saga/title/fandom: The Past Never Dies chapter 19 (Pitch Black/Riddick)
rating/genre: (NC-17) - het, angst, drama
warnings: het, sexual content, adult content, drug use, criminal activity, religious fusion
summary: What if Jack had stayed on New Mecca with Imam? What if Riddick had come back for her? (Riddick/Jack, Imam/OFC)
comments/disclaimers: General disclaimers apply.
Jack was amazed at how fast she sobered up when they entered the opulent guest bedroom. She had hoped being fairly drunk would make this night a little easier. However, she flinched when Riddick shut the door behind them and locked it, a reaction he didn’t miss.
“Not drunk enough,” he noted with quiet disappointment.
He came up directly behind her, so close that he was touching her, and Jack was relieved that her fear didn’t grow any greater. It was not Riddick that she was afraid of specifically, which was good since she had just married him. It was the idea of what she was about to do with him.
“This must be hard for you,” she sympathized.
“You have no idea,” he agreed. “But will it be any better if we wait until tomorrow or next week or next year?”
Jack snorted at that. “If I’m not pregnant before we’re married half a year, there will be questions. From everybody.”
She could feel him wince behind her. “That soon?”
“There are no null shots here,” Jack reminded him.
“Yeah, I know, but it happens that fast?”
“Provided you’re married to somebody normal,” she confirmed, not able to keep the self-loathing out of her voice.
Riddick grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. “Jack, don’t,” he pleaded. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You got hurt. A lot. By somebody who should have protected you and taken care of you. There’s still a kid inside you that thinks it’s always gonna be that way. It isn’t, but you’ve got to help me convince her otherwise.”
She sighed, gazing up into his earnest face, seeing the love that she knew he would have a difficult time ever putting into words. “You wanted to see my hair,” she offered.
He bit his lower lip, unable to speak, and nodded tersely. Jack gestured towards her scarf. She was surprised that his hands were shaking as he figured out how to take it off her head. After a little maneuvering, he lifted it up and tossed it away. She felt oddly exposed, because no man had seen her uncovered head since her arrival seven years earlier.
Jack closed her eyes as his hands began to stroke the hair on either side of her skull; a moment later, he kissed her forehead. She felt him reach around her, finding her heavy braid. There was still enough alcohol in her system that there would be no turning around with her eyes closed, unless she wanted to fall over. She opened her eyes and cautiously executed the movement, staring down pensively at the bed she knew they would soon be in.
Riddick purred deep in his chest at the sight of her impressive length of hair. Seven years was a long time to grow it uncut, even though she had started from utter baldness. She felt him release the far end of it, his fingers threading eagerly through the braid, freeing her hair. At last, it was all loose.
He leaned forward into it and inhaled deeply, groaning almost as if in pain, “Beautiful.”
Something about the combination of awe and need in his tone struck a chord deep inside Jack. She turned towards him blindly, fiercely drawn by forces she couldn’t comprehend, and sought his lips. Riddick made them easy to find, kissing her with a passion that was well beyond the kiss in the sitting room. A little corner of Jack’s mind wondered that she found nothing frightening about his need. Instead, it seemed to make her own need blossom and deepen.
When she felt one of his hands stroke her nipple, Jack shrieked and jumped backwards, so unexpected was his touch in such a private place. Instantly, Riddick reined himself in.
“You really are a virgin, aren’t you?” he asked.
Jack felt suddenly stupid, the topic dissipating her ardor as if it had never been. “When he used to do me, it wasn’t about me, it was about him. All the foreplay I got was him wrestling the pants off me and beating me until I stopped fighting him. He never even bothered with the top half of me. He said I was too flat-chested to make it worth his while.”
Riddick growled deep in his throat, an inhuman sound that made the hair prickle up on the back on her neck. “I should have spent more time killing him,” he grumbled.
“There probably isn’t enough time,” Jack said, bitterly, and then added, frustrated. “Look, I know what you want. I know you’ve waited a long time, and I agreed I would. Maybe it would be better if you just did it already.”
His flare of anger caught her off guard. “Why? So you can lay there and endure it? Do you want me to hurt you? What are you afraid of, Jack? That I might make you like sex?”
“No, that’s not it.” Jack’s brow knit in puzzlement as she struggled to find the words. “I like it when you touch me. I think maybe you could make me like sex. But I’m afraid you’ll expect more out of me than I’ll be able to give right away. I may not be like the other women.”
Suddenly, Riddick seemed to realize what she was saying. “You think you won’t come?”
“Yes,” she murmured, feeling hot blood fill up her face. “What if I don’t?”
He considered for a minute. “With what you been through, you could be right. But you do react to me and that can be enough, for now.”
His reassurance served to lift an incredible burden from her shoulders. “You won’t be disappointed?”
He smiled at her, one of his rare, genuine smiles. “I can’t see how.”
It was in that moment, looking at his gentle expression and feeling the depth of his concern, that Jack knew that she loved him. It was suddenly there in full, no half measures and no doubts. It was there like the wind or the sand, as Sahar had said, not to be questioned or doubted.
home prior chapter next chapter fiction gateway