Apprentice

Ardath Rekha


 


Chapter Twenty-nine: Riddick - Crumbling Facades

Riddick didn't leave Jack's side until well after sunset, when the growl of the beast within finally pulled him away. They'd watched the dusk fall together, Jack commenting in hushed, awestruck tones on the fiery beauty of the colors filling the sky. He wished he could have seen them properly himself, although her words had given him a vivid impression of what she was seeing.

In the end, though, he'd been forced to turn to her with a regretful sigh. "I need to go now, Jack."

He'd been stunned by the understanding that had appeared on her face. Whatever he'd expected to see, it wasn't the gentle, patient maturity that had been in her eyes. "I know," was all she said.

She'd kissed his cheek softly and gone back into the ship without another word, leaving him staring after her in bemusement. Now, as he walked toward his rendezvous with her surrogate, he wondered to himself how much longer the artifice would hold up.

The sex itself was spectacular; with one exception, any act he'd dreamed of doing with Jack could be performed. The woman felt a great deal like Jack when he held her, with the same soft, lean curves and high breasts, the same wavy mane of hair. The face was different, of course. The nose was a little too short and the eyes were the wrong color. He tried not to look her in the face very much. And her voice was wrong, much too high. The artifice crumbled for him whenever she spoke, even when she forced her voice into the deepest part of its range. Finally he'd been forced to ask her not to speak at all.

And that, he realized, made her more unlike Jack than anything else.

Carolyn had been different. He'd known her only briefly, and had been able to fill in the volumes of what he didn't know about her with his own imagination and the attributes her surrogate possessed. It had been less Carolyn he'd been fucking than the idea of Carolyn. He hadn't known it at the time, of course. It was only now, with a basis for comparison, that he realized the truth.

Jack's surrogate had given him a massage during their first night together and it had been fun, but she'd never be able to do it again for him now. Not since he'd felt the strength and competence of the real Jack's hands when she'd unknotted his neck. Another door into fantasy had closed on him. He knew what the reality was and the surrogate Jack couldn't match it.

He had the sneaking suspicion that, as time wore on, that would happen more and more.

He made a quick detour into one of the shopping centers as an idea occurred to him, a way to increase the authenticity of his experiences, at least for a time. He emerged with a small bag and a rueful smile. Some things were sure expensive...

He arrived at the brothel and took his seat at the bar, surprised when Tonia set his room key down along with his drink. Either he was late or they'd really anticipated him. Either one was a possibility, but the latter one worried him more than a little. He had to get a handle on this obsession soon; he was becoming a creature of habit and that was an exploitable weakness.

He downed his drink quickly and headed upstairs.

As of yet, he and "Jack" hadn't come up with any sort of standing arrangement on how she was to greet him. She was sitting at the dressing table of her room, brushing her hair when he entered. Catching sight of him in her mirror, she turned around with a smile.

"Riddick," she said with a smile. "I was starting to wonder if you were coming." She kept her voice pitched as low and huskily as she could manage, but she still sounded nothing like the real Jack's deep, dulcet tones.

"Got delayed a little." He walked over to her and held out the bag. "Here. Something I want you to wear from now on, when we're together."

She reached in and pulled out the tiny bottle. "Wow," she exclaimed, forgetting herself and speaking in her own naturally high tones. "Charmante. That's one of the most expensive perfumes on the market..."

"Tell me about it," Riddick grimaced. He'd bought the smallest bottle available once he knew the price. If she actually got all the way through the bottle before he left he'd be in serious trouble in entirely too many ways. Jack must have spent a fortune in the perfume store, he realized.

The woman smiled and opened the bottle, touching the stopper to her pulse points. "Does she wear it?"

He frowned. "She?"

"Your friend. The one I'm standing in for." She stoppered the bottle and set it on her dressing table. She was very matter-of-fact about the whole sordid thing, he thought. He wondered how many untouchable women she'd impersonated since she'd joined her profession.

"Yeah," he sighed after a moment. "It's her favorite."

Mine, too, he thought. He hoped it would heighten the experience for him, make it feel more real.

"Jack" rose and moved to stand in front of him. The smile she gave him now was falsely demure and annoyed him a little. "What do you want to try tonight, Riddick?"

He studied her body carefully while he thought about it. As he'd requested, she was dressed much the way Jack had when he'd first seen her again. Her outfit was almost exactly like the one Jack had been wearing when they'd finally been reunited...

...and that gave him an interesting idea.

"Turn around," he instructed her. She complied. He bent down and whispered his instructions in her ear. She nodded when he was done.

"Remember," he repeated. "Don't say anything." He would conjure Jack's voice out of his own memory and imagination.

She nodded again. Time to begin.

"And you remember what to say if I get too rough, right?" One final nod. Yes, she'd remember the safe-word. He turned her around and backed her against the wall, pushing her up against it. He whirled her around to face the wall.

As his hands began to move across her body, he closed his eyes and imagined Jack's voice.

"Jeez, I'm not armed or anything! What the fuck is your problem?"

This time his hands lingered on her breasts, feeling them through the fabric of her shirt. There was nothing impersonal about this little frisking session. He ran his palms across her entire body, familiarizing himself with her curves. Then his hands slid under her top and cupped her breasts again.

"Goddamn it, you sick psycho-fuck bastard," the remembered Jack shouted at him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He sighed, stepping closer to her, one hand traveling up to her throat while the other toyed with one pert nipple. "Checking you for wires," he'd answered her. Not this time.

His hands slid back down and pushed below the waistband of her leggings, just as they had before. This time, however, their destination was different, sliding between her legs to stroke her most sensitive flesh. She shivered against him as he explored her slick folds, sliding one finger deep inside her. He pressed his mouth against the joint of her throat and shoulder, grazing the skin with his teeth.

In his mind, he could hear her outraged protest. "Jesus, do you think I'd have let somebody wire me? Dammit, watch where you're putting your hands!"

Oh yes, he answered, sliding a second finger inside her. This time I'm watching closely, Sweetheart.

He pressed closer to her, pulling her against his body. There had been one moment, back in the cargo bay, when he'd almost done this to the real Jack, when he'd almost lost control. She'd saved him then, pulled him back from the brink with her angry words, but nothing could save him now...

His decision made, he began stripping off her clothes. She writhed against him, seeming to struggle but somehow becoming all the more accessible for it. Finally she was naked. He turned her around and lifted her up, spreading her legs and wrapping them around his waist. When her throat was level with his mouth he grasped the soft skin between his lips and teeth. She gasped and began to pant as he licked and nipped at her skin.

He lifted her up higher, his lips and tongue leaving a wet trail on her skin as he turned his attention to her breasts. He was not gentle but she didn't protest. Instead, she writhed and moaned, thrusting her chest forward to meet his hungry mouth. The scent of her perfume engulfed him.

He carried her over to the bed and tossed her onto it, on her back. He climbed on, keeping her legs spread wide as he lifted her towards his mouth. In the back of his mind, he heard Jack's final, infuriated suggestion... "If you even *think* of doing a cavity-search..."

He parted her labia with his fingers and gazed down at her for a long moment before lowering his mouth to cover her. She gasped as his tongue snaked between the folds of soft, wet flesh between her legs, dipping into her opening for a moment before continuing its journey. She tasted wonderful. He closed his eyes and gave into his hunger, tonguing and nipping at the flesh until she cried out and ground herself against his mouth.

He traced a long, wet path back up her body with his tongue, climbing onto her as he did. His hands found the sides of her face and he pulled her towards him, covering her mouth with his. She gasped beneath him and her hands came up, pushing at his chest. He kissed her harder, forcing her mouth open and darting his tongue inside. He released her after a moment and sat up, undoing the buckle of his belt.

"You son of a bitch!"

The blow came out of nowhere, striking his jaw and actually making his head rock back. He blinked in astonishment at the enraged face below his. So unexpected... so perfect.

Moments in time swirled, crossed and mingled before his eyes, assembling themselves into an incoherent progression. Jack rounding on him, furious at his intrusive behavior, slapping him hard across the face when he finished checking her for wires... Jack in the dojo, pulling her little surprise move and whirling around in his grasp to backhand him and cut his lip...

Jack, just the night before, her face contorted with her own rage as she spat out her denunciation of him, making him want to wrestle her to the ground and take her hard...

I can, he thought. This time, I can.

The shout of exultant laughter surprised even him. "Now that's my girl!"

He caught her fist as it swung at him again and pinned her hands down on the bed. Below him, "Jack" snarled something incoherent as she bucked and twisted. Not the safe-word, though. She was just getting into the spirit of things. He wondered how she'd figured out that he'd like this. He hadn't known...

It had never occurred to him to have her try to kick his ass. It had never occurred to him that such a thing would turn him on so much.

He brought her wrists together and pinned them under one hand. With his free hand he fumbled at the fastenings of his pants. His own breathing had quickened. Finally he freed his erection from its restraints.

"You crazy fuckin' bastard, don't you even think--"

He had her legs apart already. Sliding his free hand under her, he lifted her hips up and centered himself against her hot, slick flesh before plunging into her with one rough thrust.

"Get the fuck out of me, you psycho!"

He laughed in a combination of exultation and agony. The voice was wrong and the words made no sense to him, but the aggression was perfect. He released her hands for a moment and felt her small fists begin pounding against his chest. He sped up his own rhythm to match the pulse of her blows, teetering on the brink of delirium. In this moment, for this instant of time, the woman beneath him had captured his Jack's fire, the ferocity and strength that lay below her skin, that surpassed his own and had long since conquered him.

He gathered her face in his hands again and he covered her mouth with his once more, probing its recesses deeply. Her struggles became even more fierce and he felt the nails of one hand rake his back just before his world exploded into pure sensation.

Oh Jack, he thought as oblivion swallowed him whole, Oh god, I love you, Jack...

He was still coming down from his release when she shoved him off of her. He rolled over onto his back and lay still for a long moment, catching his breath. More than either of their previous nights, this one act had brought him so close to complete satiety.

"Get the fuck out," the woman's quiet voice snarled.

He opened his eyes and looked over at her. She'd left the bed and was standing by her dressing table, her robe around her. The look on her face was one of pure, poisonous hatred.

He sat up, frowning slightly. "What's wrong?"

"I told you to stop, you son of a bitch, and you kept going--"

"You didn't use the safe-word," he answered reasonably.

Her face contorted. "Fine! Hunter-Gratzner! Now get the fuck out of my room!"

Riddick sighed and rose, drawing his pants up and refastening them. Apparently the fun was over for the night. Well, he'd definitely gotten his money's worth; it had been incredible. Disturbing, but incredible. It must have disturbed her, too, somehow, he guessed. He couldn't figure out why she was so angry, though. He'd have stopped any time she said the word. That was the point of having a safe-word, after all.

He paused at the door and looked back at her, smiling slightly. "Night, Babe. See you tomorrow."

She grabbed the perfume bottle off of the table and threw it at him. He ducked behind the door and pulled it closed, hearing the bottle smash against the other side.

Shit, he thought. There goes five hundred New Francs. What the hell got her in a twist?

He shook his head, chuckling slightly, and headed downstairs. He felt wonderful. He'd figure out later what he'd done wrong, if anything.

Tonia was surprised to see him back so quickly, raising an eyebrow at him. "Done so soon?"

"Apparently so," he replied with a grin. "Think I annoyed her a little or somethin'."

"Did you want the night pro-rated?" She looked doubtful about that. They probably hardly ever offered it, and only if the "John" was tossed out of the room the way he had been.

"Nah, I got what I came for," he grinned. "See you tomorrow."

"Good night, Mr. Fry," she answered, returning to the bar.

He spent the walk home mulling what had happened, the exact moment when things had gone from good to amazing. What was it that had made it so incredible?

Passion, he decided after a moment. There had been real anger behind her punch, the first genuine emotion she'd shown him. In it he'd felt a hint of the unbridled honesty Jack almost always shared with him, the raw emotion she only poured out to him and hid away from the rest of the world.

Even stranger, the idea of Jack taking him on, getting into his face and standing up to him... the idea of someone being so completely unafraid of him, no matter how much larger and stronger he actually was...

It wasn't so much that she'd hit him as that she hadn't been afraid to. What an amazing turn-on. How purely Jack.

He entered the ship and headed straight for the shower. Jack, apparently, had already gone to bed. She'd left the lights set on dims for him, although he could navigate in utter darkness and they both knew it. It was a touching gesture nonetheless.

He showered quickly and pulled on the sweats he habitually wore to bed now, before quietly opening Jack's door and creeping into her room. She was lying on her side, breathing softly. Beautiful, so beautiful. Faced with the truth about his madness, this morning, she'd been utterly fearless, startling him with her calm confidence in him.

"You don't have to be sorry," she'd said, coming over to him and taking his hand. "If it's still in you, then it's part of what I love. What I've always loved, since we first met."

Oh Jack, he thought as he gazed at her, I wish I trusted myself as much as you trust me. The hunger is growing, Babe, and I'm not sure whether I can keep holding out against it. I don't want to hurt you. You've had enough pain in your life. And I don't want to lose you, either. I'm trapped here, kid. How did you get so far inside me without me noticing until it was too late?

Suddenly he froze, his heart lurching. Jack's eyes were open, gazing into his.

 

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