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*blows out breath* Where do I begin?

I took a long break from all my other stories to write this. It is going to be a long series, probably 9 parts. It was going to be a series of oneshots but it got a little long in some bits. There are Shifters in these series. There's light feminization in some smutty bits, and there are pack dynamics. It's not omegaverse but there is a touch of it, because our Alpha Furyan is such a macho brat and won't share his boy. Er, BOYS. Did I mention this is going to end up being a Johns/Vaako/Riddick fic? All the boys have to do is find each other. And they're going to find each other one fuck at a time.

But first...the legendary rivals.

This fic is dedicated to Casey_Wolfe and Blue_Five, two of the most astounding Riddick fanfic writers there are. Though everyone who writes it deserves hugs and kisses.




(n.) a relationship brought by fate or destiny; the binding force which eventually links two people together in love

- from wordstuck 



The bar was dark except for the red lights that poured over the dance floor and highlighted across the smattering of filthy tables closest to the bar. The bottles were back-lit like a Christmas tree but everything else was swamped into bloody shades that soothed his sensitive eyes. Though the base of the music thumped heavily through the floor, the lights didn’t strobe like the usual clubs tended to do. It was one of the reasons he hit this spot whenever he was in town. They were discreet, they were shady, and no one would recognize him.


He’d just wrapped up the latest job and he needed to relax for a fucking minute. Fourteen for fourteen marks so far but that last guy had been a tough one. That shitty wannabe, Dresden had been hot on his heels for almost two weeks – right in his metaphorical rearview mirror. Every step he took was echoed but that coat-tail-rider. Johns had nearly broken his ribs chasing the con down a ladder and through an old shipping yard. He’d barely slapped the cuffs on the giant criminal when Dresden had appeared right over a pile of steel girders. The slimy, handsy, slick snake in the grass. But it had been ten seconds too late and he radioed in his captive to his contact at the Guild before the bastard could even try and dispute the claim. The look on Dresden’s face had been priceless and so worth the ache in his ribs.


He made a point to remember to watch out for that guy. Once someone claimed they were your competition, things got complicated.


Johns slipped between dozens of gyrating bodies. The cat within him, oh so carefully leashed during this particular hunt, unfurled and stretched. Though he would always say he preferred to be alone it felt great to be one in a hundred right now. Blending in meant he could let go a little.


The beat crept up though his boots and made his toes curl, the vibrations traveling up through his very bones and forcing a light purr to rumble in the back of his throat. His body moved to the hypnotic flow of the music almost without his permission, hips grinding and fingers raking through his hair. Jesus tap-dancing Christ – it felt fucking good to show off after two weeks of blood-hounding that con. He could take every person in this place in a fist fight so he wasn’t worried about some overly entitled dick getting grab-assy on him. Though he had left his favorite shotgun and his side arm back in the motel room, he still had a pair of small caliber pistols and a set of knives strapped close to his chest. He was looking for a fuck but he wasn’t about to let his guard down. He was fresh off a kill (well, a capture) and he needed something to take the edge off.


And maybe – just maybe – one of these motherfuckers had the balls to do it.


With the club shoulder-to-shoulder, he didn’t smell or hear the guy until he was right up behind him. There was a couple seconds where he tensed, mind whirring as he decided what to do. A man sounded prime, maybe better than a woman right now. It had been a while since he’d been fucked. He suppressed the fight-or-flight response as well as the thickening of his nails. Now was not the time for claws. Now was the time to get down and dirty.


Okay. That sounded stupid even in his own head.


As Boss always said: Commit.


Big hands curled along his waist and pulled him back against a hard body. The guy felt fucking big but there was something to his actions that silenced the blonde’s alarm bells. The grip was loose and the ‘pull’ was slow enough that he could’ve yanked himself away any moment he felt like. It was a question, a bonafide offer.


His feline purred at that.


He grinned. A real Southern gentleman.


“You lookin’ to fill up your dance card?”


That was…different. Smokey and cool, it poured over him. He wanted to put that voice in a shot glass and down it. Johns turned, eyeing the man with a rapidly growing hunger. The guy was all muscle, every inch, and he smelled – God damn – he smelled sinful. Musk underlined by something akin to hot soil. Like the stuff they used as fancy getaways for hot sand soaks or freshly cooling obsidian. He resisted the compulsion to bury his face in the man’s neck to get more than a whiff. That wasn’t something he wanted to get into right now. He hooked a finger into the man’s belt and dragged him in that last inch, cocking his head back to look him right in the face. The guy was good looking – classic human male. Smooth head, dark eyes, and a hint of stubble on his sharp jaw. Those lips were thick enough to give him something think about if he went home alone. The flimsy tank he wore had seen better times but it showed off the broad line of his shoulders and the thickly roped muscles down his arms.


“Why?” he tossed back, mouth quirking in his usual cock-sure smirk. “You offering?”

The man looked him over in return. “Maybe.”


John didn’t pose, he swore to God he didn’t. “Like what you see?”


A matching smirk graced the man’s face. “I do.”


“You don’t seem like a dancer to me,” Johns hummed, pressing up against all that warmth. The man tightened his grip enough for him to really feel it and the touch sent a shiver through him. They leaned in and pressed mouths close to ears to be heard over the music. “You look more like a fighter to me.”


The man’s chuckle was low and it left him craving more. “I suppose I am.”


“Think you can bench press me, Big Guy?” He smacked the man on the side of the arm, groaning when he found the muscle to be as solid as it looked. The guy was built like a brick house (or whatever that stupid phrase was). Johns’ animal side jumped on board with rolling around with this guy. The feline admired strength as much as the human did.


The man’s head dropped down further until breath tickled his jaw. “I could think of a couple better uses for ‘ya.”


A not-quite-kiss was pressed to his skin, a bolt of heat shooting up his hardening cock at the contact.


“You got a name, blondie?”


“Johns,” he blurted out with no small amount of trust. “Friends call me Billy.”


Teeth grazed the shell of his ear. “I’ll stick with Johns.”


“Good choice,” he gasped, a sneaky thumb creeping under the hem of his shirt and pressing into the tattooed flesh at his hip. The scar hidden amongst the ink tingled as it was swiped across. A weak moan slipped past his lips as those same teeth scraped a trail down his neck. “What’s yours?”





This was the stupidest shit he’d ever done. Johns usually hated dominant male stereotypes, his own alpha tendencies usually clashing with them right off the bat. Shifter or not, he didn’t let just any guy manhandle him and he certainly didn’t let them take the lead. Whenever he felt like bottoming he would always get on top and ride the fuck out of them until he was sated. This was against every rule he’d thrown up since he joined the MMP. He was supposed to be the one in charge – no ifs, ands, or buts about it. But this guy…this ‘Riddick’…he was something else. A whole different animal that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The non-frill way he spoke and the cautious way he moved screamed that he was an outcast, like Johns, and he was cut from a different cloth. At first he thought the man was a Shifter (like him) but a few deep breaths close to that thick neck told him it wasn’t that. Something else, then. Something powerful coursed beneath all that stalwart flesh and he wanted it all focused on him.


Johns led the man to his shitty motel room, the pair cutting through dark alleys and side roads to keep out of the main dredge. They had nothing to fear, both men comfortable with their skill but unwilling to share that fact with a total stranger. It was a silent agreement fortified by firm gropes. On the way they managed to keep throwing each other up against walls, fingering hidden knives and (in Johns’ case) pistols with sly grins.


“Hope this ain’t your dick,” John laughed crudely as he fingered a shiv strapped tight to the man’s inner thigh. The other’s hand shot out and grabbed a generous handful of his ass, fingers curling into the material enough to dig under the support strap of a thin hunting knife pressed against his flank.


“Long as this ain’t yours.”


“Always carry it with me.” He ripped away from the man long enough to palm his painfully hard cock. “Never know when you’re gonna need it.”


A finger crooked at him. “Come ‘ere and I’ll take real nice care of it.”


“I bet you would.” He wiped a tongue across his spit-slick lips. “Bed. I’m gonna want a go at least twice, if you think you can keep up.”


In the shadow of the overhang they’d taken privacy in, all that was visible was the white flash of teeth.


“Satisfaction guaranteed.”


Johns did not whimper. He. Did. Not.




The place wasn’t grimy but it was getting there. It was a handful of credits, a block down from the docking station, and off the beaten path – in Johns’ opinion, it was perfect. The door slammed with a loud bang behind the two men as they tried to shed clothes without tearing stitches. Fingers were greedy across newly bared flesh, mouths soon following to leave cooling trails that raised goosebumps.




Johns kicked off his boots so hard they skidded across the carpet.




He jerked his head sharply in an effort to shake off the low-thrumming instinct. Every time he fucked someone there was always a brief flash of wanting to bond or to scent mark in case they turned out to be his mate. He’d given up the dream of finding a match years ago, deciding what his parents had was too rare to duplicate. He was twenty four, prime mating age, it was just hormones and evolution. Even if this guy smelled more enticing than anyone he’d ever met, it didn’t make him special or anything. This was just another romp to remember when he was falling asleep alone on the cot in his ship.


Johns discarded his pants on top of his jacket. His shirt was tossed on top along with his undone protective vest, thin enough to hide under his civilian clothing but enough to stop a shank. The merc snapped off his hip knife, the one on his calf, but kept his shoulder holster on with nothing more than a whim. He ran his eyes over the man once more. Though the light was weak it wasn’t shadowed red as it had been at the club. He was bent over taking off his boots, shirt discarded to show off every pull and bulge of muscle in his back.


There were a wide arrange of scars carved into his flesh, shaded from ivory white to a dusky brown that almost blended in. This man had seen some action. Some were slashes, like blade wounds, but others were sunbursts from bullets and phasers. Yet every moment, however careful and guarded, was fluid. He didn’t seem to feel any of those wounds. Lucky bastard. The view made his mouth go dry. Capable, hot, confidant…deadly when cornered, he was sure. This ‘Riddick’ was a fine specimen of a predator.


Johns cocked his head, glaring at the floor.


Man. I meant ‘man’.


The merc was taken by surprise yet again. Riddick lunged at him from the floor, taking Johns down onto the bed hard enough to make the breath punch out of him. He was pinned nearly by weight alone. He healed pretty damn quick thanks to his Shifter blood so the cracked rib he’d been sporting an hour ago didn’t even give a twinge at the rough treatment. It still scared the piss out of him and he didn’t appreciate it, not one fucking bit.


His shoulder holster was customized to form fit him and it hugged tight, concealing two .9 caliber pistols and a special pair of silvers knives he’d picked up with his dad on a trip to hunt down a con that suffered from lycanthropy. The whole operation had taken two months and now holding onto the blades became habit. Shit, they’d saved his life on more than one occasion. They were easy to slide out of their pockets and they helped him take care of pretentious fucking asshole who thought they could throw him around.


Johns flicked his thumb over a small button and the knife slid smoothly into his palm. He hugged it up against the older man’s jugular with a scowl that said he was ready to fight if it came down to that. Though it was just a warning, Riddick didn’t even flinch. The man leaned down toward him so far that the blade broke skin, crimson droplets blooming along the silver edge and growing fat until they dropped almost silently onto Johns’ own neck.


Blip. Blip.


The Shifter sucked in a great lungful of air through his nose, pupils blowing out at the smell of it. Iron-rich rubies fell like molten metal across his collarbone when the man shifted up just a fraction of an inch. There was grit under the usual tang of blood that revealed something distinctly unique. Humanoid – but not human. He wanted to paint his lips with it.


Riddick’s grin was more amused than angry and it made the skin beneath the drops of blood grow warm. The guy had at least two knives hidden in those loose pants but he didn’t make a move to grab them. Clearly this was expected – no – hoped for. Riddick slid a thigh between his legs, the muscle there just as tantalizing as the rest of him and perfectly happy to settle up under his surprisingly still hard cock. He indulged in the feeling and spread but he didn’t lower the knife. While one big hand settled near his shoulder to steady the man’s weight, the other slowly crept up until it could take a fistful of blonde curls. It didn’t hurt. The opposite actually – it made him moan.


“Was gonna ask if I could get a taste of your lips, but if you want to break out the kinky shit…” Riddick trailed off with a hanging purpose, a single brow raised.


“Fuck, man, don’t do that,” Johns growled, finally pulling back his knife. “Got me all fucking jumpy for the wrong reasons. Yes, God damn it, you can kiss me. It’s only whores you don’t wanna’ kiss on the-”


Riddick's mouth slanted over his own, insistent tongue eating the rest of the words right out of his mouth. The man kissed with the same overwhelming force that he'd used to slam him into those filthy alley walls. Johns found himself getting drunk on the taste of cheap liquor and the smell of the man's blood that slicked between them as they ground together. While he allowed Riddick lay claim to the new territory, he dug the knife into the edge of the mattress sharp-end-down. It would be safe and within arm’s reach, just in case.


A man daring enough to risk having his throat slit over a kiss was either confidant in his abilities or reckless. Either way, he had earned the right to fuck him.


“Taste like gun oil,” Riddick muttered, canines just a tad too sharp to be human running over his lower lip as if chasing the taste.


“Handle a lot of them and I bite my nails,” Johns explained in a breathless chuckle.


The man’s nose twitched. “Smell weird.”


Johns’ smile morphed into a snarl in the space of a heartbeat. “You got a fuckin’ problem?”


“Didn’t say it was bad,” Riddick smoothed over easily, that voice doing things to his libido that someone’s fucking voice shouldn’t be able to do. He let the flame of indignation go. The man had let him put a knife to his throat, he could take an insult.


“Mind if I keep the holster on, Big Guy?”


“Be disappointed if you didn't.” The man curled a finger under the blonde's chin, tilting his head gently from side to side. “Look at those pretty blues.”


“Mmm, think so?” He raised his hips up, rubbing the swollen flesh of his cock along the man's thigh. It felt too good to stop and he didn't give a fuck how it made him look. Adrenaline was coursing hot through his veins, sweat starting to bead at the line of his hair and along the dip of back. The other was like a furnace against his skin, the edge of his belt buckle digging into his hip.


“Oh yeah.” The words drifted like smoke over him, teasing his senses. “Couple a tears and you could have men better than me on their knees tryin' to please you.”

Johns shoved the side of his fist into his mouth to keep himself from moaning outright. “Don't fuckin' say shit like that.”


“Shy boy,” Riddick chuckled, nosing under his chin. “Pretty boy.”


The bite came too quick to stop. A burst of pain, then heat and something beyond pleasure. It rolled like a wave through his body, taking him off guard and making him cry out. White noise filled up the space between his ears and he zoned out for a few seconds, eyes glassing over and jaw falling open. He tried to gasp for air but all it did was fill his nose and lungs with the man’s scent. Something stung within his chest, imaginary nails scratching the surface of something he couldn’t name. It made him a little dizzy and that struck an embarrassed chord that snapped him back to reality.


His underwear was long gone, tossed haphazardly on the floor where it wouldn’t be found until morning. The man’s teeth, which Johns once thought were blunt but had an aching neck that proved otherwise, were dragging down the center of his chest. Red marks were left in their wake but they wouldn’t last. It was those eyes that kept his panic down. They were bottomless yet focused, precise – even sharp. His reaction had not gone unnoticed.


Johns threw himself at the man, taking him by surprise and using his weight to toss him on his back. They wrestled on the bed, the rest of their clothes getting shed between moves. It was grappling with an edge, each trying to outdo the other with the fine poison of lust keeping their proverbial (and literal) claws retracted.


“Fucking feisty,” Riddick spit out through grit teeth, hooking his forearm around the blonde’s neck. Johns was pressed back to chest with the man, heart pounding so loud against his ribs that he was sure it could be heard. His airway was only cut off enough for him to feel it. There were no prickles of warning along his senses and he trusted his gut. Hard flesh brushed against his thigh.


Play, the cat within him purred.


I’ll give him something to play with. Johns gave a growl before he bent down and threw the man over his shoulder, smacking him into the wall. Riddick showed a hint of surprise before he dug his knees into the mattress and sprung forward, knocking the blonde onto his back with a little oof.


“You gonna let me fuck you or are we gonna roll like this all night?”


Johns laughed, the sound starting low in his chest before bursting from his lips with an intensity that confused the other. “Oh yeah, you better fuck me. I’ve gotta’ know – you always give your bed bunnies this many ultimatums in one evening?”


“Not many bunnies in my bed.” The man cocked his head, eyes focused on the blonde’s mouth. “Couple a kittens, though.”


Johns ran his tongue over his teeth and felt the zip of flesh giving way under lengthening canines. Shit. He reigned back in the cat, scolding himself for letting it get so close to the surface with a fucking stranger. But that stranger didn’t let him catch his breath. Riddick claimed his mouth again and all higher brain function stopped. He could feel an addiction already beginning to form. Those lips, the hands that restlessly mapped his body, the sheer build of him – he didn’t know what the fuck he was getting into, but he liked it. He fed into it, falling in, letting their bodies find a rhythm that was older than time.


He knew it was dangerous but he’d always had ace instincts and now was not the time to ignore them. These feelings were close to what he felt when there was a flat, sun-warmed stone calling his name. He wanted to bask in these moments. It was so very rare that the human and the cat agreed upon a partner. There were so many factors that could go wrong – the most usually dealing with smell. While Riddick’s skin seemed to siren-call him into leaving his scent, others were not so receptive. Past partners had either picked up on his feline-esque actions or fled or had been too selfish to give a fuck if he was struggling not to breathe through his nose while they fucked. Their vibes had to be right, and they couldn’t be whiners – he hated any high-pitched sounds in bed that weren’t his own. This had been the first time in years that they’d been on the same page about someone.


For lack of a better word, he wanted to drown in all that Riddick.


By the time he was flipped onto his front, his cock was dripping and every inch of him was flushed. He tried to surface to tell the man where the lube was but the words wouldn’t form. He fidgeted nervously when fingers ran down his back (catching briefly on his holster) but a soft chirrup sound calmed the growing fears in his belly. It was a sound his mother used to make, the sound of humans made when trying to call domesticated cats to them. Firm kisses with just a hint of teeth dotted across his shoulders and down to the vulnerable skin and muscle stretched over his ribs. He shivered and pushed up in a silent request for more. He was not denied.


“Shit.” Johns dropped his head down between his shoulders as warm, heavily slicked fingers traced the line of his spine down to the tight furl of his hole. The fucker found the lube all by himself and the blonde was grateful because he wasn’t sure if he could form coherent sentences with curious fingers tracing the tribal tattoo on his hip and the growing ache of his cock. Two oh-so-fucking-thick fingers slipped inside him and he couldn’t help but clamp down just to feel the burn of them. They were calloused in a way that should’ve given him a hint to what the man could truly be but he didn’t care. Instead he pushed back shamelessly, spreading his legs a bit in invitation. He was torn between telling the man to hurry the fuck up and rutting against him until they came all over each other. The scent of it would be a hell of a rush, that was for sure.


“Calm down.”


A big hand clamped down on the back of his neck, the shock of it breaking the threads of his control. Thoughts like I can’t do this and he’s a fucking stranger and he’ll see it whirled up and up until they shattered across the floor of his mind, pieces flying and disappearing when fingers dug in to the sensitive flesh. A soft cat-like sound fell from his lips as he arched his back. He dropped to his elbows, pressing his damp forehead against the cool sheets to try and fight off the start of a fever building up in his groin. The human started washing away in favor of his baser, Shifter instincts. Through it all he was hyper aware of the fingers curling in and up into his prostate, rubbing over the gland with an expertise that came from a man who enjoyed what he could grab on to.


Hot. He was so hot. Oh, but those fingers on his neck were cool and they were pressing on his tendons just right and – fuck, it was all he could ever ask for. He let himself push up into them, not really fighting but testing the strength of his grip. Fingers tightened in response, digging in just that much harder.


“That’s it,” Riddick urged, pushing the blonde down until his cheek was pressed to the bed and his ass was in the air. His fingers pulled out only for a moment before they were replaced with three, muscle flaring in protest before relaxing to allow the man leisurely fuck him open for his cock. It felt good – it felt fucking good. If anyone else tried shit like this, Johns would’ve ran for the hills. But this man, this stranger, was making him feel more safe in this shitty motel room than he’d ever felt anywhere else.


There was a flutter under his skin as he came close to shifting, nails and teeth becoming claws and fangs for just a few long moments. The dip of the merc’s back itched like he was going to sprout a tail any second, bone threatening to bend and break and mend until he was on all fours for a different reason. It took him longer than normal to grab the reigns and yank back, forcing himself to remember that he was human first and he wasn’t going to lose what possibly could be the best fuck of his life just because the cat wanted to play with the creature who seemed to adept at handling him.


Riddick gave a content sigh. “Oh…prettier than I thought, Johns. A fucking Shifter. Knew I smelled somethin’ on you.”


Johns’ erection flagged as his stomach churned nervously. His hand slid to the mattress-imbedded knife, fingering the handle as slyly as he could manage in his vulnerable position. Polite society wasn’t so fucking keen on his kind, they never had been. The fear of the unknown and hundreds of years of ignorance had made them a commodity, a glamorous pet, a trophy, even furniture. Shifters were captured and bred to give rich socialites pretty little kittens and puppies and what-have-you to show off at parties and cuddle like domesticated animals instead of people. At best they were treated as exotic body slaves, at worst whipping boys for their master’s aggressions.


He’d seen those of his kind shackled in cages with oil rubbed into their skin and jeweled subdural implants across their brows and collarbones to serve as enticing decorations. Rubies for tigers, emerald for those with scales, gold divots paired with lion prowess, smoked topazes for the woodland creatures, sapphire for the water changelings, and more striking jewels for those with the misfortune to have unusual forms. Dead eyes set off the sparkle of the gems. Once they were deemed too old to please or entertain they were forced to transform for the last time by meeting the wrong end of an electric prod. Johns had heard horror stories of middle aged changers being strung up in trees and getting slit from throat to genitals, left to bleed out and skinned whether they were still breathing or not. When proven, Shifter furs sold triple the rate of those of regular animals.


“More fucking problems?”


A heavy hand folded over his own, the action more comforting than aggressive. Fingers locked and he hated how perfectly they slotted together. Riddick's thumb grazed the silver handle, a sign of knowing and maybe even trust. “No. No problem at all.”


With a great sigh, Johns felt himself relaxing under the assurance. It was a mistake but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it (at least not now). The man fucked into him with real purpose now, finding and drilling his spot like he wanted him to cum all over himself like a teenager right this minute.


“What kind of Shifter are you?”


Johns moaned, grinding back against those fingers in a blind search for more.


“Asked you a question,” Riddick warned, pegging the blonde's gland so hard he yelped. “Know you're some kind of cat. Smell like one.”


“Now's not really the best–” Johns jerked under another brutal jab. “Motherfucker!”


“You want my cock?” Riddick twisted his fingers and the man shuddered, a shimmer of down fur appearing across his back. It revealed just how much the touches were affecting him. “Well?”


“I...I...” Johns tried to push up on his elbows again but the man slammed him back down, “Go fuck yourself!”




Riddick's fingers pulled out with painful slowness, large knuckles dragging against sensitive muscle. The merc's hole clamped down greedily once they were all the way out, desperate for them to stay. His mouth flapped uselessly as he tried to think of something, anything, but he couldn't make a sound beyond a whine of protest. He could've left. He could've kicked the man out and had a nice little session of self-help. But he could feel Riddick's impressive length throbbing hot with promise against his thigh and his cat was practically rolling around in his delectable scent. He wouldn't find satisfaction with anything else but the real thing.


“I do,” Johns confessed in a huff. “I want it, you son-of-a-bitch.”


The fingers slammed back in, the younger man's body opening up eagerly to accept what he was given. His overworked prostate was abused in an effort to shake him apart, to loosen his tongue as well as his ass. His hip worked desperately in a vain attempt to get some friction on his dick.


“ 'M gonna ask you again,” Riddick drawled, smoky tone dragging over gravel and making his neglected cock drip into the sheets. “What do you change into?”


“None of your business.” It was too flimsy a cover to be convincing.




The merc gave a real purr this time that was strong enough to shake his chest. His name was said in a murky croon, that voice rolling over each letter like a caress. Riddick shifted behind him, fingers falling away with a quiet order to stay put. Johns couldn't help but crane his neck and peer under his body to catch a peek. The older man had only moved back enough to shed his pants and underwear, freeing his cock. It was darker and thicker than his own, thick head peeking out from tight foreskin and already wet with anticipation. That kind of sculpted flesh deserved a mouth always willing to suck it. The blonde turned back and pushed his face into the mattress to muffle his appreciative groans. He'd never wanted to be fucked this badly in his life and if he didn't get it he was going to burn this whole place to the ground.


The same hard flesh brushed against his gaping hole. Just the tip, enough to tease. It would feel so good inside him, he just knew it. It would grind against him in all the right spots and it would stretch him just a bit past his usual, forcing him to give–


To submit.


–in a way he didn't normally.


“Tiger,” he coughed the words out of his lungs, forcing them out. “Dad's got some lion from h-his mom's side. Faint, couple generations back.”


“That make you a liger.” It sounded like a question.


“Just a tiger.” Johns had never said those words to another person before. Everyone who knew was either family or had figured it out on accident. This was just one more stupid sign of faith that would make him sick later. “I'm Earth feline.”


The hand on the back of his neck stroked downward, making him keen like a common woman. The start of fur was still there, faint and soft as he rode the edge between transformation and lust. Johns expected to be scored by nails but the man only stroked, fueling his fire, giving him reason to tremble. This Riddick was taking his time, drawing it out, refusing to touch his cock in favor of stroking everything else. It felt, it couldn't be scenting. That was something he would do to a potential mate. Run his fingers over every patch of flesh, kiss every pulse point, and rub until the other was soaked in his pheromones. No one had ever done this before.


No one had ever dared.


No one had ever bothered.




It was the faintest of whispers. Nails scratched lightly through blonde hair but the feline Shifter growled demandingly. Words were getting harder to put together into sensical strings. The other man seemed to understand the struggle.


“You gonna shift on me?”

“Not unless you hurry up and fuck me!” Johns snarled.


Riddick mercifully ended his torment, thrusting hilt-deep into the welcoming heat of the Shifter's body. It burned Johns up, an exaggerated metaphor of him bursting into flames flickering through his mind before his thoughts roiled into a seemingly endless spiral of heatmaketakemine. He swallowed down the senseless, animalistic babble but the suppressed urge to howl made him squirm. His movements made the heavy cock bump him wrong and more pain than he liked hit him right in the base of the gut. He wasn't a fucking pansy but he wasn't used to taking something that big. The last thing he'd had up there were two of his own fingers and it wasn't nearly the same.


Fuck this.


Johns tried to get up on his hands but he pushed back too hard. Another bolt of agony shot through his belly. His cock was rock hard but his jaw snapped shut so hard he rattled his teeth. His fingers clenched and unclenched in the mattress, kneading in last ditch attempt to calm himself.


Johns makes a rough noise, low in his chest. The hand on his neck shifted so two fingers laid over his pulse. If he could guess, the older man was counting the beats of his pulse to make sure he wasn't terribly hurt.


“You're alright, Johns.” Riddick paused, blood pounding under the pads of his fingers. “Deep breaths.”


“Fuck you.”


“Easy there, kitten,” Riddick rumbled, so much closer now. The rough palm rubbed over the back of his neck the same moment a hot mouth latched onto a patch of skin that was dangerously (wonderfully) close to the scent glands buried between the laces of his muscle within his shoulder. A sharp enough bite at just the right depth, with the start of a bond in place, would seal his fate to another person forever. Just having it touched usually made him bristle but now it had him melting.


“You're gonna hurt yourself,” Riddick scolded, lips right at his ear as he covered the younger man's body with his own. “You be real good and still for me. Haven't been fucked in a while, have you sweetheart? Give it a sec'. I can wait.”


“Thanks for the consideration but don't call me 'sweetheart' when your buried balls deep in my ass, shithead,” Johns' threat was hissed into the bed.


“Whatever you want,” the man snickered, but it was more pleased than cruel. Riddick shifted above him, still holding the blonde down as he started to roll his hips. It sent an ache through his belly but his cock hadn't lost interest. Traitor.


The hand on his nape carded up into his hair, fingers snagging a fistful of curls. “Put your hand around that pretty cock.”

“Listen, motherfucker-”


“Do it.” It was an order that he reluctantly obeyed, sliding a forearm above his head to help balance himself while his right hand came down to fist the length of his dick. The familiar touch helped ground him and suddenly the hurt faded out into a rather nice burn that fissured across his nerves. The pressure fell in line and then his sweet spot was getting the attention it needed.


Once his body started to accept it, he knew it was time.


“You better fuckin' make this all worth it.”


Whoever Riddick was, Johns didn't give a shit because the man fucked like a machine. All those tightly corded muscles weren't for show. Each snap of those hips sent him just that much closer to the wall but he refused to move an inch and miss an ounce of that power. Johns bore down like he had on the man's fingers, savoring the near-unbearable fullness. He kept his fingers around his dick but he didn't stroke. He didn't need to. With as good as he getting it would only take a dozen strokes to get him off and he wanted to make it last.


Riddick bit and sucked bruises wherever he could reach, leaving behind an intricate pattern of crimson marks that would fade come morning. But with every surge of hips he carved himself just that much deeper into the blonde's sense memory. The next time he decided to do this with someone (if he ever did, because this was really something to live up to) he would surely remember nothing else but Riddick's scent.


Not many people got to be fucked like they were already owned.


“My name,” Riddick demanded suddenly, sitting back on his knees to pound into the blonde just that much harder. “Say it.”


A laugh punched out of him as pure want jolted through his cock, a thick drop of pre-cum beading at the end of his flushed cock. His hair was grabbed and yanked until his neck was exposed, teeth clamping down on the swell of jugular. He reached back and hooked his fingers into the man's shoulder, muscle bunching under his nails. Johns was ashamed to admit he clung but he didn't want that pressure to relieve. He let go of his cock, afraid to spill. To be honest he wanted more. Deeper. Harder. Alpha, please.


Johns snapped his teeth, biting at an invisible enemy. Stupid fucking cat – let me fuck this guy and keep your shitty mating stuff out of my head.


Riddick let him go, faintest trace of blood staining his teeth. Johns couldn't see it but he could smell it, he could feel the two pinpricks where teeth had managed to break through. Cotton and wool and a dozen other soft things packed up inside his skull until his eyes lost focus, vision blurring up at the edges. In that moment, he would've agreed to anything to get another bite.


“If I can't feel those lips wrapped around my cock, I want them around my name.”


His hair was released in favor of the hand slapping down onto his hip, digits digging deep into the groove of muscle above his thigh. The grip was used as leverage to bounce him on the man's cock, the dig and drag even more intense at the new, faster pace. Johns let his eyes fall shut so he could simply feel but they popped back open with short nails scraped hard across his nipple.


“Riddick!” It was a moaned complaint, though only half-meant because he never knew the nerves in his nipples were connected to his fucking balls. Sparks spread through his groin at the contact and it shoved him a step closer to the edge, his own touch almost too much.




His shoulder was seized and he was forced back down into the bedding, cheek rasping against the sheet and arm slapping down to hold himself still. This angle sent sparks dancing up through his belly. It clogged up his throat and threatened to seize his lungs.




He was taken with abandon, just as he'd hoped for. It was primal, man's basic function taking over until they were just mindlessly straining against each other. Johns wished they'd taken things slower. Tasted the man's cock, got his own sucked, and taken the time to rub his scent into the other's skin to make sure Riddick didn't forget about him later. He wouldn't trade this for the world but he was gluttonous – he wanted more.


“That's it,” Riddick muttered under his breath. The blonde could feel dark eyes tracing all the marks over his back, thumbs pressing down so hard into the swell of his ass he was sure there'd be little colored shadows later. “Tempting little piece of ass. The moment I saw you...just knew I needed to take a bite. The way you were flaunting all this...” A possessive hand ran down the length of his body, leaving tingles in his wake. “Couldn't let you go so easily, could I?”


Johns chomped down on the plump of his lip, a warmth that had nothing to do with his impending orgasm coiling like a satisfied snake in the pit of his belly. The man had wanted him, needed him, just by looking. His cat preened and purred, the sound fluttering in his throat. He was good. His mate found him desirable.


“Good kitty.” Riddick dragged his nails down the tan curve of his back, muscles trembling beneath his palm. “Don't you hold back on me, Johns. I know I won't.”


The strokes slowed but they were harder, striking his prostate almost every time. The man (RiddickRiddickRiddick) was made for fucking. Big hands, hardy thighs, firm arms – looking as if he were carved from stone, Riddick was anyone's wet dream. A fine prototype to build future generations that his cat seemed to be stuck on.


Johns' breath was starting to turn shallow, chest and balls tightening up. The sweltering fever that was so faint early was boiling between his hips, bubbling and threatening to splash up into his belly. Riddick must've been able to feel it because he didn't let up, driving him right to the edge without showing a single sign that he would stop. The blonde let go of his cock in an effort to stave off his peak.


“Wait, please, shit.” Johns reached back and grabbed on to the man's hip, trying to slow down the rhythm or get it off his prostate or something before he shot his load. “Slow down for a sec or I'm gonna...fuck, Riddick, I'm close.”


“Good,” the man grunted out, knocking it up a notch.


Johns slapped him right on the bone, a small flash of pain going through his fingers. It was like hitting a boulder. “I don't-”


Riddick grabbed his hand and pinned it to the bed, throwing his weight up and pressing the blonde that much harder into the bed. Those lips settled on the thin, sensitive skin behind his ear. When the merc tried to rear up and shake him off he found he was restrained by an iron grip and compact muscle. It made his cock bob painfully between his legs. “You're all mine right now, Whiskers. If I want to feel your tight cunt milk me dry then it's gonna happen.”


Johns moaned so loud that a neighbor smacked on the wall but Riddick's feral growl traveled through the plaster and insulation and silenced everything. The blonde flushed up to his hairline in a heady combination of arousal and embarrassment.


“Ooh.” He didn't need to see Riddick's face to know the man was smirking. “You like that?”

He shook his head in an attempt to deny it.


“No, no. I think you do,” Riddick needled mercilessly, fingers disappearing for a moment before the blonde felt them touching his entrance. The muscle was stretched to the limit from the other's cock but those digits threatened the edges like he was going to push in. “You like the idea of me filling your sweet pussy up. You like the burn, the pushes you past your limits and it makes you feel so good, don't it?”


His hole was abandoned, traces of lube swatching shiny lines along his shoulder blade and the bob of his throat. He swallowed nervously but didn't make a grab for his knife, putting an element of trust in the stranger. It was more pressure than anything, used to show him his place.


“I'll come so deep inside that you'll taste it. That, I promise you.”


It was the pure essence of dominance, as timeless as their rhythm. One man forcing the other to his will, physically bending him to obey. Johns felt his lower back twinging in protest but it didn't stop him from arching up, pressing his shoulders down and his ass up in an instinctual need to present to his potential mate.


No mating.


His throat was released and he wanted to immediately call it back.




I said 'no', God damn it!


His more animalistic side was threatening to claw his way out. They weren't really words but they were pulses of need, base urges that his human mind was able to process into something intelligible.


So good to us. Provider. So strong. Bond him. Keep him.


Johns bit down, catching a mouthful of sheet and ripping it with sharp teeth. We can provide for ourselves. It was fuzzy, slurred even in his own brain. His walls were cracking. We don't need anyone else. But it'd be nice, even for a moment. A thumb pressed into patch of skin above his scent gland with purpose, like he knew. It made him clench down on the man's thick cock and hunch further, throwing him into a submissive undertow he couldn't pull himself out of him.


Johns made an embarrassing series of little noises as the man fucked him, hands stretching out and nails-near-claws tore fine slits into the bedding. Riddick groaned when the blonde's hand shot out suddenly, digging deep rivets into the cheap wall. The merc's mouth fell open and a single word was ripped from his throat, every letter dragging like barbed wire across his tongue.




It was almost too quiet to hear but it struck them both in the gut. The hand tightened across the nape of his neck while its twin curled down around his cock.


“Spill.” That low tone struck him hard now, making him mewl in front of the man like he never had with another partner. Johns wanted to insult him in a hundred different ways but he couldn't. He was holding his breath as the tension climbed in his gut, building and stacking until it was straining against his very heart. He tried to choke out the man's name but it only sounded like a high-pitched grunt. The moment he relaxed he'd come, he just knew it.


Riddick went balls deep, nose brushing through the sweaty curls at the base of the merc's neck. “Don't worry, Johns. I ain't gonna let you fall too hard.”


The last threads of his control snapped free. Like a house of cards under the force of a breeze, he collapsed within himself. He bucked hard, gaining back his breath enough to cry out like he was getting stabbed. Riddick's thrusts were harder than before, using his ass like he'd promised. He didn't often lose himself when he got off but this time the orgasm was so strong that it nearly wiped out his human reasoning.


Johns' outcry turned into one of protest when he realized the smoothness of the cock within him was wrapped, a layer of synthetic bullshit keeping that potent seed. He pushed back into the hard fucking, hissing through his teeth at the sheer need to be flooded with come. He wanted to be scent claimed properly and that stupid fucking condom was keeping him from it. But Riddick rode him so well that after half a dozen well-aimed thrusts the hissing died off and satisfaction set in.


Johns felt the last drop fall from the tip of his spent cock when Riddick let loose a wild snarl, teeth burying in the back of his shoulder as the powerful body above him gave a great shudder. There was warmth and he gave another low whine when he didn't get to feel the gush, though he was starting to remember why that was a fucking awful idea.


Two-hundred-something pounds of muscle fell on him. The man's still-hard cock slipped out of his aching, wet hole. Johns snuffled but he didn't tell him to get off. There was a snap as the condom was thrown off the side of the bed, nowhere near the trashcan. Though he was practically face down and on the verge of passing out, he managed to crack an eye open and look around. Spotting the older man's arm still draped along his own, he grabbed his hand and dragged it toward his face. Riddick's scent was more robust now, more compelling, and he went with the compulsion to nuzzle at the vulnerable skin of the man's wrist.


Riddick's lax posture stiffened but only long enough for him to realize what the blonde was doing. Johns tried to shake himself out of it and apologize but the larger man just eased over enough to keep from crushing him, offering his wrist like it wasn't a big deal. To a human, maybe not, but to a Shifter it was second only to offering a neck.


“Go ahead.” He could feel Riddick breathing softly into his hair, maybe even scenting him back. “Take what you need. I am.” He chuckled darkly. “I did.”


Johns' purred and rubbed his face against the skin, soaking up all the scent he could before laving at the veins with little strokes of his tongue. His inner beast was pushing for him to leave a marker behind and he was too tired to fight it any longer. Though it felt like Riddick was settling in for a little while longer, the merc pressed his forehead to the man's wrist and cleared his throat.

“Round two in a bit, yeah?” He tried to make it sound like an offer so he didn't scare the guy off. He wasn't trying to cling or guilt him – they were free men after all – but he wouldn't mind getting another go or two before they had to part ways.


“Oh yeah.” His ass was grabbed, two blunt fingers running briefly over his hole. “I ain't done with this yet.”




Johns woke up with a frizzle of panic dancing up his spine. He sat up and started taking stock. Bag, communicator bulging from the front pocket, guns beside it, jacket, boots, chest holster still on him, and (he patted the corner of the bed and just under his arm) both blades. He'd fucking fallen asleep! Next to a stranger! Shit, the man could've robbed him blind and slit his throat by now.


But said stranger was lying beside him. He wasn't asleep but he was resting, eyes half-open and chest moving with calm breaths. With all those naked muscles stretched out and on display, including a half-hard dick, he looked every inch the sated hunter. Only the fact that he didn't smell like one saved Riddick from being labeled a Shifter in his mind. The man wasn't human, that was for sure, but those were his genetic building blocks. Maybe one of those hybrids – people who shipped off Earth and landed on harsher climated planets. There were plenty of adapted humanoids. His mother had been a Aksani and his dad was technically Angosian, but they both had a healthy dose of human in their veins. Shit, he'd never fucked someone who was more than half Terran, and never someone from the actual planet. This guy was just another on the list.


“All your stuff's there.” Riddick threw his chin at the two piles their things had fallen in to. “Though that fake badge was tempting.”


The copper metal was glinting from his discarded jacket pocket. He snickered, rolling his shoulders to ease out the tension. He'd been caught. Usually he didn't let his fucks know anything past his name but there was nothing dangerous here. He'd smell it if the guy meant him harm.


At least, he usually did. Why would this one be any different?


“Wouldn't get you far, Big Guy,” Johns assured him, tossing back the sheet that had been draped over his body and moving to straddle the man. “It looks real fake up close. My best forgery yet, though.”


Riddick eyed him, hands coming up to lace behind his head. “Whatcha' need it for?”


“Foolin' people,” Johns mimicked his drawl, running his hands over the man's chest. It was smooth, unlike his own, and it was so breathtakingly broad. A body like this could take down a hundred convicts with a simple shoulder-tackle. It would spark jealousy within him if it didn't inspire so much lust. He'd always wanted to strike that kind of figure but he was built like a runner or a swimmer, not a body-builder. Still, he could still catch criminals like a man on a mission.


It had taken him years to be comfortable in his own skin but he was over those issues. They were swallowed up by taking a high-risk bounty hunter job knowing any day could be his last. Straddling some hulking figure of a man in nothing but his birthday suit – that was just half the fun. And the way Riddick was looking at him was only fueling his confidence. Like twin, dark coals burning sweet paths from head to foot. He undulated beneath it. He tilted his head back and kind of pushed out his chest, hardening cock brushing against the man's chest as his thighs spread as much as they could on either side of his ample waist. It was a bold display but he couldn't help but primp and flaunt himself out a bit, letting his infamous pride shine through. He would've felt a little ashamed if he didn't see those eyes lingering on his neck like he wanted to take a bite.


“Showing off for me?” Riddick clicked his tongue. “You've already got me here, what more you want?”


Johns ran his tongue over his teeth, edges threatening to slice the agile muscle. “That's just it – more.”


“Hungry kitten,” he murmured below his breath. Johns had always prided himself on embracing his feline blood into his mercenary career. It helped him read body language, pick up scents, see in the dim lighting, gave him extra stamina, advanced his hearing, and afforded him a sixth sense that had saved his ass a hundred times. But this man seemed to know that from the start and had taken great pains to use it against him (though in the most pleasurable way possible). Riddick was a difficult book to read.


Said 'difficult book' sat up with his back flush against the wall and dragged him up until they were pressed from stomach to thigh. His lustful flesh was met with an answering hardness. Johns didn't waste another second fighting instinct. Instead he started running his nose across the overly-hot skin stretched all across Riddick's neck, finding that familiar pulse point and giving it a little nibble. Hands ran all over his back and ass, squeezing handfuls and digging in fingertips to replace the marks from a few hours ago that had already begun to fade. Unable to do it as slowly as he would've liked before, Johns let his hands roam over the swell of the other's shoulders to feel just how substantial they really were. The sheer strength hidden within them sent little flutters of excitement all through him.


A wave of panic not unlike when he first woke up hit him, letting him remember that this was a stranger who he'd never see again that he was scenting. He was getting attached and for the first time his libido calmed down enough for him to pull away.


“Sorry,” he started, color in his cheeks from more than fervor.


“Mmm, don't be.” A nose ran up his own neck, lips following with a hint of teeth. His chest came alive with a purr, feline side almost overwhelmed by the mutual exchange. It felt too much like courtship for him to ignore it or brush it aside. Johns laved over his own palm, leaving behind a thick layer of saliva that he used to reach back and slick the waiting cock. He pushed up on his knees, putting him half a head taller than the other while he lined himself up.


Riddick stilled him with a razor sharp gaze and an unyielding hand hooked under his thigh. There was an unspoken question in the downturn of his lips and the slight furrow of the brow. The concern was touching and only cemented his impulsive choice.


Johns swallowed down his purring until it was more of pleasant hum. “Don't be making promises you can't keep.”


The man opened his mouth to say something but the blonde swooped in and stole a kiss, only the third they'd shared. It was brief but it stole the protest right off his tongue.


“I seem to recall something, I think...” Johns bit at the side of lip in a coy manner that made the man's gaze flicker down to his mouth. He touched just above Riddick's eyebrow, fingertips slowly trialing down the flat of his temple to the masculine curve of his jaw. Everything about him was broad and it was a bigger turn-on than the merc would care to admit. But the would-be predator wasn't so dangerous beneath him with him hanging on to his every word, thick cock pulsing in the grip of his hand, body thrumming with anticipation of what was to come.


The smell of the man's dried blood on their chests was still in his nose, driving him crazy.


“Something about you filling up my wet cunt, huh?” Johns drawled, thumb mapping a path down through the hollow of the man's throat. He lowered his voice, daring to brush their lips one more time as he rubbed the wet tip of the other's cock against the still-stretched rim of his hole. “Thought you wanted to fill me up, Riddick? Gonna’ do it right this time?”


A savage sound the likes of which he'd only heard in animals burst from Riddick. Johns dropped himself down on the blood-hot cock at the same moment the man thrust up, the act filling him to the brim. It barely hurt with his feline so close to the surface. It was good for making everything pliable and accepting, giving him a hyper-control over his body that helped him relax for moments like this. It felt as good as it had the first time but deeper – this angle forcing the cock across his sweet spot with every drag.


Riddick held him down while he was balls-deep, making the blonde gasp and squirm in place. “M-Move, God damn it.”


“You always do it like this, kitten?”


He could feel the bass of that voice in his ribs. A hungry mouth bit its way along the bottom of his jaw. “Riddick...”

“You pick up a stranger at a seedy bar, bring 'em back to yours, and have 'em fuck you raw?” Riddick snarled through his teeth, hips grinding up and forcing sweet moans out of the blonde. “You let guys like those flea-bitten mutts I saw eyeballing you in the club put their seed in you?”


Johns tossed his head back, heavy breath turning into a low groan as the fat head rolled just perfect over his prostate. His chin was grabbed, fingers shooting out like a snake to snatch it and jerk his head back down. Those eyes seared white-hot into his own. He'd never had someone look at him with such bold intensity. It was exhilarating.


“Do you act this innocent for them when you ask 'em to make you all dirty?” the man demanded in that authoritive tone that should have reminded him of Boss but didn't.


“No, never,” he managed to get past a shaky breath. “You're lucky I'm lettin' you do this at all, asshole.”


“Yeah. Guess I am.” A lazy smirk came across his face before his hand came down hard on his ass, the smack echoing through the room. Johns hitched forward and his eyes went wide as he glared down at his bedmate. “Now get 'ta ridin'. Can't fill you all proper-like with you sittin' still.”




Riddick rose with the sun no matter the sector. Years of running had ingrained the habit so deep and trained his senses so well that he wasn't sure he could kick it if he tried. Enemies could see you easier during the day, they could find and follow your tracks. It was a damn good thing he didn't need anything more than few z's or it would have got him ghosted years ago. He could feel that this particular planet's sun was just thirty minutes from breaking the horizon and he wanted to be on a jacked ship before the first hour of light had passed.


Riddick sat up without moving the cheap mattress so he could observe his latest conquest. Johns (Billy, he snorted) was stretched out on his belly beside him, fast asleep under the exhaustion their two rounds had brought on. He hadn't taken it easy on him, either. He didn't often find partners who could keep up with him but the Shifter had a stamina level that he wouldn't underestimate in the future. The man wasn't short and compact like the bottom bitches he used to see lingering in the whore houses, but everyone seemed kind of small compared to himself. Johns was that too-perfect height that made kissing him real easy.


Kissing...he thought the blonde was going to slit his throat right there. But it had been a test – one which he'd passed with flying colors. He didn't want some weak bitch. If he was going to fuck a man then he was going to fuck a man. And despite the way those lips and thighs had parted for him, Johns was all man. Arrogant, sharp, rough, and yielding in all the ways that mattered.


The guy had (and was) showing him trust he didn't think he really deserved. It was the hottest boy he'd had the pleasure of fucking in quite some time, the first one to be free since before his first slam. He reached out and touched a tight curl of tarnished gold, swirling it between two fingers as he ran his eyes over the form.


Johns was carved into miles and miles of sun-kissed flesh. It had to be good genes because the guy had the scent profile of an armed pilot – gun oil, grease, cheap food, and the inevitable metallic tang that came with flying around in a tin can all the time. And buried deep under all that was feline musk, a wild tang that conflicted hard with the rest of him. The Shifter was stronger than he looked, too. Those thighs were worthy of their own religion. Riddick wouldn't be surprised if there was a string of broken hearts across the galaxy who touched themselves to the thought of Johns. Men probably dreamed of those smooth cheeks hollowing around their cocks and fine-cut hips bucking against them. Women were surely burying their fingers inside their eager depths while remembering how they had run their fingers through his golden chest hair or how his talented tongue had felt against their skin.


And that mouth...Riddick didn't often talk to the Powers That Be (or whatever the fuck was up there cause it wasn't God that was for sure), but he had to give it up to them for crafting a pretty piece like this. Those lips were colored the shade of virgin flesh, a hint of pink touching at the corners and inner curves. He'd seen better, but there was something about that near-cupid-bow that made him want to fuck it.


There was something else mixed in with that lust – curiosity. Riddick leaned over the prone man, spotting the mark he'd only felt with his fingers so far. On Johns' right hip was a flrry of tribal markings. They didn't spread out very far but they were sharp and jagged with symbolic rage. He dared to touch it. Yeah, just what he thought. There was a sunburst shaped scar hidden under all that darkness. A phaser wound – only they gradiated out like that. The flesh had probably healed dark, a memory he didn't want to see every day in the mirror and had decided to cover up. It must have been at close range with the fucker right on top of him. The lack of marks and the way he took his cock with only a few minutes of prep told him that the blonde had a high healing rate. To must have been something serious.


Johns seemed like he'd be a prick to get to know but there was something soft beneath that smart mouth. Maybe it was the purring, or maybe the dimples that dotted both his cheeks and his chin when he smiled. Either way, the guy had layers and that was just as dangerous as it was sexy. Shame this was it for them.


Riddick pressed a wet kiss to the back of the man's neck, a pleased rumble going through him when he caught a whiff of their mingling scents laying across his skin. He'd always tried to keep the animalistic side of him locked away when he took someone to bed and it was refreshing to have someone not care. He didn't have to look to know that the man's silver knife was still buried in the corner of the bed, its twin resting in the shoulder holster still strapped under his arms. He had claws in more ways than one. The con had never really had an urge to rub himself all over someone before and he wasn't sure it was a good thing. But he wasn't going to leave just yet – not without getting one more taste.


“Wake up a bit for me,” Riddick splayed his fingers over the man's flank, the curve of all that lean muscle fitting perfectly in the palm of his hand. “Johns.”


The man rolled toward him so they were chest-to-back, huffing a bit but showing no other signs of waking. He wanted to see those bright blues again before they left each other's lives. It would be something to hold in his shallow well of memories for the rest of his life: The Shifter with the gemstone eyes and the filthy mouth.


“I've gotta' leave, kitten.” Riddick bumped his forehead into the back of the man's head, hating how it sounded like an apology. “Sun's almost up.”


The blonde's hands curled in the sheets, lashes fluttering against his cheek before they cracked open. They were blurry, unseeing, and if he looked closely he could see the pupils were fucked up. They weren't like that last night. That was something he would remember. Being in a sleep state must have blurred the line between human and beast. He put that knowledge away for later, just in case.


“Wha...?” Johns trailed off, lids threatening to fall shut again.


“I'm going to head out.” Riddick dragged his teeth down the man's neck in the way he knew he liked, getting an unrestrained little mewl. “Up for round three or do you need your beauty sleep?”


Johns kind of frowned as he tried to process what he'd heard. Realization bloomed across his face before his right leg came up to expose the stretched rim of his hole. He could see himself dry and tacky around the well-fucked entrance. It was hot to know he'd done this to the blonde – ruined him, given him reason to ache later. The younger man reached back and grabbed his hip, head nodding weakly as a tumble of hoarse words spilled out of him. “Yeah...yeah, one more 'for you go.”


Fucking like this was a whole other level of intimacy that he wasn't comfortable with. But Johns was all warm and willing, soft eyed and voiced but hard bodied and ready. It was an invitation that was being extended even though the blonde was ready to fall back asleep.


Riddick made sure to re-slick his cock with the lube he'd snatched off the dresser while Johns had had his back turned the night before. He moved in close so they were flush, sliding in to the clinging heat that had squeezed two orgasms out of him already.


Their rut was slower this time. He could feel Johns drifting in and out between this world and sleep. He would've felt like he was taking some advantage but the man's pretty cock was wet-tipped and hard against his lean stomach. His ass bore down, clenching around his dick, still tight after two rounds and just a few hours of sleep. The blonde rocked back into him but there was no strength to it. Riddick liked this side of the man as much as did his growling, knife-wielding side. Gods, seeing his blood drip down onto his skin...across his neck, his a brand. It had been intoxicating.


The tightness in his balls and the pink light peeking through the curtains told him it was time to finish this. He'd love to stay and fuck and indulge but this was a merc-central and he couldn't afford to linger. He pumped Johns' dick until the man moaned into the pillow and fell, sticky seed pulsing over the con's fingers and the sheet. Feeling cocky, he slipped his slick fingers between hinted-pink lips. The blonde didn't hesitate to start sucking, driven by the same impulses that made him rut. The pressure and the sureness of the action hit him like a punch to the gut and sent him reeling over that cliff.


Riddick carefully pulled his fingers out of the slowing mouth, his softening cock falling easily out of the slack entrance. The man was falling asleep again. This level of faith – this confidence that he wasn't going to get rolled over or killed – just intensified the bliss flowing through his veins. Sweet, trusting pussy-cat. That would get him ghosted one day.


He grabbed a handful of blonde hair and tugged sharply enough to get a sharp gasp, the sting waking him up so he could feel and hear the mouth pressing to his ear.


“Don't let anyone do this to you again,” Riddick commanded, fingers pointedly running over the man's wet cunt. “Don't let them breed you like this. It'll get you hurt. And they'll get possessive.”


“Never do,” Johns yawned, too drained to be concerned about someone he knew wouldn't hurt him. “Told 'ya...fuckin' lucky. 'Sides...if you gave me somethin' I'll-” There was another yawn, stronger than the last. “-hunt 'ya down. Cut your dick off.”


“Good boy.” He patted the man's hip before pulling the blanket up over his naked form. He carded his fingers through that hair one more time, catching a last glimpse of shining blue just to fulfil that last urge of want that was wriggling in his chest. “Go back to sleep. I'll let myself out.”


Johns curled a pillow in his arm and dragged it under his chin, body stretching tight for a second before he went limp. A whispered 'Be careful' escaped him before the man was back to sleep.


Riddick's grin was all teeth. Satisfaction guaranteed, kitten.


He took his time strapping his stolen shivs back to his body, clothes going on before the second layer was put back into place. Usually he kept his knives on but Johns had taken just as much time stripping off his weapons and it had given the room a sense of ease. He kept his ears and nose tuned sharp to the man in the bed but he seemed well and truly passed out.


He was fully dressed sans-boots when his eyes fell on the blonde's bag. His fingers itched. Just a look, a peek...he wouldn't take anything. He eased over to the wall and knelt down, flipping open the buckles as quietly as he could before pushing back the flap. There were maps, a pouch with a UD stick that had (he clicked it on briefly to see the red lit number) two hundred credits on it, a spare pistol, another knife, and a high-tech comm device. It was locked. A smirk pulled up the con's lips as his fingers played over the keyboard, pulling out a few old tricks to get through the firewall. It only took a few minutes before the display screen blinked on.



Contact List




Ship Statements




Captain’s Log


Riddick paused on that particular tab. That sounded promising. His eyes flicked to the Shifter. Would he notice if he tampered with it? The odds were slim. And he’d just picked up that wide-range transmitter. The coincidence was too great. It would help him keep tabs on the blonde, get a feel for him, maybe even make it so they could do this again.


Too much curiosity killed smarter creatures than him.


I’ve never doubted my gut before.


Riddick flicked open the snap on his pouch that held his lock-picking tools. He managed to get the back panel of the comm open, exposing wires and circuits and all that fancy tech that made the world spin to the tune of electricity. He dug around in another pouch until his fingers pinched around the small, circular transmitter that was already tuned to his own comm (Just in case, he’d said to himself the day before). It wasn't the best on the market and it might give itself away when projecting, but it was free and this was a whim so who gave a fuck? It didn't look too complicated so what could it hurt?


People said you could learn a lot about a man by their hands. Same kind of people would call him a brute by the size and thickness of his own. Those people had never seen him with a blade or handle tweezers inside electronics before. He manipulated the wires and with a small spark from his miniaturized solar-powered soldering iron (also for emergencies, tucked away tight when he was between ships like this) and the device blinked to life.


Johns stirred, blankets shifting noisily across the cheap mattress.


Riddick decided not to test out the connection. He fixed the bag back into place before pulling on his boots, lacing them too tight as he tried to push down the thoughts of staying and fucking the blonde through the daylight hours.


'Til later, kitten.




The alarm went off at noon.


“I fucking hear you,” Johns grumbled, slapping at his wrist a few times before he managed to hit the button. He smacked his lips a few times, legs and arms twisting around to try and loosen up the stiff muscles. He arched up his back and shook his head, craning his neck back and forth. He probably looked every inch his feline heritage but he like to tamp those urges down when he was alone. Riddick's smell was waning on the pillows though it was still rubbed deep into his skin.


Deep inside me too. He grinned, wriggling his ass to feel the delicious ache. He'd have to get tested before he left the planet but there wasn't a lot that couldn't be cured. Plus he had taken a few subtle, deep sniffs from his fingers after he'd touched the man's cock and hadn't picked up anything sour or rotting like he had with previous partners. Disease was something his nose knew something about. His dad had made sure of that early on. Just one more way to keep him protected.


Johns turned onto his back and slapped an arm over his eyes, teeth chewing nervously along the sore line of his lip. He needed some water. More likely, he needed coffee and a cheap breakfast. It was high time to get off this rock. The most interesting thing about it was probably miles away, maybe more. He peeked out from under the crook of his elbow to make a count of his stuff in the corner. It was all there, right down to the last shoestring.


Rationally, he knew he had to scrub himself down so he didn't wallow in the stranger's smell all day. He wanted to rub his face in the man's pillow and scratch the filthy sheets over his arms and chest. Boss had always said he had an addictive personality – he was a borderline alcoholic for most of his teenage years, and after that he was drunk on power and precision through the MA. He hunted with a single-mindedness that scared his father and when he was transformed he was nothing if not a fixated hunter. He'd tracked pray on foot and paw for hours at a time, relentless and determined. It wasn't exactly his best feature.


Probably my worst. He puffed out a breath, arm falling back into place to block out the sun and the dingy room. He wasn't exactly tired but he let himself drift, falling back into the memories of last night like he could etch them into his brain if he traced them hard enough.


It was not something he wanted to forget.


Did you like it? I hope you did. I read it over like three times so excuse the mistakes. If you liked this one, check to the next installments. Little gay porny gifset right here. Pretty please leave a comment, even a little one. It is so inspiring and makes me write faster.