(This story is posted with out a beta-read.)
(I got to jumpy, any beta's out there? Please feel free!)
(I will repay you in kind words and affection! MI)
 
 

Written By CCL

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    I wake up chained in the metal alcove, a modified horse bit in my mouth. How long have I been here? I am in a sitting position, my arms stretched out, almost painfully shoulder level. My wrists are incased in heavy gauge metal same with my ankles, which are spread about two feet apart. I am again captive until someone makes the mistake of unchaining just one of my limbs. I can hear other prisoners testing their bonds as I had done earlier.

    There were three of them. Even with the blindfold on I have a clear picture of the room in my mind. There are a pair benches in the center of the room. Where the guards sit back to back. One guard was watching me and the other prisoner to the left on the west side of the small room. The other guard was keeping her eye on the two enslaved men to the east. There was a door on the south wall of the room. This is the door I plan to use as soon as some asshole miscalculates exactly how dangerous and mad I am. And I am thoroughly pissed off to be in this position; headed back to slam.

    When the skiff we used to get off that hell rock had docked on a sub station the hatch had opened to reveal 7-armed guards and one mercenary, intent on gaining credits for my battered and beaten hide.
Maybe the fact that I was so mentally and physically exhausted was the reason they took me without a fight. I can recall thinking Jack and Imam would get hit in the crossfire of their weapons. But that couldn’t be the reason I just let them take me. As they injected the tranquilizers I heard Jack protesting in tears that I was not Richard Riddick. Imam had even stood up and boldly told them I was not the man who they believed me to be. The Holy man stood and lied. The tears and archaic curses were to no avail. Well, what’s the saying? No good deed goes unpunished.
 
   So here I sit, wondering why in the hell I went back for them. Why I let that little waif make me feel the need to go back. I stand and yank hard on my chains, a sudden burst of anger, or is it hurt, fueling me. Not for me Carolyn, You did not die for me. You died for the man you thought I was, or you wanted me to be. But it wasn’t for me. Then with the anger fueling me I give one last hard jerk on the chains that will not budge.

    The guard facing me tells me to sit, He sounds like a child, twenty-three tops. I stand and wait. What will he do, how will he react to his authority being questioned. Seconds tick by they seem like minutes. I hear him slide off the bench and his footsteps walk right up to me. I can imagine the firm set of his jaw, and the anger in his eyes. I wait to hear his spring coil leave its holster; I wait for the sharp jabbing pain to my head or ribs. And I keep waiting.

    He is just standing not a foot away from me. I can smell the water he just drank on his cool breath, it makes my stomach turn and my throat tighten. Hunger and thirst threaten to turn my guts inside out. He is staring at me, boldly; they are always bold to look at me when I have on a blindfold.

    Johns is the only man who ever had the guts to size me up while I looked at him. My stomach turns again, from anger? From hurt? For what! Johns? That damned planet fucked up my way of thinking. I dreamed of killing Johns hundreds of times in my cell at slam. But for some reason I could never bring myself to finish him off. I had plenty of chances; he knew I didn’t miss the sweet spot. I never miss. I let him live then. But then I let those monsters on the planet do him for me. I guess I never thought they would take him. If he had not have loaded that red shell; he would have made it off the rock too. I already miss the fucker. The years of cat and mouse had turned him into my only friend.

    This brave little guard then places his hand on my chest and nudges me while whispering, “Please sit down Mr. Riddick” I have to admit, this was not the reaction I expected. I stand my ground and the nudge turns into a little push. “Please sit down, Sir,” He is still whispering but the tone had changed. More commanding than his first request, yet it sounded almost pleading. I lean forward as much as the chains would allow. Merely an inch from his face, I could feel his body heat. He wasn’t as small as I first made him; he was as tall as me. And from the feel of his presence, he seemed strong. I am guessing he has a build like Johns. Suddenly I am exhausted again. His hand is still gently but firmly pushing me down. “Please” He says, His voice trembles. Is it fear; had my exploration into his personal space shook him that bad? I allow him to push me back into a seated position, and I drop my head. I am drained and growing tired of this game. The kid is no match for me. If invading his space rattles him, I can take him out easy enough.

     I hear the other guard stand, she tells the kid she is going to commissary for grub. The kid, who had still not moved an inch, hummed an acknowledgment at her.

    He is still staring at me. I start to wonder if he was just holding his anger in check till the spectator left, and I may still get my head cracked open. Raising my head so I would be looking at him if I could see, I wait. In a tiny voice the kid asks “are you thirsty?” I tilt my head, I am not sure he is talking to me, and try to voice this with body language. I hope he is. It feels like he is still looking at me. I may be able to get this kid to make a rookie mistake. A little mistake is all I need.

    I feel him move forward even before his fingers rest lightly on my forearm.

“Are you thirsty Mr. Riddick?” he whispered.   I stay still for a second. Then give him an affirmative nod; slowly: I do not need to scare the kid now. He lifts his hand off my arm and to the bolt on the bit. He starts to unlatch it and stops. I hold perfectly still. I am afraid if I even breath the kid will bolt right out the door. His knee is touching mine and he leans into me his mouth so close to my ear I can feel his lips touching the tiny hairs.

He whispers softly in a singsong sweet voice “if I take this bit out, you wouldn’t bite me would you? You are not the kind to bite the hand that feeds you? Are you?”

    I resist the urge to head butt him right in the fucking nose and shake my head no, slowly. Which made his mouth press into my check. His lips touching my check he whispered, “I believe you”

    He takes the bit out, and I almost moan. It feels so good to have that thing out of my mouth. Then I feel him pressing his container of water to my lips. The first mouthful makes my stomach turn in on its self; a cramp almost takes my breath away.  I of course show no sign to the kid. You never show any weakness to potential enemies.  I swallowed mouthful after mouthful until he took it away.

    “You don’t want to drink too much, it may make you sick” He paused, and almost like an after thought added,

“And I am not cleaning up any more of your messes.” He moved away from me over to the bench in the center of the room. Had I been sick while drugged up? I concentrated on myself; I am no longer wearing the clothes I had on when they first got me. I do not have a shirt on at all, and the pants are soft cotton, with a drawstring waist and there are no undergarments. I have on socks and no shoes. I lean back and rub my head against the metal of the wall behind me. Some one had shaved me recently; rubbing my chin against my shoulder I noticed no stubble there either.

    Well, it’s time to figure out how to work the kid, Let the games begin.

    “Did you clean me up?” I sounded like I had gargled with gravel. I fight back the impulse to clear my throat and try again.

“Yes, You were a mess, you have been sleeping about three days now. I was starting to worry I gave you too many tranquilizers.” He sounded almost cordial. I know he is waiting for a thank you. And the fucker will just have to keep waiting.

“What did you do with my goggles?” That sounded better, still low but not so much gravel.

“They are here on the bench. Would you like them?” He sounded sincere. It was worth a shot.

“Yes” and as an after thought I added “please”

    He chuckled to himself softly, “that must have hurt” his voice wavered with his laughter and it pissed me off. I worked hard to not clench my teeth or fists. I did not want to scare him off now. He moved towards me, standing between my legs he pushed a finger between the blindfold and my temple. “Lights full dim,” He said in a loud voice. Not the same voice that the kid had used on me, but a voice that rang of power and self-assurance.

He lifted the blindfold off and even the dim lights hurt me for a second I blinked trying to get acclimated to the light. He backed up a step or two. To his credit studied me just as audaciously as I evaluated him.

    He was about 6 foot tall, with a lean, almost skinny, but powerful build. I could take him easy in a fight of strength, but his stance told me he knew how to fight, he wasn’t posturing, just standing there; but his body whispered of the same self assurance I had heard in his voice a second ago.  He had long blonde hair, past his shoulders. The long hair means he does not fight on a regular basis, no one who fights much keeps their hair that long. So he knows how to fight, he just doesn’t do it much. The feature that jumped out the most were those aqua blue eyes framed by dark lashes that made them seem even bluer. His face was almost girlish, and he had thick full lips, that looked red. The bottom lip looked swollen, like he had been chewing on it. As I watched him look me up and down, I felt the need to stand. My instinct to prove dominance was almost overwhelming. I manage to push it aside and remained seated. He looked me square in the eye and held my stare for a few long seconds before looking at his feet. He seemed to pale, and started shifting his weight from one foot to the other. I knew I was losing him. I had to do something fast.

    “What’s your name kid?” I tried to sound friendly. He looked up and into my eyes, his breath seemed to catch, then he whispered “Michael”   “Michael” I repeated.  I thought I saw his legs shake, like he was going to pass out. But he was still looking at my eyes. The mirror effect sometimes throws people. “Are you all right Michael?” I repeated his name again. A trick I learned from every psychologist I was forced to speak too over the years. The more they use your name, the more comfortable, open, and responsive you are supposed to feel. It never worked on me, but this kid isn’t me.

    “Yep, I am fine.” He backed up and sat on the bench, never taking his eyes off me. He is keeping my gaze. I study him for a long moment before licking my lips to speak again. His eyes went to my mouth and the kid visible froze he did not take a breath for a full minute, then his color deepened to a shade I couldn’t identify. He dropped his stare to the bench beside him there was a container of some kind soft mushy food he had been eating earlier. He picked it up and poked at it with the spoon. He slowly worked up enough courage to look at me again.

 “Are you hungry?” the strong voice was back.

“Yes, Michael, I am.” I tried again to sound affable. To his measure he stood up walked over to me, kneeled down between my feet and offered me a spoonful of whatever that mush was. His hand was shaking slightly, but he was full of bravado.

Unsure of his motives, I sniff the food first.  If they drugged me once they might do it again.  My eyes study his with a hint of suspicion.  With a teasing glint, he smiles and takes a bite himself.

“Feel better?  I wouldn’t drug myself.”  The hand dips back into the container and retrieves another small bite of the food.  He cautiously extends his hand towards me and after licking my lips again, I obediently open my mouth.

The explosion of salt on my deprived taste buds is a shock.  I force my mouth to work quickly, smoothing the cold stew and swallowing quickly.  It lands on my empty stomach and I swear I can almost hear the echo in my head.  Willing my face to remain impassive, I look at Michael.

“More?”

His arched brow nearly brought a growl of rage from deep inside me.  Resigning myself to this fate for the moment I add to my previous statement with a terse, “Please.”

The tremble is gone from his hand as he continues to spoon-feed me several small bites.  He pauses only when my stomach makes it presence heard with a loud rumble.

“Careful.  I told you I’m not cleaning up any more messes.  Are you gonna be sick?  Tell me now.”

There is that commanding voice again.  All business.  No fear.  I shake my head no, a jerky movement that doesn’t force me to stop looking at his eyes or the bowl in his hands.  I nearly sigh aloud when he collects another bite for me and brings it to my mouth.  As I swallow it down, my suspicion returns and I decide to find out more about my supposed Good Samaritan.

“Can you tell me why you’re doing this, Michael?  Why I seem to be getting special treatment?”  I flick my eyes over to the other inmates, still bound and gagged with their bits before returning to stare at him.

There is a coolness in his eyes as he looks back at me.  I almost have to wonder who’s fucking with who here.  Then I see him break the stare first.  Color suffuses his cheeks as it creeps upwards from his neck.  Good.  I’m still in control.  I’m getting to him.

“What makes you think you’re getting special treatment?”  The comment was meant to sound harsh, but the kid doesn’t pull it off.  I can hear the waver in his voice.  Just like I saw the tremble of his hand.  I imagine if I strained hard enough I could hear his heart pounding in his chest.  But why?  Is he afraid of me?  He should be.  And maybe he knows that.

I managed to keep the smirk of satisfaction off my face, but I can’t hide it in my eyes.  As I arch my brow, I lick my lips again.  Satisfaction does taste so much better than the stew.

“Well I don’t see you feeding the rest of the prisoners like this.  Am I the first?  Or were you just saving the best to last, Michael?”

As I say the last line, my voice drops to pitch I normally save for the women.  They seem to enjoy the menacing threat I pose and to my immense pleasure, it appears that Michael does as well.  The blush deepens a bit, and the tremble is back in his hand.  But when I search his eyes, I’m a bit surprised by the control is see there.

“I guess you’re full if you feel the need to talk so much Mr. Riddick.  Perhaps I should throw the rest of this away and replace your bit?”

My game is suddenly taken away from me.  He’s serious.  I’ve pushed to far and he’s going to take away this tiny bit of freedom.  I drop the teasing pretense from my face and school my features into one of stoic indifference.  My lips are a tight line of rage as I clam up and wait for him to replace the bit.

I watch as he studies me.  When his hand comes up near my head, I jerk away, prepared to struggle what little I can if he insists on replacing the bit.  His smirk and soothing tone still my movements as he whispers to me again, coaxing as you would a small child.

“Relax.  A little more then?  C’mon.  You haven’t eaten in days.”

I nod and begrudgingly open my mouth again.  I’m careful not to open to widely.  Johns used that trick before.  Luring me with food or water only to shove the hard metal between my teeth with such force I was sure something was broken.  As the proffered spoon nears, I lower my head slightly to accept the peace offering.  A stalemate.  We are at an impasse.  I know that I can’t push without him pushing back.  It’s refreshing, if that makes sense.  Perhaps the cat and mouse games will continue with a new cat.
My barely open mouth doesn’t catch all of the food.  I struggle to clean the smeared mess off my mouth.  Unfortunately that only serves to force it further out of reach and I growl in frustration.

He shakes his head at me and smiles, moving back to the bench and collecting something to wipe at my face.  I hold still as he gently wipes over my lips and chin until all evidence of the accident is removed.  He kneels back down in front of me, tossing the napkin aside and stirring at the food.

“Guess maybe you should open a little wider next time, huh?”

There is no admonishment in his tone.  He neither teases nor mocks me.  He’s simply stating fact.  I almost wonder how it is that someone who deals with criminals on this up close and personal basis can retain such a humanity about them.  Is this what Carolyn meant?

He feeds me a few more spoonfuls as the thought of Carolyn brings other images to mind.  What of Jack? The Holy Man?  Were my companions imprisoned for trying to help me?  Were they even given a chance to explain?  Indecision and uncertainty about this new found friend, and I use the term loosely, causes me to hesitate.  Finally I decide to bite the bullet.

“What happened to the g-.”  The word is nearly out of my mouth and I pause.  Jack was still posing as a boy when we landed at the station.  No point in screwing things up for the kid as well.

“The people I was with.  Where are they, Michael?”

His hand stops it’s movement towards my mouth and he dumps the food back in the bowl before standing.  I try to read his expressions but he’s getting better at hiding them.  I can see nothing that tells me either way if I have crossed the line again.

His lithe form stands gracefully and he moves back towards to bench without saying a word.  He collects the water again and approaches me with a leveled gaze.

“They were detained for a while.  The young boy, Jack I believe?  He was quite interesting, once we cleaned him up.  But to answer your question, they are alive.  For now.”

When I see the taunting in his eyes, I snap.  I lunge to my feet and strain against the restraints.  The chains rattle and echo in the room and it startles him into dropping the water with a thunk.  I can feel the metal biting into my skin and start to bleed.  The wound on my leg sends fire along my nerves at it reopens but I don’t care.  I begin to growl and curse, wanting nothing more that to tear him apart for hurting Jack and for subjecting them to all manner of unspeakable torment.  She was only a child.  And the Holy Man? Imam was only a pilgrim on a search for his God.  After the time spent on that planet the last thing either of them needed was to be challenged by our supposed rescuers.  And they call me an animal!

“BASTARD!  I’ll kill you!  So help me if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll fucking kill you for hurting them!”

The look on Michael’s face was not what I expected.  My anger faltered briefly as instead of running to call for more guards, he approached me.  He seemed…relieved?  Satisfied?  As if he’s found the answer he was looking for in my rage.

“Mr. Riddick, you need to sit down.  They aren’t hurt.  They aren’t even being held against their will.  Jack and Imam are here willingly and are pleading your case to any sympathetic ear they can find.  A tantrum now will only hinder their efforts.  Don’t ruin the chance they’re trying to get for you.  Please.  Sit down.  You’re leg must be killing you, and it looks like you’ve re-opened the wound.”

I ceased my struggles and let him approach.  I did not sit down, however.  I wanted him closer.  Closer so I could see his eyes and determine if he was really telling me the truth or if this master manipulator was toying with me again.  What I found there was brutal honesty.  And yet still I stood my ground waiting for his next move.

His next move was to place his warm hands against chest and gently push me back.  The tenderness stunned me and for once I stopped looking at my enemy and looked at where he touched me.  The paleness of his skin against the deep bronze of my own seemed strange.  Surreal almost.  And with his blonde hair and blue eyes, he’s so much like Carolyn.  I feel myself falling as my injured leg starts to give way and then those hands move to support me.  Gentle but insistent.  Is this man really a merc?

He is closer to me now.  With one arm wrapped half way around me to help support my weight, he’s practically leaning against me.  Well, I’m leaning against him.  I struggle to stand on my own and pull away from him.  It’s not that I hate the contact, but I despise showing weakness to an enemy and this man, Michael, is still my enemy.

“Just hang on, Mr. Riddick.  Let me get these off so I can check the damage.  Then you can sit down while I do the exam, okay?”

I can only nod and grit my teeth against the pain.  My eyes travel to the growing red stain on my upper thigh and I clamp down on a hiss as he drags the material down past my hips and over the jagged flesh.  As soon as the material clears the wound, my strength fails and despite his efforts to ease me gently back into the seat, I collapse with a loud groan.

“Nnnnhhhhh.  Fuck.”

“Careful or you’re gonna make it worse.  Now sit tight.”

My head swam slightly from the pain but I shook it off and focused on him.  I was even grateful when he pushed himself to his feet using the floor and not my lower body.  It had been a conscious move on his part not to cause more pain and once I again I was left staring at him, wondering just who the hell this Michael really was.

He walked quickly to a corner of the room and retrieved a medical kit of some kind.  As he approached me I saw him pause and change direction before setting the kit down and opening it on the bench.  Smart.  He didn’t bring it to me in case I did manage to reach out and use something inside the kit as a weapon.  Maybe I wasn’t giving Michael enough credit after all.

He approached with the remaining water from the bottle on the floor, clean bandages and tape.  He also carried what looked like some sort of antiseptic in a tiny bottle and as he kneeled he arranged these carefully out of my reach.  Then suddenly the blush was back.  It peeked out around the edge of his collar and stole quickly up to the tips of his ears.  My forehead crinkled in puzzlement before I glanced down and realized just what had gotten his attention.

As if aware of the audience it held, my cock began to twitch despite the pain.  There’s just something about knowing that he’s watching that makes it impossible for me to will the erection away.  I cough slightly, more to get his attention than to clear my throat and he jerks his eyes away from me and looks up into my eyes.

“Everything okay?”

The quiver in his voice is back.  And the blush is deeper now the he knows I’ve caught him staring.   At my nod he goes back to his work, delicately long fingers pressing at the wound, dabbing gently at the flowing blood to try and determine the source.  When he finds the tear that is bleeding the worst, he looks up at me again and sighs.

“This is probably gonna hurt like hell.”

Then suddenly the gentle touch becomes brutal as the next dab of the cloth sends a shooting pain straight up the leg to my spine and brain where it reverberates and then coils like fire with the meager meal and water.  On reflex, my leg jerks violently, nearly catching him in the chest and sending him sprawling.

He stumbles to move out of the way and then those hands brush across me.  As if in slow motion, I replay the touch over in my mind.  Did he really do that?  Yes.  That was his hand.  And yes, it did brush across my cock.  The body part in question throbs with the memory and twitches again even as Michael scrambles to his feet and chuckles.

“Guess I should have expected that, huh?  Again?”

“Yeah,” I reply with a raspy voice and close my eyes to brace for the fire again.

Then I feel those cool fingers grip my hip, holding me in place firmly as the other hand applies more of the cursed antiseptic.  Amazingly I don’t focus on the pain this time.  Instead my focus lies once again on the contrast in our skin tones and the feel of his hands on me.

Apparently my lack of reaction drew his attention and when I manage to tear my eyes away from where he’s holding me, I find myself once again staring deep into the aqua blue of his eyes.

I lean back away from him and take a deep breath.  My eyes never leave his face even though my brain knows that his hand still holds it’s same purchase point on my hip.  I nearly smile when I feel the hand flex and the fingers dig in slightly.  Then he’s looking away and finishing with the care of my leg.  His touch is no less gentle or delicate but it is sparing and quick.  A mere flutter against my skin as he washes away the dried blood and dresses the wound, quickly taping it in place and standing finally.

My face reveals nothing.  A stone statue is more expressive than I am as I watch him watching me.  Then he quirks an eyebrow and speaks.

“You prefer to stay with your pants around your ankles or are you gonna stand up?”

I tilt my head and shake it slightly in the negative.

“Nah.  It doesn’t bother me.  Leg feels better this way.  Unless it bothers you, Michael?”

I arch a brow at him in a challenge.  I almost want him to say that it bothers him.  To know that I have even more power over him than even he’s willing to admit.  And at the same time I want him to meet this challenge and perhaps take a step further.  Yes, this cat and mouse game is far more fun.  But who is the hunter and who is the prey now?
“I don’t want to put those pants back on you, Mr. Riddick.”

His voice is low and even.  The lack of tremble gives me pause but I smile at the victory despite myself.  I watch as his eyes roam over my nearly naked body.  With hunger?  Appreciation?  Desire?  The silence is nearly stifling as he peruses my body at his leisure then just as quickly it passes and he turns to walk towards the door, calling back over his shoulder.

“Those pants are dirty.  I’ll go get you some clean ones.”

With his deadpanned reply I can feel my ego deflate dramatically and I school my face again.  No way am I giving up this game.  It’s mine and I’ll play to the bitter end.  And even if Michael is a better player than Johns, I’ll still win.

The door opens before he can reach it and another man enters.  I watch as Michael stiffens and scowls at this man’s intrusion and my body instantly tenses.  The new guard is followed by another man and the three of them huddle at the door in conference, speaking in hushed whispers.  I strain my ears and manage to catch fragments of what is said.

“They’re ready for them down at the loading dock.  The ship will be leaving within the hour and they want to make sure these monsters are all locked up tight before the run their final checks.”

“I’m not finished with two of them.  But you can take those two down.  They’ve been cleaned up and fed.  They’re ready for transport.”

I watched Michael glance again in my direction as he pointed out my other roommates across the room.  The first man, the one with the scar glares in my direction before shaking his head.

“They sent Lt. Devin and I to collect them all, Michael.”

He walked past the prisoner next to me and inhaled deeply, a look of disgust crossing his hideously disfigured face.

“Guess this one doesn’t need any thing done now.  He’s dried.  Get him ready and let’s go.”

I could hear the sneer in his words and jerked the chains in response.  This drew all three pairs of eyes to me and Michael sent me a warning glare.

“Mr. Riddick isn’t ready.  He’s still in need of medical attention.  The wound on his leg re-opened and he needs some sutures and clean clothes.  You can take those two, Koren and then send Debbie back so that I can go fetch what I need for Mr. Riddick.”

I saw Lt. Devin move to one of the other prisoners and begin adjusting the chains so that the prisoner could walk but not run.  A metal collar was snapped around the man’s neck and the guard withdrew a small stunning device before removing the last of the restraints that held the man to the chair.  He tugged lightly as a signal for the man to stand and escorted the prisoner over to where Michael and this Koren were still arguing.

“Only these three go on the transport.  A merc is coming to escort Mr. Riddick back to Slam.  They were adamant about that.  And I refuse to turn over this other prisoner until he’s been properly cared for.  That’s final.”

The aggressiveness was back in his stance now as Michael stood toe to toe with Koren.  Lt. Devin simply stood back and watched, knowing a challenge to authority when he saw it and wisely holding his tongue.

“Why do you need Debbie?  I’m here.  Why don’t you take the other prisoner down on your way to get the supplies.  We’ll be fine won’t we boys?”

His gaze locked with mine and I jerked against the chains once more, trying to signal my distrust of this man to Michael.  Either he didn’t care or didn’t feel like arguing because he avoided acknowledging me and sighed.

“Fine.  But if you harm them I’ll report it the port authorities.  We’re not their judge and jury Koren.  No vigilante justice, do you understand?”

“Please, Michael.  Like I would ever do something like that?”

His sticky sweet tone didn’t fool me, but Michael simply nodded and moved to release the other prisoner across from me.  When he had adjusted the chains the way Lt. Devin had earlier on the other prisoner, Michael led the man towards to door and paused briefly to hiss a final warning at Koren.

“Not a scratch, Koren.  Or it’s your job…and your ass.”

Koren gave a final nod and then Michael left with the other guard.  I was alone was my new nemesis.  I held my head high and followed his movements constantly.  He surveyed the items scattered around me and on the bench in the middle of the room.  He eyed the bit that hung near me and smiled, making the scar across his right eye curve into a sick sort of lop-sided smile.  The eye itself was nearly transparent.  Useless I imagine, having been destroyed by whatever caused the wound that blemished his face.  Somehow I knew he’d deserved that scar.

He shook his head and walked closer; making circles around me, letting his eyes rape my body.  Occasionally he’d step closer and I’d tense, rattling the chains and growling at warning that said “Stay away”.  Finally, he stopped behind me and reached out to pat my head and massage the skin there.

“Naked and in chains.  Hmmmmmm…You think me fucking you would leave a scratch?  After all, if I leave a scratch on you, it’s my ass.”

He chuckled when I jerked my head away from his touch and tried to grab at him.  The chains hindered the movement and I knew that if this mother fucker slipped just a little bit, he’d be my next victim.

I watched him move around me, slowly, until he was right in my face.  If I could have leaned one more inch forward I probably could have added a bite mark to the scar already adorning his dark features.  Then he drops to his knees and I narrow my eyes.  What is he up to?

“If you’re a good boy there’s no reason we can’t both enjoy this.”

I tense as his hand comes rest dangerously close to my wounded thigh but I don’t look away.  I can feel the hand creeping over the bandage and with an instinct I recognize as only one predator to another would, his seizes my weakness and presses his fingers under the gauze and against the gaping and still bleeding hole, urging me forward.

My growl of protest at his nearness becomes an outright howl and with the speed of a viper his hand lashes out, backhanding me.  My head rocks to the side and my tongue steals out, hoping for blood.  Any sign that he’s broken the skin and left a mark.  Sadly I find none but perhaps this can be used to my advantage.

“What do you think you’re boss is gonna say about you handling the merchandise, Koren?”

This only forced him to dig his hand into my injury harder while his free hand grabbed the bit and shoved it in my mouth when I opened it to scream.

“What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt me now will it?”

I jerked my head in protest even as my tongue fought against the metal to push it out of my mouth.  My only relief is that Koren withdrew his hand to lock the bit in place.  Finally I hear the definitive click and jerk free of his grasp, scowling as much as possible as he studies his now gagged captive.

I watch him lick his lips as he trails his hands down my chest, scraping at the nipples with his blunt nails.  I try to lean away from the touch but the position I’m in offers no retreat and I’m forced to sit through his pathetic and vicious attempts at arousing me.

Koren drags his hands roughly over my cock and again I try to adjust my position to escape him.  The hand is back on my thigh and I groan around the bit.  Painfully I feel the fingers penetrate the gaping flesh and tug my lower body forward.

“Be a good boy now.  I promise it won’t take long.”

The words slither over me and I have nothing left for my defense.  Angrily I let him guide me forward and watch with veiled horror as he moves to free his own erect cock.

I chance a glance at the door my eyes quickly snap back to Koren when I feel him begin to shift his position and prepare to fuck me.  So this is it.  Another indignity I’m forced to suffer and another name added to countless others that will one day pay in blood for the crimes they’ve committed against me.

I didn’t hear the door open which was rather slack on my part.  Koren was the sole focus of my attention and I missed the fact that Michael had re-entered the room.  It wasn’t until I saw Koren go flying across the room from the blow Michael inflicted that I realized he was there and he was going to help me, yet again.

“What the FUCK do you think you’re doing, Koren?”

Michael punctuated his name with a sharp kick to the man’s gut, which sent Koren sliding across the slick floor.  Michael’s blue eyes were cold, merciless as he launched himself at the huddled man on the floor.  Those hands that had been so gentle when cleaning my thigh was now grabbing at the man’s head and hauling him bodily off the floor only to fling him up against the wall and clench into iron-like fists as he pummeled Koren’s mid-section.

“Wanted to fuck an inmate, huh?  Is that about it Koren?  Couldn’t find anyone willing so you figured you’d take advantage of someone while their bound and gagged?  Well how would you like it if things were the other way around?”

I stared at Michael amazed by his rage.  His words barely registered until he said “other way around”.  Then the conversation had my undivided attention and I caught Michael glancing between myself and Koren with an evil twinkle in his flashing blue eyes.

“Yeah, that’s not a bad idea.  What do you say Mr. Riddick?  How would you like me to chain up Koren here and turn you lose on him.  I bet you’ve got some interesting things you’d like to do to him?”

I leapt to my feet and fought against the chains, the hope that Michael would actually follow through on this threat was already making the animal inside howl with approval.  With the bit in place I could only grunt and nod anxiously but I took serious pleasure in watching Michael repeatedly throw Koren against the wall and brutalize him with those lethal fists.

A blur to the right of my vision came flying between the two men and after a moment I realized that this was Lt. Devin.  He struggled to pull Michael away from the battered form of Koren and Michael finally relented and began to pace in small circles, shaking out his hands and panting out the remainder of his rage.

“That’s enough, Michael!  Jeezus H.!  What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that this asshole just bought himself a nice long term in slam if I’ve got any say, and that I was going to let Mr. Riddick here introduce him to the ways of the world that he’d encounter during his stay there.”

His knuckles were bleeding.  He was flexing them as the adrenaline rush tore through his body seeking an escape.  I knew that feeling well and watched as he began to slowly pull himself together.

“Get him out of here, Devin.  And the prisoner, too.  NOW!”

The lieutenant scrambled to release the other prisoner while Michael made quick work of chaining Koren.  I was finally forced to sit back down when my own fight-or-flight response passed.  My leg throbbed and my skin was growing cool as the fine sheen of sweat on my body dried in the slight air currents of the room.  I watched smugly as Koren was led away in chains by Lt. Devin and I was left alone with Michael.

I heard him draw a ragged breath and watched as he muttered curses under his breath too softly for me to hear.  Then he seemed to regain his earlier calm and approached me with his head down.  Almost as if he were ashamed or embarrassed by what had just happened.

I moaned around the bit to get his attention and his eyes snapped up to mine.  His smile was forced I could tell as he reached for the lock on the bit and carefully eased it out of my mouth.

“I’m sorry about that, Mr. Riddick.  I never should have left him in here to guard you.  Koren isn’t known for abiding by the rules.  I’ve just never caught him so openly disobeying me before now.”

I flex my jaw a few times and swallow rather thickly before trying to speak.  The sound is harsh and unclear and he quickly retrieves the fresh bottle of water and offers me some.  A few gulps and I feel that I can speak now but I’m transfixed by his eyes following a stray drop as it travels down my chin and throat, mingling with the beaded sweat to glide down my chest.

“Thanks, Michael.”  I pause a moment before adding, “For everything.”

There’s a genuine smile on his face now and the blush is back.  For the first time I offer a small smile in return.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner, Mr. Riddick.  Tell me…Koren…he didn’t…”

I watch him struggle with the words and merely blank out my expression even though I know what it is he is asking.  After stammering and swallowing he manages to ask me what he wants to know.

“What I mean is, did Koren...ill-use you?”

Part of me wanted to laugh at his choice of words, but the pain on his face makes me control the urge.  I lick my lips and shake my head slowly.  His face seems to melt into an expression of relief and I am intensely curious as to why he would even give a damn.

“No, Michael.  He didn’t.  You got here just in time.  Although I don’t really understand why you care.  I’ve been in slam before and believe me I’ve suffered much worse.”

He gave me a fierce look then, as if shocked at my lack of concern for my own well-being.  Or maybe it was that he is offended by my questioning his motives.  For whatever reason he moved away to retrieve the supplies I assume he dropped in his haste to pull Koren away from me and doesn’t speak.

When he returns, he crouches between my thighs again and then suddenly the delicate touch is back.  Now as I watch him skillfully remove the very bloody bandage I know that there is power to this man.  A dark side that I can recognize and respect.  A knowledge of how to hurt as well as to heal.  A rare gift to find in another human being and part of me relishes the fact that for once, that someone is on my side.

“I’m going to suture the wound closed now, Mr. Riddick.  I’ve got a local anesthetic for you, but it’s gonna sting and it’ll take me several times until I get the entire area numb.”

He doesn’t look up or wait for my consent to begin, just gently grips my bare hip again and begins to work, kneeling over me and carefully sliding the small needle beneath the skin at various intervals and injecting equal amounts of the medicine all around the area.  The burn is mild and compared to the antiseptic earlier, it barely causes me to wince. All too quickly the task is done and that hand is moved.  He uses both hands to ready the surgical silk and small needle.  The he bends over me again and begins to studiously stitch me up with a technique I can only assume he’s perfected over time and out of necessity.  With him this close I can feel his warm breath against my chilled skin.  Involuntary shivers travel over my body and I inhale deeply taking in the scent of Michael for the first time and picking it apart to keep my mind occupied.

The first image that comes to mind is that of an ocean.  The saltiness of the air that speaks of warm days spent on white beaches near water the color of his eyes.  Below that lies an earthiness that is musky and yet clean.  Like pine and spring and the forest after a storm.  I’ve seen these things as I fled one merc or another. I still remember these sights and smells.  They’ve kept me company through many a lonely night.

At some point I close my eyes so I can visualize these memories more clearly and my mind delves deeper into the components of Michael’s scent.  Maybe it’s the feel of his breath or maybe it’s just the pain that makes me feel warm all over, but I swear that I can smell the sun on him.  Any sun.  All the suns.  It’s indescribable.  I sigh aloud and instinctively reach out my hand to touch him and see if maybe he is the sun and I’ll get burned.

The feel of his hair sliding between my rough hands is like nothing I’ve known.  I’ve felt silk on women.  I’ve brushed my hands over some of the finest material you can imagine. It wraps around my fingers and slides free before I can even grasp it.  It’s like trying to catch an elusive butterfly.  My hand slips to caress his face and while I can feel the strength there, it too is remarkably soft.  He is young and his skin is unblemished by lines or creases that come with the worries of old age.  And I know after having spent several long moments staring in his eyes that he is intelligent.  He has played my game and survived.  He is an equal and in this moment I realize that I respect him.  For the powerful man that he is and for the formidable opponent he has and could present in the future.

“Am I hurting you, Mr. Riddick?  I can give you some more of the local if this bothering you.”

I open my eyes to find him staring at me with concern.  He looks to move away and my hand tightens, holding him close and preventing him from running away.  No more.  This ends now.

“You didn’t answer me earlier, Michael.  Why do you care what happens to me?”

Again with the blush.  Only this time I see it for what it is.  Desire.  Masked and well hidden but it’s there and it’s there for me.  I move my hand to tilt his head up so I can look into his face again.  I don’t even allow him the comfort of looking away now.  I need to hear why this man desires me.

“Maybe I don’t think you should be treated like an animal just because some people seem to think you are one.”

Smart answer.  But he’s still avoiding the issue.  Dancing around it much like Johns would whenever things got too difficult.

“Do you think I’m an animal, Michael?”

I watch his adam’s apple bob nervously as he swallows.  I’m still holding his chin but his eyes flick downward and when confronted with my nakedness again, he quickly averts his eyes and looks into mine.

“No, Mr. Riddick.  You’re not an animal.  An animal would have left that little girl and that man to die on that planet.  You’re a man.  A brave man who risked his life to save two strangers from some creatures that came out when it got dark down there.”

“But you have no vested interest in me, Michael.  I understand that Jack and Imam might be grateful to me for helping them survive.  But you still haven’t told me why you care.”

He smiles at me and covers my hand with his as he speaks.  I nearly miss the words because I’m drawn to where his hand is touching me.  I never realized how much I missed actual human contact.

“Because I can.”

He surprises me by pulling away and before I can protest he removes the chains holding my feet apart and then without hesitation he moved to release the chains binding my hands.  As they clatter to the floor unheeded, I look at Michael searching for signs that this is yet another mind game and sigh when I all I find is the same honesty and openness he’s shown all along.

“Why?”

It’s all I can say at the moment.  But I don’t let the moment pass without savoring this temporary reprieve and rhythmically massage at the kinked muscles and bruises around my wrists and ankles.  He was right about the early tantrum.  It only hurt me.

“I won’t do what Koren did, again.  I won’t take advantage of man who’s chained and helpless.”

Again?  The word sends a flurry of emotions through me and I stop what I’m doing to question him further.

“What do you mean “again”?  You haven’t taken advantage of me, Michael.”

He pours his attention to quickly finishing up the stitches before he answers me.  Then once the leg has been bandaged and taped, he hands me the clean pants and speaks.

“Oh but you see I did, Mr. Riddick.  Only what I did was worse because you weren’t even conscious.  While the other guard, Debbie, and I were cleaning you up…”

His voice trails off and my mind struggles for those first early moments of my awakening.  There are images, sensations, different smells and sounds and yet they all seem familiar.  I fight to put the pieces together in some logical order but to no avail.  I turn my eyes to him again and in his face I now see shame.  Shame for what I can only wonder until he decides to share this with me.

“What?  Tell me, Michael.”

The blush got deeper even as his voice dropped to a bare whisper.

“Let’s just say that you became a rather life-sized prop in a fantasy and leave it at that.  You weren’t ill-used or really molested.  But you were taken advantage of without your knowledge and that, in my mind, makes it very wrong.  I’ll leave it to your discretion who you report the incident to.”

If his words weren’t enough to shock me, Michael’s next action was.  He turned his back on me.  Me.  An unrestrained convict and murderer.  And this man had just turned his back on me.  My mind replayed his words over and over and several things begged for attention.  Not molested or ill-used, but a prop?  And fantasy?  Debbie’s?  Or his?  Taking a chance I bet everything I had on my next statement.

“Did you enjoy it?”

He turned to face me with a wry grin and laughed.

“Well, now that’s the kicker, isn’t it?  I couldn’t really enjoy it.  See it all happened totally by accident.  I slipped on some water, fell, landed with your dick in my mouth but hey!  Stupid me had given you enough drugs to knock out a small army and you couldn’t get it up.  Guess it just wasn’t my day, huh?”

Despite myself I cracked a smile at the joke.  So he was trying to break the tension.  After all his kindness I cut him some slack and waited for the real story.

“That so?”

He sobered then and looked at the floor, hand fumbling with the medical supplies as he replaced them in the kit.  When he had everything back as it should be, he snapped it closed and looked me straight in the eyes, his voice returning to that endearing tremble yet again.

“It was just kiss.  A kiss while I was in your lap naked, but I only kissed you.  Debbie touched your chest and I just kissed you.”

I watched him trudge across the room to replace the med kit in the locker and come back to settle on the bench.  He twisted the cap off the bottle of the water and then took a few long drinks while I just sat there thinking.

“So you jerked yourself off while sitting in my lap, is that it?”

The color rose in his cheeks but he shook his head and finished his story.

“Nah.  Blow job.  Debbie helped cause god knows I’m not that flexible.  And I’m sorry, Mr. Riddick.  It may cost me my career and my post here.  But I’ll be damned if I’d change it.”

I had to give it to him, in the face of what he stood to lose if I reported him, not that anyone would care or believe me, his words held a lot of weight with me.  Did he really desire me that much?  And was his blush earlier at my hard on merely because of the memory of the things he’d done?  Or did he blush because he wanted more?

“Not even if you could have more?”

I laughed outright when he sprayed the mouthful of water across the room.  As he coughed and spluttered through his shock, I tested my newly stitched leg and stood.  Wearing a pair of socks and nothing else, I stood up and took the few steps necessary to place me in front of Michael.

“Well?”

He blinked those clear blue pools and stared up at me before shaking his head.

“You can’t be serious.”

I dropped the pants on the bench next to him and provided him with a totally unhindered view of my semi-erect cock.  I crossed my hands behind my back and arched one eyebrow at him, showing him how unashamed I was and hoping to hell I was proving how serious I was.  This wasn’t an offer extended to many.  And if rejected, it wouldn’t be offered again.

“Well I’m the only one of the two of us really dressed, or rather UN-dressed for the occasion.  You tell me who’s serious and who isn’t.”

Whatever reaction I expected to my offer, his silent perusal of me was not at the top of the list.  His face seemed to soften and the tension edged away to be replaced with something more.  Ah, yes.  There it is.  The desire is back.  And so is his cat-like grace.  He stands and leans in close against me and out of reflex I pull the hurt leg back to keep it out of direct contact from him.  My eyes study him and rest on the now clearly defined bulge in his pants before traveling further up to rest on those lips.  A small pink tongue darts out to wet them and I find myself mimicking the movement.  Then the cold water bottle is pressed into my hand and I blink before looking in his eyes.

“Then have a seat, Mr. Riddick.  Let’s see if we can take care of that problem.”

As I settled down carefully on the bench, Michael went back to the door and threw several interior locks.  At my questioning look he simply said, “Privacy” and crossed the room back to me.  His hands were busy on the short journey, releasing the buttons on his outer jacket and letting it slide to the floor.  I could see instantly that this man I had once thought of as an easy target kept his strength hidden beneath the bulk of his clothes.  The tight gray shirt clung to the rounded shoulders and flowed with the lines of his chest and back.  I watched those agile fingers make quick work of the laces on his boots and slip his foot free before placing the other on the bench next to me and repeating the action.  My gaze crept up the well-muscled thigh and I smiled as my eyes locked with his and all to soon he was done with the boots and stepping back out to the middle of the floor in front of me.

His face wasn’t arrogant as he stood still under my gaze.  Nor did he seem awkward or uncomfortable by my blatant observation.  He seemed, at peace.  At ease in his own skin for maybe the first time since I’d laid eyes on him maybe an hour before.  His lips curl into a small smile as his hands reach for the hem of his shirt and with a fluid movement he pulls the material up.  I can’t see his face but the beauty of his body blinds me.  His skin isn’t as dark as mine, but it’s tanned to the color of warm honey.  The muscles I knew lay hidden under his clothes now ripple in front of my eyes and I gasp despite myself.  I’ve seen women strip for money but nothing was ever as innocently as erotic as this strong young man casually removing his clothes for me in much the same way as one would simply undress before a mirror.  It’s almost as if he’s practiced the skill but yet somehow I know he hasn’t.  And that makes it that much more appealing.

When he pulls the shirt over his head, those silken strands of blonde are rumpled and askew.  He looks as if he’s been thoroughly fucked and just woke up from a brief nap.  It’s a delicious sight and my semi-erection becomes a full-blown hard on when I admit that in a matter of minutes, my friend Michael will be thoroughly fucked by yours truly.  I lick my lips and groan softly as his nipples harden into dusky peaks before my eyes.  Whether it’s from the breeze in the room, or the fact that I’m watching I don’t know.  I’m surveying his hands trailing down that slim stomach to the beginning of a faint treasure trail.  I growl and flick my eyes up to his and nod.  With a smile of understanding, his hands trip the button free and ever so slowly the zipper is eased down.

It seems he dressed me the way he dresses himself.  There is nothing barring my view from his equally hard cock and it springs free as soon as the zipper is all the way down.  Another quick glance at his face and I can see the look of relief ghost over his features.  He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles it gently.  When I glance back down at his hands, I see they are busy stroking his erection and I growl as my own throbs in sympathy, demanding equal attention.  I comply and wrap my hand around it firmly, squeezing before massaging the entire length with several long strokes.  It feels wonderful to enjoy this simple pleasure, but I want more and I’m growing impatient.

“Hurry, Michael.”

My voice is heavy and thick with the frustration and desire to possess this man.  He smiles and nods before quickly shoving his pants down over those powerful thighs and kicking free of the material.  I can see where he stores that grace I’ve spoken of.  The tapered legs are the final complimenting feature to his physique.  He is spare, not an ounce of extra weight anywhere.  And now, as he stands before me, naked, erect, blushing and proud, he is the most beautiful sight I’ve seen in my life.

“Now come here, Michael.”

I soften my voice to a whisper and feel my pulse quicken as he comes towards me, his hand straying to that very insistent and throbbing part of himself to stroke and soothe the edge of this impending event.  When he gets closer I can see the glistening tip beaded with the first drops of precum.  Then finally he’s within reach and I extend my hand to where his is wrapped around his cock and replace his hand with my own.  My eyes float between watching my hand stroke him and watching his face transform in various expression of pleasure.  Unable to resist any longer, I trace a single digit over the weeping head, collecting the moisture there and bringing it to my mouth for taste.  His eyes lock with mine as I swirl my tongue around my finger, savoring the taste and moaning softly.

“Mr. Riddick…”

I shake my head to stop his words.  The time for formality is over.
“Just Riddick, Michael.  Call me Riddick.”

He’s panting now, the sound is harsh and loud in the space between us and I can tell that he’s wondering how this will work, how it will play out.

“Riddick, I…”

“Relax, Michael. What do you want?”

“You, Riddick.”

The breathless answer makes my cock twitch again and I nod.

“Then come closer.  Let me help you with this.”

I flex my hand around him and he steps closer between my thighs and I begin to stroke him in earnest.  I use just the pressure and rhythm I would like, lingering at the base and shaft.  When more beads of precum appear on the head, I use my free hand to swipe the moisture and snake my hand around him to probe at the hidden opening that will increase his pleasure.  I fight to ignore my own near painful hardness and focus on the tiny sounds he’s making.  He tenses slightly when I rub my slicked finger around the edge and he finally releases an all out moan when I push the tip inside.  I coax him softly with my hands and voice.

“That’s it, Michael.  Feel it.  I’ll give you what you want.  Just feel it.”

His hands grip at my shoulders and he throws his head back, wallowing in the pure sensation my touch brings out in his body.  He is breathing faster and rocking his hips in time with my thrusts into his body.  I can feel my finger slowly working him open in preparation for the next step and I increase the length of my strokes on his cock to graze over the swollen head.  The drops have become a steady oozing of pearl essence.  With each upstroke more and more coats my palm, slicking the way down and easing the friction to a delicious slide.  When I sense the moment is fast approaching for him, I double the speed and almost instantly he tries to double over, his own hands going to still mine and capturing the precious seed that will ease my entry to his body.  I smile in satisfaction at being able to him give him this release and use my hands to steady his now trembling body.

A few deep breaths later and he looks up at me and smiles.  His eyes dart to my still un-relieved hard on, and those wicked slick hands move to stroke me.  I focus on his face as he takes me in hand and familiarizes himself with the length and size of my cock.  That pouty lower lip is between his teeth and he worries at, tearing the tender flesh as the reality of what he’s doing crashes over him.  His blue eyes widen and he looks hesitant for a moment before stepping closer and straddling my thighs to sit in my lap facing me. Whether it’s his youth or just the excitement over what’s happen, I can’t tell.  He doesn’t speak but only rubs his own slowly renewing erection against mine.  Then he shifts his position again and I feel his hands move me further back to his sweet spot.  My eyes never leave his face and I catch that flutter of fear.  I use one hand to hold his hips still while the other holds my cock in position.  Quietly I give him instructions and wait for him to do this at his own pace.

“Just grab my shoulders.  I’ve got you.  Ease down and relax.  It will take care of itself.  Take it slow.”

A shaky nod from him and his hands move to grip my shoulders.  I can feel his nails digging into the skin, conveying the last vestiges of fear he still holds inside.  And in a few minutes it won’t be fear inside him, it will be me.  I watch as he shutters his eyes away from me and begins to ease down.  It takes a few minutes of careful steady pressure, but eventually the head slips past and I hear him gasp.  I lean my head towards his until our foreheads touch and soothe him with hushed words.  Then after a moment I feel him inching down the length of me.  Whenever I see him wince or tense up I remind him to relax.  This calms him and after endless minutes of patient rocking and soothing I feel the last movement as his body totally surrenders to my assault and welcomes me inside him completely.  The tightness and heat is unmatched and we both groan from the sweet sensation.

I use both my hands to urge his hips into a slow, gentle rhythm of circles at first.  Again I am captivated by his expressions.  The transformation in his brow as he moves past the initial uncomfortable feeling of being totally filled to the blissful look of being fulfilled and complete.  I feel his urgency increase a notch as the pleasure for him picks up.  His strokes down onto my body come faster and harder, and I shift my hips slightly to offer him a different angle of penetration.  I can tell when I’ve found the right angle because his entire body freezes for a moment and then he repeats the movement exactly.  Then again.  And again.  His mouth is open and his eyes are barely open.  His actions are driving me closer to the edge and I want to take him with me when I go.  I grasp his erection between us and begin to stroke in synch with my thrusts into his body.  I release his hips to give him freer range of motion and instead use the now free hand to pull that sun-kissed blonde head closer to taste the last pleasure he has to offer me.  The feel of those lips against mine is like heaven.  Not only does he resemble the color of honey, he tastes like it as well.  A bitter sweetness that I yearn for and try to consume with all that I am.  Faster and faster he moves against me and my hand moves in the rhythm with him.  Gasping I break this kiss and pant a last request.

“Open your eyes, Michael.  Let me see you when you cum.”

And then there it is.  That blue ocean in his eyes, that sweet earthiness that is Michael.  All swirling in the haze of his eyes as his body jerks and shudders against mine.  I can barely focus enough to know that the tell-tale spiral of pleasure is curling at the base of my spine.  Before I can blink or try to prolong this sweet torture a moment longer, I’m coming right along with him.  I can feel the muscle spasms as they seem to milk me for eternity, drawing every last drop from deep within me.  He tosses his head back and groans aloud at last, his reserve gone as he rides up with each surge of liquid heat from my body into his, and from his body on to mine.  Then suddenly he stiffens and shivers before floating back down to me where I’m waiting for him, cradling him, easing the embrace and caressing him until he’s pulled himself together.

I’m not sure how much time passes while we sit there.  Maybe 10 minutes.  Maybe less.  Hell maybe more.  But finally the endorphins wear off and run their course.  Our bodies begin to cool as the perspiration dries and reluctantly we separate.  Naked and proud, he walks to grab two towels from the locker where the med kit was stored and rather than hand me one to clean myself, he does it for me.  A last act of kindness.  He is just as gentle as before.  He checks the wound and helps me into the pants.  He then retrieves the teeshirt he’s brought down for me and helps me ease down over my body.  He just as quickly dresses himself. But instead of slipping on his boots, he slides them onto my feet and surprisingly they fit.  Once the laces are done he helps me stand and leads me to door.  After unlocking the privacy bolts he turns to me and offers his hand and a pass key.

“What’s this, Michael?”

“You’re ticket out of here.  With Jack and Imam.  Figured you’d rather have this than a phone number and a ‘Please call me.’”

He chuckled and looked down as I smiled and took the key, before shaking his hand.

“Thanks a lot, Michael.”

“Don’t mention it.  No, really.  Don’t mention it.  I’ve got an idea on how to cover this up and if you get caught with that key we’ll both have more to worry about that Melvin Koren.”

I looked down and nodded again.  The awkward tension between us is unsettling considering what just transpired a few feet a way.  I shift my weight to my good leg and take one last long look in his eyes.

“Good luck, Riddick.  I’ll be seeing you.”

“Count on it, Michael.”

And with that I make my way towards my friends to begin my life over as a member of the human race.