**************************************
Title: Fucked
Author: Rrain Prior
Series/Fandom: X-Files
Pairing: Krycek/Spender
Rating: NC-17
Feedback Addy: rprior@techplus.com
Web Addy: http://www.techplus.com/slashvillage/coffee/ **************************************

Spoilers: Two Fathers. You know which scene. Commentary: I'm not entirely happy with this yet, but I'm at the point where all I'm doing is tinkering so I figured it's time to post. Thanks to Virginia and Wolfling for betaing and convincing me to post it after all. As always, any remaining mistakes can be blamed on yours truly <grin>


Fucked
by Rrain


Krycek stood waiting, his impassive eyes trained on the back of his enemy's son, until the front door slammed. He shook his head, suddenly impatient, and stalked out of the building in the same direction. He knew this Spender, knew he would never be the man his father was no matter how hard he tried, and knew that he was the better person for it.

Spender the Elder, as Krycek thought of him in some of his more ironic moments, was going about things wrong. Dead wrong. This boy wasn't ever going to be the obedient clone his father was trying to groom. He didn't have the drive to be a leader, nor the complacency to be a follower, and what he most definitely did not have was the fierce determination that enabled Krycek himself to do what he needed to do to survive. Jeffery Spender was depressingly, hopelessly, average.

Krycek saw the potential there, the potential for the young FBI agent to be as devout a believer as he'd been a skeptic before. He'd triggered it when he'd made a show of unmasking the alien, and clinched it when he'd divulged so innocently the real story of what had happened to Cassandra Spender. The person who could make him a believer could also make him an ally...or a pawn.

"Spender," he said mildly from the open doorway. The other man had made it only halfway across the yard, standing and staring blankly at the gnarled bark of a tree. "Jeffrey," he tried, a little louder.

"You're Krycek." His eyes never even flickered back towards the other man.
They probably should have.

"I am."

"I know who you are."

"I'm sure your old man would be proud," he replied dryly.

Spender shook his head, still looking away. "I don't believe any of this."

"You will," said Krycek. "Come on, we're leaving."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"We're leaving now. Unless you'd like to be here to explain what's inside."

He didn't pause for the "Where?" he knew would be coming as he climbed into the driver's side of the car, careful to arrange himself into a comfortable driving position before the other man could see him. He knew that Spender knew little about him, nothing from his father and only a few bits that Mulder had divulged, but he couldn't afford a loss of confidence in him.

"Where are we going?" repeated Spender once they had put some distance between themselves and the liquefying body in the study.

"Somewhere safe," was all Krycek would admit to. "You want to be your own Great Man, maybe you'll want to listen to what I have to say to you there."

The agent didn't reply--in fact his whole expression shut down. It wasn't an unusual look for him, and Krycek had studied him for long enough that he knew it well. "You're angry," he said mildly. "You're frustrated. I don't care. There are things you need to know, Jeffrey, and I'm the only person that can tell them to you. Get used to that, or feel free to go running back to your beloved father. Now that he's done with your mother, maybe he's looking for a new subject."

"You bastard."

"You noticed. How observant of you." He turned a corner. "We're almost there."

"Almost where?"

"There."

"Look," said Spender, turning his head to glare at the impassive driver of the vehicle. "Maybe you should just let me out."

"Maybe I should," repeated Krycek. "Maybe I should just leave you right here...but I can't do that, Jeff. I like you too much."

"I'd hate to see what you do to people you don't like."

Krycek just smiled.

Turning another corner, a large black door loomed, slowly opening as their car approached. Krycek pulled through the space, the bottom of the door almost brushing the top of the car, and sped down the ramp into the underground area.

He shot a sidelong glance at his companion, judging how far the other man might be willing to go. Spender still seemed to be in shock, all colour drained from his face and his eyes staring straight ahead at the black that they were driving into. Every few moments the still darkness was punctuated by flashes from the overhead lights.

"We'll be safe here," Krycek reassured him. "We'll be alone. No one's going to find us."

"That's hardly comforting."

"Wasn't meant to be," he lied as he parked. "Get out. We're here."

Obediently, Spender got out of the car and shut the door quietly. He looked around himself in wonder at the wide expanses, seemingly filled with nothing. "Where are we?"

"They used to use this as a research facility. Right in the heart of DC--it was brilliant--but they abandoned it a few years ago. Too many people knew about it...so now it's mine." He looked around himself with no small bit of pride.

"If this place used to be theirs, we can't trust it."

"It's mine," repeated Krycek shortly. "I have enough tricks up my sleeve to make it safe. Trust me."

"Why?"

"Because I'm the only person who has never lied to you."

Krycek hit a sequence of buttons on the wall and a door slid open, allowing them inside. Wordlessly, he entered and clearly expected Spender to do the same. He did, and the door slid shut behind them.

"Home sweet home," said Krycek mirthlessly as he hit another button and the lights flared to life. Spender squinted but Krycek merely retained his cool, composed expression as he surveyed the room. It wasn't warm by any stretch of the imagination--all black and chrome--but there were comfortable bits. Comforting bits.

He turned to his companion. If anything, the paleness was becoming more pronounced.

"You're shaking."

"I'm fine."

"You're lying."

Spender faced away from him. "Why are we here?"

"We're here because you need the truth, and the truth is never safe." Krycek placed a single hand on the young agent's shoulder, and tightened his grip as Spender flinched. "You know I'm telling you the truth."

"It's not possible," he said. "It can't be possible."

"It is."

Spender really was shaking now, the kind of shaking that masked hysterical sobs. The kind of uncontrollable shaking that was almost impossible to calm.

"Do you trust me?" asked Krycek.

Spender shook his head, but answered, "Yes. Dammit, yes."

"Good."

Turning the man around with one strong arm, Krycek planted a fierce kiss on his lips.

Spender didn't even try to pull away, grabbing him with desperation and deepening the embrace. This was the last wall Krycek needed to tear down, testing that total faith that would lead the agent along his path. Taking him past this point of no return would assure his faithfulness, as long as he did it right. As long as he made it something to come back to, and not something to be frightened of. The agent needed comfort, assurance, companionship.

Krycek had been studying him for a long time, and what Spender needed most was not to be alone. It was the one thing he could be given that he would value above anything.

There wasn't anything he could say right now that would do any more good than what he was doing, wrapping his arm around the agent's back and holding him close as their mouths devoured one another. That nervous energy that had been building up in Spender ever since he'd stormed out of the house was all being released, here and now.

Spender opened his mouth to speak but Krycek immediately covered it with his own, stifling the sound. He didn't need to hear anything either, didn't want Spender to even think beyond this moment right now. Sooner or later, in his mind, he'd begin to associate everything, coalesce the pleasure, the companionship, the direction into an unshakable loyalty. Right now he didn't need to be making any connections at all.

It was all too easy to strip Spender of his clothing, leaving him as bare as Krycek was clothed. He didn't help, but neither did he struggle, content to let things happen to him. That had always been a weakness, a key element of his mediocrity--the fact that he was all too willing to let someone take charge. It was something Krycek was counting on.

Krycek flinched involuntarily as the agent grabbed hold of his artificial arm, not realizing for a moment that what he held in his hand was not flesh and bone but cold, hard plastic. "What happened to you?" he asked, unable as always to mask his horror.

"The price of following my own path," hissed Krycek, a dangerous glint in his eyes. His other hand pushed firmly against the small of Spender's back, forcing them closer. His kiss was hungry. Fierce. Undeniable. "I'm going to take you," he said, his voice hard-edged and seductive at the same time. Or perhaps seductive in its very single-mindedness.

He released Spender to shed his own clothing, quickly, as he'd learned to. A blue shirt remained hanging over his shoulders, open over his chest, wrinkling where its tail met the creases between his torso and his thighs. He knew the pliable body in front of him was nervous and uncertain, but just as surely he knew that Spender wanted to be wanted more than he could ever admit.

"I want you," he said aloud, then abruptly turned out the lights, plunging them both into near-complete darkness. He could almost feel the relief radiate from the other man's body as Spender's hands reached out blindly to cling to him. He caught them both in his own and just clutched them for a moment, fostering the trust he knew was growing while taking the control he knew they both needed.

Tearing his hand away, he placed it on Spender's shoulder with his thumb digging into the back of his neck, forcing him up to turn around and press up against the steel door they had entered through. He met little resistance, just enough to make his blood roar in anticipation. He pushed harder, his whole body covering that of the other man.

"I don't believe in foreplay," he whispered intensely, almost hissing, his lips brushing Spender's ear. "When you've been playing games with someone long enough, you don't need it. It gets in the way." His teeth bit into Spender's earlobe as he thrust himself between the agent's cheeks, sliding upwards along the slick, sweaty skin. "I want you, Jeffrey."

A soft grunt escaped the agent's lips; Krycek watched from mere inches away as each breath the man took spread a circle of fog on the cold black steel that existed for barely a moment before it shrank back into itself and vanished. When he thought Spender had relaxed he thrust again, hard, this time coupling it with a soft kiss on the neck.

"Just do it," muttered Spender, pushing back against him.

"You have to want it." Krycek's arm, which had been bracing him against the wall, crept around Spender's torso beneath his arms and held him so tightly they both gasped for breath. "You have to want me."

"Do it," he repeated, thrusting back against the solid weight behind him again. "Do it already." His head rolled back against Alex's shoulder, the short hair on the back of his neck scratching lightly against the fabric of Krycek's shirt.

"All in good time," whispered Krycek, placing his palm flat against the door again and shoving Spender forward. "But then...we don't have much of that, do we?"

Spender tried to turn. "What do you--?"

"Shhhh," he said, managing to be both soothing and menacing at once. "Shhhhh. Shhhh." He thrust again, a short abrupt jab, the tip of his cock just barely seeking entry. "Questions later."

Spender hissed through clenched teeth, reaching across with his left hand to dig his fingers into Krycek's arm. "What do you want from me?"

Krycek sank his teeth into the other man's shoulder for a moment. "I can't talk and fuck at the same time," he said, his breath hot against the now-tender skin. "Your choice."

"Bastard," muttered Spender without conviction, but the pressure from his fingertips was still causing four widening circles of white skin on Krycek's arm. "Do it."

He did, sliding inside in one stroke with the ease of long practice and a willing partner. His gasp echoed Spender's hiss of pain as the muscles clenched around him, tighter than he remembered. His teeth found the back of his companion's shoulder again, sinking into the hard muscle as a wave of sensation swept through him.

A moment later he began thrusting--slow, hard, rhythmic. He managed to make Jeffrey Spender cry out with each one. As his sweaty fingers began slipping down the door he thrust harder, faster, gritting his teeth and feeling his muscles tighten as he struggled to completion.

Even with his eyes trained on the door, straight ahead, he knew from the way the shoulders were working beneath him that Spender had taken matters into his own hands, stroking himself in time to the thrusts. He also knew damn well how he'd marked the other man's body, even if he couldn't see it in the dim light.

He threw his head back as he came, drawing in a shuddering breath and letting it out again through his teeth. His fingers drew a dull screech out of the steel as they slid down to waist level and a satiated weakness flooded his body. Taking an unstable step backwards, he slipped out of the other man's body and drew his hand back to rest briefly on Spender's slick hip.

Then, sliding it forwards, he briefly fondled the softening organ, his thumb rubbing the fluid still dripping off its end into the silky skin.

"Lights," whispered Spender, looking at the floor.

Uncharacteristically startled for a moment, Krycek reached out and let a dim light fill the room. His eyes focused on the man still resting against the door, he hands still stretched out in front of him to support his weary weight.

Red marks crossed the back of both his shoulders and rose up to decorate the back and sides of his neck as well. Rivulets of sweat meandered slowly down his spine, slicking the downy hairs to the flushed skin. His hair, normally too short and too well groomed to budge even in a strong wind was tousled and wild.

Krycek didn't think he'd ever seen anyone look quite so well-fucked.

Spender stood silently, heaving deep, shuddering breaths into his lungs as he waited for Krycek to say something. Anything.

"You need to go to your mother."

"What?"

"Your mother. Cassandra Spender. You need to go to her." Deftly, Krycek buttoned his shirt with one hand and ran a hand through his damp hair.

"I thought we were supposed to be safe here."

"We have been. And we will be again. Right now you have to go."

Spender didn't argue any longer, gathering up his clothing hastily and putting it on without another word. He struggled to look cool and composed, but he couldn't removed the slight glaze from his eyes.

"I'm going," he said finally, his eyes meeting Krycek's defiantly.

"Trust me," he said quietly, his gaze intense. "This is something you need to do, and you need to do it now."

Spender nodded almost involuntarily, caught up in the urgency of the words.
"I don't get it, Krycek," he said, shaking his head. "Who the hell do you work for anyway?"

"I work for me," he said, reaching out to cup the back of Spender's neck with his hand and pulling him into a deep kiss. Letting him go a moment later, he repeated, "I only work for me."

His hand fell away from the FBI agent's neck as he turned towards the other side of the large, hollow room. "Go out that way," he said, pointing. "You'll find yourself behind a condemned restaurant. Follow the back alley to the street, you'll find your way from there."

"When will I--?"

Krycek placed an almost-gentle hand over his mouth to stifle that question and any others that might have followed. "I'll find you, Jeffrey. Now go."

He watched as Spender backed out of the room, through the doorway and into the long, dark tunnel beyond. He watched even after he couldn't see him any longer. Then, moments later, he stepped back into his home and closed the door, reaching immediately for the phone.

THE END