A/N:

HopeK: i did say i will come back with at least 2 chapters, didn't i? well, this is pretty long and the next one is on its way so you can stop harassing your poor nails:D

MythStar Black Dragon: i'm glad you like it! i only hope to live up to the expectations:)

AndBeAVillian: you see, i was listening to Aereon's intro to COR the other day and i had this idea: what if Riddick wasn't exactly the evil she had calculated would fight the necro-evil? but truth is i didn't have the guts to take the idea further so that's why the moral extra seemed a tad out of place. thanks for pointing that out, feedback is very important to me:)

my(?)master: over? nooo, it's definitely not! but...is that a good thing?...hmmm...

Ok, guys so here it is...a rather long chapter rated M towards the end. as a piece of warning, the characters are acting a lil' Out Of Character, but as many times as i read it, i just couldn't make it sound better... i did put a lot of effort into it, so please feel free to tell me your likes and dislikes. ENJOY!

…Beautiful…

Even in a world seen in a restricted range of colors, I’ve always been able to acknowledge beauty…though not always in women. Truth be told, most of the times, they struck me as particularly artificial. What are women compared to a swarming flock of sharp-toothed, blood-lusty, killer alien winged raptors?...or, whatever they’re called…

Then again, I have been out of the loop for quite some time, and my sampling of the fairer sex was never that good to begin with. And when I do return to civilization and all the fucking brightness, I come across one showering wife who smelled nice, like most normal people do, her miniature version who thought I had stepped down from one of her bedtime stories, one Elemental that I could feel rather than actually see, another of the lawfully wedded and partially dead kind who oozed beauty through every well-defined pore, one tight-ass killing machine playing merc and popping fresh makers with Toombs and the kid – she-woman extraordinaire of the killer nation. And that wannabe minx left me for dead to roast on a deserted runaway. Key words, people: RUN AWAY. Shit like this always happens to me.

But, there was also…and that’s my real problem…something…someone else. Who asked me in a voice I knew all too well, though I have no idea why, something painfully obvious – or so my sense of smell, hear, touch and soon taste told me. My vision was failing me and the violet hues in which her image appeared to me faded away. I had felt like this once before…the warmth and support of a body I could rely on snatched away from me, with no words and cryptic smiles. I was beginning to forget…but the primitive side, the animal side, the one that would not be subdued so easily, kept telling me that it was very wrong. And I struggled to remember what, struggled to regain my grip on the warm hand which was no more.

I was drifting in and out of consciousness, but every thing was a mess. I was hurting…with fever, with cold, with loss…

Was it raining?

Hard pellets of heavy water striking me down…and daggers…ooh, those daggers, flying at me from all over the place…

I frantically tried to avoid them out of instinct rather than intent…but it was just snow…icy snow…and what was I doing out naked on such a weather?

Even I was not immune to this heat…shaking is a bad sign, I keep telling myself…

And I don’t like pointy, sharp objects that don’t belong to me…and why did you boil the water…oh, it’s blood…guess that figures…but still!? I could kill for a particular good Shiraz right about now…

...need some help? Hold up, babe, don’t go, I’m starting to forget your smell again…you had a name, Johns called you…something… but who are you really? Don’t worry, it’ll come to me. You’re with me…I just have to remember…

Ahhh, blissful darkness…my favorite…

Wish I could remember darkness. Not the blindfold they kept covering my eyes with, but the real thing. It must have looked somewhat like what I’m experiencing now. Darkness resonates. It amplifies the senses. That would explain the incessant commotion: smell of booze and sound of alcohol flavoury coupling. Men and women laughing hysterically and the man in front of me cheering for my health. That’s new.

He’s babbling incoherently right about now, but the face doesn’t match the words:

“You smug motherfuck! Who’d’ve thought the grunt had it in him! Here’s to the fastest strike in the system! Here’s to Sir Shiv-a-lot!”

Someone just laughed his dinner out and a cacophony of voices screaming “Grosse!” accompanied his retching. This don’t seem right, although the memory is accurate: lost my rifle, used a shiv instead, got the job done, impressed a few people who were looking for a reason to throw a celebration at a local joint. Company people, Strike Force graduates like me. Mine sweepers, just like me. Braggarts. Lost a lot of credits at dice. Lost a lot of lives, too. I had no qualms about cheating them out of both their money and their lives. But this was a special occasion. Space port nearby was opened up for transportation. And along came the pirates, nastier than any spitfire. Ghosted the motherfuckers quickly enough. Those shipments they were planning to hijack were our down payment. I did not spent months on end on this fucking rock, getting a fair share of acid burns in the dark, so they could just run off with my work’s worth. They so did not know who they were fucking with! And, now, from another face in the crowd, noticeable in a uniform, but not worth the headache, I was suddenly someone. Motherfucking Riddick, Sir Shiv-a-lot, worthy of praise!

They threw me a party, that much was right. But I don’t remember having him there… nor having him giving me crappy-ass nicknames, and I planned on telling him that much:

“Billy Boy, what the fuck are you doing here?”

That was a stunner.

“Wha’do ya mean?”

I swear he fucking pouted. But on further consideration:

“Same thing I was doing yesterday.”

“Which is?”

“Drinking my way to the next fuck…”

“Last I remember, you didn’t get one.”

“Last I remember, neither did you!”

Again with the pouting thing.

“Johns. Get. Out. Of. My. Dream. Sequence!” Shit, I didn’t miss him that much.

“Riddick, what did I tell ya about big words? Headache! Christ!”

And I’m pretty sure we never had this conversation. Or I would have jacked him to death about it.
”I think I’ll go get us another beer. You’re not wasted ‘nough to be a true asshole. Then I’ll kick your ass.”

He duck-walked his red-arse face to the bar, leaving me at the table.

Totally. Alone.

I almost gave in to the urge of checking for restraints. Nope, no chains, no bit, no blindfold. Just a standard issued brown uniform, with the company’s logo imprinted on it and a collar that chaffed a bit, so I always kept it unfastened.

Johns wobbled his way back to our – our table, for fuck’s sake, with two beers and a bowl of chips precariously balanced on a tray. Balance…wasn’t someone nagging me about that some time ago? But, when? And, who?

“Here.”

I took a mouthful out of the cold beer and I could feel the pleasure of it up to my eyeballs. It was…intense.

“So, nice change. From the blue uniform and all. Traded your fake badge for…” at which point I encouraged him to fill in the blanks.

He was dumbfounded. Or just plain dumb.

“Riddick, my man, are you high on something?”

He’s asking me that?!

This is just…so…

…wrong.

“Johns, don’t you think something’s wrong?” If he thinks at all.

“Do I ever!”

Finally!

“I mean we graduated top of our class from Strike Force Academy and now we’re stuck doing grunts’ work in a fucking mine, crawling with spitfires, shooting pirates for a bit of diversity…or gutting them. Whichever. It fucking sucks!”

“We graduated?!”

“Yeah, we. As in you and me. Us.”

And he waved the beer between our seated figures.

“Look, it’s obvious you’re coming down with something. Night sickness, brain fever, the fucking flu! I say you finish up that beer, pick up a nice easy broad – there’s a whole bunch loitering around – and fuck whatever has gotten into you out of your system.”

Now, come to think of it, I was building quite a headache. A brutal one.

“Just one?”

That seemed to turn Johns up a notch.

“Now, that’s the Riddick I know!”

Grinning stupidly, he vigorously patted my back.

“Go on, you party-animal, have some fun!”

And then the blue eyed motherfucker belched.

This was ridiculous. But the pounding in my head reverberated in my balls. I got up and moved away from the table. What was that Johns said about a whole bunch of women loitering around?

“Pilots, space whores, local tramps, take your pick!”

“Said that out loud, huh?”

The bartender rolled a dirty rag in a shot-glass and pointed to a lonely figure sitting at the corner table.

“She seemed clean enough. Ordered whisky – a whole bottle – and one glass.”

“Doesn’t seem like she wants to make friends.”

“How many friends have you ever fucked?”

He gave me a pointed stare while fiddling with the glass.

“She ain’t your bitch, is she?”

I wasn’t about to fall in a trap set by some local pimp who happened to own a bar and give advice to total strangers.

“I’m laughing internally”, he said nonplussed.

Ok, so I guess that’s a no.

I walked up to her table and looked her up and down. But it was dark and her head was bowed. Left hand circling an empty glass, right hand firmly anchored on the neck of the half-empty bottle. She didn’t move, nor acknowledge my presence. She wasn’t that far gone though. This called for a direct approach. And I did lust for a bit of whisky. Briefly wondered if she’d let me taste it off her lips. So I snatched the bottle and filled the glass, took that too, and let it burn down my throat. She cracked a smile and lifted her head, flooring me with the most intense blue stare I had ever seen.

“What color are my eyes?”

“Blue.” That was fast, even for me. She fired questions at me again.

“What color is my hair?”

“Blonde…Golden.” Wasn’t sure if blonde’s a color.

“What color is my uniform?”

“Green?...It’s kinda dark in here.”

“It’s green. I look shit in green. But that’s ok, ‘cause you can’t see that.”

That sounded about right. And she looked right too, just a little out of place.

“I know you.”

“Then you know more than I do. Who am I?”

“You’re…beautiful…”

Smooth, Riddick, real smooth.Fuck!

But she was lost, her eyes glazed, her lips quivering, her breath pitched.

“You know who I am, too. I can feel you remembering me.”

Her small hand traveled the length between us and reached for my face, ghosted her fingertips over my jaw, my cheekbones and stopping for my eyes. She traced my eyebrows and brushed my eyelashes and ran her knuckles down my face. And then the flickering illusion of a smile tugged at her lips.

“What color are your eyes?”

My mind had dissolved under her touch. It refused to process her words. Something had gone so terribly wrong that the eyes in question closed shut of their own accord.

Her hand concluded its idle search by resting on top of mine.

“Show me your eyes, Riddick!”

I must’ve muted a stubborn no, because her grip on my hand intensified. I used my free hand to sandwich hers between mine.

There was a soft laughter coming from her.

“Show. Me. Your. Big…”

I let out a chuckle and a muffled groan. This woman was infuriating…

“…Soulful…”

“Carolyn….” I threatened, cracking one eye open.

“…Brown. Eyes!”

Fits of laughter coursed through her body, making it shake violently.

“That’s it! No more whisky for you!”

And I clutched the whisky bottle close to me to exemplify her punishment.

She drew a deep breath, closed her eyes, wrinkled her nose, opened them…

“Don’t you dare…”

She swallowed back the little bout of laughter and continued to stare at me.

“The Underverse is fun.”

“The what?”

“Don’t know. I just felt like saying it.” She shrugged and said again:

“Like I feel that you having brown eyes is somehow wrong. Like I feel that the loud red-head you were talking to is not supposed to be here. Not in one piece, anyway. Like I feel that my hair is not supposed to be this long. Like I feel that I don’t belong.”

We were silent for a while.

“You called me something.”

“Carolyn.”

“That’s my name.”

“Guess so.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“I was just thinking that.” I paused, and then it hit me. “Where have you been?”

“I woke up here in time to hear Johns’ piece of… advice.”

“Hm.”

“What?’

“You showed up when I thought of you.”

She cocked her eyebrows and tapped her fingers against the table.

“Didn’t we have this conversation already?”

“I have the distinct feeling you disagreed with me.”

“Right. Wait…I know why you have brown eyes!”

Now, this was weird.

“Is there a particular reason?”

“Because I knew that. I read it somewhere. In one of your files, most likely.”

“Oh, so it would have nothing to do with the fact that I’m still working for the company and haven’t had a shine job done yet?”

“But, then, you should be…err…younger. You don’t look younger.”

Was this the look of embarrassment gracing her features?

“I was never young.”

She frowned, a deep, upset frown.

“But that doesn’t make any sense. I mean…”

“Carolyn…”

“…and you are fucking with me.”

She heaved a deep resigned sigh.

“Yep.”

“I knew that…”

I took in her features, the hair that was now long enough for me to wrap my fist in it if I so pleased, the eyes that were clear ice blue, the fair unmarred skin, the dark honey of her eyebrows, the mole next to her right eye and the other caffeine spots on her neckline, committing these details to memory, knowing that I would never see them again as I saw them now. She chanced a glance my way and wrinkled her nose again, obviously trying to hide the pink shade coloring her cheeks. She was uncomfortable under my scrutiny. And visibly aroused. I knew this like I’ve always known: she hid her hands underneath the table and wiped her sweaty palms against her thighs. A dead giveaway. The sound of the illicit friction set sparks flying between us. The musky scent she emanated made me light headed. But it took only a look at her to see her defenses were ramrod straight. Problem was, so was I.

“Let’s get outta here.”

The deep rumble in my voice was meant to hide the growl I was this close to letting out.

I set my goal on finding the exit and scram out of the damn place. With her following close behind. And Johns wooting as we left:

“Riddick, you’re the MAN!”

Hyper Billy Badass…what was I thinking wishing for that?!

The night outside was pitch black. I stopped dead in my tracks and Carolyn hovered behind my back.

“There’s nothing out here.” I heard her say.

That was an understatement. No people, no street lights, no streets, for that matter, no buildings. Just a never-ending stretch of dark emptiness. And the brutal headache that shook my entire body. A sharp, stinging pain hit my eyes and I collapsed on the ground with that feral growl finally escaping my lips. Shit, I was so hoping never to feel this brain-fucking pain again. Like someone poked a hot rod through my eyes to my brain. Surgically. I clenched my fists and I swear I could hear bones cracking. But there was a cool hand wiping sweat off my forehead. And no rubber gloves that smelled like cattle shit. Just a scent I knew only too well.

“Riddick, this is not really happening, it already did. Wake up!”

Oh, it was happening alright. But she was not there to witness it. Though, come to think of it, she always comes with blood and pain.

“Riddick, come on, I’ve got you. We’re gonna get outta here. Come on, Riddick, get up! GET.UP!”

So strong. She was so strong. Lifting me up, carrying my weight on her slender shoulders while I was continuously falling.

“We can do this, c’mon! Don’t give up on me, now. I can’t do this by myself. Riddick…please…”

Ok, that made me feel better, but the pain would not go away and it quickly spread from my eyes to my limbs. Next tactic, babe.

“RIDDICK GET YOUR US MOVING! NOW!”

That knocked the breath out of her – and probably a lung too – and if the yelling didn’t do it, my next move sure did. Basically, I slammed her against – hey, look – a wall. Hard. But only because I had the impression something whooshed past us. Then, I shielded her still body with my own. And simply sat there trying to catch my breath. I could smell blood that was not mine. The pain had been imaginary, I wasn’t bleeding at all. Carolyn was very, very quiet. I opened my eyes and the world exploded in shades of violet. Oh well, at least that was the first normal thing that had happened so far. Normal was not, however, how Carolyn looked.

“What’s wrong?”

“You cracked my skull, dislocated my shoulder and snapped two of my fingers.” She rasped out.

I cushioned her head against my shoulder and searched for the wound. It wasn’t deep, but it would bleed a little. Then I felt her torn shoulder and whispered in her ear:

“Ready?”

By the time she said No I had already replaced the limb in its rightful socket. She screamed her agony against my neck. That would probably leave a mark. Not the kind of hickey I was planning on.

“Left or right?”

“Left…” she mumbled and I snapped back the two splinted fingers.

“We’re probably gonna have to look at them later.”

“And I’ll probably have to kill you later.”

I smiled against her hair, refusing to feel anything similar to guilt:

“Why not now, tough girl?”

On the tip of her toes – I was so much taller than she was – and with her wrinkled nose still buried deep between my neck and shoulder, she breathed in and said:

“’Cause you smell too good right now.”

And she circled both her arms, hurting as they were, against my waist and snaked their way up my back, finally nestling between my shoulder blades. I backed her up against the wall gently and hoisted her up my body so she wouldn’t have to stretch, careful to cradle her aching skull. Then I did what I always wanted to do, without her fearing me: I buried my lips, my nose and my eyes in her hair, enjoying the feel of her to the very depths of my being. If I could have incorporated her in my body, I would have done it. As it were, I just left her body cater to my needs.

In the dark.

With her legs wrapped around my waist.

Needles to say, my fiery groins were vigorously protesting. And so was my mind, my animal side, that wanted her like I needed oxygen. Wanted her on my tongue, beneath my hands, under me. Wanted to smell the scent she gave off: not in the crook of her neck or on her hair. I wanted to feel and smell the heavier, muskier scent coming from that part of her that was currently resting against a danger zone. And I wanted to mark her irrevocably mine. And quickly, while she was as still as she now was.

“Carolyn…” I called her name in a sing song voice.

“Mmmm..hmm’wha’mm?”

“Still feel homicidal?”

“Later…”

“Good to know. Now, sit still, ok?”

“Whatever…just don’t go…”

Ha! Rabid hellhounds would not separate me from her slightly unconscious form. So, I lowered her with care and her head slid to my chest. But she tightened her arms around me:

“I have a feeling I’m going to regret this…”

“Hush, babe, we both need this.”

Her weight on me was delicious, but I had to make this quick. Fucking her in the afterlife was not exactly how I’d picture it. And I had been picturing it a lot. It even made me feel slightly disturbed when I found myself screaming out her name or envisioning her face while I was jacking-off on that frozen rock. I wanted her on even terms: both alive, or both dead. But this…what does self induced coma count for?

With my left hand still cushioning her head, I let my right hand look for the source of her inner heat. No time for dry humping, I wanted – needed – the real thing, even if it was only on the tip of my fingers. I made short work of her belt and fly and my hand went deep into her pants, past the cotton underwear – Carolyn was a clean girl alright – and settled my palm between her thighs, cupping her whole and lifting her up in the process. Her head bounced right off my chest:

“Wow…”

Sweet and slick and wet…my mind was reeling with the possibilities. Firmly gripping her into place, I thrust both my tongue and my finger into her, sealing her protests with a hard kiss and her rebelling musculature with a rough caress.

“Coming yet?” I said into her lips, biting on the unruly, quivering bottom one.

“Wha’? Huh? Just a sec…”

She was radiating heat and she would climax swiftly and with the power of a small nuclear bomb. Her smell was intoxicating, but a sudden sense of urgency hurried my movements:

“Babe, anytime now…” and I rubbed the heel of my palm against her mound and sought her entrance with a second finger.

“Don’t I…aaah… always…come for you?” Clearly, she was being a smartass about it.

Her eyes went wide as saucers and her head thrust back against my hand as she gasped in what her tightened muscles told me was ecstasy. I felt compelled to kiss her exposed throat, nipping at the sensitive flesh. The animal within was satisfied, though not completely sated. She was now mine, in the purest, most basic way a man could own a woman. Ok, so not exactly the most basic, but we were getting there. There would be no more misunderstandings from now on.

Down below, she was still damp and throbbing and I tried to ease the lingering discomfort as best I could. Turns out my good girl had quite an appetite. My mouth was still wetting its way to her ear, while I slowly retracted my hand and fastened her up:

“Hungry little Carolyn.” And patted her bottom.

In response, she un-clasped her hands at my back and trailed down my sides, yanking my groins against her aching core. It felt like I was gonna go right through the fabric of both our slacks:

“Look who’s talking!”

I growled deep within my chest, propping my forehead high on the wall above her head.

“Any more bright ideas, Riddick? ‘Cause now we need it even more!”

Oh, hell, when she puts it that way… but she pushed her little hands against my chest and I realized we both needed some space. Not exactly needed it, but more like required it. And with all the seriousness she could muster, she said:

“Now I feel like we should hurry the damn up!”

“Where to, Captain?”

She disentangled some stray locks that had curled round my neck and cursed:

“Somewhere where my hair is not so fucking long!”

“Like on the skiff?”

That sent her right on track.

“We weren’t on a skiff…we were on a ship. A Necro ship. We were arguing.”

That definitely hit home.

“You killed us.”

She swatted my arm and winced at the pain.

“I did not! We’re in a coma. Heading towards the Underverse. To get Jack back.”

“Well, are we there yet?”

She looked around us and turned on her heels to stare at the wall.

“Quick, think of Jack!”

…

“JACK!”

…

Her shoulders sagged and pain brought tears she desperately tried to sniffle away. I tugged at her hand.

“Come on, Carolyn, let’s keep walking.”

And we walked the lonely road into nothingness.