Deal, The


By MagusX

Mike dodged through the crowds, his breath loud in his ears as he tried to catch the bus. The city streets were like a river pushing him in the wrong direction, but somehow he managed to fight the current, slowly making progress.

He wouldn't make it, though. As he ran, he saw the bus pull up to the stop, the doors open and people started getting off. If he'd managed to leave that meeting thirty seconds sooner -

But there was no point in wishful thinking. He put more effort into the run, sweat dampening his business suit. If he'd been in better shape, maybe, or imressive enough to cause the crowds to part -

He was almost at the bus stop when the doors began to close.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed, but then his hope was rekindled as he saw the doors open again. Standing just inside was a large, handsome sort of man who waved to him. Mike nodded greatfully and stepped onto the bus.

"I saw you running," said the man, following him to the rear of the bus where, miraculously, two seats were free. "I guess I got the driver to take his head out of his ass just in time."

Mike took a moment to get a better look at the guy who'd saved his afternoon. He was large, muscular, his black suit strained to its limits by his biceps as he lowered himself into the seat. The cloth seemed specially designed to drape itself across his huge back, making an almost perfect "V" with his narrow waist. The man's face was almost as impressive as his body. Full lips and a hwak-like nose were positioned -just- -right- on his square-jawed face. He seemed to have a day's growth of stubble that added just the right texture to give him an aura of danger. His short black hair looked carefully maintained, but what really struck Mike was the man's eyes. They seemed almost black, twin pools that he could not help staring into.

"I'm Michael Abriel," Mike said, suddenly feeling compelled to introduce himself to this man.

The men took his hand before he was even aware he'd offered it, and with a steady, confident shake replied "You can call me Alex Dervish."

"Thanks again for the -"

"Oh, I am certain it was no problem. In fact, I can't help but wonder if there isn't another way I could help you."

As Alex talked, Mike realised that maybe this man -could- help him with something else, although he couldn't quite think of what that might be. Odd, how Alex's eyes seemed to dance that though there were tiny specks of light being swallowed by his oh-so-dark eyes. Mike thought he could see a pattern there, and found himself trying to stare even deeper.

"What is it you do for a living, Mike?"

"I'm a lawyer . . ." Mike trailed off as the flecks of light twirled and spun as they were swallowed by Alex's eyes. Deeper and deeper he looked.

"A lawyer, how dreadful. But then, we all must do our part. Some of the best deals are to be made with lawyers." Alex's lips twisted in a half-smile. A part of Mike felt a shiver of fear, but a larger part just wanted to keep staring into Alex's fascinating eyes. He didn't even notice when the bus passed his apartment. "And do I have a deal to offer you. Do you really like working as a lawyer, Michael?"

Mike realized then that he didn't.

"It's boring, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," strange, how Mike's thoughts seemed to echo Alex's calm, soothing voice.

"I can offer you something better. You would like that very much, wouldn't you?"

Alex did. Very much.


He did not remember going to sleep, in fact, he didn't remember very much at all after getting on the bus. But somehow he had managed to get home, where he now sat up and yawned, stretching. It was morning, but instead of that daily dread he used to feel at going to work, he felt oddly carefree.

He felt pretty good, actually. He hopped out of bed and went to the window, opening it and enjoying the feel of the breeze on his naked chest. Laughing at how wonderful life was, he turned around and started making himself some breakfast. He wolfed it down, with a voracious appetite, and then picked up the phone.

Today was too wonderful to waste inside an office, dealing with idiots who either were too greedy for their own good or didn't know when to quit. He'd never felt this irritated before, and he knew that he just couldn't go in to work. He dialled the office.

"Janice, could you tell Mr. Harolds that I won't be coming in today?" Mike asked the secretary when she answered.

"Are you sick, Mr. Abriel?" She asked.

"No," Mike answered, and suddenly an odd feeling came over him. "I just think I've had enough with working in that dump."

"Pardon me?" Janice replied, shocked.

"You heard me." Mike answered. He sneered into the phone, but inside he felt wonderful. Wasn't this the -real- american dream? To one day just quit? Wait . . . that wasn't the dream. "But maybe I should tell Mr. Harolds myself. Patch me through."

"Are you drunk?" Janice asked, suddenly concerned. "Mike, are you alright?"

-Shut up, you bitch-, Mike thought, but instead he said, "Sure I am. Just reassessed my priorities. Now patch me through."

The -real- american dream was to tell off your boss, and Mike did just that. A sense of power slowly filled him as he first started insulting the company, ignoring Mr Harolds' confused replies. His heart rose when he finally awakened his boss' anger, gleefully shouting back and the man's angered accusations. By the time the conversation was done, Mike realized two things: that he had forever damaged his reputation at that firm, and possibly every firm in the city, and that he had a raging hard-on.

The exhileration quickly passed before he even fully realised what had happened. Slowly the breathlessness and pleasure he had felt was replaced with dread. Did he just quit his job? Ruin his career?

Still, hadn't it felt good? He replayed the event in his mind, and as he did so, his dick got hard again. He'd never been so assertive, and it had been great to tell Mr Harolds how tired he was of sucking ass. The power he'd felt had almost been physical, filling his body with a sense of strength. He tried to savour the feeling as he pulled down his boxers and started to jack off, pulling on his dick with an intensity he hadn't felt in years.

With that finished, he started feeling more like his old self. With nothing to do, he puttered around the house, straightening a few things up, but he realised that he didn't really want to be here. Something nagged at the back of his mind, something about yesterday. Stray thoughts kept pulling his mind back to the moment when he got off work, as though a part of him was trying to tell him something, but strangely his thoughts kept slipping past that period of lost time. He felt a little concerned, but not really. Still, it bugged him.

Restlessness, he decided. It was time to go out.

He showered, taking a little longer to soap up his solid 5'11", 170 pound frame, taking much longer to soap up his dick, jack off, and then rinse off. He whistled as he stepped out of the shower, toweling himself dry. He felt good.

And looked good, he realized. His short dark hair was spiky after his haphazard attempt at towel drying, his green eyes sparkled. His nose was well-proportioned, over lips that weren't too thin or too pouty. He wondered if he should shave the dark band of stubble, but postponed the decision until after he'd done everything else: he kinda liked the look the stubble gave him, almost dangerous.

Mike kept himself in good shape, and he took a moment to admire his lean, tight body. He knew he was good looking, even though it had taken a few years of being hit on by the guys at the bars for him to realise it. He considered himself lucky that he didn't have to spend any time at the gym to keep his form.

Although now, as he looked, he realised that maybe he could do with a little gym work. He felt like he was looking a little scrawny. He looked exactly the same, he supposed, but maybe he was in need of a change. Flexing his arms, he decided that yes, he could stand a few hours in the gym, pumping iron.

Still, this didn't dampen his mood too much. After musing over this, he grinned at himself in the mirror, his old, familiar grin. Except, didn't it look a little different now? Maybe it was the way he felt, the rush from telling off his boss, but didn't that small curve of his lip, the tilt of his head, give him almost a -predatory- look? Dangerous seemed to be the word for the day. The odd thing was, it kinda felt sexy.

He grinned again, his old grin this time. "Fuck, I just need to get out of here."


He chose jeans and a white t-shirt, not really noticing his choice. He guessed that since it was his day off, he might as well dress like a slacker. Not that he looked like a slacker: the t-shirt was a little tight on him, and the jeans hugged his thighs and crotch, showing off his assets. It added to the sexy feeling he was having.

Without any idea of where he was headed, Mike grabbed his keys and wallet and left. The day was still bright, and Mike felt that it was loaded with possibilities. It was around lunch time, and his stomach growled, so he headed to a small streetside cafe, just a few minutes from his apartment.

Amadeus was well known as a cruising place, where men could pick up men with the added benefit of being well-lit. Mike had eaten there before, but he usually tried to go with a group of friends, although today he felt different. Perhaps today was a cruising day.

He found a small tabel where he could see most of the patio, and where most of the patio could see him, and he watched. It wasn't long before his eyes settled on something.

The man looked familiar to him for some reason. His dark hair, full lips, and dark, almost black eyes filled him with fascination. This man was gorgeous. But why did he look so familiar?

Mike felt a thrill when his eyes made the first tentative contact with the other man's. He smiled, trying to look nonchalant, but then suddenly changed tactics. He tried out his new, dangerous grin, as if to dare the man to look at him. And his eyes held! Time seemed to stretch, and Mike realized how turned on this guy made him. He seemed to bring on a predatory side to him, making him feel like taking risks, sexy. His dick hardened in his pants as he stared, his gaze seeming to fall into the man's twin black hole eyes. He saw him stand, a tall man with a large build, a black business suit that seemed to stretch over his immense muscles. Mike could sense power in the man, and he felt a sort of hunger for that power. The man started to walk over.

"Excuse me."

The voice startled Mike out of his reverie, and he broke eye contact with the stranger to look up and to his left, where the voice had come from.

"Is that seat taken?" The man was fair-haired and blue-eyed. His features seemed to blend into a strange look of sexiness and innocence that caught Mike entirely off-guard.

", I guess not," He looked back to her the man had been, and blinked. The dark-haired guy had vanished. He looked around wildly, but there was no sign of him.

"Thanks," the newcomer said, sitting down. He extended a strong-looking hand, "My name's Gabe."

"I'm Mike," he answered, shaking hands. He found Gabe's smile contagious, and found that he was grinning himself.

"Can I get you something, Mike?"

Mike shrugged, then smiled, and said "Sure."


Somehow, Mike and Gabe wasted an entire hour just talking. Mike didn't know who was more surprised when the conversation suddenly turned into something more. At one moment they were talking about careers (Gabe owned a book store, Mike just said he was in law), and the next they were exchanging phone numbers, with the promise of a first date.

By the time Gabe left (he had a doctor's appointment), Mike had already forgotten about the darkly-featured stranger. He found himself replaying the hour in his mind, and even when he thought he was over it, something would remind him of Gabe's smile, or a joke Gabe had told. He wondered how much Gabe had planned the encounter, wondered if the man had tormented himself wondering if he should ask Mike if that chair was free. He kept feeling like despite how he'd felt earlier that day, meeting Gabe was like a burst of sunshine through a cloud. He felt refreshed.

Refreshed, but still restless. He hung around a magazine stand for a little while, looking to see what was new, but nothing seemed to catch his eye. He was about to leave, when he heard laughter coming from around the corner, the alley.

It was a child's laughter, and he almost dismissed it, except that it sounded so musical. Intrigued, he followed the sound, hoping to find its source. Besides, he reasoned, a kid shouldn't be playing in an alley alone, not in the city.

He turned the corner, and heard the sound sneakers smacking pavement as he caught a glimpse of the kid running around another corner, still laughing. He couldn't get a good enough look to get any details, so he followed, sort of jogging through the newspaper and trash that littered the alley's floor.

Turning that corner, he stopped, and looked around, confused. The alley ended with a tall wooden wall, but there was no kid to be seen. He looked around, but there was nothing big enough for a child to hide behind or in, and no doors through which he or she (for some reason he felt it was a he, a boy, although he hadn't had a close enough look to be sure) could have escaped. Mike walked to the wooden fence. If he jumped, he could just about reach the top, but there was no way a kid could scale this thing.

"Just my imagination," he muttered, but even as he left the alley, he caught himself looking back, his brow furrowed with confusion.


The afternoon wore on, and Mike, at a loss for things to do, decided to see a movie. He chose some action movie, trash, maybe. There was bound to be a few half-naked men in the film, along with a lot of mindless explosions. Sweaty, naked torsoes as men hefted huge guns was good enough for this afternoon.

As he opened his wallet to pay the cashier, something red caught his eye. It was a plastic card, with a black stripe, like a credit card. Something tugged at his mind, and the next thing he knew, he was using it to pay for the movie. It cleared, but for some reason he hadn't doubted it would.

As soon as he returned it to his wallet, it was almost forgotten, his mind more intent on the film he was about to see. He didn't even notice that the dangerous grin was back, or that a sort of power had begun filling his limbs again.


The movie went well, until about halfway through. Then things got really bad.

The movie was fine. Mike's problem was the group of teenagers sitting right behind him, the big, stupid, ignorant asshole jock in particular.

The ape had come into the theater, groping some cheerleader ditz, his oafish voice already grating on Mike's nerves. The first words he uttered were, "What kind of loser sees a movie by himself?" Mike felt an unfamiliar anger build in him, not entirely unpleasant but more than a little frightening. Somehow he kept his mouth shut, his face facing the movie screen as the movie began.

The jock, whose friends kept calling "Ice" for some innane reason that would probably elude anyone who wasn't a teenager, sat right behind Mike. It wouldn't have been so bad, if the asshole didn't put his feet up against the back of Mike's chair, thumping loudly everytime something blew up.

"Ice" had seen this movie about five or six time, Mike judged. At least enough to have some of the lines memorized, especially the ones at critical points, but not enough to get them right half the time.

"'Take this, you asshole', wait, I mean, -this- is where he says 'Die, whore,'...he calls him an asshole just before he kills him and blows up the computer!"

Mike wasn't that great at lip reading, which meant he had to take Ice's word for it.

Anger slowly worked its way into Mike's mind, with every annoying guffaw from the boar behind him, with every irritating movement, with every comment that drowned out a piece of dialogue. Mike clenched his fists, but for some reason that only made him angrier. His own fear grew, too. What was this? He'd never been this angry before in his whole life! And over some dimwitted, steroid-popping asshole? For some reason that made him even angrier. It was like there were two sides in Mike, one side growing and gaining strength, just barely reined in, ready to explode, the other side watching and cringing away, realising how much Mike seemed to like the power his anger gave him, and not wanting to see things get any further.

Finally, things crescendoed, as "Ice" practically shouted, "Kill the faggot!" when the villian was about to do in some effeminate character who seemed designed to die.

Mike stood up and whirled around, his fists clenched into fists. Blood rushed to his face and sweat began to bead on his forhead. "Would you mind shutting the hell up?"

The jock's face clouded, then he stood himself. He had a sort of half-grin on his face, as if he couldn't believe this idiot would dare challenge him. "What did you say, asshole?"

Mike snapped. His fist came up, almost as if it wasn't his, and plummetted into the jock's fleshy face. Mike felt a rush of power fill him, lending strength to his punch, so, before "Ice" could recover, he hit him again, feeling even stronger. The jock's friends were stunned into silence, but not Ice. He blinked, and then a low growl began to emerge from his throat. He lunged at Mike, half climbing over the row of seats that separated them. Mike dodged, and hit the oaf again, his arms tingling.

Ice made a swing, catching the side of Mike's jaw, but Mike barely felt it, taking the chance to hit him again. He felt an almost sexual thrill as he realized the jock's nose was bleeding. Then Ice hit him again, and he went down.

He might have lost consciousness, because it seemed as if time skipped. One second a fist was flying at his face, the next he was struggling to stand, while a 230-pound ape tried to punch him back down. Suddenly he felt that his strength had left him. The theatre seemed to fill with sound - shouts of surprise and fear from the other movie-goers, most likely - and a flash light beam swung through the theatre as the ushers began to try to find out what was going on.

Mike got to his feat and turned to run toward the screen, toward the emergancy exit.

"You ASSHOLE!" He heard the jock shout after him, but the voice was far away, and soon a heavy door was between him and the idiot.

Mike gasped for breath, every limb shaking, but he felt -good-!

"Fuck!" He gasped. "Fuck! Fuck!"

Sweat ran down his forhead, and his t-shirt stuck to his flesh, feeling tighter than normal, but then, he was -pumped-. His blood pounded in his ears, every part of him felt completely alive. He felt a strange power suffuse his being, fill him from head to toe. He laughed, his voice sounding raw and wild.

He hadn't been in a fight since grade school. Back then he'd tried to avoid combat, since he'd always been smaller than most of the other kids. He'd gone into law because that was a way to fight without relying on physical strength, but now . . . he'd held his own! Against a man over sixty pounds heavier than he was!

His cock was hard, straining against his jeans, emphasising the feeling he had that he was big all over. He felt like a bigger man, like his clothes were tighter. It was almost like he'd undergone a physical transformation.

As he left the building, finally emerging into an alley, he rubbed his swollen bulge, feeling sexy and horny and hot. He wiped away the trickle of blood from his nose and grinned. He felt -wonderful-.

"Fuck." He said again. His breath was coming back to him, but the euphoria hadn't left. If anything, he felt more restless, like a tiger on the prowl.

He wandered out of the alley, still dazed. He wouldn't have noticed the black limo that pulled up in front of him if the door hadn't opened. But it did, and the dark-haired stranger, the man with the almost-black eyes, motioned to him from inside. Mike's cock swelled a little more, filling his crotch with almost painful heat.

The euphoria increased, along with horniness. He knew that this man wanted him, and suddenly he felt the same way. He grinned dangerously and slid into the car.

"Mike," the man said.

"Alex," Mike didn't understand how he knew the man's name, but he did. He felt strange in his presence, a jumble of emotion. He felt the sexual tension, true, but underneath there was a bizarre mixture of comfort and fear, like he could tell this man anything, but that maybe he shouldn't. The air tingled with the man's power.

The inside of the limo was dark, just light enough for Mike to see Alex as the large man shrugged out of his jacket and undid his tie, a wry smile flitting across his lips. He stretched, or at least tried to in the confines of the car, and Mike could see corded muscle ripple and flex underneath his shirt.

"You feel comfortable, Mike."Alex said, and suddenly all of Mike's fears bled away. He knew that he was going to have sex with this man, and just then that was all he wanted. A thought of Gabe fluttered at the edges of his thoughts, like a phantom. But like a phantom, it was weak and powerless, unable to touch him.

Mike reached over and touched Alex's huge arm, feeling the strength beneath the thin fabric of the shirt. Alex leaned back and sighed with pleasure as Mike leaned into him. Mike pressed his head into Alex's chest, gently tonguing his nipples through the shirt, his actions coming as naturally as if he was being guided, but Alex only leaned back, his eyes closed, his mouth forming a small smile of pleasure.

Mike grabbed and squeezed Alex's arms, his hands not even wide enough to cover the mounds of muscle, while at the same time he buried his face in Alex's pecs, feeling the massive crease where the slabs of muscle met, returning to the nipples, exploring the entire territory of his chest.

"Michael," Alex purred. "My dear, dear Michael. You like my muscle, don't you?"

Mike moaned gently in ascent.

"You like to feel the power, the strength and size. You want it for your own," Alex spread his legs, and Mike moved so that he knelt between them, his face now feeling its way around Alex's abs, his arms roaming the massive expanse of chest. His fingers, seemingly of their own volition, began to unbutton Alex's shirt, and he felt a thrill of pleasure shiver down his spine when he felt Alex's large hands start to rub his back.

"And you will get it," Alex's hands found their way beneath Mike's t-shirt, carressing his flesh with strength and lust. Mike could feel Alex's power seeping into him, coming from a seemingly endless store. "We've made a deal, you and I, and you've already begun to pay your half." Alex's voice was soothing, Mike enjoyed listening to it as his head went lower and lower. He touched Alex's belt with his teeth, his chin grazing across a lump that could only be Alex's cockhead, trapped within his pants.

"And so I will begin to give you your reward." Alex cooed.

Mike felt a weird separation occur inside his head. One part of him seemed to be screaming, pent up emotion struggling to get out. Lust and anger and fear and hate all boiled just beneath the surface, his cock was hard, and all he wanted was release. Another part was lulled by Alex's voice, giving the entire scene a dreamlike quality.

Alex's hands left Mike's back and brushed back Mike's hair. Then Alex undid his pants, giving Mike access to the huge, almost inhuman cockhead. Alex's dick seemed to crawl, snakelike, from its lair within his pants, slithering and straightening until it was erect, its tip just shy of Alex's rib cage, as thick as Mike's wrist. Mike licked it gently, and then encircled the cockhead with his mouth, sucking gently.

It seemed the perfect dick. Even though it was huge, it fit perfectly into Mike's mouth as he took it in, almost as if it was made for it. His throat seemed to widen just to accomodate its expanse. He felt Alex's hands on his head, pushing him deeper, and he half expected to gag, but he didn't, and soon even that fear faded away. Everything vanished in the flood of feelings, the sensation of power, flooding from Alex's dick into his body. He gave head like a pro, Alex's hands guiding his movements, coaxing out an instinct never before realized. Power filled him, electric, making him complete.

"You're good," Alex shuddered. "But you will get better."

Alex shuddered again, and then Mike could feel the man's come filling him. His own dick throbbed in synchrony, filling his jeans with his own sperm. Mike pulled his head away from Alex's dick and sighed. He felt like a baby, finally sated with his mother's milk.

He leaned his head against Alex's abs and closed his eyes. As he fell asleep, he thought he heard the man say "You're already bigger." •

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