**************************************
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