Right Hand

A/N: Lemon again. Fair warning. Also sap.
How I got sap in a Riddick story, I’ll never
know...
Also, this is the last chapter! There will be
a few loose ends, tiny ones, because I like to
write one-shot sequels.

CHAPTER TEN

He hadn’t been able to let him go.

A little on the embarrassing side, if he’d had the
capability of being embarrassed.

Which he didn’t.

But he hadn’t been able to let Vaako out of his arms,
let alone out of his sight. Not when the medics tried to
take him, not when Aereon, Troan and Garen tried to
get him to let them examine him. That possessiveness
from before was roaring inside him now, an animal
determined to protect an injured mate. He could have
no more let go than he could have stopped breathing.

So now he was back on the mother ship, Vaako still
out cold, wrapped in one arm while held carefully in his
lap. Sitting in the deep sunken tub of his Chambers,
with warm soapy water up to their shoulders, gently
cleaning away sweat and grime from the limp form.

Growling when he found more and more injuries on
the man...

The menials had set up a low couch for when he was
done cleaning him, before his searing gaze had chased
them from the room. It was covered with thick soft
towels and a small table loaded with medicines, creams
and bandages was pulled close to it. He’d take his
Empath there in a moment, but first he had to get him
clean.

He smelled like Yur. It was making the hackles stand
up on the back of Riddick’s neck.

He rinsed the rag off and soaped it again, tracing it
carefully over the deep bite mark on one shoulder.
Vaako’s body was one massive bruise, his ribs
probably cracked, his face swollen and blue from
being punched. His lips were bruised and split, one
eye swelling closed. There were finger marks on his
arms, on his smooth thighs and between his legs he
was red and raw, like the alien had tried to assault
him but wasn’t quite sure how. There was more
bruising around his entrance but no sign that he’d
been penetrated, which was about the only thing
that was allowing Riddick to hold on to his sanity.

He dropped the rag and reached for a handful of
the liquid soap, leaning Vaako’s head back into
the water and then scrubbing gently at the long hair.
He couldn’t help but be fascinated by it, even as
worried as he was - it had been long before, and
soft, but now it was thick, softer than silk, twice
the length and framed Vaako’s white face in waves
of raven black.

It was beautiful...

He rinsed it carefully and stood, stepping from the
bath with Vaako still cradled in his arms. He lay
his burden down on the couch and began to dry
him, patting the towels gently against the broken
skin. There were fingernail scratches around his
nipples and running in red streaks down his groin
and Riddick had to close his eyes for a moment,
fighting another growl.

Wanting to kill Yur all over again.

He reached for the healing cream and began to
massage it into the damaged skin, trying hard not
to hurt the man further, but Vaako never stirred.
Not even when he delicately applied it to the skin
that had to be so painful, so sensitive, along the
red raised welts of fingernails and further back
between his thighs.

Good thing the stuff worked so quickly. Maybe
Vaako would be pain-free by the time he woke.
The medics had assured him the bruises would be
gone within twenty-four hours. He spread the
cream over the bite, over the damaged face and
along the ravished lips. He closed his eyes tightly
for a moment, then bent over and gave the man
an incredibly gentle kiss.

A second later and he was up looking for something
to clean out Vaako’s mouth - he tasted of blood
and someone else. Had to be Yur.

He couldn’t leave that taste there.

He couldn’t stand to leave it there, and he didn’t
want Vaako to wake to it, either.

The man had been through enough without any
reminders.


*


He lay Vaako carefully on the bed, not bothering
to dress him, just pulling a thin blanket over the
battered form. He had to put more cream on
those injuries later, there was no point in causing
him pain by pulling clothes on and off and on again.
Vaako might not be moving, but there was no
knowing if he was feeling this or not.

Riddick cupped his hand over Vaako’s least
damaged cheek and chuckled wryly. “Never
thought I’d be playin’ nursemaid for anybody,
least of all you.”

But he couldn’t let anyone else touch the man.

The Hellhounds were milling around the room,
on edge and nervous. He knew they were
responding to having an injured pack member.
His eyes settled on Protega, who was standing
on her hind legs, front legs planted firmly on the
foot of the bed, reddish-golden eyes fixed on
Vaako.

“Yeah, it’s your buddy.” He said to her, and
her ears twitched.

All the Hellhounds froze suddenly, and their
eyes swung to the door.

A second later, someone knocked.

“Watch him!” Riddick said sharply, swinging
his arm toward Vaako. Protega didn’t need a
second invitation; she was on the bed and had
herself wrapped carefully around the sleeping
man before Riddick had gotten to his feet.

Troan was at the door, a datapad in his hand.
“How is he?” He asked, peering over Riddick’s
shoulder to where Protega rested her chin against
Vaako’s hip, glaring at him.

“Still sleeping. What’s up?” Riddick closed the
door, knowing Troan was trustworthy but he was
still unable to leave Vaako the slightest bit
defenseless.

“Aereon has some ideas you should be aware of.”

Riddick lifted an eyebrow. “Important ideas? I
don’t got time to waste.”

“I think you’ll find them quite important.” He
handed the Lord Marshall the datapad.

The other man read it, a frown growing on his face,
his eyebrows slowly drawing together until he was
scowling in a rather frightening way. “Is this true?
Got proof?”

“Not really, Lord Marshall, but I think it’s true. I
saw the person with Yur on more than one occasion,
though I didn’t know who Yur was, then. I mean, it
was before he was Vaako’s Honor Guard.”

“And you and Breezy both think that fight was
planned?”

“Yes, but I think Yur was supposed to win. His
becoming an Honor Guard was unforeseen, and
gave us the only tiny bit of possible proof we have.”

“Which is?”

“That there were supposed to be fifteen menials
unloading breathers down on the planet, but the
ship’s log says there were sixteen on board. One
of the menials remembers seeing a soldier talking
to another menial. Both were hiding behind the
stack of crates. He doesn’t remember what the
menial looked like, but he recognized an image
of Yur easily enough.”

“So you think they came down to chat things over?”

“Yes, sir. To make new plans; Yur was supposed
to have taken Vaako’s position. Though he didn’t,
he was still very close to you. And then there was
his... er... attraction for Vaako. That would need to
be discussed.”

Riddick gave a growl of annoyance at the memory.
He’d thought it rather amusing, in an annoying-Vaako
kind of way, when he realized how the Honor Guard
had felt.

Now he wished he’d slit the man’s throat.

“Think they’ll try something else?”

“Yes - there is certain to be more than one conspirator.”

“Got any ideas who the rest might be?”

“A few, though none I can say for certain. They are
all listed on the ‘pad, along with their files.”

“Right. I’ll take a look. You got men you can trust?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Post a guard, then. Only from them. Only you,
Garen, and Breezy are allowed in until I say different.
Got it?”

“Yes, sir!” Troan looked more than a little proud,
even as he left to carry out Riddick’s orders.

The Lord Marshall stared after him, shaking his head
slightly.

Necromongers were very strange.

He took the datapad and went back into the bedroom,
gesturing for Protega to leave the bed. She did so
slowly, a little reluctant. He growled at her and Rage
echoed him. She went to a corner and sulked.

Riddick sprawled out beside of his still-sleeping Right
Hand, careful not to jar the man, and started reading
the dozen files Troan had gathered for him.


*


The voice that called his name was cold and distant,
but the arms that held him were warm.

He wanted to open his eyes, but it seemed that
someone had glued the lids shut.

...that wasn’t very nice of them...

As he lay there, cradled in those warm, safe arms,
memories began to assault him. The cave, the alien,
Yur and his little dramas... those memories were
thankfully muted and dim, like dreams half-remembered
when one woke. Then there was the white-hot anger
that had surged through him - it hadn’t been his anger;
it had belonged to someone else. He didn’t know who
and the thought made him tremble.

The voice spoke soothingly to him - closer and warmer
than it had been before. He couldn’t pull his mind together
enough to be certain of what those words meant. A hand
stroked his hair, traced gently along his eyebrow and down
his cheek.

The touch was very familiar.

He *was* able to pull together every scrap of strength
that he could find - enough to force his eyelids open.

At first, all he saw was a pale blur, hovering just inches
away from his eyes. He blinked rapidly, and the blur
came slowly into focus, became a familiar face with a
familiar smirk, silver eyes glowing down at him.

The voice came into focus, too, in the middle of a
sentence, “...time you opened those eyes.”

The hand came back, oddly gentle as it cupped his
cheek, and he managed to lift a weak hand and lay
it on Riddick’s forearm.

The smirk broadened.

Vaako rolled his eyes. Why, again, did he care
about this man?

Riddick just sort of purred at him, lowering his
head and burying his face against his neck. He
felt the warm, damp touch of a tongue against
his skin and he sighed softly. His arms ached
dimly, making their movement slow as he wrapped
them around broad shoulders.

He didn’t expect sweet words, and he didn’t get
them. He got warm lips against his ear, hot breath
brushing over his skin, and finally a possessive kiss
that stole his own breath and wiped out what little
of his mind he had managed to scrape together.

Much better than any ‘I missed you.’

And the way Riddick relaxed after the kiss, not
pushing his exhausted Right Hand into anything
further, told Vaako pretty much everything *else*
he needed to know. So did the way Riddick pulled
him into his arms, holding him carefully against him,
tucking the dark head under his chin even as he picked
up a datapad and started reading it.

Vaako lay in the warm embrace for a long time,
drifting on the edge of sleep and completely content.
Riddick’s hand stroked his hair in a soothing rhythm,
and the purring of comfortable Hellhounds calmed
him even further. Garen’s voice beyond the door
brought him out of his haze, offering dinner to the
Lord Marshall.

“Hungry?” Riddick’s rumbling voice asked him.

He shook his head. “Not really. How long have
I slept?” His own voice was soft and sounded
fearfully far away.

“Been a day and a half, since I got you back. Hurt?”

Vaako waited a moment before answering, letting his
senses test his body for pain. “No. I feel as if all the
life has been wrung out of me, but I do not hurt.”

“Good.” Again, the oddly gentle fingers brushed his
hair back, traced along in front of his ear and down
to his chin. “Stay here. I’m gonna get some food.”

The warmth left him, and he had to force down a
whimper.

Then he realized it was because he was expecting
the room to melt away.

It didn’t. It stayed exactly as it was, a dim, richly
furnished bedchamber. Full of living, breathing
creatures, the sound of Riddick and Garen speaking
in low voices, the oddly warm, metallic scent of the
Hellhounds. So all this was real.

Well, that was certainly a relief.

He thought of Riddick saying ‘food’, and his stomach
suddenly informed him that even if he thought he
wasn’t hungry, it was just because he hadn’t been
paying attention.

He started to call out, and thought better of it.
Riddick was the Lord Marshall, after all, not his
servant. He couldn’t ask him to bring him something
to eat. Instead, he decided to get out of bed and
get it himself.

He pulled back the covers and found himself naked.
He blinked, then shrugged. It didn’t matter - it wasn’t
like the other man hadn’t seen it all before. His skin
glistened with a strange wetness, and he smeared his
fingers across his ribs. They came away greasy and
smelling strongly of a very familiar medical salve.

So he had been injured? Odd, he didn’t remember it.

That cream really *did* smell. Not pleasantly, either.
He was suddenly more eager for a bath than food.

It took him three tries to make it out of bed - his legs
were weak and more than a little shaky. When he finally
made it to his feet, he had to lean on Protega. The
Hellhound was conveniently close - she’d appeared
beside the bed as soon as he started trying to get up.
He stroked her ears in lieu of saying ‘thank you’ and
got a pleased purr for his trouble.

Moving slowly, carefully, and leaning heavily on Protega
the whole way, he made it to the bathing room and started
filling the tub. He didn’t feel anywhere ready to try his usual
brief shower. He’d probably end up flat on the floor if he
did.

While the water was running, he shuffled across the room
to fetch some towels. On the way back, he caught sight
of himself in the huge wall mirror and stopped dead.

Was that *him*?!

The man in the mirror was paler than he’d ever been, and
thin. Much thinner than he should have been after only
three days - he’d had a look at the date on one of Riddick’s
datapads. There were a few yellowish traces of bruises on
the eerily white skin, and a shoulder bore a nearly-healed
pink ring of teeth marks. He saw the reflection slide its
fingers over those marks slowly, felt the tiny imperfections
under his own hand.

He vaguely remembered chains, Yur, and teeth sinking
viciously into his skin... He wanted that bath desperately.

Where had all this *hair* come from? It was... long, much
longer than he’d ever worn it - the short, spiky top and
shorn sides had given way to heavy waves of black. A
faint memory of Yur’s hands on his head and a tingling in
his scalp made him reach for the scissors on a marble
counter top, wanting to hack the alien length away.

Then he remembered Riddick’s big hand stroking it,
over and over, like petting a cat. Remembered the
comfort that action had brought to himself, the rare
contentment on the other man’s face, and he lay the
scissors back down.

“Good choice.” A familiar rumbling voice sounded
from the doorway. Before he could even turn his head,
strong arms were wrapping around his waist, the touch
a bit more possessive than gentle this time, and Riddick
had his face buried in the hair behind his neck.

The man must have a fetish... interesting.

He turned carefully around, mindful of the fact that his
legs were trembling and threatening to give way any
moment. Riddick’s hands slid up his back, under the
heavy fall of hair, stroking the skin that Vaako had
found so unsettling.

“Shouldn’t have got out of bed. Shaking.” The voice
was muffled against his neck, warm lips mouthing the
delicate skin of his throat.

“I need a bath. I smell like med bay.”

He got a hum of acknowledgment, then Riddick lifted
his face away and let him go, turning toward the tub.
Vaako took a step after him.

And the mental shields he didn’t realize he had up fell away.

Every emotion of every person on the ship slammed into
him.

Riddick caught him before he hit the floor, voice a
soothing murmur that he didn’t understand. He gasped
for air, pain and fear and anger and joy squeezing the
breath out of his lungs.

But that white-hot rage from earlier had awoken
something in his brain - long-forgotten habits came
back to him, a careful sorting and shielding of the
emotions that were battering at him. He didn’t really
understand how he was doing it, but it was working,
so he didn’t care.

Warm water was suddenly surrounding him, a sturdy
chest behind his back and that voice still soothing in
his ear. 'Concern', something whispered in his mind,
settling on the nearest and strongest emotion.

Riddick was worried about him.

A foreign feeling of warmth surged up in his own chest,
an emotion he recognized as purely his own. He turned
in the careful embrace and pressed a kiss against Riddick’s
chin, too tired to lift his head up to the other man’s mouth.

Riddick chuckled, and the heavy concern faded to traces
of itself, richly mixed with amusement.

“Feeling better, huh? That something left over from the
cave, or...?”

It took Vaako a minute to find his voice, once more
distant and soft, but he explained to the Lord Marshall
about shields and the way his mind had decided to
protect itself. That he hadn’t been prepared when that
protection vanished. He could tell the man understood.

“Good. Wondered what the Rage would do to you.
So your head takes care of itself... heh.” He seemed
to find that even more amusing.

Vaako considered swatting him, but it didn’t seem worth
the trouble of lifting his arm. He suddenly realized that the
reason he felt water around him was because Riddick had
them both in the tub, and the big hands were lazily washing
away the traces of medical salve.

“What did you mean... ‘the Rage’?” He asked softly,
not feeling any need - or desire - to push the man’s hands
away.

Riddick continued his ministrations, enjoying the feeling
of warm, smooth skin under his fingers as he repeated
what Breezy had told him. He left out the bit about
‘permanent mate’, though Vaako had no way of knowing
that.

He was saving that for later.


*


Another day, and a gathering in the Throne Room.

A party of sorts, celebrating the death of that alien,
though most of the Necromongers did not know the
true story. That was the way Riddick wanted it, and
Vaako had no problems with his decision.

He’d barely been out of the High Chambers, still so
weak he could barely walk across a room, though it
had been close to a week since Riddick had brought
him back aboard the ship. He’d seen few people
beyond Troan and Garen, and very occasionally the
Elemental. She made him uncomfortable, always
smiling at him as if she knew a secret he did not.
Whenever she came to discuss things with Riddick,
he found something to do in a different room.

He knew he wasn’t fooling them - the matching
smirks when he left told him *that* - but he really
didn’t care.

He wished he wasn’t here today. Too many people
were looking at him, their expressions puzzling him
greatly. Too many emotions were mixed up in this
room for him to sort out what the expressions *meant*.
He could sense excitement, jealousy, an undercurrent
of anger and a whopping amount of lust.

That last made him shift a bit and eye Riddick, who
was talking to Troan across the room while Vaako
sat in a chair over to the side, an untasted glass of
wine in his hand and Protega lying at his feet.

He didn’t need the added stimuli to want the man.
He remembered that evening down on the planet
in exquisite detail, and it was beginning to irk him
that Riddick thought him too fragile for any sort of
play beyond light, teasing touches. The Lord Marshall
hadn’t said so, of course, but Vaako could tell. The
gentleness of those touches, and the watchful eyes
that followed his progress when he walked, spoke
louder than any words.

He shifted the glass to his other hand and sighed. He
was a little tired - the walk here had been harder than
he’d anticipated - and drinking this wine would only
make him sleepier. He had to be on guard, he knew
what Riddick had planned for this gathering. It was a
good plan, Vaako hadn’t found any holes in it - beyond
the bit that relied on him. He felt utterly unreliable. He
hadn’t been able to find his balance since he’d been
taken into darkness by those tentacles of light.

At his feet, Protega shifted, an uneasy growl starting in
the back of her throat. Vaako followed her eyes to see
two Lords and a Lady of the court watching him, their
eyes running over him as he sprawled bonelessly over
the chair. He was still a bit too weak to sit up properly,
spine straight, like Wulia had taught him. Up until this
moment, he hadn’t cared.

But he didn’t like the look in their eyes. It reminded him
of Yur.

He scowled a little and looked away. It was Riddick’s
fault, really - he’d shoved this outfit into his hands and
there hadn’t been a thread of any of his other clothing
in the room. A sleeveless, high-necked tunic in vivid
blood-red silk, shot through with gleaming strands of
jet black; it was tightly fitted to his newly very-slender
torso. An armband of silver and black stones circled
one of his biceps, fashioned in the seal of the Lord
Marshall to remind everyone that he was off-limits.
Loose black silk pants that draped around his legs
should have hidden them from view, but for some
reason, they instead displayed his long legs and
muscular thighs. He’d pulled his hair back into a
loose braid, a few strands escaping to drift around
his face. *That* he’d done on purpose - Riddick
couldn’t look at his hair without licking his lips or
the silver eyes lighting with desire.

If Vaako had to be uncomfortable in these clothes,
then Riddick could damn well have to stare at the hair
that he normally couldn’t keep his hands off of. It
was only fair.

Besides, he was rather hoping that it would push the
man into doing something later. That, and the fact
that his adrenaline was bound to be pumping if the
plan worked out. It helped that the silver eyes, so
visible in the low lighting of the room, kept turning
back to him. Didn’t seem to matter who Riddick
was talking to.

Yes, things definitely looked good for later...

He had better stop thinking about it, though, before
he started blushing.

There was a sudden commotion near the door,
several gasps and aborted cries. He sat up slowly,
craning his neck to see past the crowd of Necromonger
elite.

Wulia stood in the doorway, head held regally high.
Her hair had been cut short during her stint as a menial,
but she’d managed to coax it into little glittering curls,
dusted through with mica again. She wore a headpiece
of diamonds sewn to a nearly invisible silver net,
something he hadn’t seen on her in years. Such
headpieces had gone out of fashion, but it suited
her new, shorter hair. She wore a tight dress of
silver-white leather, hugging ever dip and curve
of her body.

She’d lost a bit of weight, too.

Her hands were carefully covered with diamond-flecked
silver gloves, and he had a feeling it was because she was
ashamed of the callouses that would have been worked
onto her slender fingers. He snorted softly and slumped
back down in the chair. She was as beautiful as ever,
and she still made him sick to his stomach.

Wulia’s dark eyes had gone straight to Riddick, a
question and a hope in their chocolate depths. The
Lord Marshall looked her up and down, then turned
back to Troan, his face blank.

Wulia’s lips tightened in a way Vaako was very
familiar with, and she left the doorway to drift
closer to the man. The elite Court parted before
her like waves, moving carefully back. Just because
Lady Wulia was back in the upper chambers,
dressed as beautifully as before, did not mean she
had been forgiven. Until they knew why she was
here, most would keep their distance.

Halfway to her goal, Wulia paused, seeming to
remember something. Her eyes swept around the
room, passing over Vaako and then jerking back,
going impossibly wide as they settled on him.

He frowned, wondering at her reaction. He knew
he was thinner, and dressed in clothes such as she
had *never* seen him in before, but... all right, so his
hair was different; the braid draped over his shoulder
easily touched his waist, and his skin was still so white
that it had blue shadows. He’d given up hope of it
returning even to its normal paleness. Still, he didn’t
feel he looked *that* different than before, and her
obvious surprise irked him.

Had she not expected him to be here? Surely she
knew that Riddick had named him the Right Hand?
Garen, if no one else, would have seen to it that she
had found out. There had never been any love lost
between those two.

Oh, no... she had changed her course, was making
her way rapidly toward him. Protega sat up and
watched alertly, the faint grumbling growl from
before increasing in volume. Wulia stopped a
respectful distance away from the animal and
tried a smile on him.

“Cylus - will you not greet me?”

“Lady Wulia,” he replied, voice perfectly polite,
“greetings. How do you fare?”

“Much better than I *have* been faring, dear Cylus.
Is this your doing, or his?”

He raised a lazy eyebrow at her, fighting the urge
to smirk. “I do not know of what you speak, Lady
Wulia.”

“I am *speaking* of the restoring of my position,
Cylus.” Wulia’s voice was getting less polite,
and she took a step closer. Protega protested,
and Vaako leaned forward to stroke the huge
Hound, not telling her to be quiet.

Wulia didn’t pick up on that subtle hint - she took
another step, stopping only when Protega openly
snarled at her. “Cylus, can’t you control that beast?
It makes me dreadfully nervous.”

“She does as she wishes.” Leaning forward hadn’t
been his best idea. He felt more drained than ever.
He had a feeling it had more to do with the anger
and resentment pouring off of Wulia than his physical
weakness. He slumped back against the chair and
sighed softly.

“Are you unwell, Cylus?” Wulia’s eyes glittered,
and he saw them dart to someone else. He wasn’t
in a position to tell who she had looked at, but he
knew Riddick and Troan were. Both of them frowned,
and started in their direction. Garen wasn’t far behind,
and he saw Aereon moving across the room, as well.

“I am fine, Lady Wulia. I thank you for your concern.”

“Cylus... why are you so formal with me? I was your
wife, you don’t have to speak thus.”

He didn’t reply to that, only glared at her. From the
corner of his eye he could see someone moving closer,
a Lord that he only vaguely recognized. Were they
going to be so unwise as to attack here, with the Lord
Marshall only steps away and Protega bristling at his
feet?

Apparently not - the Lord... what was his name? Baric?
Bartus? something like that... hesitated, looked at the Lord
Marshall and back at Vaako, and stopped. Wulia glared
at him, her eyes hot and hating. Vaako wondered at that -
she was certainly not as good at subterfuge as she had been
before. Normally a smile would never have slipped from
her face. She’d only been out of the loop for a little over
two weeks... or perhaps a bit longer.

Not enough to make her react like this.

But Wulia had been proud, always so very proud, and
hungry for more power to give her more to be proud of
- being forced to work like a slave would have done
strange things to her. There was an odd glitter in her
eyes now that made him wonder if she was still entirely
sane.

The way she turned on the Lord made him certain she
wasn’t.

“Do as you were told!” Her voice was a sharp hiss.
The man had already stopped walking, now he backed
away, eyes wide and worried.

“I... am not some pet to be ordered about,” he said,
sounding uncertain, and took another step back. Riddick
and Troan had been heading for him but slowed when they
heard those words. The man had made up his mind not
to follow through with whatever Wulia had ordered.

“Useless!” she snarled, and whirled away from him, the
dress twirling around her like petals on a flower. Lovely
in her rage; deadly and disgusting at the same time. “Then
*you* do as you were told!” She pointed an elegant finger
at someone to Vaako’s right.

And things started happening very quickly.

Riddick swore, and shoved past Wulia to get to the
new threat.

Protega leapt to her feet and snarled wildly.

Troan shoved Wulia at Garen, who caught and held
her easily, even as she twisted and screamed.

A weapon fired, and Protega yelped as she was
blasted across the room.

Vaako leapt up, fury overcoming weakness, and
turned to see Lord Tarlow, the old Chief of Advisors,
glaring at him and lifting the weapon for a second shot.

A knife came out of nowhere, spun through the air and
buried itself to the hilt in Tarlow’s neck.

The gun discharged into the air over Vaako’s head,
taking a chunk out of the wall and spraying his hair
with the decorative plaster.

Riddick followed his knife, jerking the gun away
from the still-standing dead man, shoving Tarlow over.

The Necromonger elite were crying out and milling
around, but Riddick was heading for Vaako, who
was trying to get Troan to let go of him long enough
to get to Protega.

Wulia was turned over to the guards, who were also
standing next to the young Lord who had disobeyed
her, although he was not yet clearly under arrest.
Riddick raked his eyes over Vaako, saw no injuries
on him, and he turned to the fallen Hellhound, as well.

Protega was whining, crouched low to the floor. Rage
and Jazz were standing over her, snarling angrily at the
Necromongers who got too close. Riddick shoved
them aside and knelt next to her, silver eyes studying
the blast pattern on her armored hide.

Troan, very unobtrusively, helped Vaako over. By
the time he got there, Protega was back on her feet,
balanced carefully on three legs, with her right front
leg held up close against her body.

“She’ll be fine.” Riddick said, knowing Vaako was
there without looking around. He got back to his feet
and headed straight for Wulia.

The Lady had gone silent in the guards’ arms, only
glaring at him with hate-filled eyes.

“Got an excuse?” Riddick sounded bored.

“I hate him. I hate you. I should be High Consort,
*he* should be scrubbing floors!”

“Got any other friends?” Riddick still sounded
bored.

“I will never tell you anything!” She shrieked,
beginning to fight the arms that held her.

Riddick turned his attention to the crowd milling
around them. “If she’s talked to any of the rest
of you, tell me now and I’ll let you live. No
scrubbing floors, either.”

There was a moment of quiet uncertainty, then a
fragile-looking little woman that Vaako remembered
as one who was always copying Wulia stepped
forward, and two more Lords. Only the Lords
had been on the ‘list’ that Troan had come up
with; all of the people who had worked on this
plan blinked at the Lady.

She had not been expected.

When they had decided that bringing Wulia back
to her ‘position’ would give her the confidence to
try again, they’d expected her to have guards on
her side, possibly some menials, definitely a Lord
or two. Baric had been on the list; even Tarlow
was listed as a possibility.

They had never thought of Lady Kelia and Riddick
was already frowning. It didn’t matter that the Lady
had tried nothing, had been quick to step forward
and reveal that Wulia had attempted to sway her.
What mattered was that they had been unprepared
for a possible enemy.

To Riddick, that was unacceptable. The Lord
Marshall was going to be in a foul mood for days.

Vaako sighed. He wondered if that was going to
ruin his chances of Riddick finally taking him tonight...

Troan answered a sharp gesture from Riddick,
moving with the Lord Marshall to the Throne,
where they could talk in low voices while the
Necromongers kept a respectable distance.
Garen and Aereon followed; Vaako sat down
in the nearest chair and let Protega lay her head
in his lap. He stroked her gently while watching
the room.

The guards took Wulia out, still glaring silently.
Vaako wondered mildly how Riddick would
punish her this time - he had a feeling it would
be a bit harsher than ‘scrubbing floors’. The
others who had stepped forward when Riddick
had made his offer exchanged glances, and began
trying to fade back into the crowd, along with Lord
Baric.

Silly of them, really, they should know Riddick
wouldn’t just forget about them.

Rage had followed Riddick when the man moved
away, but Jazz stayed by his mother, taking her
place at Vaako’s feet. When the cub snarled,
Riddick’s head jerked around.

Vaako was already staring at the two women
and the man from earlier, the ones who had
reminded him of Yur. Something about the
way their eyes slid over him, trying to undress
him, like they wanted him in chains and vulnerable
the way Yur...

He would not think about that man. He would
not let those vague memories try to surface and
nag at him, making him wonder exactly what he
had forgotten. There had been no ache in his
body when he awoke like he had after that night
with Riddick, and the Lord Marshall had never
told him if Yur had been successful in his attempts
or not. The man would have known, someone had
cleaned him up and tended to any wounds. There
must have been wounds, Riddick had asked if he
had been hurting.

Vaako was drifting off in his thoughts again, something
he was doing more and more often lately. Not wise
when one was weak and nearly defenseless around
circling predators. He lifted an eyebrow at the three
Necromongers staring at him and waited.


*


Riddick glared.

Those three had to be the dumbest people on board
this ship. To approach Vaako after what had just
happened?!

Morons!

Did they really want to die?

Because he wouldn’t mind killing them.

He abruptly abandoned the three he was going over
plans with, trying to come up with a way to flush out
any possible conspirators who hadn’t come forward.
Discussing the best way to punish Wulia. Well, he
had some ideas of his own on that, and what he
decided was law, wasn’t it?

Not that it mattered right now.

Troan, Aereon and Garen looked at him in surprise
as he left, then saw where he was going.

All three of them smiled.

Then went back to making plans.

They were fairly certain the Lord Marshall wouldn’t
be coming back to talk. Not tonight.


*


“You are certain?” Lord Fris was truly beginning to
grate on Vaako’s nerves.

“I am quite certain,” he replied cooly, meeting the
man’s eyes and not trying to hide the irritation he
was feeling. Lord Fris radiated desire; desire to
take what he couldn’t have, to dominate, to own
what he saw as beautiful.

Vaako was getting better at sorting out emotions.
Fris’ desire was far different from the raw, honest
lust he sensed from Riddick. There was something
dark and twisted about the other Lord, and he
wondered why the two simpering Ladies put up
with him. But then, he sensed the same sort of
desire from them, only not as intense. More
submissive.

Vaako was so completely and utterly not interested.
Even mildly disgusted.

Now he just had to convince Fris of that, because
the man wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer.

Or maybe he didn’t. Looked like help was on the
way.

Riddick strode past the suddenly silent Lord and
his two giggling wenches and reached for Vaako.
“C’mon.” He hauled him to his feet, both careful
not to make Protega move away too quickly, then
Riddick leveled one hard stare at Fris.

He might have well shouted the word, ‘Mine!’

Fris visibly deflated, and led his Ladies away.

Riddick repeated the look, eyes going around the
room, and every Necromonger who met those
eyes took a respectful step backwards.

Vaako, for some reason, looked to the Throne,
and the three sets of eyes that were staring back
at him.

Troan was grinning; damn him anyway, he was
going to get teased to death over this.

Aereon looked interested. That was unsettling.
He wondered what was going on behind those
serene eyes, and decided he was just as happy
*not* knowing.

Garen looked wistful. Vaako could sense longing
from this far away, and watched as Garen’s large
green eyes moved away from him to settle on Troan.
He was standing a bit behind the man, so Troan
didn’t see.

Vaako wondered if maybe he should do something
about that - Garen was one of the few people he
called ‘friend’, and he shouldn’t have to suffer in
silence. Maybe Troan could use a little teasing in
return...

All those thoughts fled Vaako’s mind as Riddick
turned his silver eyes back on him. There was that
open, frank lust again, and he blinked, a question
in his eyes.

Riddick grinned.

Vaako truly wished they were back in their
Chambers.

So did Riddick, apparently. He started walking,
one arm slung around Vaako’s slim waist, making
sure the man went with him.

Like Vaako had any intention of staying behind.

They went out of the Throne Room, and three
Hellhounds followed them.

The Necromongers were silent for a moment,
then went back to their party.


*


They were barely inside the Chamber doors
before Riddick was on him, hands instantly
under his tunic and tongue thrust deep into
his mouth, exploring him with an almost
frightening intensity.

Vaako relaxed happily, letting the hands do
what they would, enjoying the cool taste of
metal and spice that Riddick’s mouth always
had. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of
that taste. Didn’t think he’d ever get tired of
the big hands that were sliding over the smooth
skin of his back, one wandering out to start
pulling at the buttons on the red tunic.

It took Vaako a moment to wonder why he
felt relieved; it was because the clothes weren’t
being ripped off of him, the hands were eager
but not harsh. His own hands wandered to the
hem of Riddick’s shirt, the same metallic tank
top that he’d worn the last time and Vaako was
glad of it. He tugged at it, asking permission.

Riddick finished pushing the red silk off his arms
and broke the kiss, the tank top vanishing so rapidly
that Vaako blinked. Riddick just smirked at him and
the warm mouth descended on his neck, and he was
being walked backwards until his knees hit the bed
and they went tumbling down together.

Loose silk pants did have one thing going for them
- they came off easily and quickly. It took Riddick
a bit longer to get out of his tight black leather. He
swore and Vaako had to fight off a smile. He wasn’t
going to complain - he liked the way his Lord Marshall
looked in those pants, and it was worth money watching
him wriggle to get out of them.

“Gonna go back to my old damn pants.” Riddick
muttered, moving back on top of him.

Vaako spread his thighs without conscious thought
and gasped as Riddick’s body settled between them,
their groins coming into close contact. “They’re... so
old they’re... falling apart,” he managed, his body
arching under Riddick without his permission.

Riddick only hummed at him, thrusting his hips
leisurely against the trapped body beneath him,
big hands wandering over that glowing white skin.
He didn’t share Vaako’s dislike of it - it glowed in
the shadowed room, so white it was nearly blue.
He loved it and hoped it stayed this way. His fingers
slid off the broad shoulders and found the braid of
hair, tossing the tie across the room and spreading
the strands out, stroking it like cat fur. So soft,
smoother than the silk tunic, so black that it, too,
was nearly blue. Deep, midnight blue.

Vaako sighed and shifted beneath him, his mouth
coming up to press almost shyly against his neck,
exploring the smooth skin and the slight bit of stubble
he found, since Riddick had shaved very early that
morning. The man above him growled in pleasure
at his actions, and hands tightened in his hair even
as lips touched his temple, began exploring his face.

They spent long moments with gently stroking hands,
lips touching and tasting and searching out sensitive
spots. They were aboard their ship and the entire
night was spread out before them; they didn’t have
any reason to hurry. Riddick’s searching fingers
found a small nipple to play with, teasing the little
bit of flesh into a hard nub even as his mouth searched
out the other one.

Vaako gave up his own tentative inspection of the
larger body to smooth his hands over the shorn head,
his body once more arching up into the sensations
Riddick found so easy to pull out of him.

Riddick growled against his chest, gave one last lick
to the nub that he’d been torturing with teeth and
tongue. He began working his way down the smooth
abdomen, fingers slipping down to stroke silky smooth
skin at Vaako’s flanks. He felt warm, slender hands
began to stroke his back, running along the dips and
grooves of his iron muscles and he growled again, the
sound reverberating against Vaako’s navel.

The man beneath him twisted and choked on a laugh.
He didn’t see the wicked grin on Riddick’s face and it
was just as well. The growl was repeated, sending
those ticklish stirrings through his skin - he bit his lip
to keep himself from giggling out loud. Something
warm and wet stroked across his stomach, then a
hot tongue dipped into his belly button and he writhed.
It tickled, and felt incredible at the same time. He
didn’t know whether to laugh or moan and settled
for a strangled gasp.

Riddick laughed against his skin and he smacked
the back of his head lightly, before he even considered
his actions. His eyes widened and he waited for a
reprimand, but Riddick only laughed harder and
moved down, hot lips going to nibble along the
inside of a creamy thigh.

Vaako forgot why he’d been worried, his eyes
squeezing tightly closed. He felt those strong hands
take firm hold of his hips but he didn’t know why.
Not until an inferno of wet heat suddenly surrounded
his cock and he nearly jumped off the bed. But those
hands held him down, held him down *hard*, even as
the mouth began to move on him, up and down and
the tongue was curling around his length. He’d never
felt *anything* like that before and he bucked and
moaned and tried to thrust but those hands held him
down...

Just when he thought he was about to explode,
Riddick backed away, wringing an embarrassing
whimper from his lips. The Lord Marshall smirked,
of course.

“That the first time anyone’s ever gone down on
you?”

Vaako nodded, eyes wide, not trusting his voice
should he try to speak.

“Thought so.” There was smug satisfaction in the
gravelly voice and he had to fight to keep from
rolling his eyes. “Want me to finish you that way,
or are you up to more?”

“I am up to whatever you desire,” Vaako said
hotly, feeling vaguely insulted. “I am not fragile.”

“Says you.” Riddick’s voice was quiet, but his
eyes were shining more brightly than he’d ever
seen them. He must have had the little bottle of
oil hidden on the bed somewhere, because it was
suddenly in his hand. “You sure?”

“Definitely.” Vaako gasped, eyes glued to the
bottle as Riddick smirked and opened it. He
watched as the man coated his fingers thickly
and was spreading his legs further before he
realized it. Ah, where had his dignity gone?

And did he really care?

No, he decided, when a long finger began pushing
inside of him; the memory of this was nothing
compared to the actual event. He didn’t remember
the strangeness of the first time, only the remarkable
pleasure he knew was coming, and he nearly
whimpered again. “Another?”

Riddick obeyed, grinning, and Vaako once again
wanted to wipe the smugness off his face. He’d
like to see Riddick holding out when there were
such incredible sensations jolting through his body
and - oh.

He’d forgotten about the bit of pain that came
with three fingers, but it was *good* pain now,
because it was necessary for what was coming
soon, very soon if he were to judge by the look
in Riddick’s eyes. The man seemed to be hanging
on to his self-control by the barest thread. Vaako
moaned and twisted under the assault of those fingers
and saw that thread stretch to the breaking point.

So Riddick liked it when he was moving and making
those embarrassing noises? He’d have to remember
that.

He’d have to remember that next time, provided he
could hold onto any kind of thought, because Riddick
was finally moving between his legs, and his other hand
must have been busy because the large erection that
Vaako couldn’t tear his eyes away from was glistening
with that oil, and strong hands were lifting his thighs
further, one going across a broad shoulder while the
other was caught in the crook of Riddick’s elbow.

Vaako was trapped, open and vulnerable and he
couldn’t have gotten away even if he’d wanted to.

Which he didn’t.

There was a strong hand on the small of his back
now, holding his hips firmly off the bed, and Riddick
was pushing his way carefully inside. Vaako bit his
lip at the burn of it, knowing the pain would fade,
doing his best to relax and let the man inside. Riddick
crooned at him wordlessly, lips finding his and kissing
him until he was even more breathless, black spots
floating in his vision.

Then the man was fully settled inside him, hot and
thick and hard. Perfectly still, waiting for him to
catch his breath, to adjust to the intrusion inside him.
Riddick felt three times as big as he looked, and he
hadn’t looked small.

After a long, motionless moment, Vaako shifted,
Riddick moaned, and then he was thrusting into him,
long and hard and strong. Vaako thought he was
going to die of pleasure as the man unerringly hit that
spot inside of him, the one he’d never known existed
until the first time they did this. The one he would
never forget about again.

It made such pretty flashes of colored light dance
in front of his eyes...

He wasn’t going to hold out long. Not after he’d
been waiting for this for days, not after that foreplay
and the feeling of Riddick’s warm mouth around his
erection. Not when the oil-slick hand was grasping
him now, pumping him in time to the hard thrusts that
were moving him backwards over the bed now. No
trace of gentleness left, just that pure raw need, and
Vaako was glad of it.

His leg had long ago slipped from Riddick’s shoulder,
the other escaping the hold of the man’s arm. Both
were wrapped around Riddick’s waist, heels digging
into the man’s thighs as he tried to urge him on, his
voice lost to gasps and cries. His hands moved wildly
across the broad, strong back, feeling the flex of muscle
as Riddick drove into him, sliding past the smooth hips
until he wrapped one arm around the Lord Marshall’s
waist, the other hand becoming the boldest it had been
yet and grasping hold of one muscular buttock as he was
reduced to hanging on for the ride.

Riddick was growling constantly, not seeming to even
draw breath as he pounded into the willing body beneath
him. So tight, so hot, like a velvet glove wrapped around
his cock and he couldn’t hold out any longer but he was
determined to make Vaako come first. He’d missed this
desperately, even if he’d only had it once, and he was
determined to never miss it again. Do it over and over
and over and that was just tonight...

Vaako arched under him suddenly, warmth flooding
over his hand and stomach as the heat tightened
unbearably around his shaft, wringing his release
from him. He dimly heard Vaako cry out, couldn’t
think about it now but knew that later he’d remember
that it was his name.

His body gave two or three small, aborted thrusts
even as the last of his seed was milked from him by
the contractions rippling through Vaako’s muscles.
He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding
and collapsed onto the smaller man.

Vaako didn’t protest. Warm arms wrapped around
him and pulled their sweat-covered bodies closer still,
ignoring the stickiness trapped between them. Riddick
gave a single thought to tasting that stickiness the next
time, then he closed his eyes and forgot everything for
awhile.


*


Vaako was being crushed. He struggled his eyes open
and found the Lord Marshall still asleep on him, the big
strong body a dead weight and the man’s soft length still
inside him.

Funny, he had never thought he’d *like* being crushed.

But he couldn’t breathe, so he carefully rolled the man
off, gasping when Riddick slid free. The silver eyes
opened and studied him, raking down his body as if
checking for damage, then a big arm was wrapped
around him and pulling him close.

“Mine.” The same gravel demand as the last time.

“Yours.” Vaako still wouldn’t have dreamed of arguing.
He waited a long moment, knowing Riddick was still
awake even though the man was motionless. He
wanted to ask something - but he was afraid of the
answer.

But the question wouldn’t go silent. It forced its
way out of his heart, into his throat and out his
mouth before he could quench it, a soft whisper
that he could barely hear and yet it sounded like
a shout in his ears. “M... mine?”

Silence.

Then fingers stroking the length of his hair, and
he didn’t know that Riddick had already fought
this battle, fought it while Vaako was laying
asleep and injured and he didn’t know if the
man would ever come back to him. Fought it
and found his answer.

And found peace with that answer.

“Yours.”

The answer was as quietly spoken as the question,
and just as loud in the dim room.

Vaako swallowed against a sudden pain in his
throat, and wondered at the stinging in his eyes.
“All right,” was all he said, and let Riddick tuck
his head back beneath his chin, both arms around
him now and holding him close.

“Night, then, Cylus. Cy.”

*Cy*?! He couldn’t let that pass!

“Good night, Richard.”

And he grinned broadly when he heard the man’s
pain-filled moan.




~finis~