THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Ray

Written by Lady Poetess
egiggles at moose-mail.com
http://www.asstr.org/~bbp

Please do not reproduce on any website without permission. This
story has no resemblance to anyone dead or alive.


PROLOGUE

The man emerged from the ocean like silent death. He gracefully
removed his gas tank and diving mask, a part of the silence of the
night, before unzipping his diving suit. His powerful muscles
rippled under smooth tanned skin that took on an unearthly beauty
in the luminescence of the full moon. After checking that his
dagger scabbard was secure, he made his way to the mansion with
deadly grace of a determined predator.

Like silence, he cut through the night, past unsuspecting guards
on the watch to keep out men like himself. With his bare feet and
hands, he scaled the floor, looking down occasionally at the long
drop to make sure that he wasn't detected, until he reached the
ledge of the thirty-fifth floor, at the exact window in the
position indicated on the blueprint he had committed to his memory
beforehand. He lifted the windowpane, wryly relieved that it was
unlocked, when he paused. The harsh and guttural moans that
reached his ears were unmistakable in their nature. The man smiled
without humor. At least this time he would be less cruel than
before - his victim would get to come one last time before he
snuffed the life out of his victim.

With his dagger between his teeth, he pressed his back against the
wall and looked into the room. The sight that greeted his eyes
caused him to gasp silently, only to remember to catch the dagger
that slipped from his open mouth before it fell out of his reach.

Two men coupled lustily on the bed, but it was the sleek,
powerfully muscled slim physique of the man riding the bloated fat
cock of the hirsute and obese General Cordios Manello caught the
assassin's eye. This man arched his back and moaned loudly, his
expression of rapture so pure and true that the assassin could
only envy the man for the orgasm he was experiencing. And at that
point, hatred borne of jealousy burned in his dark soul as he
wished he was the one who was bringing this beautiful man to his
peak. Luscious erect buds crowning large wine-brown male nipples
that made the assassin's mouth water, a perfectly corrugated six-
pack stomach that rippled under tawny hairless skin in the glow of
the firelight, and an angelic and face so boyish and almost
unrealistically divine in its beauty - this man was easily the
most beautiful man the assassin had ever seen, and he had seen
many things in his life. Such beauty made his blood boil and his
cock to throb and lengthen until he thought the fabric of his swim
trunks would tear from the force of his erection.

And then Manello gave a loud shout of pleasure, his powerful
fingers leaving a clear bruise where they gripped the stranger's
thighs in his orgasm. For that, the assassin would kill him
slowly. Unreasonable bitter jealousy seized him as he jettisoned
the meticulous plan he had worked out previously. He would take
this beautiful slut of Manello, he decided, and he would plunge
his cock in every orifice of that angelic creature until he had
slaked this insane lust of his entirely. He would... His thoughts
were interrupted when he realized that Manello's groans were now
slowly becoming those of a suffocating man. The subtle nuances
that separate a man in bliss and a man in pain were discernable to
him, a man that breathed of death. A few minutes later, Manello
was silent - dead.

The assassin gracefully vaulted into the room. Manello's lover
turned and his movements were lightning fast - almost as fast as
the assassin's - as he tried to get off the bed to meet the
assassin on his feet; almost as fast, unfortunately, and not fast
enough. The assassin had the man on his back on the bed, the
assassin's blade pressed against the man's throat right under the
Adam's apple, as he gazed into a pair of dark brown eyes that met
his without fear. Without fear, but with anticipation, the
assassin realized with a start. He was aware of the volatile thick
sexual attraction between the two of them, and as the man now
reached down to gripped the assassin's taut buttocks to knead,
squeeze, and caress with rising desire, the assassin didn't
hesitate to move his mouth down to plunder a taste of the man's
sweet, beautiful mouth.

The man pulled down the assassin's swim trunks urgently, not
caring to unbuckle the assassin's utility belt first, and the
assassin's throbbing cock leaped free to swell to its full length.
And even then, the assassin moved at the same time as the man, so
that the still lengthening cock was soon moving slowly into the
slick and well-oiled anal passage that was still slick with
Manello's semen. Pressing the dagger down playfully until a thin
line of blood dripped along the clean blade, he licked at the
shallow cut, causing the man under him to gasp in unmitigated
pleasure. The man clamped his thighs in surprising strength around
the assassin's torso as they both began moving together, causing
the bed to rattle and shake as the assassin began fucking the man
in earnest even as he sucked at the man's wound and swallowed the
salty red fluid trickling into his mouth greedily.

The orgasm shook him hard, causing him to scream in pleasure. He
could afford to, knowing that the guards outside the room would
only assume that their leader was having the time of his life. No
one would disturb them all night as they fucked on the bed. So
lost in pleasure was he that he was aware of his slow loss of
consciousness too late. Only when he was flat on his back on the
bed, unable to move his limbs, did he realize how Manello met his
fate. The man smiled as he touched the assassin's cheek, and the
assassin knew now: the beautiful angel he had just fucked was as
much a harbinger of death as he, only this angel was better than
he. This angel seduced him easily and lured him to his fate like a
spider lured its mate only to finish the mate off once the
coupling was over. Poison, he thought in rising fury - fury at
being such a fool, the man was poison, literally. Poison that
penetrated and seeped into his system from the man's saliva,
sweat, blood, and anal cream... poison that was slowly and surely
killing him just like it killed Manello.

"Good night, sweet prince," the angel said, kissing the assassin's
lips one last time.

The assassin could taste the poison on those lips - the sultry and
intoxicating taste of death, sex, and desire combined - but he
kissed the angel back as much as his failing strength could let
him, drinking greedily the last taste of passion. "My angel," he
whispered with the last burst of his strength. And then he was
finally falling into darkness.





ONE

Three years later

The man shouldn't have died. Damn, damn, damn! Ryan Rodney
Reynolds cursed foully as he splashed water onto his face. In his
bedroom, the phone began to ring for the hundredth time. His
answering machine kicked into action, and he could pretty much
second guess the call. Some reporter, some police officer, some
fucking body would be asking him to call back. They wanted him to
explain why a bank robber would die after Ray bit the man in the
hand. What could Ray say? Hello, he was a transgenic creature
supposed to exist only in science-fiction stories and conspiracy
theories?

He laughed without humor. Yeah, they would love that. Normally his
saliva wouldn't be fatal, it would merely drive one to sleep if
that poor fool was lucky enough to receive a mouthful, but Ray had
deliberately bitten the man's hand after he had purposely cut open
his inner cheek with his incisor. His blood, even a small amount
of it, was the substance that killed the man.

Even if the robber hadn't shot dead two women in the bank, Ray
wouldn't feel remorse for killing the man. He wasn't capable of
such emotions, maybe not yet. Maybe one day he would, because a
year ago he wouldn't consider himself capable of caring for
another person either. It was this caring for another human being
- a strange and irritating aftereffect stemmed from another
newfound concept in his life: friendship - that aroused his
protective instincts when the robber aimed his weapon at the head
of his friend Jensen Ackles. And now someone was dead and Ray's
cover was close to being blown. He had to move on.

He didn't want to move on. He liked it here. While he didn't
appreciate the failure on his part to kill Operations, the shadowy
head of the special task force that became a bane to the person
that hired Ray, he didn't mind the subsequent events that allowed
him to start a new life here. He didn't really have the heart to
kill people anymore, not since that night when the devil sneaked
through the window and showed him what it meant to lose himself,
really lose himself, in the act of fucking. In one moment, he had
felt so at whole as he lay in the man's muscular arms after their
violent orgasm, as if he was actually joined to the man's soul and
he knew fulfillment for the first time in his life. And then there
was a vast emptiness filled only with grief in his heart as he
knew that the man would die. And he would die because not only had
he drunk Ray's blood, which was toxic, he had also plunged that
thick cock without any protection into Ray's ass. While Ray's
semen was even more toxic than his blood, as many women and men
had learned too late, the inside of his anus and rectum was coated
with toxins nearly as lethal. There was no way his lover would
survive after his intimate evasion of Ray's body. Maybe it was
fair turnabout that Ray thought a part he never knew he had in him
died along with the man.

Friendship seemed a meager concept after that night's experience,
but Ray had to know what it felt like to know, talk, and do things
with other people. Having a lover was out, as he doubted that he
could survive another loss of a man that threatened to heal the
hole in his soul, but friendship would do. He watched sitcoms and
dramas on TV to learn how to behave in "normal" society, paid for
some forged IDs and certificates, got a job, and made a few
friends.

He could try again, he told himself. He could move to another
state or another country and start again.

Jensen was standing there with his fist raised to pound on the
door, just as Ray opened the door to leave.

"Hi," Jensen said.

"Hi," said Ray.

Jensen looked at the small luggage bag in Ryan's hand. "Leaving?"
he just asked.

"Yeah," answered Ray.

"Come with me," Jensen just said. "Someone wants to meet you."

"Who?" Ray asked suspiciously.

"Someone who can help you, Ray," Jensen said. He smiled at the
suspicion on his friend's face. "Not a shrink, if that's what you
are thinking, and not some cop either. You will want to meet this
guy."

"Who is it?" Ray asked one more time.

"Operations, Ray."

He gave a yelp of shock when Ray slammed him against the wall.
"Who the hell are you, really?" Ray asked him in a low furious
voice. "Don't play games with me, Jensen."

"Look, I'm what I told you: just a loans officer at a bank,"
Jensen told the man. "What I didn't tell you is that a few years
ago, I dropped by the office of one guy that wanted a loan from my
bank. I was quite happy then because I thought getting a case this
big meant that my career was taking off at the bank. Bad move - I
arrived in time to find a dead body at his feet. Long story short,
he has just survived an attempt on his life, I helped him dispose
the body, and this evening, he called me and asked me to take you
to him. This is the truth, Ray, I swear! Can you release me now?"

Ray removed his hands. "You have nothing to do with Control?"

"I don't know what that is and I don't want to know," Jensen said.
"This shit is getting weird, Ray. Someone died, Operations called,
and now you're leaving? What is going on?"

"Do you really want to know?" Ray asked as they quickly strode to
the elevator.

"Gosh, look at you. You think we are being watched?" Jensen asked.
"Look, I had police records. I don't want to get involved in some
freaky shit anymore, okay? So tell me if this is going to get me
in trouble."

"Operations will not let you get in trouble," Ray told him simply.

Friendship was inconvenient, Ray reflected. Usually he would just
cut down Jensen and flee, damn everything else, but he couldn't
hurt someone that laughed at his jokes, invited him to dinner
where Jensen and his boyfriend made Ray feel at home for the first
time in his life, and be there when he needed help. So he went
along with Jensen. Also, if he was honest to himself, he was also
curious about Operations. His attempt to kill Operations reached a
dead end because he couldn't find a lead to this man's identity,
only he instead found a few good friends and a new life in his
investigations. How ironic that one of these friends turned out to
know the very information that he was seeking. He no longer had to
kill Operations, but he was intrigued nonetheless by the identity
of this very elusive person. Even the high-ranking officers in
Control had no idea whom their mysterious leader's identity was.

"This can't be right," he muttered as they got out of the car at
their destination. "He can't be Operations."

"That's what he tells me," Jensen said. He spoke rapidly into the
intercom device at the door. "Hey, it's me, Jensen." He frowned.
"I can't leave him alone with you. How do I know that you won't...
shit!" He raked his fingers through his hair as he turned to Ray.
"You wanna go in alone, Ray?" he asked in exasperation. "That's
what he's asking."

"I'll be okay, Jensen, don't worry," Ray said. "I can take care of
myself."

"Seeing how you took down that bastard at the bank, yeah, I
believe that" Jensen said.

"You're my friend, Jensen. It's no big deal to save you," Ray said
simply.

"Well, yeah. Thanks, Ray." Jensen hesitated. "Will I see you
again?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," Ray told him.

Jensen reluctantly drove away. Ray watched as the door opened and
he stepped inside the Operations' lair. A man in wheelchair was
waiting for him in the luxuriously furnished living room of the
mansion, looking up from the book he was reading as Ray walked in.
Soft strains of Bach filled in the awkward silence as they studied
each other. And then Operations smiled in welcome.

"The infamous Black Widow - I've heard so much about you," the man
known to the world as Michael Weatherly the eccentric millionaire
said to Ray. "Have a seat. Would you like a drink?"



"The pleasure is all mine," Michael said as he took a sip of plain
water. It was plain water for him but champagne for Ray. "I have
been following you since I learn that you're going to kill me.
I've wanted to talk to you as I've heard so much about you. Do you
know of the transgenic James Hyde? No? He actually escaped from
the lab along with the researcher he was having an affair with.
Now he was back with us again, only this time he was working as a
freelance agent and not what he described as a 'kept slave'. I
allowed him to believe that I need him enough to accede to his
demands. In truth, I'm a little touched by the devotion he and his
lover had for each other."

"Why are you telling me this?" Ray asked cautiously. He drank
without reservation - he was in no danger of succumbing to any
chemical substances Operations slipped into his drink.

"I'm not a heartless man, Ray." Michael studied Ray curiously.
"You're a very beautiful man. I can see why they made you what you
are." He shrugged. "I never condoned the experiments because I
don't believe in... well, I know what it feels to be very
different from other people and I do not agree in creating super
soldiers and killing machines. You are a human being no matter how
much modifications they make on your biochemistry and physiology."

"I guess," Ray said simply.

"And it hurts, doesn't it, knowing that you can never touch
someone because you will kill that person?" Michael asked softly.

Ray placed the glass down on the table before he accidentally
shattered it in the wave of vulnerability that washed over him. He
tried to tell himself that Operations was deliberately baiting
him, but yeah, it hurt like the fucker said. It really hurt. A
wave of nausea threatened to seize hold as he recalled the times
he carefully stood back while his friends cheered and embraced
each other in times of celebration or how he couldn't join any
sports or games because he was always afraid that someone would
hug his sweaty body. His friends thought he was shy.

"Are you sending me back?" Ray asked bluntly.

"No." Michael pushed a dossier across the table to Ray. "You, as a
transgenic, are out of my jurisdiction. If you escaped and did
well for yourself, I won't be the one to send you back. But you
know they're right now looking for you. That's why you're running,
I presume."

"You guess right."

"I don't guess."

Ray shrugged. Fair enough, he thought.

"Aren't you going to open the file? This guy is sent to get you
back. I understand that this is one man that will not stop until
he's had you."

Ray didn't hear him. He stared at the photo of a man whom he
thought he had killed three years ago. His devil was still alive,
and now he was going to take revenge on Ray.




TWO

His devil had a name now. Michael Coleridge Ensign, or "Mick" to
his very few friends, was one of the most efficient freelance
assassins in Control. He wasn't an agent, the dossier stated, but
his skills were so useful that he was constantly on the payroll to
dispose of the more persistent problems that plagued Control, such
as the third-world country dictator Mick tried to kill three years
ago. Ray cast the dossier, placed at the seat next to him, as he
drove along the highway. Mick - what a wonderful name, he thought,
and smiled at that ridiculous thought of his.

His devil had more than a name. Ray now knew about Mick's past.
Mick's father was a strongman in a circus that had broke some
world record for pulling three oil trucks for ten miles using a
rope and his teeth, and Mick exhibited an almost impossible
strength that nearly outmatched his father's. This probably
explained how he survived Ray.

Was he insane to actually consider the possibility of he and Mick
starting something together? He ought to stop watching prison love
stories so often.

He was so exhausted that he could barely keep his eyes open when
he finally stopped at a motel and booked a room for the night. He
was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

The knock on his door finally intruded his sleep what seemed like
only a second later. Ray woke to full alertness.

"Ray? It's me, Mick. Open the door."

Ray froze. His first irrational thought was to open the door and
threw himself into Mick's arms. But he was never going back to the
labs. He vowed the day he escaped that he would never allow
himself to be subjected to the humiliating tests and painful
experimentations ever again... he forced himself to breathe steady
before his gorge rose at the painful memories of his days in those
labs. He had to get away. He wouldn't kill Mick, unless he had to.

He finished pulling on his jeans and contemplated the window.

There was a loud crack of breaking wood, and Ray turned in dismay
to see that Mick's powerful fist had smashed through the door.
Mick opened the door with a twist of his hand on the handle after
unlocking it, and then he was standing before Ray, a man that
haunted Ray for three years, only now this Mick was real.

"Don't send me back," Ray whispered. "Don't make me kill you."

"You can't kill me," Mick said. Dear heavens, that sexy and very
masculine baritone... "And I won't send you back." He moved as
fast as Ray remembered, and Ray gasped when in what seemed a
heartbeat later he was in Mick's hard embrace. "Trust me, Ray," he
whispered as he tilted Ray's chin gently so that he could look at
the man, "I'm not taking you back."

"I'm supposed to believe you?" Ray gasped, trying to break free.

"Yeah, you tried to kill me," Mick said. "Lucky you, I'm an
understanding man. I've read your files and, baby, I know that you
couldn't help doing that to me. So I forgive you."

"No," Ray said. "Don't - "

Mick kissed him. He didn't just merely kissed Ray, he pushed his
tongue through Ray's lips in a forceful display of pure aggressive
domination. Ray tried to swallow and dry his mouth, but Mick
didn't care as he only deepened the kiss, Ray's dangerous saliva
flowing freely into his mouth. No, Ray wanted to scream, he
couldn't bear to hurt this man again. To his amazement, however,
seconds passed and Mick was still standing. Ray couldn't hold back
his desire any longer. He groaned and responded to Mick's virile
onslaught.

"Who are you?" he whispered as he ran his hand along Mick's
powerfully muscled bare torso.

"I'm the only guy that is immune to your deadly self," Mick said
only half-jokingly. "Here's the thing, Ray. I spent three years in
the same lab as you. Lucky for me, Operations decided that I am
more useful as a field agent than a test subject. He pulled some
strings to free me from them, and I owe him my loyalty for that."
He discarded his unbuttoned shirt and moved over Ray on the bed.
"I will never send you back. I've been there, Ray, and I know, so
I will never send you back. Trust me."

Ray pressed his hand at Mick's well-filled crotch and imagined
that he could feel the pulse of that cock through the thick denim
of Mick's jeans. Then there were no more time for thoughts or
doubts, not when Mick bared his cock and Ray turned to lie on his
stomach, lifting himself only to let Mick pull his jeans off. And
then he was moaning in pleasure as Mick's cock roughly pushed
against the tight entrance of his anus, the thick and moist crown
parting the folds firmly before penetrating Ray deep and hard. Ray
had been celibate all these years, but even before the dry spell
in his life, sex was never a pleasure for him. The orgasms were
previously a meager peak in what was just another routine job.
Now, he was experiencing sex for the first time in his life -
pure, unadulterated glorious sex that would not end with the death
of his partner. Sex with Mick - his beautiful, precious Mick - was
so good that Ray thought he would go out of his mind. Mick held
Ray's hips and even grasped Ray's hair in his fist, pulling Ray's
head back as his own muscular hips tensed and rammed that powerful
cock so hard and so deep in and out of Ray that their bodies met
with a loud, wet, and hard crack of hard-muscled flesh meeting
flesh.

Crying out incoherent and guttural sounds of bestial pleasure and
breathing hard as he tried not to hyperventilate, Ray thought his
whole body was on fire as indescribably potent pleasure crested
and seized him in a convulsing grip. Ecstasy exploded in powerful
bursts each time his prostate was stimulated by the rough friction
of Mick's thick and sensitive cock ridge against it as the thickly-
veined monster cock penetrated and withdrew from Ray's burning
asshole. And then Mick was coming, the tidal wave of seminal
fluids spurting from his widened cock slit to flood Ray's inside
in a powerful series of ejaculation. And then Mick was turning Ray
around and taking Ray's cock in his mouth, despite Ray's shocked
protest. And when Ray poured his come into Mick's mouth, Mick
swallowed greedily the creamy load that was more toxic than the
venom of the black mamba.

Ray watched Mick for the rest of that night as Mick slept,
watching anxiously as the man's chest rose and fell with his quiet
snores, and wept silently when dawn came hours later and Mick
opened his eyes and smiled at Ray. "I told you I can take anything
you've got," Mick told him with a soft chuckle. "When I was a kid,
I realized I was different when I was bitten by a poisonous cobra.
It escaped from the zoo and ended up in the field where I was
playing baseball. Anyway, I didn't even realize I was bitten until
someone noticed the wound on my leg. By then I have spent six
hours running around without suffering any ill effects. And then
your people tested me in the labs, giving me enough poisons and
venoms to kill me ten times over, but the worst I've had was to
throw up a few times or get a headache. I've never been sick in my
life too."

"Wow. And I thought I was one of a kind," Ray told him. He was
feeling sleepy now from the exertions of the night before.

"I never thought much of it. Until I met you and realized how
lucky I am," Mick murmured as he pushed back some stray curls from
Ray's forehead and kissed the spot between Ray's eyes.

"Right now I'm sleepy and emotionally worn out by my long week,"
Ray told him. "So I trust you now. But if you screw me over, Mick,
I'll find you and make you suffer."

"I'll keep that in mind," Mick said with a soft laugh.



"In two weeks, we'll be in St Lucia," Mick said later that week.
"You have seen the skies there? No? It's beautiful, Ray, the sky
is so blue and the clouds seem to dance across the sky in a slow
gliding waltz to some celestial music. And at night, we can see
the stars so clearly, man, it's fucking amazing."

Ray placed his arms around Mick's waist and rested his chin on the
man's shoulder. "I can't wait," he told his lover.

Their getaway was easier than he expected, mainly because Ray
suspected that Mick had Operations' backing and hence the support
of Operations' contacts and allies as they evaded the men on their
trail. From Mick, Ray realized the true extent of Operations'
power, and for once he was grateful to that man for his protection
that extended beyond Michael Weatherly's presence to a vast
network of loyal allies and friends. "He's a good man," Mick told
Ray of Michael Weatherly. "He can be a cold-hearted bastard, but
that's a given as he is Operations. But he's a fair man that
demands a lot but also gives acknowledgment, respect, and reward
when he should. That's why he is a powerful man, Ray. He has power
but he doesn't go crazy with it like some previous Operations, you
know?"

"How is he going to cover your ass, Mick? You have disobeyed your
orders to return me to the labs," Ray asked.

"Operations will take care of that," Mick said in full confidence.
"He's a man of his word and his power is equal to Oversight's."
Oversight was the man overseeing the biogenetic research and
biological weapon development aspects of Control. "Oversight has
tried to destroy Operations before but failed, so Operations can
handle that man."

"Are we now working for Operations?" Ray asked.

"I am," Mick said. "Is that a problem, Ray?"

"No. What about me?"

"I'm the only one here that works for Operations, Ray. Unless you
want to, I won't force you and neither would Operations."

"But he knows that I will want to help you," Ray said. "So he gets
two more agents on his side. No wonder he is so willing to help."

Mick shrugged. His loyalty to Operations, as Ray would learn, was
absolute, unwavering, and almost zealous. "You want to help me?"
he asked.

"Of course, Mick, don't be silly. There are some things that we
can do better if we put our heads together."

"No more fucking your victims," Mick told him.

"No more," Ray agreed.

"Why do you want to help me, Ray?" Mick asked.

"Why not? I don't want to lose the only man that I can sleep with
and wake up to in the morning," Ray told him. He lifted his arms
from Mick's waist and moved so that he could place them around
Mick's neck and looked at the man in the eyes. "I'm not sure if
I'm in love, as I never felt such an emotion before, but I'm
feeling something new here. Maybe that's love? I don't know. But I
do know that I want to be with you, Mick."

"Well, Ray, I haven't really been in love before," Mick said.
"There were a few times when I was younger when I thought I was in
love, but I've never actually wanted anyone so desperately the way
I want you. I looked all over the place for you these last few
years, and I thought of killing myself when I was close to giving
up."

"And then I blew my cover."

"Yeah," Mick said with a smile. "And I'm so glad that you did. So
is this it, Ray? Has the Black Widow claimed his last victim?"

Ray answered with a kiss. Since he was wearing only an unbuttoned
shirt, the shirt was quickly divested as Mick pulled down the
waistband of his swim trunks. As Ray and his last victim coupled
passionately, the yacht slowly drifted towards the horizon where
the stars shone down clear and bright over the sweat-slicked
bodies of the lovers as they lay in sated bliss.
