In Consequence

SEVENTEEN


CLOSER

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Even the jeans fit her like a second skin. There was something about the way she moved that was as sexy as it was hesitant. Maybe it was her very hesitance and apprehension, the tension that was so much a part of her, that made her so appealing.

Riddick didn’t know. He didn’t really care. He wanted to fuck her.

Shit.

How long had she been around? Must have been three weeks at the least. And he hadn’t even touched her. What was wrong with this picture? Jack was his slave. She should be submitting to him and his desires. He shouldn’t be bowing to her fear.

Riddick was getting more than sick of the tension that had settled uncomfortably around the pair of them. He’d been accommodating. He hadn’t pushed her that much. What was a little cut? He’d had far, far worse done to him. It was getting time to really claim her.

A large part of him kept nagging, telling him to reconsider. He ignored it. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to fucking get it.

~*~

Jack noticed Riddick watching her much more closely than he had before their confrontation. He’d agreed to… well, she wasn’t quite sure what he’d agreed to do, other than not torture her. But it was something. Did that have something to do with the increased intensity of his gaze?

The big shock came three days after their discussion. The little mattress that had acted as a perfectly serviceable bed disappeared. Her heart had leapt in… fright? Something else? She wasn’t as scared of him as she had been in the past few days. The thought had actually crossed her mind that they were coming to some semblance of a truce. Ridiculous, of course. But… what if?

She felt so much more confident wearing clothes. Technically they weren’t anything special, just little bits of fabric that had been stitched together by machines. But to her, they felt like armor. She felt, almost, that they might even be able to protect her from him.

Of course she knew that it was absurd. Clothes, protecting her from Riddick? Yeah, right. The very thought was insane.

Riddick was in the main cabin. She didn’t know what he was doing, and felt hesitant about disturbing him. She didn’t want to upset this new link in the chain of their relationship before it had a chance to become set and permanent.

That metaphor was fitting, she thought suddenly. Chains. Bondage. She was bound to him. Yes, she mused, this was a new link in the chain that bound her to him. The thought didn’t terrify her as it might once have.

She stared at the place where her bed had once lain for another moment before nodding once. She should stop being so afraid. He’d listened to her. He’d heard her out—well, relatively, anyway—and had agreed to compromise on a few things. Maybe he was starting to see her as a person, after all. She would just ask him what happened to the mattress.

When she walked into the main cabin, however, it felt… different, somehow. More hostile. Then she saw his face.

It was turned toward her in an unreadable mask. Jack frowned in confusion. He hadn’t looked at her like that in days. What did it mean?

A steady whisper of unease suddenly began shouting at her. She tried to stifle it, but didn’t have any success. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Everything she had wanted to say fell out of her mind, completely obliterated. She turned around and walked back into their room.

~*~

That night, after a full day of avoiding each other, Riddick encountered his slave sitting on the floor where her little mat used to be. She was leaning against the wall and looking at him with a cautious expression on her face. He beckoned to her wordlessly. Jack rose and approached the bed.

He murmured, "Sit down, and followed his own command, seating himself across from her and slipping his shirt off. She tensed up as he lowered himself to the mattress and scooted away. “Where’s my bed?” she asked, apprehension flickering in her eyes.

Riddick shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. You don’t need it. Come ‘ere.” How would she react to that, he wondered.

Jack shook her head. “Of course I need it. Where am I going to sleep?”

His face darkened. “I said, come here.”

Jack flicked her eyes around. Riddick knew that she was looking for an escape. “Why?” she asked, licking her lips nervously. Beautiful. Fuck, he wanted her.

“Doesn’t matter why. Did I stutter? Get your ass over here,” Riddick snapped.

Her face fell. Riddick cautioned himself to relax, to try and be nicer, but knew that he wouldn’t have any luck. He was too impatient tonight. He didn’t know if he really would fuck her, but he sure as hell wanted to try.

At his gesture, she crawled toward him, her head hanging. Riddick felt guilt blend with a smirk of triumph. She was still obeying.

“Riddick…” she whispered, allowing herself to be positioned so that her back was pressed against his chest.

He grunted in response, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. God, she was so tense. He tightened the pressure, relishing the fear that throbbed in her body. An instant later, he relaxed. She’d think he was trying to reassure her, he was sure.

Sure enough, the tension ebbed slowly out of her body as she relaxed against him. Her scent was overpowering. The beast inside of him tried to growl, but Riddick suppressed it. He liked having her here, in his grasp. He put a hand to her hair, combing his fingers through it. Her hair was soft, but full of small knots. He busied himself with untangling them gently. He wanted her to lighten up, and had a feeling that this kind of domestic shit would do the trick.

Her head craned toward his fingers. He wondered if she was aware of it. Her eyes were closed now. Her face relaxed even further.

With his other hand, he ran his fingers down her face. When he got to her throat, he paused. How would she react to this? He swirled his fingers around the hollow at her collarbone. Her throat tightened as she swallowed. Her throat worked beneath his thumb as she swallowed. Was her scent changing?

He brought his hand slowly up, turning his wrist until his palm encircled the front of her throat. She swallowed again, but didn’t move. He leaned in and brushed his lips over her ear. She opened her mouth, but he murmured, “Shh….”

She fell silent, and he rubbed his thumb up and down her smooth skin. The hand that had been combing her hair stroked her cheek. “I won’t hurt you, Jack,” he said, wondering if it were true.

~*~

Jack lay paralyzed in his arms. His words sent shivers down her back and chills across her skin. And that was just from the feeling of his lips moving against her ear.

The meaning behind the words made her wonder. Did he mean it? She wanted to trust him. She didn’t have the energy it took to keep fighting anymore. She lay there, hoping harder than she’d ever hoped for anything in her life that he wasn’t just fucking around with her head again. Forcing herself to lay there while he touched her was hard, but the fear of provoking more roughness, more violence, was a damn good incentive. Maybe if she was cooperative, he would keep being gentle... and he wouldn't go much further, he wouldn't actually violate her. If she struggled, she might piss him off enough to push herself into a position even worse than the one she was already in.

The hand against her cheek moved down across her shoulder. Its slow, incessant journey south made her freeze up again. “Riddick… what are you doing?”

When his hand brushed her breast, she stiffened even further and pulled away from him. In response he grabbed her collar and held her neck right where it was.

That was it. Fuck trying to be still, fuck trying not to provoke him into anything. She panicked. “Riddick, let go! Let me go, Riddick, please, please!” She writhed and bucked in his arms, twisting with all her might, trying to break free.

“Jack,” he said firmly. She heard him, but that didn’t help calm her down. When he wrapped his other arm around her chest to hold her even more tightly against him, she resorted to kicking her heels backwards, trying to dislodge herself from his grip.

Riddick wrapped a powerful leg around both of hers and squeezed, effectively rendering her immobile. The sudden feeling of confinement made her stop cold. Instead of outwardly fighting him, she could feel herself trembling violently.

Riddick said, his voice even, “Jack. Can you hear me?”

She nodded with short, brief motions. The back of her head rubbed against him as she moved.

“Did I hurt you just now?”

She had to admit that he hadn’t. It had even felt good, more than she liked to admit. But this sudden intimacy with a man she didn’t trust scared her, and she thought it was perfectly justifiable. He had no right to touch her like that. And then, pinning her against him….

Yes, he did. Who was she fooling? He had every right in the universe, according to the collar.

Jack forced herself to relax in his arms. She was sick of it. Sick of it all. If he decided that he wanted her, then there was nothing she could do about it.

Her resolve weakened when he touched her breast again. She whimpered in fear.

It wasn’t the sex she was afraid of. It was him. The few kindnesses he’d shown her were few and far between, and she had no reason to believe that he would be gentle with her now. If she’d thought things were changing between them, well, she was obviously mistaken. If he were to take her body… it would be as though he were working his way inside her even more, putting his stamp of ownership where it would be permanent.

She didn’t want her first time to be with a murderer. She didn’t want him to do what she knew he was planning. She didn’t have a choice, either.

His leg was still wrapped around hers, and she resisted the urge to try and squirm away. It wouldn’t work; what was the point in trying? It would only anger him. Instead, she focused on breathing deeply and evenly. No easy feat, trapped as she was in his grip.

The trembling started up again as his fingers traced the curve of her bust line slowly. Tears came to her eyes and she bit back another plea for him to stop. His fingers rolled her nipple delicately between them, and she shivered when she heard his growl. It rang of nothing but possession.