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You lean over your desk and cross off the date on your calendar just before the lights of the ship cut out. It’s a planned power reset and it takes about a half an hour to cycle through. In the meantime, you’re left in the dark with Riddick on what is evidently the end of Christmas Eve.
You’re told Christmas was a major holiday on Earth way back when. It had decorations and lights and music and festivals and an enormous amount of traditions people followed. You were told there was magic and happiness and a whole wonder of good spirits in the air. The holiday fascinates you. Nowadays holidays are fleeting and vastly depend on what world you’re on.
You let your eyes adjust to the darkness. There’s such little light from a distant moon and occasional stars filtering in through the thick windows that there’s not much adjusting to be done. You’re mostly just stuck with a blackness for vision.
The hum of machines and electricity and everything that runs a ship start to fade away. It’s ominous and unnerving and even though you know logically, there’s enough resources to sustain the ship powered down for well over twelve hours, you can’t help but imagine what it would be like to lose the oxygen in the air. You unconsciously take a deep breath and close your eyes.
With only the noise of dark space to mask his footsteps, it makes it nearly impossible for Riddick to sneak up behind you. You hear everything from his boots on the metal floor to his holster bumping his thigh. You can even hear the shiv in his pocket clack against some screws he’d stored there earlier. He comes up behind you and pauses for a moment.
Then his hands are on your shoulders. You tense at first, not expecting the touch, but relax as one his hands trails down your arm to grasp your elbow. He gives gentle pulls, urges you to straighten and walk with him. He guides you out of your room, walking slow and steady.
“At least one of us can see in the dark,” you comment with some dry humor, blindly keeping your free arm out in front of you, still worried you’ll run into something. You must look like an absolute fool to him.
“Kind of the whole point of the shine job.” His voice is deeper in the dark. His eyes glisten in the blackness. You can see the flash of silver when he turns a certain way, but they don’t glow or light up his face at all. They’re nothing more than a glimpse of color in a black hole. You try not to look at them.
You don’t ask where he’s taking you. You’ve been traveling with him long enough that you don’t think he’s leading you to a nice place to murder you. He would have done that well before now if he wanted to. He keeps one hand on your elbow, the point of it in his palm as he holds you firmly, and the other on your far shoulder. He pushes and pulls on you to turn you when needed. When you come to a narrower hall, you feel his chest bump into his shoulder, Riddick having turn sideways to shuffle through besides you.
He brings you to the main control room. It has the largest windows, therefore the most light. It’s still not enough for you to see clearly, but you can make out the outlines of shapes and Riddick can trust you not to fall over enough to loosen his grip a little as he stands beside you.
“You know it’s Christmas?” you ask just to fill the silence.
“Christmas?” he scoffs. “You still keeping track of the days?” You’d learned Riddick never cared about what day it was. He shook his head at your calendar and told you knowing time like that was useless in a universe that had so many different versions of it.
“It doesn’t hurt anyone,” you tell him yet again. His face twitches and though he doesn’t laugh, you can tell he’s amused. You roll your eyes knowing he can see the gesture clearly. You’ve stopped walking, but he keeps his hand on you still.
“So did you get me a present?” he teases. It was one of the main traditions of the holiday; gift giving. You take yourself out of his grip and turn to face him. You gently whack the back of your hand into his chest.
“Of course I didn’t get you a present,” you balk. “What the hell would I even get someone like you?” He chuckles and you can see his lips smirk as his hands come to your waist. He takes a step closer and presses up to you.
“I can think of something I wouldn’t mind unwrapping,” he says lowly. In the silence, you’re sure he can hear the way your breath catches in your throat. He’s been doing this recently; being flirtatious. He’s always made bold comments about your body and speculated about your sex life or lack there of, but lately it’s become more directly engaging. It’s exciting and new and dangerous and it’s getting harder to resist.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have made fun of my calendar.” You give a slight shove to his chest. It’s enough to put some space between you, but his hands remain on your hips. He counters you, stepping forward and bringing himself back to you.
“You know, normally I’m a man who just takes what he wants.” It’s an empty threat, but it still makes you swallow thickly. He starts to circle you, slink up behind you and replace his hands on your hips. He presses his face to a spot just behind your ear and breathes deeply. “I kinda like you like this.” He takes one of your hands and brings it up, turns it, and places it at the back of his neck. You grip him without thinking about it as his fingers trail back down your arm. “You can’t see a fucking thing.” His warm breath against your ear sends chills down your spine and you fight the urge to lean back into him. “And I can see every little thing you do.”
“Predators like vulnerable prey.” Your words shake a little as he nuzzles his nose to your ear. He lets out a small, dry laugh.
“Except you’re not vulnerable,” he counters, patting the knife in your lower leg pocket. “Are you?” His hand flattens against your leg before drifting up to the backside of your hip, just barely tracing the curve of your ass. “Too bad the power reset doesn’t take longer. I could have some fun with you.” You finally find the power within yourself to let go of his neck and step forward out of his grip.
“You couldn’t handle me, Riddick,” you taunt as you turn to face him and keep the distance between you. You still can’t see the details of his face, but he’s clearly still enjoying himself. He holds up his hands in defeat and voluntarily takes his own step back.
“Maybe one day we’ll find out for sure,” he chuckles. “Now sit your ass down until the lights come back on.” He nods his head in an exaggerated fashion to a control seat to make sure you can see his command.
You know he’s right. One day you’ll break. One day you’ll let him have his way with you. Just not tonight.