Title: Shadows in the light
Pairs: M/M, F/M, F/M/M, M/M/M
Summary: Continuation of The Darkness Calls. Xander hunts down his mate Riddick. Following the mate bond that glows like spun gold behind his eyelids he traveled by royal escort ship deep into the shadows of space.
SLASH and other. Male/Male
Disclaimer: DON’T OWN ANYTHING SEEN HERE! NO MONEY MADE! DON’T OWN! I don't own Pitch Black/Riddick or Buffy the Vampire slayer.
Author notes & Warnings: might have Female/Female or Male/Male. Be afraid.
Note: In a milithre family the mates take all last names and the children only take the last names of the birth parents. Hints at rape. Mpreg
All his life he yearned to prove himself to the universe that cast him down, to be better than a street rat son of a pretty whore, to be a man that could hold his head up high and be among the strong. He wished to live, to thrive, and to not hide like a frightened mouse in the slums of the cesspool he was born to. He wanted to be more than a weak body, a set of pretty eyes, and pale skin to the predators in the shadows. He wanted to do more than run and hide. He wanted to be a strong man, powerful, one without shame.
Vegasah 5 was a shit speck of a moon at the very edge of the Coltisack and Chimera solar systems. A moon between the darkness connecting the wealthy Coltisack planets to the slums and backwater planets of Chimera. It was a good place for the disgraced wealthy and those too nasty for the more populated colonies and a deathtrap of misery for the poor stuck there. The moon had only three reasons for a person to want to visit: the prosperous mineral mine, the largest brothel in three galaxies, and the legal slave market. Vegasah 5 was a melting pot of scum with money as the ruling power and the only happiness there was bought. Those that didn’t have wealth worked for the right to draw air and to put a little bit of food in their bellies.
Soren’s stomach clinched at the memory of how truly hard it was to get a meal on that moon. The memories of what he had to do to get fed left a bitter taste on his tongue.
There were only so many ways for a whore’s son to work, for anyone to work on that moon really. One either lived in the mine with dust clogging every breath and the threat of being buried alive looming over them in the darkness, give up what little freedom they have to a master’s wants as a willing slave, become a thief with the hot breath of what passed for law enforcers tailing their steps, or live the life of a finely dressed slut spread out on soft silk. For those with no money it was either risk the dark and the monsters within the mine, thieve and risk mutilation and death, or sell body and soul to the highest bidder.
Soren wasn’t ugly. As the son of a prized and beautiful whore of the Gemstone line he could’ve easily slipped to the top of that life of musk, sex, and luxury. After all generations of prostitutes were born into The Treasured Gem’s sex club, trained and bred like dogs to be the best sexual practitioners in the universe. Soren could dance like a strumpet, flirt like one, and act like one if he wanted. With the other children like him he learned to move his body to catch an eye, to dance with fans, blades, ribbons, or on stage with a group, or with whatever tempted the prosperous individuals that watched from the shadows. He learned how to use his large dark hazel eyes and plump mouth like the weapons they were and created a shell of false confidence under the intense watchful eyes of his instructors, mother, and future clientele.
He remembered the pride in his mother’s light hazel eyes as he danced on stage for his first coming out, for the first important stage in finding a master. He remembered the sweet oils on his skin that glittered, the smooth almost translucent pants that hugged his waist, and the pale white gossamer robe that fluttered around his shoulders like wings. The robe was so fragile that any wrong movement while he danced and twirled and showed off the flexibility of his young body could rip it. Intimates showed their skills and worth in the end when they presented the crowd with their robe, Soren had been one of the few with no tears or stretched seams. He remembered the eyes that followed him and the embrace and kiss he received from his mother afterwards. “I’m so proud of you, Soren. You dance like an angel. I already hear whispers about your moon touched skin and long dark flowing hair and lips as red as my own. You have pleased the teachers and I’m told there’s already a bid war for you. Even my own master wishes to have you.”
A man with dark hair and pale skin and twice his mother’s age. A man that might have been Soren’s sire.
His mother was a First Class Intimate named Sweet Luminary of the Gemstone line (Sweet for short) or birth name Serra tried to teach him what her mother taught her and her mother and her father and so on before her. It was the life she was born to and a life she was comfortable with but as he learned more about the life of an Intimate it proved to be something Soren didn’t desire. All his life he watched his mother amuse rich suitors, keep herself available for her master, and sip at potions that would keep her happy, calm, and aroused. He watched his mother’s sassy personality drown under the giggly glass eyed submissive, under potions he was expected to take once his training was complete and he legally became an Intimate slave. He baulked at the thought of being nothing but a pretty pet and a toy for perverts. At submitting to someone for money, to give away his body like one would a piece of bread or a shirt or pocket change. To be used and touched and wanted for nothing more than the superficial pleasure of another. He didn’t want to sell his freedom.
At thirteen when he was to receive his new name and graduate as a fresh blooded Intimate he left The Treasured Gem, its ugly protection, and his mother for the darkness of the mines. He never let them wipe away the name Soren and replace it with Night Radiance of the Gemstone line and take away his freedom for a full belly and a master that would give him pretty things. He didn’t sign away his body as the Intimate’s guild wanted. Better to earn little and lose the soft creaminess of his pale skin then lose his soul like his glass eyed mother. Away from the sweet musk and silks of the brothel Soren learned how to survive in the dark of a mine, learned how to spot weaknesses in the walls and in people, how to spot good dig sites, and how to sense trouble. The darkness was both enemy and friend for in the mine he learned how to fight and how to survive losing.
The first time dirt covered hands forced him to the ground Soren feared he had made a mistake. If his body was going to get used anyway why not as a pampered sweet scented whore then a moneyless dirty waif? His mother’s content dead eyes would flash behind his eyelids anytime he lost a fight in the mines. He had no master and still had his name and had to live with his choices. Soren learned to avoid the men that would patrol the dusty caverns, taught himself to listen for their cruel voices, and learned the value of shadows and silence. It was in the mine where he spilled his first blood and where he heard the first whispers about the world killers.
When they came to Vegasah 5 he had surfaced from the darkness of the mine caked in dirt with his meager money burning a hole in his pocket. His thoughts were focused on food so he didn’t notice the tension in people he rushed passed or the talk of a doom comet. The warmth of fresh bread and chicken his only care that day.
In the twilight of the day like a sudden storm of death the ships landed and soldiers fired at all who crossed their paths. Screams ran out and the scent of blood was heavy in the air, corpses burned in the streets, and damaged ships fell from the sky like asteroids. While others ran and presented themselves like targets for the pale metal soldiers and death ships Soren learned the value of quiet and darkness. With sure footing Soren stuck close to the shadows of the buildings and narrow alleyways. Like any survivor of a place like Vegasah 5 he had bolt holes to go to when he was of need. The basement of The Treasured Gem was his destination but he never reached it. Moving faster than a big man in metal should a pale soldier of the death comet stood before him with a pulse gun pointed at Soren’s chest. The man’s armor was different with its etching of gold on the shoulders and helmet, deep set eyes like ice stared into his own from under the helmet’s pointed visor. He was sure his death was moments away so he set his shoulders straight, tipped his chin up, and glared into the eyes of his executioner.
His stubbornness and unwillingness to show fear that day saved his life. Like many others he was brought to the largest public room, the community stage room in the square where he had his coming out rite, to shift nervously under the armored sentinels watch. It was there he met the powerful Lord Marshal and learned the name of the world killers the Necromongers. It was there he was told by the Purifier that humanity was antagonistic with the natural state, that he was a mistake, an infection upon the verse. That everyone here living, life, needed to be purged to correct a great wrong. The words tugged at the dark emotions within him and slapped him in the face with how true they felt. Vegasah 5 and his years of hardship were proof that the Purifier’s words were true. He and everyone around him was a mistake by the Gods. With others around him whimpering for their lives Soren prepared for his death only to have the Purifier talk of a beautiful and welcoming place called UnderVerse. A place he could call home and all he had to do to someday reach it was join the Necromongers. To convert or die. When the Lord Marshal ordered everyone to kneel Soren went gratefully to his knees. He was filled with a new energy, a joy he hadn’t felt since he was a young child, a purpose. Not even the needles piercing his neck or the throbbing pain of hanging in a row with others could wash away the feeling.
When he awoke a Necromonger he felt strong and powerful. All his weakness washed away by his first purification. He awoke as Soren Vaako a Necromonger soldier. Under the care of Commander Teh Argos the Necromonger that found him and his woman Dame Willa Argos he flourished. He compiled all his talents and grace into battle, into cleansing this verse so he could find a home. ‘You keep what you kill.’ A rule that flowed in the blood of every Necro fueled him and by the time he was 18 he challenged another soldier to hand to hand combat and became a captain. At 22 he became the 1st among captains of the fleet and at 26 Commander Argos’ second in command.
He felt cold and powerful and believed wholly the Necromonger way, each purge of a planet brought him joy because it got him that much closer to UnderVerse. On planet Tria of the Coltisack system fresh from battle and the gathering of converts Vaako felt something warm and bright pierce the numbness of his purified Necromonger soul. It wrapped around him like a warm loving embrace and hooked deeply into his being. Breathless and horrified at the sweet longing warmth that filled him and whispered to him to find that s-something on the other side of that golden rope Vaako rushed to the Purification room to return to him the blessed numbness. The thing attached to him was a sickness and he wouldn’t let it hinder Lord Vaako second in command to Lord Commander Argos’ unit. ‘I’m a Necromonger and no alien warmth will change that.’
The knife split the merc’s throat like a hot knife through butter and the man never made a sound of warning as he fell drowning on his last breath. ‘One down and four to go.’ Riddick thought dispassionately as he flicked the blood off of his new shiv. It fit well in his hand and he knew it’s equally sharp twin wouldn’t fail his kitty. Using the forest and the setting shadows to his advantage Riddick made his way to his next target. No merc would be taking him to slam unless he wants to go there. It was child’s play really. New mercs trying to make a big name for themselves hunting the Riddick. Hoping for the big payoff only to meet the sharp edge of a good shiv. Would be almost sad if it wasn’t such a pain in the ass.
Riddick let the other four come at him head on. He could see it in their eyes. The fear. It didn’t matter that their blades were bigger than his or that they outnumbered him and that just minutes ago they were talking about how many bitches they would buy with their cut. Minutes ago was minutes ago when their loud mouthed leader and heavy gunner was alive and talking about the over dozen cons he sent to Butcher Bay.
Riddick side stepped the jagged cutlass covered in old rust and the planet’s red dirt and grabbed the arm that was holding the blade. The elbow snapped out of place like a dry branch from a deadfall and he let the young merc fall to the ground screaming his head off. Two charge together one with a metal extender bat the other with two daggers. Clearly their aim was to distract him while their little friend grabbed the gat gun off their dead leader. Almost clever. The two clearly siblings with the same shaggy blond hair and wide scared brown eyes could fight. Give um another ten years and a growth spurt and they might actually make him sweat. Mercs annoyed Riddick and seasoned mercs that hired kids for cheap annoyed him just a bit more. With the ease of a big cat dodging kittens Riddick tossed the two mercs at their little gat gun aiming buddy and threw his head back and laughed when the weapon went off. The two teens were trapped in the net and their little friend was looking from them to Riddick with horror. Yeah, Riddick was looking at some dead mercs but he wouldn’t be the one to kill um today.
He was about to walk off when the older kid with the dislocated elbow opened his yap. “That it? Your just gonna walk off and let us live?”
The siblings and the runt looked at the older one like he was stupid. “Sh-shut up man!” The runt snapped.
The kid stumbled to his feet but held his wounded arm close to his chest. “Dango told me all about you! Told me what you did. Killed your own soldiers, men who served in our military. He said you were their leader and you killed them for no reason! My brother was a soldier and he was murdered by a guy just like you! So you kill me here right now because I won’t let a soldier killer go while I breathe.” The kid pulled out a gun from the back of his pants.
Riddick frowned and growled. “Really?”
The kid pulled the trigger and fast as a blink Riddick ducked and was in the little merc’s space. Grabbing the gun arm Riddick snapped it as easily as the first. He left the little mercs in the woods with their buddy whining about his broken arms. Pathetic.
On his way back to town with the faint echoes of the sobbing merc still in his ear Riddick felt a warmth wash over him. Like hot life blood, the heat of a camp fire, and the perfect roll in the sack all mixed together. Xander. That damn mate bond had been bugging him since he left like a moth tapping on a light bulb or a dog scratching at a door but now it’s howling. Baying for his attention like the fabled werewolf the full moon and wrapping him up in its pretty light that didn’t hurt his eyes. Riddick grit his teeth as the urge to follow the pretty light back to his property. The pretty gold thread behind his eyes would lead him straight into trouble and lead all the mercs straight to things he doesn’t want any of them touching. This new strength to the bond told Riddick one thing that he needed to move on and get off this backwater planet for somewhere else. Mercs already found him and more would be on the way.
With his new ship generously given to him by a couple of dead mercs Riddick left the planet UV1 and headed deeper out into the black.
Find the threads.
Like an arrow from a bow the energy that made him Xander split in two and traveled the path of two gold threads. Deep into the cold of space, across airless emptiness, planets that danced around stars, and the dust of kingdoms past he traveled far beyond the walls of his room to the wells that quenched his thirst. The tightness inside him lessened and he could breathe again. His mates. The deep thrashing depths of the ocean, wild, and always moving. The path maker, the leader, the strongest. Familiar. Riddick. And the other a mountain of ice vast and untouchable with a deep dark forest full of predators. Guarded and angry but full of potential fire like a sleeping volcano. Mate unknown but loved. For one sweet horrible moment Xander had his mates with him and wrapped them within his possessive hold. For that moment he was at his strongest and most protected.
Then it was gone. Like a rubber band stretched too far it snapped and he was jarred back to his body sick with loneliness and very tired. With practiced ease Xander bent to the side and threw up in the basin he put there for just that purpose. The use of so much of the light and the feeling of motion always made him sick now these days. Xander placed both his hands on his tight expanding belly and was angry at himself for feeling lonely.
Against his hand the baby kicked.
Merkat: It might not be what you all thought the start of CoR would be but it's what you get. ^_^ Like it don't like it? More? Review please.