7 days - 7 fics Challenge: Alex Rider fic (Yassen-centric)
Phew. Even though I had finished first drafts of all the fics I’ve posted for this challenge so far, it’s still been pretty busy! Last minute rereading, making headers and doing the actual posting html always takes up more time than you expect! But I’m happy to present for day 4 another Alex Rider fic! Written initially for flash_rider and the ‘Outside point of view’ prompt but due to lack of time and insecurities about what I had written it was never actually posted in that community. But I’m happy to post it on my journal either way. Enjoy!!!
Title: Almost Gone
Author: Lullabylily/Inkweaver
Fandom: Alex Rider
Pairing/Characters: Yassen Gregorovich, Alex Rider (off-scene), Yassen/OMC
Rating: R
Warnings: m/m sex, angst
Spoilers: mostly for Eagle Strike
Word Count: 870
Summary: From an outsider’s point of view it looked like Yassen Gregorovich had won…
A/N: A take on the ‘what if Yassen faked his own death on Air Force One?’ - plotbunny.
ETA: warning for nonlinear narrative (to avoid confusion... sorry about that)
Almost gone
Yassen burrowed his hands into the soft blond curls, his fingers tightening so hard his knuckles turned white. The boy whimpered softly and Yassen forced himself to loosen his grip until he could see the pain in the boy’s eyes return to a glassy pleasure. He hid his face in the boy’s neck and let his teeth grasp the sensitive skin.
He couldn’t look into those brown eyes anymore. Instead he listened to the low moans and quickened his pace until his mind embraced the fog that was surfacing. The boy came too soon, wild and loud. Yassen shut his eyes more tightly and relished in the sweet and sour scent of sex rising up to his nostrils, so intense it made his throat tighten and his mouth water at the same time. While the boy was still dazed from his climax Yassen hurried to his own completion.
‘Alex…’ Yassen heard himself cry out and a moment later he repeated the name, whispering it. The boy looked at him, a small smile gracing his slightly swollen lips.
Yassen’s gaze locked with those wide, brown eyes. And suddenly it felt as if his head was pushed into a bucket of ice water. Yassen pulled out of the teenager, so quickly the boy whimpered and confused eyes sought his. Yassen ignored him.
As soon as he was sure he could trust his shaking legs to carry his weight, he moved out of the bed into the bathroom without glancing behind. The boy was gone when he returned to the room later.
∼*∼*∼
Yassen Gregorovich did not bother with ID. He had long ago come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to slightly younger teens. Whether they were fifteen or sixteen did not concern him. They all had sexual partners before, or they would not go to the type of bars Yassen chose to frequent.
Yassen did not feel even a tinge of guilt for giving those teens what they wanted: a fuck.
That night his eyes had wandered to a blond-haired boy, dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt that was undersized by at least one size. Yassen had looked approvingly at the boy’s fair hair and pale, clear skin. The boy met Yassen’s gaze and smirked.
If Yassen knew the boy was his type, the boy knew it too. Yassen cocked his eyebrow inquisitively and watched as the boy moved over to the bar, conscious of the eyes upon him. With his lips curling ever upwards into a grin, Yassen saw the youngster’s determination with which he ordered his drink, as if daring the bartender to accuse him of being a minor.
He wasn’t asked to prove his age and Yassen wouldn’t ask either.
He shouldn’t have asked for the boy’s name either. But he had.
‘Alexei.’ The boy smiled openly at him.
Yassen’s hand clenched around his vodka shot. It was appalling, the way in which faith mocked him. The only thing that kept him sane was the knowledge that the boy probably used a fake name.
The boy - Alexei, as he called himself - looked up at him expectantly. If he wanted a name, Yassen thought, he was going to be disappointed.
But he did not want a name. Yassen did not need to feel fingers probing his neck and a tentative mouth touching his lips to know what the boy did want. As well he knew he was going to give it.
∼*∼*∼
Yassen cursed how empty he felt now his bed-partner had left.
The memory of Alex Rider should not affect him like this. He’d willed those feelings to be gone. He’d left an unconscious Alex Rider behind on Air Force One, knowing he’d never see John Rider’s son again. Alex had become a part of his past. That was the way it had to be. Everything about Yassen’s involvement with both him and his father had to be erased from his personal history.
Yassen had succeeded. He’d deceived Scorpia. Something not even the great John Rider had managed. He’d turned the disaster that was the business with Damian Cray around to benefit his own needs. His days as an assassin for Scorpia were now the past; a past that could no longer be his own.
He could not afford any mistakes, even now. And this sentimentality was a mistake.
He should have severed all connections.
Yassen looked at the file in front of him. Alex Rider, his involvement with Scorpia, Invisible Sword, Royal Blue and Ark Angel. All neatly documented, printed out on ice-white paper in digital colour. It was mocking him. Reminding him of the risks he took, was still taking…
On sheer impulse, he threw the file into the shredder on his desk.
He felt better already.
Ignoring that his hands were shaking.
Ignoring that every scrap of information, down to the last detail, were still etched into his brain. Names chiming in his head at the rhythm of his heartbeat; Nile, Rothman, Wu, Drevin, Ash…
Ignoring how that heartbeat raced up at the thought of how close they had come to ending the life of a fair-haired, fourteen-year-old boy.
He could not allow his mind to wander off in that direction! Those thoughts… He had to will them gone.
Brown eyes, blond hair and legs tightly wrapped around him.
Sinking in deep.
The traces of the face blurred.
Almost gone. That had to be good enough.
Title: Almost Gone
Author: Lullabylily/Inkweaver
Fandom: Alex Rider
Pairing/Characters: Yassen Gregorovich, Alex Rider (off-scene), Yassen/OMC
Rating: R
Warnings: m/m sex, angst
Spoilers: mostly for Eagle Strike
Word Count: 870
Summary: From an outsider’s point of view it looked like Yassen Gregorovich had won…
A/N: A take on the ‘what if Yassen faked his own death on Air Force One?’ - plotbunny.
ETA: warning for nonlinear narrative (to avoid confusion... sorry about that)
Almost gone
Yassen burrowed his hands into the soft blond curls, his fingers tightening so hard his knuckles turned white. The boy whimpered softly and Yassen forced himself to loosen his grip until he could see the pain in the boy’s eyes return to a glassy pleasure. He hid his face in the boy’s neck and let his teeth grasp the sensitive skin.
He couldn’t look into those brown eyes anymore. Instead he listened to the low moans and quickened his pace until his mind embraced the fog that was surfacing. The boy came too soon, wild and loud. Yassen shut his eyes more tightly and relished in the sweet and sour scent of sex rising up to his nostrils, so intense it made his throat tighten and his mouth water at the same time. While the boy was still dazed from his climax Yassen hurried to his own completion.
‘Alex…’ Yassen heard himself cry out and a moment later he repeated the name, whispering it. The boy looked at him, a small smile gracing his slightly swollen lips.
Yassen’s gaze locked with those wide, brown eyes. And suddenly it felt as if his head was pushed into a bucket of ice water. Yassen pulled out of the teenager, so quickly the boy whimpered and confused eyes sought his. Yassen ignored him.
As soon as he was sure he could trust his shaking legs to carry his weight, he moved out of the bed into the bathroom without glancing behind. The boy was gone when he returned to the room later.
∼*∼*∼
Yassen Gregorovich did not bother with ID. He had long ago come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to slightly younger teens. Whether they were fifteen or sixteen did not concern him. They all had sexual partners before, or they would not go to the type of bars Yassen chose to frequent.
Yassen did not feel even a tinge of guilt for giving those teens what they wanted: a fuck.
That night his eyes had wandered to a blond-haired boy, dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt that was undersized by at least one size. Yassen had looked approvingly at the boy’s fair hair and pale, clear skin. The boy met Yassen’s gaze and smirked.
If Yassen knew the boy was his type, the boy knew it too. Yassen cocked his eyebrow inquisitively and watched as the boy moved over to the bar, conscious of the eyes upon him. With his lips curling ever upwards into a grin, Yassen saw the youngster’s determination with which he ordered his drink, as if daring the bartender to accuse him of being a minor.
He wasn’t asked to prove his age and Yassen wouldn’t ask either.
He shouldn’t have asked for the boy’s name either. But he had.
‘Alexei.’ The boy smiled openly at him.
Yassen’s hand clenched around his vodka shot. It was appalling, the way in which faith mocked him. The only thing that kept him sane was the knowledge that the boy probably used a fake name.
The boy - Alexei, as he called himself - looked up at him expectantly. If he wanted a name, Yassen thought, he was going to be disappointed.
But he did not want a name. Yassen did not need to feel fingers probing his neck and a tentative mouth touching his lips to know what the boy did want. As well he knew he was going to give it.
∼*∼*∼
Yassen cursed how empty he felt now his bed-partner had left.
The memory of Alex Rider should not affect him like this. He’d willed those feelings to be gone. He’d left an unconscious Alex Rider behind on Air Force One, knowing he’d never see John Rider’s son again. Alex had become a part of his past. That was the way it had to be. Everything about Yassen’s involvement with both him and his father had to be erased from his personal history.
Yassen had succeeded. He’d deceived Scorpia. Something not even the great John Rider had managed. He’d turned the disaster that was the business with Damian Cray around to benefit his own needs. His days as an assassin for Scorpia were now the past; a past that could no longer be his own.
He could not afford any mistakes, even now. And this sentimentality was a mistake.
He should have severed all connections.
Yassen looked at the file in front of him. Alex Rider, his involvement with Scorpia, Invisible Sword, Royal Blue and Ark Angel. All neatly documented, printed out on ice-white paper in digital colour. It was mocking him. Reminding him of the risks he took, was still taking…
On sheer impulse, he threw the file into the shredder on his desk.
He felt better already.
Ignoring that his hands were shaking.
Ignoring that every scrap of information, down to the last detail, were still etched into his brain. Names chiming in his head at the rhythm of his heartbeat; Nile, Rothman, Wu, Drevin, Ash…
Ignoring how that heartbeat raced up at the thought of how close they had come to ending the life of a fair-haired, fourteen-year-old boy.
He could not allow his mind to wander off in that direction! Those thoughts… He had to will them gone.
Brown eyes, blond hair and legs tightly wrapped around him.
Sinking in deep.
The traces of the face blurred.
Almost gone. That had to be good enough.