Riddick:

Only one of them could walk away. It was the way of the world. Riddick's world, anyway. Kill or be killed, especially with the animal side in charge.

It had been fairly clean. Catch the idiot in the bathroom. Dumbass didn't even lock the door when the girl left. Not that a locked door would have stopped him. Just one more serendipitous slip that made the primal law of the jungle easier to enforce. In and out in two minutes. The owner of the dump would probably thank him for leaving the guy to bleed out in the bathtub. If he knew.

Riddick walked the half mile back to where he'd parked his rental. Back before sunset. Time to shower and change, hit the beach front bars by 21:00. If he'd picked a place closer to where he'd gotten the rental, he could have dumped it tonight, but, he should pick a different motel, keep moving.

The scent hit him in the lot, outside his room. Something that made the animal raise hackles. Couldn't quite place it in the heavy, floral, salty ocean air. But it was something new, hadn't been there when he left, and he knew better than to ignore the instincts that kept him alive. He palmed the blade from his belt as he approached the door.

Scent was stronger here, male. Why it made the beast growl, he didn't know. Not often human musk was worth noticing... but there was a texture to it... something he couldn't name. Not cologne, not the chemical smell of soap or aftershave. Just a sharpness to it... almost like the air after a lightning strike, something called to him... Something he hadn't smelled since Butcher Bay...

He keyed the door, toed it open with his boot, moving quietly. The room was awash in the scent. Riddick's lips curled back, and he tasted the air. His mouth watered. The silence told him no one was present in the small space. But someone had been here.

His eyes swept the darkened room. Nothing was missing. Everything as he'd left it. Could have been cleaning service. Despite his request with the manager at check-in that he not be disturbed, he'd picked this place for anonymity, not service. But the animal snarled again, panting. His adrenaline was pumping hard as he stalked a circle across the carpet. Caught himself breathing heavy. The predator was in overdrive, and not just from territorial invasion.

Riddick sheathed his knife, wiping a sweaty palm over his black t-shirt. He yanked it off reflexively. Needed to change. Get out of here. But had to get out of blood spattered clothes first. He couldn't think with this aroma messing with his head. The General was awake now, and that fucked with him even more. The throbbing against the fabric of his cargoes was demanding. Pheromones and prison didn't prod anything in his memory, he'd ducked those territorial fights, kept to himself. Never taken a bitch inside. Usually not around long enough to form those kind of relationships. Always passing through.

He licked his lips, shut his eyes. Had to think. But the scent pushed at him, even behind closed lids. He sat down roughly on the edge of the bed. Popped buttons on his pants, at least to relieve the pressure. Stroked himself absently, trying to tame his aromatic arousal. Didn't help, the General was at full attention. The animal was wanting to dominate... wanting this one. Violator. Stalker. Hunter...

That was it. The internal growl became a purr. He'd found it. Another killer. That was the scent. Another alpha predator... hadn't crossed paths in years... not even most mercs had that taste in their sweat. Not since Johns, really. Some bitter note in the blood, some tang that escaped the pores, a note most humans couldn't detect... something feral and electric. Johns had been sick, twisted by other things... wine gone sour. This was... delicious... now that he recognized it. That's why his mouth had watered. He wanted to sink teeth into flesh, taste this one's blood, see his neck exposed in surrender... fight or fuck, it would be a worthy match. He groaned.

He hadn't remembered picking up the lube from the bedside table, but he was caught in the fantasy and didn't dwell on it. The roaring of his blood had focus now, heating and pulsing in his hand. Dreams of an even match, not just the squirming suits he'd been Xing. A real man, someone with training, fast and deadly, smart and silent. Dark and lean, shadows in the moonlight... slashing steel, a connoisseur of the blade like himself. Fuck... yes, someone who could take a cut or two, bleed without cringing, someone who liked the base bloodletting, how it honed the senses, made you work harder, heightened the survival instinct...

Everything between his abdomen and balls was tightening, blood singing in his ears now. He paused, gripping his shaft, pulling. Wanted it to last... draw it out, taking deep breaths, filling his nose with the scent of his rival. Teasing fuck, worse than a woman, games... coming in here, he had to know Riddick would sense him. Asking for death, walking into his lair. Wanted him mad, violent and primal. Like walking up to a Ceauran Sabertooth and punching it in the mouth. Took fucking huge balls, and a confidence of skill to know you'd survive. Another assassin versed in the mind-fuck, seducing you with shadowed paranoia that let you slice yourself to ribbons.

Riddick could almost feel the icy steel on his neck, slow and cold, an invitation. ...to what? Fight or fuck, brawl or ball? Maybe both.. Silent ghostly kisses, hissed promises of cutting silver and submission. Win the battle and the body, both open wide to his appetites and desires. Control he'd have to earn, keep his guard up... oh yes, that'd be worth it. Aching lust in emotional involvement... he didn't let himself get worked up in a hunt, the chase was never that sweet... Being able to unleash his instincts on another, indulge everything he was... good gods... sweat, blood, muscle, adrenaline, intellect.... Fuck... skin hot with exertion, slick and slipping, need conveyed in growls and teeth...

Liquid heat shot down his spine, his back arched. Whispers from his ghost lover, could almost feel him in the room... He'd never dreamed like this, knew he was about to cum, hard. Snarling, mouth wide, breathing hard...

The cord around his neck was noose-tight in less than a second, silent and strong. If anything, the constriction heightened the peak of the orgasm his body had already released. He bucked twice, nearly dragging his captor forward off the bed. His mind was already gone... warring between pleasure and the reflexive need for oxygen. Absolute perfection for two, long, white seconds... and he went down in blackness. Didn't even feel the needle in his neck as the cord relaxed.

Dexter stared down at him dumbly. Confused as to what he'd just done. Something shiny and hot in the back of his mind, having watched this, invaded this intimate moment. The ritual should be, was, cold, calculated.

It was the Passenger's prerogative once he'd returned to the room. Dexter couldn't call it wrong. It wasn't. Timing was flawless, a practiced art. But the Passenger had waited... delayed, ogled... caught in this violation of privacy. Personal Passenger porn? Dexter was a little unsettled by his body's reaction. He didn't usually respond to sexual show.

True, there was the biology of his body in direct stimulation, he didn't deny that... he'd had plenty of sex with women, always at their initiation though. Lust, overt arousal in... watching... was utterly new. Need... desire...foreign concepts. Observing his dark Adonis jacking off in the dark room... had been strangely stimulating. Is that why he'd paused? Watched? Admired? Waited?

There wasn't time to contemplate it now, or perhaps there was. He wasn't in the driver seat anyway. This was his other's game, and he played it to his own satisfaction. But now to the dance... and the ballroom was ready. The spotlight moon was rising, the stage set. However it went, this dance would be one to remember. He'd spent extra time in the preparation, for the ritual was god. The Passenger was always the consummate host.

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Sorry this is taking so long. Hard to do it... right. Want it to be... intelligent? Believable? *snort* whatever... self-critical, and as I've said, never done slash before. Difficult to do with two such strong personalities. I've been watching the first season of "Dex" again. It's helping. Know what else helps? Comments! :P