BY : Chriscent
Category: M through R > Pitch Black
Dragon prints: 4449
Disclaimer: I do not own Pitch Black, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Passengers everywhere.  Their smells intermingled until only the gender could be distinguished from the confusion.  Crew, sweating, angry.  Johns, sweating, drugs seeping from his system, self-pity there along with it.  Riddick would laugh and clap at the condition he’d put the merc in, if that were something he did.


Brought on board early, none of these smells had been here then.  The old smell of contained bodies, live ones, luggage, the ships mechanisms stinking of dirt and grease.  He was sure Johns had stuck him in the ‘glass-box’ for the entertainment of the passengers and to ensure he’d get to tell as many people as he could that they were safe flying beside the trussed convict because their friendly law-enforcer was there to keep him reined in. 


Drugs leached sluggishly through Riddick’s system.  Was this the shit Johns used?  He was worse off than Riddick had first thought if it was.  A first dizzying crescendo of heart hammering and brain cells popping, then just a wriggling warmth through his body, weighing down his lungs and his groin and his bladder, causing a shortness of breath, a headache and some nausea.  Oh, yeah, this was just really convincing him to be a junkie.


Voices around him.  The ship was still a couple hours out from launch.  Passengers crossed and then double-backed before him, probably to get an extra peek, possibly even for a real reason.  A woman was the most common.  She never spoke, but he could sense her every time.  Her smell was clean, and didn’t hold the excitement of the passengers.  Crew?  She didn’t have the stink of aggravation that the other crew did.  Captain?  No, the captain was male, big guy, bored with the theatrics.


It got quiet in a hurry.  Were they feeding the passengers before take off?  He didn’t expect the same treat.


A smell, the woman. 


Riddick roused himself, aggravated that he’d let his guard down.  Groggy from the drugs in his system, blind-folded and exhausted, he’d taken the opportunity to doze.  Mistake.


Movement was hushed, purposely trying to be quiet.  That couldn’t be good.  The breeze of someone close.


“Damn, you’re a big one.”


Whispered words.  A hand on him now.  It danced across his restraints, the one around his waist, to his wrists, then tugged against the cable connected to his feet.


“Don’t give you much room to move, does he?”


He didn’t recognize the voice.  Was in one of the crew?  The smell was familiar, but one was hard to distinguish from others when it was mixed with dozens, even for him.  No way to respond.  He raised his head, looking at her if the blindfold wasn’t covering half his face.


Warmth of a body pressed to him, breath against his face.  His hands were pressed tight against her stomach.  He could hurt her, possibly even kill her.


“Your mouth get dry like that?”  Obviously she wasn’t waiting for an answer.  “You like to bite or somethin’, big boy?”  She was face to face with him, her lips brushing his stretched ones as she spoke.  Soft, sweet smelling.  “Don’t see a big guy like you needin’ to bite.”  She leaned back, her hands on his shoulders pulling.  “Course you ain’t got much else to use, do ya?”


Wet heat slid over his lip, then over his teeth.  He grew hard in a second.  She was licking him, lips, teeth, the bit, she was wetting his mouth with hers.


His own tongue moved forward.  He was able to get it beneath the bit but not past it.  It was enough.  Their tongues touched and he nearly groaned.  She did.


“Oh, yeah.  You’re a good one.  Difficult though, I bet.”  She was huffing into him now as she explored what she could of his mouth.  “Like to do things your own way,” she whispered.


She leaned back, not holding his shoulders now.  Was she hanging from the cage or something above him?  “I like doin’ things my own way too.”  He could hear that she was smiling.


Her body moved away, but he could still feel her heat.  A second later she was pulling at his pants.  A zip, a tug, a few yanks, and his erection sprang free.


“Mmmm, you really are a big boy,” she teased, her hands admiring.


After just seconds she stopped touching and he could hear the sound of more clothing being shed.


“Wish you could help with this, big guy.  Gonna be a workout,” she didn’t sound too put off by the chore ahead.


“Raise your hands up,” she whispered, strain already in her voice as she moved closer.


Riddick’s hands were cuffed below his now free dick.  He moved his arms away from his body and instantly received rough scrapes from her sliding her boots between his body and his arms.  He shifted his feet forward as far as they’d go and leaned his upper body against the back wall, bowing for her.


But she hadn’t needed his help.  Her legs gripped him, her bare ass in his raised hands, then she was sliding fully onto him.


“Ah, fuck, yeah,” she groaned somewhere above him.  She had to be holding on above him.  There was no way he was supporting all her weight.


She reached behind him, elbows on his shoulders, hands gripping something, and face in his.  Mouth against his, his bit probably in her mouth as well, she rode him, with no help from him.


Minutes passed, she panted and sweated on him.  The temperature in the little box increasing quickly. 


He was getting close, and he could smell and feel that she was getting close.  Her scent was heavy, the fluids running, wetting both of them.


“Ah, God, baby.  I’ll never have anything like this again.”


She came, shuddering and thumping heavily against him.  He waited until she was nearly finished to fill her with his own.


Moving at all caused her to moan as she climbed awkwardly down.  Not to leave him exposed, she carefully tucked him back in, her hands cool on his hot drying flesh.


She leaned into him one more time to kiss at his mouth.  She just stepped back when a very recognizable voice sounded from down the corridor.  “Hey, what are you doin’?”


The girl snickered to herself and didn’t answer.  She moved the opposite way, away from Johns. 


Johns came up grumbling and stood silently before Riddick for a long time.  Riddick would have smiled if his mouth wasn’t already stretched into a parody of a grin.  The merc didn’t like his belongings being fucked with.


Riddick never smelled the girl again.  He’d recognize that smell and that voice anywhere, but she either wasn’t a passenger at all, or died in the crash.


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