Halloran. Sgt. David R. Halloran. The information I paid Ahmed for. A name, and a contact. Narrowed down a list of people Brightman would possibly have handed Anise to. He served under him for years. Figured it would have to be military.
Then there was the fight over the estate. A short blurt in court, about who would be taking over Brightman’s place, and Anise with it. Passed like a fucking piece of furniture. Pisses me off just thinking about it.
Also learned that, as far as can be seen, no more mercs have been sent to hunt her. She still doesn’t exist in any database, anywhere. Has me wondering just how badly Halloran wanted her back in the first place. Maybe he just cut her loose. He still has something I want though. Something I want enough to risk contact. Doesn’t know who he was dealing with. Just knows what I was asking for. Made it pretty clear that I wasn’t asking politely.
Interesting that he was willing to let it go, to allow a meeting. Insisted on one. Maybe Halloran’s tastes don’t run the same as Brightman’s. Wonder if he knew what Brightman was. Have to wait and see. One and a half days, back to the Midorian, the only real safe place for that kind of a meeting. The only place where I know I can keep Anise safe, while I deal with it.
She still hasn’t let go of that package, holding it across her chest, in both arms. She’s trying not to grin, not succeeding. She looks cute in the goggles, reminds me a little of Jack. With hair, of course, but the same innocence. How she can find so much happiness in even the smallest of things amazes me. I keep forgetting how young she is.
Ahmed’s delivery boy has the supplies loaded onto the ship, working quickly, not letting me help him. Gives me a chance to contact the surgeon, from the Midorian.
Took a peek at some of those packages Ahmed’s daughter made up for her, before we left. No wonder she was blushing. I get the feeling the choices weren’t made so much for Anise as for me. Not that Anise had much say in it. I’m glad she didn’t speak english, it would have hurt her if she knew that they thought she was with me for pleasure. I’m not about to tell her. It does make me wonder about that last one though.
I don’t even know what half of this stuff is. The woman kept looking at Riddick, and piling more things into my hands. I get the feeling none of it is too practical. I don’t think she would have taken no for an answer, even if she could understand what I was saying. Kind of fun though. I’ve never been shopping. I wonder if this counts.
I feel more than a little ridiculous, and know I was blushing. More as she got to the back of the store. Strange that being kept naked for much of my life should seem natural, but all these clothes would make me ill at ease. She had taken the pile of clothes from me, and was going to package them for me, when her hands fell on one last thing. It was the closest I came to understanding her during the whole encounter. Something that was just for me, she didn’t look at Riddick first. Her hand coming to the side of my face for just a moment, before she smiled, and put it on her other shoulder, separate from everything else. Just for me. A gift. Then Riddick’s gift on top of everything.
It’s strange to see her so shy. She’s not denying me. Just unsure of what to do. What she does with her body is pure animal instinct. This is a little different. She’s had no preparation for any of this. Then again, how could she.
Ahmed’s daughter has a good eye for what a man likes. Anise, already beautiful in her own way, more so now. The animal in her closer to the surface now than ever before. A different kind of animal. She avoided lace. Avoided anything that was rough. Seemed to have seen something else in Anise. Some slick darkness that only silk would answer. What was small, or unpronounced in her, the silk flowed over, until you couldn’t help but want to touch her. Couldn’t imagine her being anything but what she was. Sexy didn’t begin to cover it.
That she made no obvious display of how beautiful she is only made her more so. Standing shyly, having to be helped with things more often than not. Hard not to smile a little, at a woman who could rip your throat out with her teeth, but reduced to frustration over a bra.
I wanted to see what was in the last package. Her head tilted to the side, no, afterwards, she says. Afterwards. A woman that knows what she wants. And when. Lay her back amidst piles of silk, not bothering to move anything off the bed.
I may have felt ridiculous in the store, still feel a little ridiculous. But Riddick clearly likes all of this. I wonder if that was the idea. Helping me with closures, or just figuring out what goes where. His hands slipping over me, his arousal obvious. But waiting, nonetheless, until I had tried on everything, and he had taken everything off again. This is going to be hard to get used to. How can a man be so undone by such a small piece of fabric?
It’s beautiful though. Hard to describe. Like warm water over my skin. His kisses are like that, when he kisses me gently. Soft, like silk. A strange thing to say about a man, perhaps. Lips like silk, a damp trail down my throat. Laid back in piles of silk already. Like being surrounded, engulfed in it.
Hard not to surrender. Tilt my head back, exposing my throat to him. Deep growl of appreciation at the implicit act of submission. So I submit. Completely.
Even at first, when I had damned little say in whether he took me or not, I never submitted as fully as I was doing now. It was, then, a matter of the lesser of evils, an educated attempt to keep from being raped and killed. This is different. Complete trust.
Her body relaxes beneath me, completely. Submission. Different than any other I’ve ever experienced. I’m used to making people submit, to making them afraid of me. This is something else. She’s not afraid. And I’d never make her do anything, not anymore. Freely offered, not something I paid to have someone do. She gives herself completely to me.
Let her hands skim over my sides for a moment longer. Straddle her waist, taking her hands, seeking permission with my eyes. Not needing it. Tied loosely in a piece of silk cloth, over her head, looped around a slat on the headboard.
Considering her life so far, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was afraid. But she’s not. That same soft smile, moving her jaw out of the way to let me kiss her again. More forceful. Losing control.
Run my hands over her breasts, her nipples hard. A soft growl from her, as I suck hard on one, then the other. Every pant out, that same low growl. Her hips shift, her own wetness and need making her fidget. Hands over her hips, feeling her breath quicken.
My hands are shaking, touching her. Slide over her hips, just touching the silk underneath, that she’s lying on. Painfully hard, making me whimper, a sound I hardly recognize as my own. Flip a piece of silk over her thigh, to run my hand over, loving the feel of her underneath.
Hold her by her calves, rest her feet on my shoulders. Wanting to taste all of her, with nothing in the way. My nose on her clitoris, my tongue deep within her, feel her wetness run down my chin. Heels digging into my shoulders, trying to buck into me, and fighting it at the same time.
Sit back on my heels, dealing with my clothes, watching her breasts heave with every pant, coming fast now. Kick the pants off the bed, so all I’ll feel is her, and silk.
Penetration is slick, her hips arched into me, driving me deeper. Bottom hard, on the first stroke, watching her eyes the entire time, to make sure she’s still willing to let me take my pace, hard and fast. That smile. Not soft at all. An animal smile. Submission, but no weakness. Her hips thrusting into mine.
Bury my face in her neck, her shoulder. Biting and nipping, before giving in, my teeth bared, screaming into her shoulder. Her hips keeping me to the brutal pace I’ve set. Hard and fast. Relentless. Pull her thigh to my side, pinning her still beneath me. Growing so hard it hurts. Her screams beneath me pushing me harder. Loving the sound of her cries growing sharper, her gasping for breath. Feeling her so close to coming, her throat flushed under me. Her first spasms so tight it makes me hurt. Drive deeper, hit bottom and hold, feeling her explode underneath me. Not wanting to breathe, not wanting to move. Anything, to make it last. I can’t. I come so hard it’s pain, lasting forever and not long enough. Every throb an ache.
She releases herself. It was the thought of restraint only, she was never held anywhere. Her hand stroking the stubble at the back of my neck. The roar of her pulse pounding in my ear, nuzzle over her jugular. Pull back over her throat, deeply flushed. Kiss only when we can both breathe, before resting, our foreheads touching.
He’s made me coffee. Sitting back, in the pilots chair, wearing nothing but his loose black cargoes. Resting, completely at ease. Comfortable with my natural nakedness around him again. Put all the silk away, off the bed. He holds out the last package to me. I hadn’t forgotten it, not completely, although he came close to making me.
It’s strange. It’s not something I would have picked. Loose. Not quite black, but so close. Blue, maybe. Some days I wish I could tell. It’s silk, like everything else, but rougher, raw, so much like her. Drawstring pants. Hide almost every curve. Until she moves. Then it flows over her like water. Showing every curve. Two very deep slits up the side of a not quite tight top, like a jacket, buttons all the way to the indent in her throat. Sleeves almost to her knuckles. Strange that she could wear so much, and somehow look even more sexy than she did wearing almost nothing. Silver embroidery at the throat, a reflection of her eyes. A gift, just for her. Like something she was meant to wear. I’m going to have to go back and thank Ahmed.
She’ll have something beautiful to wear, when I have the Surgeon sit with her over dinner, while I meet with Halloran.
© 29 Jan 2006, 12:57