Treacherous

A medical building.

That’s what Vaako had called it, but that wasn’t quite descriptive enough. Oh, there was medicine, and medical equipment, and examining rooms, all the other necessities. It was the rows of cages, and huge sealed doors that gave hint to there being more there.

Regular daylight had come, finally. The area they were in was mostly cleared. There would be pockets of resistance and groups still in hiding throughout the city, but the Lord Marshal wasn’t going to be allowed to walk freely in an area that hadn’t been cleared, and then re-cleared.

So in came the Necromonger’s retrieval teams. They moved through the building, checking everything, marking things for removal or closer scrutiny, packing some up as they went. Some came dressed in specialized suits, ready to sweep the medical facility. Bell followed this team, wanting to see what they were after.

Information seemed to be the first order of business. Computers were ravaged. Passwords expertly hacked, whole hard drives taken, file cabinets sealed and moved. A room that looked like a pharmaceutical playground got cleared. Everything was taken, some needing to be specially stored before it was transported.

Bell wandered through as they worked, watching them tag and box up whole shelves. A name displayed on a glass case caught her attention. It was the painkiller relative to the one used in the Necromongers conversions. It was very specialized and wasn’t kept around just to use for headaches.

If it was here, what else was being researched here? She poked around ahead of the guy clearing this part of the room. Sure enough, tabun and N-tabun. Now what would Militia want with the elements that turned humans into Necromongers?

Now she was really curious. There was a file drawer below the counter. Locked. The technician following her easily opened it when she asked and she rifled through to see what was there.

There was no letter of confession. That wasn’t necessary. But charts, lists, instructions, diagrams, all defining the process known as conversion.

Bell sat back and stared at nothing in front of her. Was she going to throw up? It took a whole minute of deep breathing to decide that a non-existent breakfast couldn’t come up.

Militia had done this? They’d orchestrated the entire Necromonger cause? How was that possible? But, oh, did it sound twisted enough to be something they’d do. Create an army that could be conveniently aimed, and depended on Militia so would never threaten Militia itself. But how?

There were study files in the cabinet on several religious cults. The Necromongers, originally from the planet Boroneau V, were just one. Necromongers conquered several of the smaller faiths the Militia had been watching, leaving just one, Carthodox. Carthodox was the other largest religious cult Militia was aiding. Both were nomadic and prospering, mostly through planetary subjugation. A report of a war between the two militarized faiths was humorous in the telling, even mentioning how ridiculously unfounded a rumor was that the Carthodox were being advised by the Elemental race. Eventually Necromongers overcame and absorbed the other faith, taking their members, their technologies, and weapons.

A copy of every message sent to the Necromongers followed. Planets and entire systems, wiped out because of greed or spite or UDMC self-preservation.

What interested her, actually it bewildered the hell out of her, was that her sons had caused the UDMC to threaten the very superpower they’d created and used so callously. So many years worth of work, careful scheming, painstaking research, and who knows how much cost, all washed away just to get two little boys. Or had they been trying to bluff? Had they expected the Necromongers to hand over the children without an argument? Probably, until Charles Rafferty had learned who was at the head of the Necromongers.

Riddick strolled in at the end of the room. He looked bored and tired. This down time would be making him drag ass after their eventful night, it was her. He came right at her, and she expected to take the full brunt of the frustrated anger that was crackling around him.

He didn’t disappoint.

“This isn’t some treasure hunt, Bell. Let these guys collect what they want, but you get back to ship.”

She held up a document, “But I’m finding such fun things.” His attention went to the paper, then back to her, so she enlightened him. “Militia created the Necromongers. Aided them, armed them, and even created the process known as conversion.”

Narrowed eyes, hard jaw. “That’s nice, but it doesn’t really change shit.”

She stood, angry at his denial. “It might not change the past, but it sure as hell matters. You can stop doing your pissing and moaning. They tried to kill me too, Riddick. Left to die just like you. And to find out that Militia had something to do with it more than pisses me off.”

He looked ready to hit her. Raw fury came at her in waves that probably would have knocked down a regular human. His hand snapped out and gripped her bicep, squeezing painfully, bringing her to heel in close to him so he could lean down. “Don’t you ever fucking disrespect me in front of these men. You are jumping at dead shadows. We came here for you. Destroyed one more world for you. So don’t get pissy with me now that you found another sin to lay on the grave.”

Bell was nearly confused in her rage. At him? At Militia? The fingers digging into the muscle of her arm finally decided it. Kill the Riddick.

Too close. He trusted her, and it was what she used against him. She swayed forward, tilting her head back as if to look up at him. At the last second she snapped her head forward, smashing her forehead into his lower face.

A collective gasp came from everyone in the room, including her. Damn, that hurt!!

She’d expected to get her freedom, but leave it to Riddick to instinctively hold onto his source of pain. She looked up at him, his face now a protective distance from her, to see blood running. Nose, lip, there several times. She had hit him hard, and he hadn’t been expecting it.

Don’t give him a chance for rebuttal. “Don’t treat me like some willful child!” she yelled at him, feeling the first twinges of apprehension, and the first trickles of her own blood running. Had she finally pushed too far? Innumerable challenges and dangers, and she had gone and head-butted him into killing her.

Riddick’s head turned slowly away from her to look at the gaping people around them. Nearly a dozen. All work had stopped in order to stare at their bleeding Lord Marshal and his bleeding woman.

“OUT!”

Lickety split. Bell smiled at the proficiency the little men could use when vacating the premises.

Alone with Riddick. Whee! His apparition remained conveniently hidden from her. Even his touching her arm didn’t help her feel him out. He was getting too good at hiding from her.

Those bright eyes were back on her, intense. Fingers bit into her arm harder, lifting, hauling her up. She cringed, mostly at the pain, half for expecting to be sent flying. Riddick would want to stalk his prey a bit, make it more fun for him, hope for the pleading.

Blood. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him bleed. Wasn’t even the first time she’d been the cause, most likely. But it was the first time she tasted it.

His mouth smashed down at hers, sucking at her, while invading her with his tongue, his taste, his blood. Kissing her. She’d smashed him in the face and he was kissing her.

Bell spent a whole second being shocked before she joined in the fun. Tongues met, tasting each other in a way that had never been possible.

There was no need for his iron grip when she wrapped herself around him, held herself up on him. His hands dropped to her butt, helping her stay on her perch. Then he was slamming her down. Her head bounced off the cabinet, glass cracking with the force, but he was right there with her, holding her in place, mouth still gnawing on hers.

She couldn’t help the moans. Fear had quickly transformed. Legs spread to his either side as she sat on the counter top. He shoved forward, chafing against her roughly, taunting her, making her want him with a clawing passion.

Some of his armor was already gone, removed for comfort as they waited within the building. But it wasn’t nearly enough. She yanked at him, pushing at parts, cutting her fingers on sharp edges.

“Slow down,” he managed as he tilted his head away from her.

“No.”

Teeth flashed in a smile through his bloody lips, bloodstained themselves. It made her lick her lips, knowing she was covered in it, could feel it wet on her face.

“Right here, Riddick, let’s go. You started this.”

He let her feel him now. Smug man. He was as hot as she was, and she felt the touch of his respect. He wasn’t pissed that she’d hit him, he was proud. His head dropped and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her forehead, but instead he licked, cleaning away the blood made when she’d hit him.

She growled in reaction. “Now, Riddick,” she panted through clenched teeth.

With both of them working they freed the necessary anatomy enough to not cause injury. The counter was high enough that Bell didn’t have to go anywhere. In fact she was the one that gripped him and brought him to where she wanted him.

Wet and swollen already, she toyed with herself with the head of him, enjoying him letting her. But after just a few seconds he was pushing forward, letting her know she was done playing.

Blood drying sticky now, his mouth returned to hers. Gods, this wasn’t good. The taste of blood turned her on? They were doomed.

He had to stoop a bit, but then he was filling her. Stretching already sensitive flesh.

Bell moaned into his open mouth. Considering more than the fact that whenever he fucked her she was mindless with ecstasy, she loved this for another reason. Riddick controlled her completely. There was no wanting to one-up him or goad him, she just wanted to hang on for the ride. Even physically he controlled her, lifting her to where he wanted her, setting his own pace, all of it exactly as she would have it.

Quick and hard, he left her sitting on the counter so he could pound into her, his ass exposed should anyone return to the room. Arms surrounded her, supporting him, while she held herself to him. She chewed on his tongue, his lips, sucking the blood from him, swallowing repeatedly and getting hotter for the depraved act.

But all good things must end. They were swirling downward, both holding back to make sure the other was ready and making the culmination that much better.

And that’s what this was, a culmination. To this horrible day, to nearly watching each other die, to validating their existence. She’d thought what they’d done on T2 was survivor sex. If so, then this was something more. Victory sex maybe. Celebration of life sex. Something.

Bell’s head felt numb, her limbs heavy, her center riotous. She was making constant sound, and now entirely unable to do more than press her mouth to his.

Seconds away. His mouth dropped to her neck and teeth sank in. He marked her, either as a sign of ownership to others, a sign of dominance to her, or just returning the favor. Whatever reason, it sent her over the edge.

She screamed, and was only barely aware of it. Reality was left behind. Their apparitions took them to a higher place, not just joined, but as one. The heated pandemonium of their bodies was just a whisper of thought, like a memory. There was peace in this place, and more than the bliss of a good orgasm. No worry followed here, not dangers, not childhood issues. It was like spinning with and through him. No names, no distinctions, no persona. It was indemnity mixed with emotion, knowledge and security and love.

Bell was crying when she came to herself. She looked up at Riddick to see the aggravation at his own confusion. But she could feel the truth. Yeah, they didn’t understand it, couldn’t, but that in no way made it bad. It had been wondrous.

Back to character.

Riddick withdrew, quickly working to fix himself. A sweat-dampened edge of his tunic worked to wiped at his face. Bell followed his lead, but a little more slowly.

“You better look properly chastised.”

She grinned. Her? Chastised? “In what sense?”

Narrowed eyes lit on her.

“I’m serious, Riddick. Did you mean to fuck me into being good?”

He smiled now too. “Would that work?”

Last bit of clothes going on. As fixed as they were going to get. “I’d be willing to give it a try.”

He looked to be withdrawing, but then he stepped closer. Not the closed look, but truly looking at her. His apparition was even more telling. No blame, no regret, just that emotion that he’d never put to words. “I’m sure you’ll give us plenty of chances.”

She smiled, truly pleased that he wasn’t really pissed, and secretly proud of herself that she’d smashed him in the face without getting killed. As she turned towards the door he smacked her on the ass, hard. She gasped and rubbed the offended area, but he just gave her that little smile.

Hand on the door and he changed before her eyes. Back was the hard uncompromising Riddick that refused to show anything but hardass.

Bell sighed audibly. How many Riddick’s were there? Which one did he like best?

All she knew for sure was that she had a longing to get him away from all this. How and where were still questionable, but there had to be a place where he wasn’t constantly on guard like that. Where he could practice being human.