First posted 3rd May 1999

A Great Man by Sue


Never had words wrecked such devastation upon a man's soul.

"I'll be my own great man," Spender managed before the sharp bite of
bile rising in his throat silenced him.

Blindly, Spender fled the other man's perceptive gaze, the
executioner's illuminating words chasing hard, demanding confession.
There was no escape. The past could not be undone. A killer had
revealed the truth, brought recognition, where a mother's hysteria had
not. His own mocking words, placating a too imaginative child, soured
with spite in his traitorous mouth. The veracity of her tale impugned
all those years by her bastard son. A sniveling miserable excuse of a
son.

She deserved better. Much better than he.

Excuses quickly gained life. It had been the body. Yes, the body,
that was what had convinced him. Proof positive. Evidence of his own
eyes, green putrid slime oozing from fast rotting flesh. How could he
not believe the disintegrating corpse? Who, but a hysterical woman,
could believe in alien abduction otherwise?

No! No! No! What a cop out. He didn't need the body just ... just
... a resonance in Krycek's voice. From a dark angel's lips to his
gut in two seconds flat. Those eyes spoke it too. Unceasing
darkness, soul deep, reflected and recognised.

Stumbling against the front door he tugged on the heavy iron latch.
Before it had swung more than a few inches he relented, letting it
settle slightly ajar. Leaning against the door, permitting its
strength to stiffen his spine as he fought for self control, he pushed
it closed. What on earth was he doing, a grown man, an agent in the
FBI, fleeing like a frightened child? Krycek must think him quite a
coward; unable to face reality.

But he was scared. Scared what the truth meant for the future. Why
on earth had he come here to murder that man? Because his father
asked? Because he wanted advancement? What was he becoming? No, the
real question was, what had he become?

Bile rose in his throat once more. He swallowed hard and took a
steadying breath. He needed answers, direction. Krycek would tell
him; hadn't the other man saved him once already tonight? Turning
back to face the room Spender startled as Krycek's smiling face winked
provocatively only inches from his own. He stiffened in surprise.
Krycek's eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, his lips full, red as if
with arousal. "Jeff ...." Spender's eyes focused on the source of the
husky whisper and followed Krycek's tongue as it darted out and
moistened his upper lip.

"I ..."

Fingers tightened hard into his shoulder, fixing him in place, as
Krycek held his gaze. "Don't worry about it. The first time is
usually the hardest." Krycek's gloved thumb rubbed Spender's collar
bone before tracing a path to the hollow at the base of his throat.

Spender gulped hard. "What do I do?"

Smiling, Krycek nodded, his head dipping by Spender's left ear,
breathing warmth over the skin. Words tickled with a whisper, "I'll
show you."

Shivering, Spender held his breath, waiting. For what he wasn't sure.
Needful of oxygen, he sucked in a small mouthful of air. The aroma
of Krycek's potent presence seeped in with the breath, marking him
with a tangy scent of musk. Mesmerised, his body refused to do
anything other than stand stiffly to attention, waiting for Krycek's
next move.

A warm moist mouth enveloped his ear lobe, murmuring as it sucked,
sending jolts of pleasure down his spine.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! He was in real trouble now.

Krycek flicked the lobe with his tongue then nipped at his neck.
Perhaps if he just stood there, unresponsive, the other man would tire
of him and cease his sexual provocation. Instead, Krycek, with a
broad stroke of his tongue, traversed Spender's cheek, stopping only
when he reached a pair of pursed lips. Humiliation flashed beet red
across his skin.

An arm curved about Spender's waist locking their abdomens tight
together. The press of Krycek's erect cock sent a blazing burn
through him. Finally, galvanised into action, he opened his mouth to
object. A two pronged assault was launched against him. The other
man's tongue probed deep in his mouth while a hand cupped his own
erection, squeezing firmly.

God, when did that happen?

"Adrenalin's a real turn on, ain't it?" Krycek laughed.

Panting, Spender leant back against the door, needing its support as
his legs trembled, threatening imminent capitulation beneath him. He
hadn't felt this out of control since third grade when Shirley
Lewandowski had initiated him into the world of doctors and nurses.
Shocked and painfully aroused he tried to speak.

Krycek got their first. "Well, would you like a hand?" The smirk was
obvious in the words if not on the man's face.

The moment lengthened. Spender tried to concentrate, focusing on the
clicking passage of time marked by a clock elsewhere in the house. He
kept floundering like a beached whale. "Just 'cos a guy has a hard-on
doesn't mean he has to stick it somewhere," he managed with a clenched
jaw.

"No? Can't say I agree with you on that one Jeffrey." Krycek nipped
at his chin, a slight sneer playing on his lips. "Finish me."

"No."

"No?" whispered Krycek menacingly as his hand wrapped around Spender's
throat, his grip tightening, constricting the airway. "But it's so
much more pleasurable than killing a man."

Fear took Spender, suffocating his mind and leadening his limbs. He
had backed himself into a corner and the only way out was through
Krycek. At least if he wanted to get out alive. Failing to uncover
any more tolerable alternative he capitulated. Krycek eased his grip
and pressed his lips softly against the bruised skin.

"Get on with it then," Krycek mumbled as he nuzzled Spender's neck.

Tears filled Spender's eyes, threatening to fall. He swallowed hard,
fighting them back. Half-blinded he fumbled for Krycek's jeans,
unbuttoning them by touch alone. Shoving the jeans down he took hold
of Krycek's hard shaft with his right hand and began to stroke it with
a tentative clasp.

"No," said Krycek softly.

Spender's hand faltered. He raised his eyes cautiously to meet
Krycek's, dark with menace. A shiver slivered down his spine and his
cock throbbed painfully.

Roughly, Krycek unfastened Spender's trousers, grabbed a handful of
fabric and hauled them down. The briefs followed suit, leaving
Spender bare from waist to knee. "Turn around." A look of horror
flashed across his face but Krycek merely smiled and nodded. Spender
obeyed awkwardly, his limbs trembling. He sucked in a sudden gulp of
air as one of Krycek's gloved fingers pried between his buttocks; his
head dropped, his pride smarting at the assault.

Spender fought to keep silent, to keep within him his despair. He
lost the battle. "Please?" He couldn't keep the whine out of his
voice.

The finger burrowed deeper.

"I ... I ..." His body slackened with submission and he begged
miserably, "Please don't?"

"You a virgin?"

Flushing, he stammered, "Yes, of course, I am."

A hand turned him and Krycek kissed him softly on each shuttered eye.
"We'll save it for later then." Steadily Krycek pressed on his
shoulder. Spender knelt with comprehension, relief flooding him,
grateful to have avoided being buggered. Cupping Krycek's cock with
both hands he tentatively licked the top. It tasted bitter on his
tongue.

"Suck it," Krycek demanded hoarsely.

Letting the head press between his lips, Spender sucked the top,
swirling his tongue under the foreskin cap. Krycek groaned, splaying
his legs wider and leaning forward, resting his forearm flat against
the door. Spender rocked back and forth, sucking and licking the
other man's shaft, speeding and slowing in response to the thrust of
Krycek's hips.

With horrified fascination, Spender realised how natural it felt to
have a man's cock in his mouth. To be a cocksucker. The word had
always been an epithet he'd smarted at, but now ... Now it made his
cock throb harder.

Krycek's balls climbed higher, constricting with tension, forewarning
of his orgasm. Spender tried to withdraw, to take more of the cock
between his hands but Krycek thrust harder, forcing his cock deeper
into Spender's throat, causing him to gag. Fighting back his panic,
Spender sought escape from the battering but Krycek pursued him,
forbidding evasion. Finally, Krycek relented, granting him his wish
and withdrew, thrusting instead through his own fist as he pulsed his
orgasm on Spender's face.

The silence of the house began to reassert itself as Spender waited
for the storm crashing in his ears to calm. Krycek trailed his
fingers through the sticky semen, across Spender's cheek, then licked
at them with relish. "Beg my pardon, how rude of me," Krycek stated
mockingly as he offered his hand for Spender to taste. Shuddering,
Spender shook his head, wiping the come angrily away with the back of
his hand. Revulsion and returning guilt mingled as the other man's
seed cooled on his skin.

Sated, Krycek stepped back, zipped his jeans and appraised the
kneeling man.

"Do you know what to do now?"

Silence was its own answer.

Squatting, Krycek straightened the collar of Spender's shirt and
patted his cheek affectionately. "Would you like a hand with that?"
Krycek nodded at Spender's groin.

Again, Spender refused.

"Okay. Just remember who saved your ass tonight, Jeff." Standing, he
walked back into the house and out of Spender's sight.

Slumping, Spender stared at nothing. Numb. He deserved it all, every
humiliation that Krycek could perform. It was not nearly enough. The
guilt of his mother's suffering still burnt fiercely inside. A
little eased, perhaps, but not nearly enough for his soul to be
cleansed. Need ached painfully in his groin. He covered it with his
hand. NO! He mustn't. There was only one way now. He had something
Krycek wanted. In exchange he'd get his absolution.


The End.