had shit to do.

In retrospect, he should have heard her. From the bridge. The man gave the animal a look that suggested the situation was entirely its fault, but the big cat merely blinked and returned to cleaning a paw. It wasn't until he entered the bay itself that he realized that the heart he'd been subconsciously monitoring for the past week or so had taken up residence there. And not in a metaphorical sense either.

The next thing he noticed was a high-pitched keening noise mixed with the occasional harsh breath. He aimed a glare at his animal, silently demanding that it get off its metaphysical ass and give him some help. The animal ignored him. Which, part of him said, was only what he deserved for denying its match. He growled and shoved the thought aside as he scanned the bay for the source of the noise and the owner of the rapidly beating heart.

He found her in the corner, in a patch of shadow so dark that would have completely hidden its occupants if he hadn't been the one looking. As it was, he could make out a figure kneeling at the head of the box, curled in on itself and resting its forehead on the rim. He was halfway over to her before he knew he'd moved; animal and man unified in their goal to do whatever they needed to get River to stop crying like that.

He could smell her now. Crouching next to her, he inhaled deeply. No apples. No rain. Enough wet earth to form a marsh with the salt of her tears. Try as he might, he couldn't pick anything else out of the mix. She muttered between breaths. He couldn't tell through the keening if it was Chinese or Common, but something told him the language didn't matter. She drew another of those great shuddering gasps just as he reached a hand towards her. Her entire body was taut, every muscle defined, delicate veins standing out on her temples. Her breathing caught, blocked by her folded position.

He stopped just short of touching her. It'd be a commitment; one he'd promised himself he wouldn't make after he'd locked himself in his bunk. He'd planned to come out only to eat, and the hell with her if she tried to get any sort of interaction out of him before they reached their destination. And yet here he was, out of his bunk, about to try toto get her to stop crying. Some heartless dick he turned out to be.

He waited for her to notice him. To pull her blades and launch herself at him with death in her eyes. To turn and compromise herself; to throw that lithe, beautiful body into his arms and accept that he couldn't say the words. He just couldn't. Not now, and maybe not ever. He didn't bother to try shielding his thoughts, but neither did he push them at her. She'd picked them up easily enough in the past. He expected her to do the same now.

But she ignored him. Like he didn't exist. Wasn't next to her. Wasn't even on the same ship. She didn't smell of insanity, either the kind that led to rambling or the kind that led to blood and dancing. It was as if she was so far gone in her grief that she couldn't even look outside her own mind.

He had the sinking feeling that if he got up, walked back to his bunk and came back the next morning he'd find her curled up in this spot, crying and whispering as she clung to the coffin. River, the woman who'd challenged and threatened and mocked him every step of the way from the Necro ship to the skyplex, crying herself into something much more permanent than sleep as she clung to the memories of his dead. The imagery disturbed him so much that he had picked her up and dragged her into his lap before he even knew what he was doing.

The man froze, yelling a protest as the animal leapt from its tree and stalked over to give the girl a sniff. She turned her face into his chest and grabbing for his arms, but didn't seem to realize who held her. He let her cry like that for a while as he warred with himself, animal and man circling. They were each trying to protect her, although it was for different reasons, and they were each trying to protect themselves.

The animal said what it had always said: that she was their match; that he should take her and claim her and let her know who she belonged to, body and soul. The man wanted the same, but even more than that he wanted an out if things went to shit. Riddick growled in irritation. This was getting him fucking nowhere.

Swallowing the growl, he laid a hand on River's shoulder, feeling it shake and quiver as she drew in another breath. "River," he murmured

She jerked in his arms, then went still, her shakes gone. Gooseflesh crawled under his hand as she panted out short breaths and clutched at him even harder.

He waited, hoping she wouldn't decide to come up fighting. He wasn't looking forward to any more bruises because her fists, while small, were hard. But it turned out he shouldn't have worried; because while her heart gave an extra hard thump and restarted itself, the girl herself didn't show any indications of moving. Or even responding.

Sighing, he tried again. "River? You in there?"

Her reply was nearly his undoing. "Riddick," she croaked through lips so dry they'd cracked and bled. Her hands clenched convulsively, her nails biting into his skin. He wrapped his arms tighter, the better to hold her; the better to keep himself from doing the unforgivable. If he held her like this, he couldn't lay her out on the deck beneath him and truly earn himself a place in the worst of hells.

And then she was off again, whispering words he could finally make out. "Runtse de shang dee, ching daiwuhtzo… Woushang mayer, maysheen, byen shr to! Please God, make me a stone, cut out this heart and turn my mind. Wuo dwaynee boo woon, boo jen...don't want to see or hear!" He lost the rest in her mumbling in a haze of self-directed rage. He didn't need to know what half the words meant. He could take a fair guess.

He'd gotten people killed before. Killed some himself. Killed a lot himself. Being around him usually led to death. He'd lost count of the prisoners who'd tried to follow him out of Slam and died. Cannon fodder he'd called them, just like the Necros who'd come with him to this fucked up end of the galaxy.

Far fewer were the people he'd made a true effort to keep safe, going so far in one instance as to park his ass on a chunk of ice for five years just to draw the mercs away. And had it made a bit of difference? The Imam betrayed his location with the best of intentions. Kyra signed her own death warrant when she went looking for him. Caroline came back for him, wrapped her arms around him, and hauled him to his feet. Put herself between the light and the raptors and died for it. For him.

Now here was the latest, a girl who had kept up. Who was just as much a threat to his life as he knew he'd be to hers, who hadn't been taken down by a blade or a raptor or even a real bullet. He'd done it again; saved her, got her away from the mercs, picked bits of bullet casing out of her shoulder, and wrapped up the wound. Was it the mercs who'd finally get her? No. It was, like all the rest, the degree of attachment, of care for their safety, that decided their death. And River, shaking and crying and whispering in his arms, wouldn't go out in a blaze of glory. She'd die of a broken heart, right here in front of him.

His fault.

Worry and anger swamped to man's arguments against their position. The animal drifted off, hunting for something in the corners of his mind. He let it be. His instincts tended to be the spark doe his plans, driving him to survive. Hopefully, they'd give him something to break the girl in his arms out of her trance.

He waited, tracing his fingers in circles over her shoulder as he mulled over his options and tried to close his ears to her cracked whimpers. He didn't know how long he sat there. There were no indicators of time in the ship. No lights, nothing. Just darkness and tears.

Finally, his animal came back, nudging the man's hand before dropping the thought into his head. His mouth opened before he could stop it. "River. Tell me what's wrong."

He almost thought it didn't work. She didn't respond at first. Finally, after another long gulp of air, she spoke. "Don't know what to do. Don't know where to go." Riddick started to reply, but she was off and running. "The girl is broken. Not wanted here. Can't go back to Serenity. Fears they will pity her. Know that she is broken and crazy again. Ge ge will want to put her back on meds. Wrap her up in chains of love so she never is lost or hurt again. They will smother her."

She shivered and curled even tighter in on herself. "Better anyway. There were bombs on Mother, to drive the girl out of cover and into their arms. Bombs. Her family would have died. How can she bring that back to them? They may still die for knowing her, but if she could draw the hunters…"

Riddick growled, more at himself than her, and dropped his head into the cloud of her hair. Her scent was still wet earth and tears clear through, but her heartbeat slowed marginally and she seemed to have her breathing a bit more under control.

"Do you want to go back?"

She stiffened. "Miss them," she cried, and buried her face back in his chest.

His animal growled. The man leaned forward. Riddick worked his fingers into her hair and waited for her to surface for air. When she did, he pulled her head back, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Broken don't mean crazy," he growled. "You put yourself back together before, right?"

Hesitantly, she nodded.

Still feeling the breath rumbling in his chest, wishing he could kill every single person who'd made her feel this way, himself included, he gave her head a little shake. "Then we pick up the pieces and make you whole again. Take it one step at a time. Got me?"

Her eyes went huge. Her mouth gaped. For a moment she looked like a normal human instead of the genius psychic who gave him more lip than was safe for her wellbeing. "We?" she asked in a tiny voice, her hands inching their way up his arms.

He tried to ignore them, focusing instead on the eyes and lips currently searing their way into his retinas. Leaning down to set his forehead against hers, he nodded. "We. Can't leave you." He pulled back a little to see her whole face. "But you gotta answer the question. What do you want?

He thought he knew. He hoped he knew. He hoped she wouldn't pull herself together long enough to make the smart choice. To make the decision that would probably break him just as badly as he had broken her. Her eyes scanned his face, flitting back and forth as her hands crept over his shoulders and came to rest just under his ears. He did his best to shove his thoughts, emotions and all, towards her. Did his best to let her see that all of his worry, self-hatred, anger and regret was a small price to pay if she kept her hands on his skin and those eyes on his. How could he have been so stupid?

She snorted out a laugh, and although there was still a tightness around her eyes and her muscles hadn't entirely relaxed, he decided to take it as a good sign. Until she opened her mouth again. "Words are stones," she whispered, eyes deadly serious, face stern.

He jerked in place as they drove through him, past where even the animal made its home. The air around them lit up. He nearly groaned in realization.

River pulled back far enough to see that it wasn't just her imagination. He was glowing again. He shot her a look that told her that any comment, any joke, would mean he'd have to make her regret it to the end of her days. Which probably wouldn't be too far off, considering the circumstances. She snapped her mouth shut and clamped her hands over it for good measure before nodding.

Grumbling internally, Riddick reached for one of the shivs tucked into his belt, hoping that the animal's insight would turn out to be right. Trust Shirah to stick her nose in his private life too. Bitch.

Bringing the blade around in front of him he took one of River's hands from her face and laid the hilt in her palm. "Here are your words, River. You are a match for me. You keep up and you make me keep up with you. Never met a person who could do either. You see me, not the convict, not the murderer." He glanced down at the shift and play of light under his skin. "The glowing freak of nature."

He cocked an eyebrow at her giggle. "The man that will let you lead him around this fucked up galaxy by the nose and you are damned right I will fight tooth and nail not to lose you. We'll take this one step at a time, even if it means you want to go back to the fucked up little family of yours. I may kill them all in their sleep, but I'll try putting up with them first."

Then he took her hand and the shiv in it, leaned back to give her space, laid the edge of the blade against the inside of his arm, and pressed until blood welled. "Words are stones, girl," he murmured as he let go. She kept her hand and the blade where they were, eyes flicking from the knife to his face as he continued. "Build a wall with them. Mortar it with blood." Then he took all the stuff Shirah'd dropped in his head when she kissed him on the forehead not twenty minutes ago and shoved it at the girl.

River sucked in a breath, held it, moved the blade of the shiv an inch to the side and drew it down his arm in a long steady stroke. Riddick noted in some detached part of his brain that the blood still glowed a little before it ran down his arm and dimmed. He didn't have time to think on that though, because she pushed the shiv back into his hand and brought it up to her arm.

Startled, he stared at her. She stared back, her eyes still wet. Her cheeks glistening in the glow, her mouth set in a firm line. He couldn't look away from those lips, cracked and bleeding as they were, even as they opened and the words poured out. "My match," she hissed, pressing his hand down till he could smell her blood. The wet earth was fading into cool water, apples and rain over the top of that. "Mine." Her eyes burned into his as she gripped his hand tighter, driving the blade a little further into her skin. "Don't fear me. Never have. See the crazy, the weapon, the girl. Never treated me as broken. Never pitied. Keeps up." Her lips twitched slightly. "Make me work to keep up with you. With the Riddick. Dong ma?"

His animal shoved something at him he assumed was a translation for the last phrase, but he wasn't paying much attention. His whole world had narrowed down to the girl in his lap. Her eyes, her lips, her everything. She let go of his hand. It took him a second to realize she was waiting for his answer. He growled, feeling it in his bones as his fingers clenched around the shiv. He didn't have the control, didn't have it in him to stop if he did this.

Carefully, more for the sake of not losing what was left of his mind and jumping her right there than out of worry he'd cut her deeper, he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "You know what comes next, River. Last chance to avoid it."

He could almost feel her sifting through his mind, through the things he wanted to do to her. The things he would do to her. The man gave up any semblance of protest and waited with a disturbing amount of eagerness. The animal twitched its tail in anticipation. Vanilla threatened to drown him as she turned her head to growl in his ear. "Do it Riddick. Build the wall. Mortar it with blood."

He shifted the blade just enough to would miss the artery and pressed, dragging it down her forearm as quickly as he could before dropping the shiv and grabbing for her elbow. He yanked, feeling the cut on his arm burn as it found the edges of hers. Then he brought his lips down on hers, covering them, making her his. She moaned and wrapped her free hand around back of his neck, pressing herself against him, bringing him as close as she could manage with their bleeding arms between them.

Tearing his mouth free, he trailed his lips along the line of her jaw, breathing her in. She moaned, shifting around till her legs straddled his hips, her center pressed against the length of his shaft. He groaned and bit her earlobe, sucking gently before moving down her neck to her clavicle. She gasped again when he took it in his teeth.

Her free hand clenched convulsively on his neck before sliding down his shoulder and ribcage, leaving a trail of fire against his skin, even through his shirt. Her fingers teased and played around the hem as he nibbled and sucked his way from one collar bone to the other and then back up her neck to her ear again. She was panting now; breath coming in little sobs as she shifted her hips in a way he knew wasn't intentional. He found her mouth and took it as he wrapped his free arm around her hips and settled her even more firmly against him.

The blood still dripped from their cuts. He could almost feel her moving in his mind. The animal was rumbled in satisfaction and triumph. As the last bit of rational thought left his control, Riddick wondered at the third presence in the animal's tree, burying its hands in the thick fur of the jaguar. He lost the mental image was lost as she writhed against him again and yanked her bleeding arm free. He growled a protest against the curve of her shoulder. Her breathy laugh tingled in his ear as she worked both hands up under his shirt, fingers spread across his diaphragm.

Suddenly he didn't care so much that she'd taken her arm back; it let him use one hand to rip her shirt down the front while the other found its home in the small of her back. The open shirt brought up a whole new set of possibilities. He leaned forward, running his nose down her neck, pausing to lay a kiss in the hollow of her throat before continuing down to the valley between her breasts.

He ran into a snag there, finding a bra where there shouldn't be one. Rumbling in frustration, he grabbed it with his teeth and yanked. That earned him another laugh. She reached for the hand at her back, guiding it up her spine to the clasp between her shoulder blades. Something whispered in his mind; half a taunt about how long it must have been that he didn't remember how to undo a bra. He retaliated with a growl and a snap at one of the nipples still covered in fabric. His fingers that had never been clumsier, but he finally managed to get the clasp undone.

Then she surprised him again, lunging forward to clamp small teeth around his jugular as she did her best to drag his shirt over his head. He had to let go to help her get the thing off him. She had to quit biting his throat, though. Her hips ground against his as she caught her balance. The motion set blood rushing his nerves into overdrive.

He bent her backwards as soon as his shirt cleared his hands. Slipping his fingers under the torn edges of her shirt, he shifted it down it down her arms. She whimpered, bucking her hips against his as she trailed lips and tongue down her stomach.

The blood still dripped from their arms. He could taste it on her skin when he moved to the inside of her elbow. Combined with her sweat and the scent of vanilla in his nose, he figured it for the best kind of overdose imaginable.

Something else rose in the air, something new. A spicy musk that made him think of cinnamon, nutmeg, and fur warmed by a fire. An image unfolded in his brain of a huge black jaguar, imminently pleased with itself, laying on a broad tree branch and nuzzling a waifish shadow woman behind the air. And then the image was gone, lost as River bucked against him, shoving his face away from her arm and shoving free of her bra straps. Now he could finally, finally pay proper attention to the breasts that had been taunting him for who knew how fucking long.

She giggled at the thought. He couldn't bring himself to care as he ran his tongue over first one and then the other nipple. She stopped giggling and let out a little shrieking gasp of surprise as her hands fluttered over his arms.

He could feel her now, in every way, as he left two pert nipples tight in the air and nibbled his way back up to her neck. She radiated elation, anticipation and surprise, in a thousand variations that he couldn't even name. He took her throat in his teeth, biting down just so before returning to her chest and rubbing his jaw along her ribcage. He didn't know where the action came from. He didn't care. He could smell her desire, her need vibrating right down to his bones.

And then she was scrabbling her hands down the front of his neck, her fingernails leaving trails down his chest as she curled herself up and in. Her fingers ran once under the waistband of his pants, catching slightly as they slid past the head of his dick before she settled on the snap and broke it open.

Next thing he knew she'd eeled out of his grasp and lunged; riding him down as he went over backwards. One hand down his pants, the other braced herself on the deck, she took a mouthful of pectoral and bit hard. He roared, less with the pain of his head impacting with the deck and far more in response to what her hand was doing to his dick. Her fingers wrapped themselves around his length, then drew up towards the tip, resting just at the base of his head.

He groaned. She breathed out a laugh over his abs as she inched her mouth down his stomach. Her other hand trailed along his arm, past the cut, over his fingers and out of reach to land on his hip. She dipped her face and her tongue flicked out to tease his head. He was still trying to catch his breath when she let go, grabbed his pants in both hands, and pulled. He lifted his hips to help her, only now noticing how the lights on the ceiling quivered and pulsed in time with his racing heart as she crawled back up his body.

He'd never thought that small, perfect breasts dragging up his legs could drive him that crazy, but fuck if they weren't doing just that. His mind went completely blank. He couldn't even visualize the animal he knew was crawling its way out of his bones. He was lost to vanilla and musk and sheer need that pulsed through and around them.

He found himself a few moments later as she laid herself out over him, lips on his, tongue pushing into his mouth. He joined her in the exploration, memorizing her from the inside out. She'd centered herself over him again. The rocking of her hips against his as she writhed would be his undoing if he didn't fix the situation.

Dragging his fingers down her ribcage, cupping her breasts in his palms briefly before continuing down her stomach, he found the tie that kept her pants up. A lurch and a twist, and he was over her, staring down into those dark eyes as he cushioned her head against the metal of the deck. She locked her ankles behind his back and bucked once, demanding, before lunging for his throat again. He let her catch it, groaning as shock waves ran through his skin before dragging himself away and along her body.

Lips and tongue and fingers, he worked himself down her neck, collarbone, breasts and ribs, biting gently till he reached her hipbones and the waistband of her pants.

She twitched and quivered and cried out in a language he didn't know. He found her clit with his nose, and he nearly got it broken for his trouble as she shrieked and bucked again. Holding her down with hands on her hips, he got out of the way before she could snap his neck with her thighs. A growl worked its way through his chest and up his throat. He leaned back down, letting the noise rumble against the damp fabric. Then, before she could nearly kill him a second time, he hooked his fingers over the waistband, found the lace of her underwear as well, and yanked, taking the last of her clothing with him as he sat up.

He tossed the offending pile of cloth off somewhere and stopped for a moment to look down at her, skin a special kind of luminous and hair spread around her head. Her eyes were huge, lips swollen. The aureoles of her breasts drew his gaze as they rose and fell in jerky little bobs in time with her breath. He could see the second she decided to sit up, and canceled the action by meeting her mouth with his. She rolled her hips and cried out against his mouth as she lined herself up against his dick again. He bit her bottom lip in reply, reached down with his bleeding arm to cup her mound, then rocked his hand, just a bit. She shrieked again, her back arching as she clutched convulsively at his shoulders.

Just as she was about to demand, though how he knew the words she'd use, he had no idea, he slipped a finger inside and rolled his hand again. She was wet, hot, and tight around him. It was all he could do not to replace his hand with his dick and finish what they'd started right there.

But he could feel the resistance, the proof he didn't need that this was her first time. He wasn't such an asshole that he wouldn't at least try to be gentle. Although if she kept moving like this, all bets were about to be off. He could feel her with every nerve ending. Her heart beat inside his skin. He could feel his breath in her chest. He didn't know if it was because he was still glowing or what. Frankly, he didn't care.

Another finger. Another shriek. He chuckled, knowing it would infuriate her. She responded in kind, reaching down to grabbing his dick with her bloody hand, rubbing a thumb around the head. He was well served for teasing her. His hips moved forward of their own accord. She met him halfway, blood and other body fluids mixing as his fingers were pushed deeper inside. He found her clitoris with his thumb, rubbing it as she had him. Her eyes cross. He leaned down to catch her mouth in his as she lost her voice. Her other hand snaked down, yanking at his finger so she could make put something entirely different in her instead.

He let her, growling against her jaw as she guided him into place. When he paused, she jerked her head around to glare, lips pulled back in a snarl.

He laughed and ran his hand down her side, leaving a sticky trail as he went. Another shift in his mind. Knowledge without thought. She'd try to bite him again. He dodged. She aborted the maneuver without making the attempt. Instead, she bucked her hips upward, trying to impale herself. Catching her before ass could drop back the deck, he held her there as he slid forward and in. He tried to close his ears to the gasp of pain; but at the moment everything was loud, from their breathing to sound of skin on skin, to their hearts as they trying to beat their way out of chests suddenly too small to hold them.

A third time, something moved in his head while he hung there and waited for her to get used to the feeling, something very like a hand running through fur from to tail, as a warm body stretched out next to his. Satisfaction was a hum up the spine, followed quickly by a burst of vanilla scented need so strong that it startled him into motion. She lurched to meet him.

Somehow, she ended up in his lap again. And then he was surrounded by her, buried to the hilt. She jerked reflexively as he ground his hips forward and the pace was set. Fingers in hair, arms wrapped around ribs, and lips leaving burning trails across skin. They lost track of where one body ended and the other began as their hearts matched and overran the rhythm of their bodies.

Fire moved and shifted under their skin. He didn't know if it was just him glowing or if she was too, and he didn't care because they were finally there, fitted together like puzzle pieces. She matched with him and he to her. Meant only for each other and the rest of the universe could go and burn for all he cared at the moment. She rose and fell against him, breath coming first in little sobbing gasps, then a high keening shriek as she climbed higher and higher. He bucked against her, using his hands to add momentum to her movement, growling against her breast as he nipped and sucked at the soft flesh and followed her ascent.

He didn't know. He'd never know. They came together, her shrieking his name so loud it rang inside his skull, right down to that place past where his animal lived. His skin flaring brighter than a small sun as she clenched and shook to pieces around him and he tried to find new depths in which to bury himself in her.

Minds overloaded, brains shut down. When they came back to themselves, they were slick with blood, sweat, and their combined fluids. He didn't care. She didn't care. Unthinking, moving on instinct alone, they leaned forward to whisper one phrase into the shell of the ear in front of them.

"Matched. Mine."

Author's Note: So, this was the first sex scene I ever wrote and boy did it show. And still does, because I poked and prodded and hemmed and hawed, but really couldn't see any other way to write it that still got the back and forth of who was taking control at what point. And I reeeeeally didn't want one or the other to be running the show, because there are important nuggets of info in there, sandwiched between all the steamy goodness. The story is FAR from over, by the way. It's just now, they're moving on side by side, for the most part, instead of dancing around each other.

AS ALWAYS: NONE OF THEM ARE MINE! BPthththh

Translations (not updated this go around because I can't find the proper spelling/translation):

Runtse de shang dee, ching DAIwuhtzo: Merciful God please take me away

Woushang mayer, maysheen, byen shr to: I will close my ears and my heart and I will be a stone

Wuo dwaynee boo woon, boo jen: I neither see nor hear you...

Dong ma- understand?