Rider Fic: Quietly into the Night (NC-17) Part 3/3
Quietly into the Night (NC-17) by loony_lucifer
Characters/Pairing(s): Yassen Gregorovich/Alex Rider, OMCs
Summary: On a mission gone wrong, Alex is thrown into a world in which he is prey in a sea of predators and solely dependent upon a certain Russian assassin.
Warning(s): Slash, Alex is 14, sex with a minor, mature and uncomfortable themes (which involve sex with minors), violence, and content which some readers may find strongly disturbing.
Word Count: ~22,500 (Split into 3 parts for LJ constraints.)
Written for hpstrangelove through spy_fest.
The next morning they woke early, before the sun had risen. Dylan’s mood had visibly improved, and Alex wondered if the criminal had been relieved to see him returning alive. Alex had to admit that he too was happy that he had returned alive.
Before leaving, Yassen took the time to bandage the cigarette burn on Alex’s arm. Alex had to fight down his nerves when Yassen gestured him over; he’d been avoiding Yassen’s personal space since they returned from the car. The assassin made him sit on the bed while he cleaned and taped up the burned flesh. Yassen seemed to be all about focus once again and once Alex was seated next to him, he found that he was much calmer himself. Yassen’s hands, soft on his arm when they’d been so unforgiving yesterday, were now soothing. Dylan even stopped to watch them for a moment, though after a quick look from Yassen, he went back to tidying up their little room. Still, Dylan's good mood didn’t falter.
If Yassen had intended for his threat of torture keep Alex quiet and obedient, then it hadfailed. In fact, it had almost the opposite effect on Alex’s psyche. He couldn’t take his eyes off of his captor the rest of the morning; everything Yassen did was fascinating, and when they were back on the road, every question Alex had had since the beginning of their journey tumbled out of his mouth.
“What are we going to do at the next border?”
“Aren’t we being followed?”
“Where are we going?”
And, most importantly: “Are we there yet?”
Alex didn’t know why he felt like goading the Russian so much. Yassen was flat out ignoring him! At least Dylan was trying to answer his questions. Except, Dylan didn’t know what they would be doing at the next border crossing; didn’t know whether they were being followed, although they agreed that the Swiss and German police must have been alerted to their presence. Dylan avoided the rest of the questions. All the while, Yassen was silently fuming at the wheel.
Eventually, Alex’s tactic of sheer annoyance waned. There wasn’t that much to talk about, and although it was clear that Dylan would have been happy with any subject that didn’t directly relate to Alex’s kidnapping and their current situation, he was perceptive enough to pick up on Yassen’s irritation with the idle conversation.
Instead, Alex took to staring at Yassen. Every time he looked at him, he remembered how he’d acted last night. Not how it had started, because the torture had been planned, expected even, but how it had turned out. Because that had not been planned or expected at all.
Alex was aware that he had been the one who’d initiated it, but that had only been out of instinct and before he's known what was happening, Yassen had suddenly been there, responding, all plans on teaching Alex a ‘lesson’ gone. He’d had his mouth on Alex’s neck. Alex had been clinging to Yassen, and it wasn’t just because he’d been scared and hadn't wanted to die. They’d been grinding together, and they’d both been hard. He could feel the colour rise to his cheeks as he watched Yassen drive.
Whenever Yassen glanced at him, he would turn his eyes back to the road immediately afterwards, like he knew what Alex was thinking. It made the colour in his cheeks darken, but it didn’t make him stop.
They would be crossing the next border on foot again, abandoning the car several kilometres away. Like the Swiss-German border, the motorway into the Netherlands would be heavily guarded. This was the first thing Yassen said since they'd left, and the statement was pointedly directed at Alex.
They could hear sounds of a railway in the distance, but Yassen did not lead them to it. Not for the first time, Alex wondered how great the news of their escape had become, and how heavily they were being searched for. At least the terrain was flat here, and they could walk easily without becoming exhausted. It was mostly farmland, but Yassen had taken them to the edge of a forest, one he said would take them all the way, unhindered, to the border’s edge. Alex certainly wasn’t thrilled to be traipsing through brush and trees again, but Yassen hadn’t once lost the way on their previous excursion through the mountains. At least Alex didn’t have to be tied up and stowed into any dark spaces either.
If anyone had seen them, Alex doubted they’d have been able to explain what they were doing. Dylan and Yassen looked more or less alright, but he was certainly worse for the wear. He was bruised and bandaged, and his shirt was torn in several noticeable places. It was probably lucky then, that they did not encounter anyone.
They carried on for what seemed like hours, following Yassen. This time Yassen did not keep hold of Alex’s arm, but Alex could tell he was being watched closely as they walked. If he ducked and made a run for it, Yassen would be on him before he knew it.
Just as Yassen had said, the forest path took them to the border, where it immediately opened up into fields on the other side. Alex could see houses in the distance, spread out in the fields, and there was a single road between them and the open land. They walked along the tree line for a while before Yassen stopped, took a phone out of the bag, inserted its battery, and made a call. He spoke entirely in Russian. His voice became something wholly different, harsher than his English voice. Alex had gotten used to the latter. Yassen barely had a trace of accent. The switch was a slight shock for Alex, reminding him that Yassen hid very much of himself, even the dangerous parts. Once it was over, he took the battery out and dropped the phone back into the bag. He nodded to Dylan, and then sat down.
They waited for half an hour, just inside the shadow of the trees. Alex’s apprehension was returning with every passing minuted and by the time a single silver car came down the road, he was as nervous as ever. It pulled to a stop not far from their hiding place. Dylan and Yassen got to their feet and moved out into the open. This time Yassen took hold of Alex’s arm.
The driver worked for Scorpia. Alex knew this immediately. Even if he hadn’t looked like such a thug, then the silver scorpion pin on his lapel broadcasted it clearly.
“You are late,” was the first thing he said. He had a heavy Russian accent.
“We took many detours,” replied Yassen, “but we are here now.”
This seemed good enough for the driver. He opened the door and Yassen forced Alex in the backseat with him. For once, Dylan enjoyed the front.
It took them an hour to reach the outskirts of Amsterdam. By the time they could see the city on the waterfront, Dylan was all but humming with excitement. Even Yassen seemed to relax. That alone made Alex nervous.
They didn’t drive all the way into the heart of the city, but they were close. The driver took them to a residential area on the south eastern side. They parked in front of a row of canal houses, which weren’t dissimilar from London townhouses in Alex’s opinion. The canal on the other side of the road was practically a street itself. He eyed it as they got out of the car.
“Thank you,” Dylan was saying as Alex was dragged out of the car and held tightly. Alex realised he was talking to Yassen. “Thank you for all that you’ve done.”
“Do not thank me yet. We will remain until you are secure.” Yassen passed the bag to the driver in favour of holding Alex.
“Good, good.” Dylan nodded in appreciation, and then they were making their way to one of the canal houses. It was one of the larger ones, and for a brief moment Alex could imagine Dylan living out the rest of his days here, quietly, alone and in hiding.
Dylan gave a rap at the front door and waited. There was a soft commotion inside, and then a voice from a slot in the door. “T’was brillig, and the slithy toves!”
“Did gyre and gimble in the wabe,” said Dylan.
“Hast thou slain the Jabberwock?”
Dylan smirked. “Come to my arms, my beamish boy.”
The door opened then revealing not a boy but a man who looked both relieved and overjoyed to see them. “Oh frabjous day! Calloh, callay!” He was grinning, and swung the door wide to usher them inside. “Come in, come in. You made it. I can’t believe you made it.”
Alex placed his accent as American. He looked roughly the same age as Dylan but with sharper features and a military haircut.
“I can’t believe it either. Jim, what are they saying on the news?”
“Nothing good. An awful lot of panic and not a whole lot of detail.”
They walked as they spoke. The driver departed down the hall without a word, but the man named Jim paused them quickly after. “May I ask, and I certainly don’t mean to imply anything, but who is this?” He gestured to Alex, looking him up and down as he did so.
“This is Alex Rider. He’s a spy.” They were both staring at Alex now. “This is what the British government sent to catch me.”
Alex could see the precise moment Jim’s face lost all its humour. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered.
“They are not playing games any longer. They are desperate,” Yassen said quietly, breaking the moment. Alex looked up at him.
Jim looked like he was absorbing some of the shock. “Puts things in perspective then, huh?” He trailed off. “What-What are we going to do with him?”
Dylan looked at Yassen. “Scorpia will take care of him,” Yassen replied. Alex didn’t know if that statement was a threat or a relief for the two men, but they seemed to accept it.
As soon as they passed the front foyer, Alex could hear voices coming from within. A short way down the hall, they entered a large room full of people. His eyes widened to take all of it in. There was something going on in every corner. There were computers and laptops strewn about, with men working at one station or another, sometimes milling between. Two men who must have either worked for Scorpia or been otherwise trained guards stood near the curtained windows, watching the street outside.
“Hey, Jon’s back! Need a hard drive torched? Compliments of the house!” Someone shouted from the other side of the room, and when Alex looked he saw a bright burst of flame, extinguished after a few seconds, and then the charred remains of something metal tossed in a large bin. There was a stack of them waiting on the table by the bin.
The shout caught the room’s attention and all eyes turned to them. People went up to Dylan right away, asking if he was alright and if he’d been followed. Many started cheering and there was a great buzz of excitement in the air.
Yassen and Alex stood back, but at one point or another, the men's gazes fell on him. He noticed that Yassen hadn’t let go of his arm since they’d stepped inside.
-
It was decided by Yassen that they would spend the night within the house. Alex thought it was more of a base than a house, but it was furnished comfortably enough to assert otherwise. It was one of the larger houses on the street, so when Yassen, as Scorpia’s operations leader, asked for a room of his own, his request was not denied. Alex, as a potential threat to the organisation, was to remain under his guard. Or so he said.
Alex did not feel like much of a potential threat. Until now, Dylan hadn’t really bothered him. One man on his own hadn’t seemed like much of a threat to his person; not after all the other, worse things he had dealt with. But many….
Surrounded by men who were like Dylan, Alex found himself re-evaluating that first impression.
With the sun setting, Yassen retired them to his room. Only then did he release Alex, who rubbed his upper arm gingerly. Yassen locked the door. Down the hall, Alex could hear someone laughing. He could faintly hear conversation on the floor below them, where Dylan’s organisation was working, making plans, doing whatever it was that they did.
When Alex turned around, he found Yassen rummaging through the bag and then pulling out a rifle. Alex tensed for a moment until Yassen sat down at the table and began taking it apart. He was cleaning it. Alex caught a glimpse of several more shiny things in the bag.
It was then that he realised that he and Yassen were alone. Not just alone and away from Scorpia and the ‘group’, but alone as in away from everyone.
Alex moistened his lips and fixed the man in his gaze. “So,” he began. And waited. Yassen wasn’t looking at him. There was almost the full length of the room between them, but Alex had spoken clearly. “So,” he tried again. “Dylan and Jim. Are you…like them?”
Yassen paused, the rifle in two pieces in his hands. After a moment in which the room seemed frozen, he spoke. “No Alex. I am not.” He began putting the gun back together, apparently satisfied with its capabilities.
Alex continued to stare at him. He wasn’t going to back down from this one. Not after the last night.
“They have their own code, if you will,” Yassen continued after the silence had stretched long enough. “I have mine. They are attempting to build a community. I am not. I am an assassin.” The gun clicked into place, loaded and ready. He replaced it with another, a handgun this time, and began pulling the new one apart. “I live and work alone, and have no interest in their work.”
Alex’s shoulders slumped. “That’s not exactly what I meant….”
“Your father liked me very much, Alex,” Yassen cut in, “as many men in Moscow did before him, when I was younger than you are now.” He stopped, and though he was still inclined over the gun, his eyes stared dangerously up at Alex and Alex knew then that it was better not to accuse him of anything. “I like you very much, Alex,” Yassen added.
Colour rose to Alex's cheeks at that, and his mind was reeling at the thought of his father and Yassen…but he tried to remain collected. “So you’re telling me it’s coincidence that they hired you, and then you…and I….back in Germany?” Alex realised how flustered he was only after the disjointed words left his mouth.
“No, it is not coincidence.” Yassen put the gun down and finally focused all his attention on Alex. “I take whatever clients Scorpia assigns me, and have no illusions as to whether they take my background into account while doing so. Because of who and what Dylan is, MI6 cunningly sent you, Alex Rider.”
Yassen stood.
“Alex Rider, who is both beautiful and the son of John Rider, my former partner.” He came to Alex, who stood rooted to the floor, unable to move even if he had wanted to. “I imagine your government thought they would be taking out two birds with one stone on the chance that you should ‘accidentally’ run into Dylan and I. Nothing is coincidence, Alex.” Yassen brushed a piece of hair back from his temple, invading well within his personal space. “Everything is connected.”
Alex allowed himself to breathe. “So MI6 knew you were alive. Or suspected? They set me up.”
“Perhaps not in the way they were meaning to.” Yassen smiled then, softly. “After all, they did not foresee you having desires of your own.”
Yassen’s thumb caressed Alex’s lower lip and he allowed it, even parted his lips slightly for the wandering finger. His blood felt like it was on fire. He was too hot in this room, with Yassen so close and speaking to him so openly, and he was too angry with MI6 and Dylan and himself for how confused he was about it all. Yassen filled his vision, thumb sliding back to rest under his jaw, fingers splayed against the back of his neck, and then Yassen’s mouth was on his and he was leaning up into it before he knew what he was doing. It felt so good to taste the man, felt like he was doing something wrong and the buzz that came with it was exhilarating. Yassen’s lips felt better than Yassen’s fingers against his mouth and his tongue was a new level of excitement altogether.
Suddenly kissing Yassen felt like fighting Yassen, and Alex wanted the challenge. His hands fisted the man’s collar and his nails dug into his shoulder blades while their teeth gnashed together, biting as much as licking. Yassen made a noise deep in his throat that was somewhere between a moan and a growl. The moment Alex heard it, he wanted to see if he could make him do it again. He was barely half the Russian’s size and still he was holding his own, pushing back into the kiss every time Yassen bent him backward.
Yassen’s hands ran down his back, over his hips, caught the back of Alex’s knee and lifted him with his arms still around Yassen’s neck to wrap his legs around the man’s waist as well. Alex must have weighed nothing. He could feel how hard Yassen was already, and his own body responded in kind. Yassen made the noise again, sending a thrill through Alex, and then they were moving backward until he hit the bed. Yassen stood over him for a second; a second where he was looking up at Yassen from the soft cushion and blankets underneath him, lying on his back, and a hit by a sudden jolt of reality. He had no idea what he was doing. He had never done this before, much less with someone that wasn’t a girl and someone that had this much control over him. He was slightly frightened by the thought, yet Yassen was leaning down over him, kneeling on the bed and kissing him again. Alex’s skin had goosebumps and Yassen’s hand was running underneath his shirt and up his side.
He breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself.
Yassen paused for a moment and watched him, as though he knew what Alex was thinking. He wasn’t sure he wanted Yassen to see his nerves, not after he’d already been so pathetically begging for his freedom when Yassen had scared him before. He set his jaw and glared back at the assassin.
The corner of Yassen’s lip twisted upward into a half smile. Maybe he did know what Alex was thinking after all. It didn’t matter. He was determined not to show any fear.
“Alex.” Yassen breathed the word.
Alex’s eyelids drooped in reaction. He caught his tongue between his teeth and reached for Yassen. Their mouths met, and Yassen was tugging his shirt up, running his hands over Alex’s chest. The shirt fell away with another tug, over his head, and then Yassen’s mouth was on his neck just like last night. It made Alex whine and press himself into the man above him.
Teeth bit into the muscle under his skin and Alex jumped at the sudden pain, eyes flying open. Yassen’s hands were hard on his abdomen and thigh, holding him down. When the weight of Yassen’s knees pinned his legs in place, some of his earlier anxiety started to return. Alex tried to take hold of his shoulders, but Yassen caught his wrists and forced his arms down. Alex winced at the rough pull on his bandaged arms, but shivered at a second bite to his clavicle. The tingle of pleasure the man’s tongue created afterward sent contradictory signals to Alex’s mind. He tried to wriggle free, but Yassen held him firmly in place.
“Please.” It left his mouth before he knew what he was saying.
Yassen pulled his arms over his head so that he could lean up to hiss into Alex’s ear. “’Please’ what?” He caught the lobe between his teeth, but more gently this time. “Please let you go? Is that really what you want, Alex?”
The words sent a shudder down Alex's spine so thoroughly that it ended in his groin. He gasped. His body sang when Yassen spoke to him like that.
“I do not think it is.” Yassen lowered his weight against Alex, so that they were pressed together everywhere. When Yassen rolled his hips, Alex made a sound that probably confirmed that statement.
Yassen took both of Alex’s wrists in one hand for a moment while seeking out his mouth. Alex sank into the feeling, slick tongue against his, pressure slackened on his forearms. He let his eyes close until he heard a metallic click above his head. He recognised it and his blood turned from hot to cold in an instant. He tried to bring his arms down, pulling hard and only hurting himself, but they didn’t move. Incredulity and panic crossed his features, but Yassen didn’t look very concerned for him handcuffed to the headboard of the bed.
“What-?” Alex caught Yassen’s eyes and the words died on his tongue. The assassin was sitting back, surveying him. Alex gave another quick tug, but the cuffs held. Yassen looked pleased with this; Alex could see it in the set of his eyes. He reached for a nightstand at the side of the bed, and Alex half expected to see a knife in his hand, but it was only a small bottle. Alex wasn’t sure if he was relieved by the sight of it. Yassen set it aside, then bent down and began undoing the zipper of Alex’s trousers.
He gasped when Yassen’s hands intentionally rubbed over his crotch. Yassen took his time, putting pressure there as he peeled the denim down Alex’s legs and let his trousers fall to the floor. Hands were replaced with Yassen’s mouth over the fabric of his boxers, and Alex couldn’t help the noise he made. It was somewhere between a whimper and a whine, and very high-pitched. He clamped his mouth shut to stop himself from doing it again.
His reactions only encouraged Yassen. He hooked his thumbs in the band of Alex’s underwear and mouthed at the sensitive spot beneath his hip as he pulled the elastic down. Alex had to turn his head away at that. His face was turning pink and he couldn’t find the words to tell Yassen to stop.
He felt a hand caress his face. “Look at me, Alex.” He kept his eyes shut. Yassen’s fingers gripped his jaw roughly until he opened his eyes and looked down. His own body was an expanse of golden skin, softened by the low light in the room. Yassen, still fully clothed, crouched between his spread knees and waited for him to make eye contact. When Alex did, he bent his head and licked the tip of his cock in one slow stroke. Alex felt dizzy. Blood seemed to be pooling there, rather than running through the rest of his body. Yassen closed his mouth over his shaft, the pressure in Alex’s groin coiled in on itself. Yassen’s head started moving, up and down, hands gripping Alex’s hips, working his tongue to create a glorious sense of friction, Alex closed his eyes and keened loudly.
Yassen released him far too quickly. He opened his eyes again and found Yassen sitting back on his heels, pulling his own shirt over his head. When he started unbuttoning his pants, Alex’s apprehension started to creep back.
Yassen was big; much bigger than Alex was, naturally. He swallowed, trying not to imagine the logistics of what Yassen had planned for him. He watched as Yassen poured liquid from the bottle all over his fingertips, and then the man crawled up by Alex's side. His fingers glided over the swell of Alex's arse and settled over his most private place. Yassen began kissing him, but his attention seemed to remain focused on that hand, caressing, massaging, creating a light pressure, and suddenly there was a finger inside him. It didn’t hurt, but Alex tensed anyway. Yassen kept going. After a few strokes, a second finger was added. It still didn’t actually hurt, but Alex could certainly feel it, and that fed the anxiety within him.
“Wait,” he pleaded, trying to pull back without success.
Yassen raised an eyebrow, but disregarded the request. He cupped his hand and moved his fingers to a position that Alex didn’t understand, but suddenly he touched something fantastic inside Alex.
His mouth fell open in surprise, but when Yassen did it again his protests were forgotten. Alex’s head tipped forward and he had to pant to catch his breath. He found himself moving into the touch, trying to find some kind of control over it. Yassen kissed the corner of his mouth. He could feel the man smile.
Yassen pulled away. His hand and fingers retracted, leaving Alex both relieved and frustrated. There was a squelch from the bottle and Alex tried to sit up as far as the handcuffs would allow as Yassen coated his own cock with the liquid while Alex watched wide-eyed. He moved Alex’s legs apart further and leaned over him.
“This is going to hurt,” he whispered. It sounded like a promise.
Alex’s pulse was racing as Yassen lined them up, lifting Alex’s hips to meet him. He pushed in slowly, and Alex gritted his teeth. It burned. Yassen was right, it did hurt and even more so at the end of each thrust when their hips came together. Alex’s legs were shaking and he was yanking at the restraints holding his hands, trying not to groan aloud.
“Don’t fight me,” Yassen whispered into his ear. He licked along Alex’s jaw until he found his mouth again. Alex ignored the order, gnashing his teeth into Yassen’s lip. He needed some kind of control, badly, and that was all he could find. But Yassen only growled and bit back. He snapped his hips harder in warning, at a slightly different angle, yet it had the opposite effect from the punishment he'd obviously intended. He’d found the electric spot his fingers had touched earlier and Alex arched his back off the bed in response. Yassen did it again and Alex moaned. His resistance melted away even though he kept fighting, only now it was to try to pull Yassen to him in order to provoke the man. Yassen complied, thrusting up into Alex with quicker strokes. Their skin was slick with sweat. Alex wanted his hands free to pull Yassen down against him closer, to rub harder at every place their bodies met. He felt like they could melt together.
He was coming before he knew what was happening. His hips were moving of their own accord and the pool of heat that had wound within him was finally overwhelming. He cried out and it felt like he was frozen in the same moment even as the world around him continued moving. Wetness mingled with the sweat between them.
Yassen’s hands wound into his hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck. He kissed Alex there, then on the other side, then on his mouth and said something in Russian that Alex didn’t understand. He wished he did. He’d never heard Yassen’s voice tinged with that much emotion before. Yassen moved frantically, bent over Alex, and with a long groan he came.
It took Alex a long while to come down, letting aftershocks wash through him, frozen in place until Yassen pulled out of him. Yassen didn’t move otherwise, arms still wrapped around Alex, just breathing together. Eventually Yassen reached up and unlocked the cuffs around Alex’s wrists. He dropped them to the floor and Alex held his forearms. He’d ignored the pain, but blood was seeping through the bandages by now. To his surprise, Yassen took one of his wrists and held it softly. Alex’s eyes flitted up to his face and he could swear he saw guilt there.
Yassen looked over the bandage until he was satisfied. He turned on his side and pulled Alex against him, spooning behind him. Alex allowed Yassen’s arms around him, even pulled them in tighter, fulfilled to have the man’s warmth. They fell asleep like that, without conversation or further exchange, but Alex was satisfied. He hadn’t been that content in a long time, and that was something of a surprise.
He was woken again not very long after. Someone was shouting. He moaned and tried to turn over to get away from the intrusion, but the shouting continued, louder and outside their room, maybe on the floor below. His brain was just beginning to register that something was wrong when gunfire split the silence. He was alert in an instant, just in time to be hit in the face with a pile of clothes.
“What’s going on?” he sat up and grabbed his torn shirt.
Yassen was on the other side of the room, pulling his boots on quickly and lacing them up faster than anyone Alex had ever seen.
“Put your clothes on. Now.”
Alex did so, throwing his shirt over his head and hopping into his trousers. He forgot his underwear in the haste. He pulled his shoes on while Yassen dumped the contents of his bag out onto the bed where Alex had been lying only a moment ago. There was an entire arsenal in there. Yassen strapped guns to his waist, around his shoulders, slipped knives into his boots and took the rifle. He found out Alex's earpieces, the ones Smithers had made specially for him, and stared at them in distaste. He threw them to the floor and smashed them underneath his boot. He held out a hand to Alex. “Come.”
Alex didn’t hesitate any longer than a second. And he wasn't sure if he hadn't gone completely mad as he took Yassen’s hand and allowed the man to lead him out of the room. Yassen ducked against the wall of the hallway as soon as they had gone through the door, holding an arm against Alex’s chest to make sure that he was safe. They stalked down the corridor, hearing voices below. Bright, white lights flashed through the windows and Yassen grabbed Alex and dived out of their way. The sound of a helicopter roared by.
“What’s going on?” Alex tried again, this time having to shout over the noise.
Yassen just held him tightly. “We were tracked. I need to find Dylan.”
“What?” Alex couldn’t believe what he'd just heard, but Yassen pulled him along anyway.
They descended the steps only halfway before two men in black police armour and helmets met them. Yassen fired two shots, catching them both in the neck while Alex cried out in shock. He was moving again before they’d hit the floor, having to drag Alex after him. They were shot not ten meters away. The man who’d just fucked him now killed two people right in front of him.
“They’re sweeping the house,” Yassen said as they ducked into a side room on the main floor. They were going to be surrounded down here. Then Alex heard gunfire from outside and thought that maybe the Scorpia operatives wouldn’t be so outnumbered after all. “Stay close to me.”
Yassen still refused to let go of Alex’s hand even though it would have given him another firearm to shoot with. They barrelled out of the room when someone came through the front door. Alex recognised their MI6 attire.
“Alex!” Someone shouted. It wasn’t Yassen. It wasn’t Dylan; Alex could now see Dylan on the other side of the house’s corridor with someone from Scorpia. Gunfire rained over their heads until Yassen could get them around a doorframe on the opposite side of the hall. “Don’t shoot!” the man shouted again, and Alex for the life of him couldn’t figure out who he was, but he was yelling at the MI6 agents. Whoever he was, he’d seen Alex and recognised him.
They were at a standoff. MI6 was holding the front door, Dylan and the Scorpia guard were stuck in the middle, and Alex and Yassen were at the end of the hall. Police and what was left of Scorpia were all over the place. Shouts could be heard from upstairs. Sirens blared from outside. The ever present hum of the helicopter dominated everything.
Alex peered from around the corridor to see the agents. The one who’d been shouting took off his helmet. It was Terrance. Alex suddenly knew why he’d been recognised so easily; they’d sent the agent he’d been assigned to in Florence. Alex pulled away from Yassen, the deaths of the two policemen fresh in his mind, but he didn’t make it far. The assassin had an iron grip around him and before he knew it he was locked against the man’s chest. A bullet flew by them out of nowhere and Yassen held him tightly. His arm and body was like a shield around Alex. He felt a rush of gratitude, of uninhibited emotion for the assassin.
“Go to him,” Yassen suddenly ordered.
Alex spun around. “What?” He was all fury, high on adrenaline, and looked like a wild little thing glaring at Yassen in disbelief.
“Alex.” The assassin’s blue eyes were as cold as ever. “You are the perfect diversion. We will be trapped here if you don’t go.”
“But-“ He couldn’t - didn’t - want to go back, not now. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t make this decision right now.
Yassen grabbed him roughly by the shoulders. “We’re coming out!” he shouted and thrust himself and Alex into the hallway. Alex was the only thing between MI6 and Yassen. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Dylan, crouched behind one of the open doors. His heartrate picked up. He was completely vulnerable. With one of Yassen’s hands on him, forcing him ahead, and the other holding the gun to his side, he looked for all the world like Yassen’s hostage. And that's exactly what he was, he supposed.
“Don’t do this,” Alex pleaded, just loud enough to be heard. He didn’t care if MI6 had also heard him, they wouldn’t have understood what he meant.
He felt Yassen’s breath, hot on his neck. “I’ll come for you, Alex,” he whispered. “I promise I’ll come back for you.” He shoved Alex hard, almost throwing him off his feet, firing at the agents as he did so. Alex fell into them, knocking them back as Yassen turned and ran. When Alex looked up, he glimpsed Dylan and the Russian running up the stairs. The sound of glass breaking came a moment later. Alex climbed to his feet, ignoring Terrance and the other agents as they ran after Yassen. He sprinted out the door.
The helicopter did not belong to MI6. It belonged to Scorpia, and only once Alex was outside did he realise it. Two figures from the side of the building held a rope ladder that was tied to its carriage. They were pulled away just before the MI6 agents reached the broken window of the second floor, unable to follow them out. The agents fired, and Alex held his breath, but the helicopter was climbing too fast for their aim to be accurate.
Yassen and Dylan rose up into the night sky. Alex watched from below as their figures blurred into the dark, until only the outline of the helicopter’s bulk and its signal lights and thrumming blades told him where they were.
He watched until the chaos in the house, on the street, and all around him demanded his attention. He would find Terrance. He would go back to MI6. He would go through their debriefing, and he would know all the while what they’d tried to set him up for and how badly it had backfired.
One way or another, he would see Yassen again.
~ Fin.
Characters/Pairing(s): Yassen Gregorovich/Alex Rider, OMCs
Summary: On a mission gone wrong, Alex is thrown into a world in which he is prey in a sea of predators and solely dependent upon a certain Russian assassin.
Warning(s): Slash, Alex is 14, sex with a minor, mature and uncomfortable themes (which involve sex with minors), violence, and content which some readers may find strongly disturbing.
Word Count: ~22,500 (Split into 3 parts for LJ constraints.)
Written for hpstrangelove through spy_fest.
The next morning they woke early, before the sun had risen. Dylan’s mood had visibly improved, and Alex wondered if the criminal had been relieved to see him returning alive. Alex had to admit that he too was happy that he had returned alive.
Before leaving, Yassen took the time to bandage the cigarette burn on Alex’s arm. Alex had to fight down his nerves when Yassen gestured him over; he’d been avoiding Yassen’s personal space since they returned from the car. The assassin made him sit on the bed while he cleaned and taped up the burned flesh. Yassen seemed to be all about focus once again and once Alex was seated next to him, he found that he was much calmer himself. Yassen’s hands, soft on his arm when they’d been so unforgiving yesterday, were now soothing. Dylan even stopped to watch them for a moment, though after a quick look from Yassen, he went back to tidying up their little room. Still, Dylan's good mood didn’t falter.
If Yassen had intended for his threat of torture keep Alex quiet and obedient, then it hadfailed. In fact, it had almost the opposite effect on Alex’s psyche. He couldn’t take his eyes off of his captor the rest of the morning; everything Yassen did was fascinating, and when they were back on the road, every question Alex had had since the beginning of their journey tumbled out of his mouth.
“What are we going to do at the next border?”
“Aren’t we being followed?”
“Where are we going?”
And, most importantly: “Are we there yet?”
Alex didn’t know why he felt like goading the Russian so much. Yassen was flat out ignoring him! At least Dylan was trying to answer his questions. Except, Dylan didn’t know what they would be doing at the next border crossing; didn’t know whether they were being followed, although they agreed that the Swiss and German police must have been alerted to their presence. Dylan avoided the rest of the questions. All the while, Yassen was silently fuming at the wheel.
Eventually, Alex’s tactic of sheer annoyance waned. There wasn’t that much to talk about, and although it was clear that Dylan would have been happy with any subject that didn’t directly relate to Alex’s kidnapping and their current situation, he was perceptive enough to pick up on Yassen’s irritation with the idle conversation.
Instead, Alex took to staring at Yassen. Every time he looked at him, he remembered how he’d acted last night. Not how it had started, because the torture had been planned, expected even, but how it had turned out. Because that had not been planned or expected at all.
Alex was aware that he had been the one who’d initiated it, but that had only been out of instinct and before he's known what was happening, Yassen had suddenly been there, responding, all plans on teaching Alex a ‘lesson’ gone. He’d had his mouth on Alex’s neck. Alex had been clinging to Yassen, and it wasn’t just because he’d been scared and hadn't wanted to die. They’d been grinding together, and they’d both been hard. He could feel the colour rise to his cheeks as he watched Yassen drive.
Whenever Yassen glanced at him, he would turn his eyes back to the road immediately afterwards, like he knew what Alex was thinking. It made the colour in his cheeks darken, but it didn’t make him stop.
They would be crossing the next border on foot again, abandoning the car several kilometres away. Like the Swiss-German border, the motorway into the Netherlands would be heavily guarded. This was the first thing Yassen said since they'd left, and the statement was pointedly directed at Alex.
They could hear sounds of a railway in the distance, but Yassen did not lead them to it. Not for the first time, Alex wondered how great the news of their escape had become, and how heavily they were being searched for. At least the terrain was flat here, and they could walk easily without becoming exhausted. It was mostly farmland, but Yassen had taken them to the edge of a forest, one he said would take them all the way, unhindered, to the border’s edge. Alex certainly wasn’t thrilled to be traipsing through brush and trees again, but Yassen hadn’t once lost the way on their previous excursion through the mountains. At least Alex didn’t have to be tied up and stowed into any dark spaces either.
If anyone had seen them, Alex doubted they’d have been able to explain what they were doing. Dylan and Yassen looked more or less alright, but he was certainly worse for the wear. He was bruised and bandaged, and his shirt was torn in several noticeable places. It was probably lucky then, that they did not encounter anyone.
They carried on for what seemed like hours, following Yassen. This time Yassen did not keep hold of Alex’s arm, but Alex could tell he was being watched closely as they walked. If he ducked and made a run for it, Yassen would be on him before he knew it.
Just as Yassen had said, the forest path took them to the border, where it immediately opened up into fields on the other side. Alex could see houses in the distance, spread out in the fields, and there was a single road between them and the open land. They walked along the tree line for a while before Yassen stopped, took a phone out of the bag, inserted its battery, and made a call. He spoke entirely in Russian. His voice became something wholly different, harsher than his English voice. Alex had gotten used to the latter. Yassen barely had a trace of accent. The switch was a slight shock for Alex, reminding him that Yassen hid very much of himself, even the dangerous parts. Once it was over, he took the battery out and dropped the phone back into the bag. He nodded to Dylan, and then sat down.
They waited for half an hour, just inside the shadow of the trees. Alex’s apprehension was returning with every passing minuted and by the time a single silver car came down the road, he was as nervous as ever. It pulled to a stop not far from their hiding place. Dylan and Yassen got to their feet and moved out into the open. This time Yassen took hold of Alex’s arm.
The driver worked for Scorpia. Alex knew this immediately. Even if he hadn’t looked like such a thug, then the silver scorpion pin on his lapel broadcasted it clearly.
“You are late,” was the first thing he said. He had a heavy Russian accent.
“We took many detours,” replied Yassen, “but we are here now.”
This seemed good enough for the driver. He opened the door and Yassen forced Alex in the backseat with him. For once, Dylan enjoyed the front.
It took them an hour to reach the outskirts of Amsterdam. By the time they could see the city on the waterfront, Dylan was all but humming with excitement. Even Yassen seemed to relax. That alone made Alex nervous.
They didn’t drive all the way into the heart of the city, but they were close. The driver took them to a residential area on the south eastern side. They parked in front of a row of canal houses, which weren’t dissimilar from London townhouses in Alex’s opinion. The canal on the other side of the road was practically a street itself. He eyed it as they got out of the car.
“Thank you,” Dylan was saying as Alex was dragged out of the car and held tightly. Alex realised he was talking to Yassen. “Thank you for all that you’ve done.”
“Do not thank me yet. We will remain until you are secure.” Yassen passed the bag to the driver in favour of holding Alex.
“Good, good.” Dylan nodded in appreciation, and then they were making their way to one of the canal houses. It was one of the larger ones, and for a brief moment Alex could imagine Dylan living out the rest of his days here, quietly, alone and in hiding.
Dylan gave a rap at the front door and waited. There was a soft commotion inside, and then a voice from a slot in the door. “T’was brillig, and the slithy toves!”
“Did gyre and gimble in the wabe,” said Dylan.
“Hast thou slain the Jabberwock?”
Dylan smirked. “Come to my arms, my beamish boy.”
The door opened then revealing not a boy but a man who looked both relieved and overjoyed to see them. “Oh frabjous day! Calloh, callay!” He was grinning, and swung the door wide to usher them inside. “Come in, come in. You made it. I can’t believe you made it.”
Alex placed his accent as American. He looked roughly the same age as Dylan but with sharper features and a military haircut.
“I can’t believe it either. Jim, what are they saying on the news?”
“Nothing good. An awful lot of panic and not a whole lot of detail.”
They walked as they spoke. The driver departed down the hall without a word, but the man named Jim paused them quickly after. “May I ask, and I certainly don’t mean to imply anything, but who is this?” He gestured to Alex, looking him up and down as he did so.
“This is Alex Rider. He’s a spy.” They were both staring at Alex now. “This is what the British government sent to catch me.”
Alex could see the precise moment Jim’s face lost all its humour. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered.
“They are not playing games any longer. They are desperate,” Yassen said quietly, breaking the moment. Alex looked up at him.
Jim looked like he was absorbing some of the shock. “Puts things in perspective then, huh?” He trailed off. “What-What are we going to do with him?”
Dylan looked at Yassen. “Scorpia will take care of him,” Yassen replied. Alex didn’t know if that statement was a threat or a relief for the two men, but they seemed to accept it.
As soon as they passed the front foyer, Alex could hear voices coming from within. A short way down the hall, they entered a large room full of people. His eyes widened to take all of it in. There was something going on in every corner. There were computers and laptops strewn about, with men working at one station or another, sometimes milling between. Two men who must have either worked for Scorpia or been otherwise trained guards stood near the curtained windows, watching the street outside.
“Hey, Jon’s back! Need a hard drive torched? Compliments of the house!” Someone shouted from the other side of the room, and when Alex looked he saw a bright burst of flame, extinguished after a few seconds, and then the charred remains of something metal tossed in a large bin. There was a stack of them waiting on the table by the bin.
The shout caught the room’s attention and all eyes turned to them. People went up to Dylan right away, asking if he was alright and if he’d been followed. Many started cheering and there was a great buzz of excitement in the air.
Yassen and Alex stood back, but at one point or another, the men's gazes fell on him. He noticed that Yassen hadn’t let go of his arm since they’d stepped inside.
-
It was decided by Yassen that they would spend the night within the house. Alex thought it was more of a base than a house, but it was furnished comfortably enough to assert otherwise. It was one of the larger houses on the street, so when Yassen, as Scorpia’s operations leader, asked for a room of his own, his request was not denied. Alex, as a potential threat to the organisation, was to remain under his guard. Or so he said.
Alex did not feel like much of a potential threat. Until now, Dylan hadn’t really bothered him. One man on his own hadn’t seemed like much of a threat to his person; not after all the other, worse things he had dealt with. But many….
Surrounded by men who were like Dylan, Alex found himself re-evaluating that first impression.
With the sun setting, Yassen retired them to his room. Only then did he release Alex, who rubbed his upper arm gingerly. Yassen locked the door. Down the hall, Alex could hear someone laughing. He could faintly hear conversation on the floor below them, where Dylan’s organisation was working, making plans, doing whatever it was that they did.
When Alex turned around, he found Yassen rummaging through the bag and then pulling out a rifle. Alex tensed for a moment until Yassen sat down at the table and began taking it apart. He was cleaning it. Alex caught a glimpse of several more shiny things in the bag.
It was then that he realised that he and Yassen were alone. Not just alone and away from Scorpia and the ‘group’, but alone as in away from everyone.
Alex moistened his lips and fixed the man in his gaze. “So,” he began. And waited. Yassen wasn’t looking at him. There was almost the full length of the room between them, but Alex had spoken clearly. “So,” he tried again. “Dylan and Jim. Are you…like them?”
Yassen paused, the rifle in two pieces in his hands. After a moment in which the room seemed frozen, he spoke. “No Alex. I am not.” He began putting the gun back together, apparently satisfied with its capabilities.
Alex continued to stare at him. He wasn’t going to back down from this one. Not after the last night.
“They have their own code, if you will,” Yassen continued after the silence had stretched long enough. “I have mine. They are attempting to build a community. I am not. I am an assassin.” The gun clicked into place, loaded and ready. He replaced it with another, a handgun this time, and began pulling the new one apart. “I live and work alone, and have no interest in their work.”
Alex’s shoulders slumped. “That’s not exactly what I meant….”
“Your father liked me very much, Alex,” Yassen cut in, “as many men in Moscow did before him, when I was younger than you are now.” He stopped, and though he was still inclined over the gun, his eyes stared dangerously up at Alex and Alex knew then that it was better not to accuse him of anything. “I like you very much, Alex,” Yassen added.
Colour rose to Alex's cheeks at that, and his mind was reeling at the thought of his father and Yassen…but he tried to remain collected. “So you’re telling me it’s coincidence that they hired you, and then you…and I….back in Germany?” Alex realised how flustered he was only after the disjointed words left his mouth.
“No, it is not coincidence.” Yassen put the gun down and finally focused all his attention on Alex. “I take whatever clients Scorpia assigns me, and have no illusions as to whether they take my background into account while doing so. Because of who and what Dylan is, MI6 cunningly sent you, Alex Rider.”
Yassen stood.
“Alex Rider, who is both beautiful and the son of John Rider, my former partner.” He came to Alex, who stood rooted to the floor, unable to move even if he had wanted to. “I imagine your government thought they would be taking out two birds with one stone on the chance that you should ‘accidentally’ run into Dylan and I. Nothing is coincidence, Alex.” Yassen brushed a piece of hair back from his temple, invading well within his personal space. “Everything is connected.”
Alex allowed himself to breathe. “So MI6 knew you were alive. Or suspected? They set me up.”
“Perhaps not in the way they were meaning to.” Yassen smiled then, softly. “After all, they did not foresee you having desires of your own.”
Yassen’s thumb caressed Alex’s lower lip and he allowed it, even parted his lips slightly for the wandering finger. His blood felt like it was on fire. He was too hot in this room, with Yassen so close and speaking to him so openly, and he was too angry with MI6 and Dylan and himself for how confused he was about it all. Yassen filled his vision, thumb sliding back to rest under his jaw, fingers splayed against the back of his neck, and then Yassen’s mouth was on his and he was leaning up into it before he knew what he was doing. It felt so good to taste the man, felt like he was doing something wrong and the buzz that came with it was exhilarating. Yassen’s lips felt better than Yassen’s fingers against his mouth and his tongue was a new level of excitement altogether.
Suddenly kissing Yassen felt like fighting Yassen, and Alex wanted the challenge. His hands fisted the man’s collar and his nails dug into his shoulder blades while their teeth gnashed together, biting as much as licking. Yassen made a noise deep in his throat that was somewhere between a moan and a growl. The moment Alex heard it, he wanted to see if he could make him do it again. He was barely half the Russian’s size and still he was holding his own, pushing back into the kiss every time Yassen bent him backward.
Yassen’s hands ran down his back, over his hips, caught the back of Alex’s knee and lifted him with his arms still around Yassen’s neck to wrap his legs around the man’s waist as well. Alex must have weighed nothing. He could feel how hard Yassen was already, and his own body responded in kind. Yassen made the noise again, sending a thrill through Alex, and then they were moving backward until he hit the bed. Yassen stood over him for a second; a second where he was looking up at Yassen from the soft cushion and blankets underneath him, lying on his back, and a hit by a sudden jolt of reality. He had no idea what he was doing. He had never done this before, much less with someone that wasn’t a girl and someone that had this much control over him. He was slightly frightened by the thought, yet Yassen was leaning down over him, kneeling on the bed and kissing him again. Alex’s skin had goosebumps and Yassen’s hand was running underneath his shirt and up his side.
He breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself.
Yassen paused for a moment and watched him, as though he knew what Alex was thinking. He wasn’t sure he wanted Yassen to see his nerves, not after he’d already been so pathetically begging for his freedom when Yassen had scared him before. He set his jaw and glared back at the assassin.
The corner of Yassen’s lip twisted upward into a half smile. Maybe he did know what Alex was thinking after all. It didn’t matter. He was determined not to show any fear.
“Alex.” Yassen breathed the word.
Alex’s eyelids drooped in reaction. He caught his tongue between his teeth and reached for Yassen. Their mouths met, and Yassen was tugging his shirt up, running his hands over Alex’s chest. The shirt fell away with another tug, over his head, and then Yassen’s mouth was on his neck just like last night. It made Alex whine and press himself into the man above him.
Teeth bit into the muscle under his skin and Alex jumped at the sudden pain, eyes flying open. Yassen’s hands were hard on his abdomen and thigh, holding him down. When the weight of Yassen’s knees pinned his legs in place, some of his earlier anxiety started to return. Alex tried to take hold of his shoulders, but Yassen caught his wrists and forced his arms down. Alex winced at the rough pull on his bandaged arms, but shivered at a second bite to his clavicle. The tingle of pleasure the man’s tongue created afterward sent contradictory signals to Alex’s mind. He tried to wriggle free, but Yassen held him firmly in place.
“Please.” It left his mouth before he knew what he was saying.
Yassen pulled his arms over his head so that he could lean up to hiss into Alex’s ear. “’Please’ what?” He caught the lobe between his teeth, but more gently this time. “Please let you go? Is that really what you want, Alex?”
The words sent a shudder down Alex's spine so thoroughly that it ended in his groin. He gasped. His body sang when Yassen spoke to him like that.
“I do not think it is.” Yassen lowered his weight against Alex, so that they were pressed together everywhere. When Yassen rolled his hips, Alex made a sound that probably confirmed that statement.
Yassen took both of Alex’s wrists in one hand for a moment while seeking out his mouth. Alex sank into the feeling, slick tongue against his, pressure slackened on his forearms. He let his eyes close until he heard a metallic click above his head. He recognised it and his blood turned from hot to cold in an instant. He tried to bring his arms down, pulling hard and only hurting himself, but they didn’t move. Incredulity and panic crossed his features, but Yassen didn’t look very concerned for him handcuffed to the headboard of the bed.
“What-?” Alex caught Yassen’s eyes and the words died on his tongue. The assassin was sitting back, surveying him. Alex gave another quick tug, but the cuffs held. Yassen looked pleased with this; Alex could see it in the set of his eyes. He reached for a nightstand at the side of the bed, and Alex half expected to see a knife in his hand, but it was only a small bottle. Alex wasn’t sure if he was relieved by the sight of it. Yassen set it aside, then bent down and began undoing the zipper of Alex’s trousers.
He gasped when Yassen’s hands intentionally rubbed over his crotch. Yassen took his time, putting pressure there as he peeled the denim down Alex’s legs and let his trousers fall to the floor. Hands were replaced with Yassen’s mouth over the fabric of his boxers, and Alex couldn’t help the noise he made. It was somewhere between a whimper and a whine, and very high-pitched. He clamped his mouth shut to stop himself from doing it again.
His reactions only encouraged Yassen. He hooked his thumbs in the band of Alex’s underwear and mouthed at the sensitive spot beneath his hip as he pulled the elastic down. Alex had to turn his head away at that. His face was turning pink and he couldn’t find the words to tell Yassen to stop.
He felt a hand caress his face. “Look at me, Alex.” He kept his eyes shut. Yassen’s fingers gripped his jaw roughly until he opened his eyes and looked down. His own body was an expanse of golden skin, softened by the low light in the room. Yassen, still fully clothed, crouched between his spread knees and waited for him to make eye contact. When Alex did, he bent his head and licked the tip of his cock in one slow stroke. Alex felt dizzy. Blood seemed to be pooling there, rather than running through the rest of his body. Yassen closed his mouth over his shaft, the pressure in Alex’s groin coiled in on itself. Yassen’s head started moving, up and down, hands gripping Alex’s hips, working his tongue to create a glorious sense of friction, Alex closed his eyes and keened loudly.
Yassen released him far too quickly. He opened his eyes again and found Yassen sitting back on his heels, pulling his own shirt over his head. When he started unbuttoning his pants, Alex’s apprehension started to creep back.
Yassen was big; much bigger than Alex was, naturally. He swallowed, trying not to imagine the logistics of what Yassen had planned for him. He watched as Yassen poured liquid from the bottle all over his fingertips, and then the man crawled up by Alex's side. His fingers glided over the swell of Alex's arse and settled over his most private place. Yassen began kissing him, but his attention seemed to remain focused on that hand, caressing, massaging, creating a light pressure, and suddenly there was a finger inside him. It didn’t hurt, but Alex tensed anyway. Yassen kept going. After a few strokes, a second finger was added. It still didn’t actually hurt, but Alex could certainly feel it, and that fed the anxiety within him.
“Wait,” he pleaded, trying to pull back without success.
Yassen raised an eyebrow, but disregarded the request. He cupped his hand and moved his fingers to a position that Alex didn’t understand, but suddenly he touched something fantastic inside Alex.
His mouth fell open in surprise, but when Yassen did it again his protests were forgotten. Alex’s head tipped forward and he had to pant to catch his breath. He found himself moving into the touch, trying to find some kind of control over it. Yassen kissed the corner of his mouth. He could feel the man smile.
Yassen pulled away. His hand and fingers retracted, leaving Alex both relieved and frustrated. There was a squelch from the bottle and Alex tried to sit up as far as the handcuffs would allow as Yassen coated his own cock with the liquid while Alex watched wide-eyed. He moved Alex’s legs apart further and leaned over him.
“This is going to hurt,” he whispered. It sounded like a promise.
Alex’s pulse was racing as Yassen lined them up, lifting Alex’s hips to meet him. He pushed in slowly, and Alex gritted his teeth. It burned. Yassen was right, it did hurt and even more so at the end of each thrust when their hips came together. Alex’s legs were shaking and he was yanking at the restraints holding his hands, trying not to groan aloud.
“Don’t fight me,” Yassen whispered into his ear. He licked along Alex’s jaw until he found his mouth again. Alex ignored the order, gnashing his teeth into Yassen’s lip. He needed some kind of control, badly, and that was all he could find. But Yassen only growled and bit back. He snapped his hips harder in warning, at a slightly different angle, yet it had the opposite effect from the punishment he'd obviously intended. He’d found the electric spot his fingers had touched earlier and Alex arched his back off the bed in response. Yassen did it again and Alex moaned. His resistance melted away even though he kept fighting, only now it was to try to pull Yassen to him in order to provoke the man. Yassen complied, thrusting up into Alex with quicker strokes. Their skin was slick with sweat. Alex wanted his hands free to pull Yassen down against him closer, to rub harder at every place their bodies met. He felt like they could melt together.
He was coming before he knew what was happening. His hips were moving of their own accord and the pool of heat that had wound within him was finally overwhelming. He cried out and it felt like he was frozen in the same moment even as the world around him continued moving. Wetness mingled with the sweat between them.
Yassen’s hands wound into his hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck. He kissed Alex there, then on the other side, then on his mouth and said something in Russian that Alex didn’t understand. He wished he did. He’d never heard Yassen’s voice tinged with that much emotion before. Yassen moved frantically, bent over Alex, and with a long groan he came.
It took Alex a long while to come down, letting aftershocks wash through him, frozen in place until Yassen pulled out of him. Yassen didn’t move otherwise, arms still wrapped around Alex, just breathing together. Eventually Yassen reached up and unlocked the cuffs around Alex’s wrists. He dropped them to the floor and Alex held his forearms. He’d ignored the pain, but blood was seeping through the bandages by now. To his surprise, Yassen took one of his wrists and held it softly. Alex’s eyes flitted up to his face and he could swear he saw guilt there.
Yassen looked over the bandage until he was satisfied. He turned on his side and pulled Alex against him, spooning behind him. Alex allowed Yassen’s arms around him, even pulled them in tighter, fulfilled to have the man’s warmth. They fell asleep like that, without conversation or further exchange, but Alex was satisfied. He hadn’t been that content in a long time, and that was something of a surprise.
He was woken again not very long after. Someone was shouting. He moaned and tried to turn over to get away from the intrusion, but the shouting continued, louder and outside their room, maybe on the floor below. His brain was just beginning to register that something was wrong when gunfire split the silence. He was alert in an instant, just in time to be hit in the face with a pile of clothes.
“What’s going on?” he sat up and grabbed his torn shirt.
Yassen was on the other side of the room, pulling his boots on quickly and lacing them up faster than anyone Alex had ever seen.
“Put your clothes on. Now.”
Alex did so, throwing his shirt over his head and hopping into his trousers. He forgot his underwear in the haste. He pulled his shoes on while Yassen dumped the contents of his bag out onto the bed where Alex had been lying only a moment ago. There was an entire arsenal in there. Yassen strapped guns to his waist, around his shoulders, slipped knives into his boots and took the rifle. He found out Alex's earpieces, the ones Smithers had made specially for him, and stared at them in distaste. He threw them to the floor and smashed them underneath his boot. He held out a hand to Alex. “Come.”
Alex didn’t hesitate any longer than a second. And he wasn't sure if he hadn't gone completely mad as he took Yassen’s hand and allowed the man to lead him out of the room. Yassen ducked against the wall of the hallway as soon as they had gone through the door, holding an arm against Alex’s chest to make sure that he was safe. They stalked down the corridor, hearing voices below. Bright, white lights flashed through the windows and Yassen grabbed Alex and dived out of their way. The sound of a helicopter roared by.
“What’s going on?” Alex tried again, this time having to shout over the noise.
Yassen just held him tightly. “We were tracked. I need to find Dylan.”
“What?” Alex couldn’t believe what he'd just heard, but Yassen pulled him along anyway.
They descended the steps only halfway before two men in black police armour and helmets met them. Yassen fired two shots, catching them both in the neck while Alex cried out in shock. He was moving again before they’d hit the floor, having to drag Alex after him. They were shot not ten meters away. The man who’d just fucked him now killed two people right in front of him.
“They’re sweeping the house,” Yassen said as they ducked into a side room on the main floor. They were going to be surrounded down here. Then Alex heard gunfire from outside and thought that maybe the Scorpia operatives wouldn’t be so outnumbered after all. “Stay close to me.”
Yassen still refused to let go of Alex’s hand even though it would have given him another firearm to shoot with. They barrelled out of the room when someone came through the front door. Alex recognised their MI6 attire.
“Alex!” Someone shouted. It wasn’t Yassen. It wasn’t Dylan; Alex could now see Dylan on the other side of the house’s corridor with someone from Scorpia. Gunfire rained over their heads until Yassen could get them around a doorframe on the opposite side of the hall. “Don’t shoot!” the man shouted again, and Alex for the life of him couldn’t figure out who he was, but he was yelling at the MI6 agents. Whoever he was, he’d seen Alex and recognised him.
They were at a standoff. MI6 was holding the front door, Dylan and the Scorpia guard were stuck in the middle, and Alex and Yassen were at the end of the hall. Police and what was left of Scorpia were all over the place. Shouts could be heard from upstairs. Sirens blared from outside. The ever present hum of the helicopter dominated everything.
Alex peered from around the corridor to see the agents. The one who’d been shouting took off his helmet. It was Terrance. Alex suddenly knew why he’d been recognised so easily; they’d sent the agent he’d been assigned to in Florence. Alex pulled away from Yassen, the deaths of the two policemen fresh in his mind, but he didn’t make it far. The assassin had an iron grip around him and before he knew it he was locked against the man’s chest. A bullet flew by them out of nowhere and Yassen held him tightly. His arm and body was like a shield around Alex. He felt a rush of gratitude, of uninhibited emotion for the assassin.
“Go to him,” Yassen suddenly ordered.
Alex spun around. “What?” He was all fury, high on adrenaline, and looked like a wild little thing glaring at Yassen in disbelief.
“Alex.” The assassin’s blue eyes were as cold as ever. “You are the perfect diversion. We will be trapped here if you don’t go.”
“But-“ He couldn’t - didn’t - want to go back, not now. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t make this decision right now.
Yassen grabbed him roughly by the shoulders. “We’re coming out!” he shouted and thrust himself and Alex into the hallway. Alex was the only thing between MI6 and Yassen. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Dylan, crouched behind one of the open doors. His heartrate picked up. He was completely vulnerable. With one of Yassen’s hands on him, forcing him ahead, and the other holding the gun to his side, he looked for all the world like Yassen’s hostage. And that's exactly what he was, he supposed.
“Don’t do this,” Alex pleaded, just loud enough to be heard. He didn’t care if MI6 had also heard him, they wouldn’t have understood what he meant.
He felt Yassen’s breath, hot on his neck. “I’ll come for you, Alex,” he whispered. “I promise I’ll come back for you.” He shoved Alex hard, almost throwing him off his feet, firing at the agents as he did so. Alex fell into them, knocking them back as Yassen turned and ran. When Alex looked up, he glimpsed Dylan and the Russian running up the stairs. The sound of glass breaking came a moment later. Alex climbed to his feet, ignoring Terrance and the other agents as they ran after Yassen. He sprinted out the door.
The helicopter did not belong to MI6. It belonged to Scorpia, and only once Alex was outside did he realise it. Two figures from the side of the building held a rope ladder that was tied to its carriage. They were pulled away just before the MI6 agents reached the broken window of the second floor, unable to follow them out. The agents fired, and Alex held his breath, but the helicopter was climbing too fast for their aim to be accurate.
Yassen and Dylan rose up into the night sky. Alex watched from below as their figures blurred into the dark, until only the outline of the helicopter’s bulk and its signal lights and thrumming blades told him where they were.
He watched until the chaos in the house, on the street, and all around him demanded his attention. He would find Terrance. He would go back to MI6. He would go through their debriefing, and he would know all the while what they’d tried to set him up for and how badly it had backfired.
One way or another, he would see Yassen again.
~ Fin.