Treacherous

Again the decision was taken from Bell. A cry sounded in the darkness, unmistakably human, unmistakably male. She jerked her head around in the direction the sound had come from, unable to see anything but the wall of water falling from the ship’s hull. Her distraction allowed Fry to pull the lights from her hands and then the woman ran out into the darkness calling Riddick’s name.

The next few minutes were the longest of Bell’s life. She was torn between running out to help and staying still. Seconds ticked by like hours, and always the only thing she could see was the rain. Lit from the ship, there was a wall surrounding the ship, only allowing sight to penetrate it a foot or so.

What would she do if Fry came back alone, or if neither ever came back? Johns was no longer an issue. He was dead. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did. Riddick wouldn’t have allowed Johns to leave T2 no matter how the circumstances had played out.

Finally there was movement beyond the ceaseless fall of rain. The bright orange of one of the glow sticks bobbled and then dropped, bouncing along the ground.

Bell was running before she even realized it. She heard her name called, but ignored it. One step into the cold rain and she realized that she didn’t even know if a human had been carrying the light. Could these creatures think enough to try to trick them?

These thoughts occurred to her, but didn’t slow her. It wasn’t until she was within steps of the light that she saw that it was indeed a person that had carried it. Riddick lay in the mud beside the incessant light. Water coursed over him, yet couldn’t wash away the traces of blood. Shoulder, back, arm, was that red in the water pooled at his waist? He was face down and unmoving.

“Riddick,” she whispered as she grabbed up the light and held it above them, behind him.

He stirred at her touch. Powerful arms lifted him from the ground, and his knees came up under him. He said something, but she couldn’t hear it. Later she would think that it sounded like he’d said, “Not for me.”

His leg was injured, the material slit to show the white of flesh and the gape of a very bad cut. Several smaller gashes made the water run red as it passed over him.

On his knees now, she got in front of him, trying to hold the light above him. “Come on, Riddick. You can make it.”

He staggered to his feet and they stumbled toward the ship. Within the circle of light she could see Ramsay waiting for them. Jack was on the lowered ramp watching as well.

They fell together through the barrier into the light, sinking gracelessly into the mud. Bell pulled up and away, making sure they were completely within the light. No legs sticking out for the beasties to grab. Riddick’s lower arm was covered in blood, brilliant and fresh.

“Gods, Riddick, they cut you up,” she whispered, kneeling over him.

Ramsay stood above them, trying to urge her back, but she wouldn’t go.

“Is he okay? Is he going to make it?” she repeated several times, trying to inspect his injuries.

“His wounds are fresh. We can stop the bleeding,” Ramsay was assuring her.

“But there’s so much blood.” Bell found she was crying over Riddick’s still form. Such a powerful thing brought so low. She wanted to scoop him up and force him to his feet. She wanted to know that nothing could bring him down.

“Captain, that’s your blood.”

Bell double-blinked, not understanding. She swiped a dirty hand over Riddick’s bare arm and saw that there was no source of blood there. Holding her own arm up she saw that blood dripped freely from her elbow. It was the last thing she saw before the darkness claimed her.

~^~^~^~^~

“How much blood did she lose?”

“Too much. The bandage didn’t hold. She must have been bleeding for hours.”

“How did you not see it? What good are you if your captain’s dead?” Riddick’s tone was cynical, cutting.

“I didn’t know how bad it was. She had to know she was bleeding and refused to acknowledge it. I’m not allowed to force her to do something she refuses to do.”

“You better learn to, ‘droid.”

Silence.

“Where are the other two?”

“Mess hall. They were excited about the food. The girl needs to eat more anyway.”

Bell frowned. She’d come slowly awake listening to Ramsay and Riddick talking, but this last didn’t make sense. The girl? Who was the girl?

“Jack’s a girl?” she whispered aloud, her surprise making her voice the insight aloud.

“Captain?”

“It’s Bell. Jack’s a girl?”

“Thought you knew that.”

Bell looked up at Riddick standing over her. He was dressed in his usual solid black, just jeans and an A-style t-shirt, but he looked better than she could remember. Maybe it was because he was clean and his skin wasn’t glistening with sweat, though that hadn’t been a BAD thing to see. What it looked like to her was that he appeared relaxed. Did a hunted criminal ever feel FREE?

“You look good.”

No goggles to hide his eyes widening slightly at her bald, and obviously unexpected statement. She hadn’t realized herself that she was going to say it aloud.

“How much pain medicine did he give you?”

Bell smiled, “I don’t need to be doped to see you. And I didn’t know Jack was a girl. How’d you know?”

“Watchin’. Stuck with the females. Always wearing long sleeves and a couple layers. Just had that wary look. Plus I could smell it.”

Bell’s eyes narrowed in doubt, but she giggled, “That’s disgusting. You need to not be telling people that you can smell them.”

“I can smell you.”

Had it just gotten warmer in here? Bell felt the thud of her heart in her chest, the weight of his silvery gaze on her, the thinness of the sheet that covered her nearly naked body. “I can smell you too,” she whispered.

He sat down on the bed, barely missing her hip. His eyes never left hers.

She found herself sitting up to meet him and then sighing as his lips touched hers and his hands gripped her shoulder and neck. This time she expected and wanted the mindlessness his kisses caused. The man had a mouth that could consume.

Hands directed and urged, the bed dipped and protested, but always his tongue teased hers and she was unaware of anything but her hands gripping his bare shoulders. When his mouth lifted from hers and she opened her eyes next, he was lying out beside her on the bed, nearly on top of her.

“Is this appropriate?” she teased with a smile.

“Do I care?”

And with that she was plunged back into the yearning darkness that he mastered so well. Her hands slipped over bare flesh, urging his shirt to disappear, and it did. The sheet was tugged away. The gown she wore ripped as it was removed. The pressing heat of his chest to hers had her spreading her legs for him, bare feet pushing on the back of denim-clad thighs.

He propped his weight on his elbows to hold himself off of her. She found herself meeting his gaze as he stared down at her. His expression was unreadable, serious, as if thoughtful, but he said nothing.

“Okay?” she asked after a few seconds, wishing she could hear his thoughts.

His full lips pressed together and he nodded slowly. His gaze fell to her mouth and his mouth followed.

Minutes passed while they just kissed and she was privileged to touch. Smooth rippling skin. She rubbed back and forth, over and over, until she was pressing herself up into the prominent bulge burning into her.

Rather awkwardly he released her and had them switching positions. In the end she just went along for the ride until she was lying on him. “What is this?” she questioned, pushing herself up so she could look at him.

“You do it.”

Bell rose up until she was sitting on him, straddling his hips. Her hair hung down in unruly curls to bounce around her shoulders, a nuisance, but ignorable for the moment. “Riddick, I don’t think—“

“Don’t think. Just do it.” He cut her off curtly.

She frowned, but hesitantly reached down to undo his pants. The feelings of awkwardness and self-consciousness were slowly being replaced. His gaze on her naked flesh made her feel beautiful and she forced herself to remember who she was with. No simpering twit was going to do it for him, and she didn’t want to be seen or remembered in that way either.

With new resolve she pulled at his jeans, having to lift herself to slide them down. He aided her, lifting his ass and then each leg as she undressed him fully. Hands behind his head, stretched out on the bed, but damn, he was beautiful. Hard was the first word that came to mind to describe him. He was hard and beautiful.

Crawling back up his legs she dropped her head to nip the smooth skin in the hollow of his hip. His dick jerked in appreciation and she turned her attention to it. The skin was so soft, like velvet over steel. She avoided the collecting bead of moisture at its crimson head, allowing their dry skin to glide smoothly. Small rumbles came from his chest, reminding her of a cat purring. She smiled at the analogy before lowering her mouth to him.

His hand slid into her hair as her tongue licked at the slimy drip that had just started to run. Feeling the cool liquid on her lip, she licked it away before fitting the head into her mouth.

“Bell.” He groaned her name. The hand against her head gripped almost painfully.

She’d never claimed to be a practiced cocksucker, but she knew no man in his right mind would turn down the offer, skilled or not. So to keep her inexperience as undetected as possible she only bobbed her head on him for a few seconds before releasing him.

Moving awkwardly on the narrow bed, allowing him to help balance her, she straddled him. No sense in delaying the inevitable, she had to nearly squat over him to position him to enter her. The pose was far from flattering, but she ignored her discomfort. Watching his eyes close as she sank onto him made it worthwhile.

His hands gripped her hips, adjusting her placement and then urging her to move. He growled as she came down on him again, harder this time. With his guidance she set a pace that felt like an extreme form of aerobics. In just minutes she was panting from exertion as well as the pleasing warmth spreading through her stomach. Her hands pushed against his chest, a chest tight with his own exertions.

“Lean back.”

She did, putting her hands on his legs behind her. She moaned at the new angle, though she didn’t know how long her back would hold up to this. Her wound burned, but felt strangely numb at the same time.

The bed creaked and rocked with their motion. Bell was wearing out. Her skin was damp with sweat, muscles ached from prolonged abuse. She closed her eyes, focusing on squeezing him with her inner muscles, hoping to end this sooner.

“Riddick,” she panted, “I can’t—“

“Just a little longer.” His voice was even more strained than hers.

Suddenly his hand released her hip where he’d been literally lifting her. Rough fingers pressed at her sensitive clit, rubbing almost painfully. To her shock she jerked at the contact, her hips lifting at an abnormal angle in an attempt to increase the pressure.

Bell cried out. The combined stimulation of his fingers and his dick was too much. She jerked, trying to keep some sort of rhythm, but in the end not really caring.

“God, Riddick. Yes.”

She shoved at his legs, the ache of her muscles unnoticed. Shifting, jerking, straining, she moaned her need. Riddick gave her what she wanted. She rode him frantically, aided by him, tortured by him.

“Come on, Bell.”

His groaned words seemed to set her off. She cried out, feeling a heat release inside her. Cadence lost now, she just moved. Riddick’s grip became painful. The bed made some unholy sounds timed to their movement, then all held suspended for long moments.

Bell almost felt like she was still moving. Hot, wet, and exhausted, but it was only her pussy gripping him, pulsing steadily.

Slowly she slumped forward on him. His chest was slick with sweat, rising and falling rapidly. She could hear his breathing, and feel it fan her forehead, but otherwise he was silent. Only minutes passed before she passed out contentedly, still penetrated, smelling the salt and musk of their activities.