Declassified file for k155-me
Author: nyxelestia
Recipient: k155-me
Title: Control
Characters/Pairing(s):Alex/Yassen
Summary: The first time Alex ran into Yassen ...
Rating: R
Disclaimer: All Alex Rider characters herein are the property of Anthony Horowitz and the Penguin Group. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): None
Word Count: ~5,000
Author's Notes: N/A
Control
The first time Alex ran into Yassen, it was on his tenth official mission (sixteenth overall), and Alex hadn't even known Yassen was alive, by then.
To run away from the building he just blew up only to run into Yassen - literally - was quite the shock. He only barely managed to keep his gun in his grip.
"How the fuck are you alive?!" Alex asked from his sprawled position on the dirty downtown Moscow pavement, completely forgetting his Russian in light of this shock, and switching back to his native English. It wasn't like his cover was worth shit with this man, anyway.
"Hello to you, too, Alex," the man had said simply, with a sardonic smile.
Cursing, Alex pushed himself up. "There's…no way…" he cursed again. "I don't have time for this-"
"On the contrary, Alex," Yassen said. "I believe you have all the time in the world, now - or at least all night, until that smoke dies down and MI6 come to collect you."
Alex's eyes narrow. "So…what? More than two years after you die and you expect me to just walk off with you in the middle of a mission? Dead or not or whatever, I've got other things to be doing."
Yassen just smirked, and, ignoring how much Alex wanted to go with him, for a variety of reasons ranging from wanting some answers to wanting some flesh, he turned on his heel and continued running through the streets of Moscow. He had a bloody mission to finish…if only so he could talk to that certain assassin without it bearing down on his mind.
He could control himself. He had to.
~*~
"Alex?!"
"Jack!"
"Alex!"
Alex laughed as Jack wrapped her arms around him. Coming home from the mission, he'd forgone calling her and simply waited in the living room for her to come home from her job at the art museum.
Releasing him, she dumped her bag on the sofa chair, next to Alex's overnight bag, and said, "God, Alex - a whole month, this time! Where've you been?"
"All across Russia," Alex said, and launched into his recount of the mission.
He skipped the part about Yassen.
"Oh, god, Alex," she said, hugging him again. "At least it wasn't as bad as…well, I can name a few missions…it's just great to have you back home, again."
Alex smiled, and as Jack wrapped him in a hug again, his eyes trailed down her arm and to her right wrist.
She caught him staring as she parted, and her smiled saddened, but didn't leave her face.
"Alex," she said sternly. "It healed completely almost three months ago - it's fine. It's been fine for even longer. Now stop feeling guilty and go grab a jacket - we're eating out."
Alex smiled again, guarded, though - he never did quite let go of his mask completely, despite what he let Tom and Jack and everyone else think.
It was all he truly had left.
~*~
The second time was about as planned.
Alex never did get the chance to go trolling about the streets of Moscow, again, in all the chaos that mission had entailed, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to. He had some considerable time off, right now, and had not only caught up with the studies for his A-Levels, but even managed to nudge ahead, a little bit.
So, he felt perfectly entitled to a night out for some illicit partying in the club which currently housed an only semi-sober Alex, ogling a pair of models (possibly fraternal twins) just down the curve of the bar, one bloke and one bird, and in this club, with a bass beat pounding through his body and the flashing lights all around clouding his vision, Alex considered his chances of sacking these two at once, tonight. They both looked so edible, and he wondered, if he couldn't get them both, his chances of at least one…
Sighing, he raised his bottle to his lips and drank, the alcopop buzzing pleasantly down his gullet, now that he was sufficiently half-smashed on all the beers and cocktails he had just before this.
"Nice choice, Alex," an ever-so-slightly accented voice breathed into his ear, freezing Alex's blood, despite all the alcohol running through it.
Slowly, he turned around to see none other than Yassen-fucking-Gregorovich on the barstool right next to him.
"Blonde, blue eyed, muscled, well-figured, lithe…" Yassen continued to check off, smirking slightly, now also looking at those models. "It sounds rather familiar, actually…"
Alex was too busy using his eyes to drink in Yassen's appearance to really process this. Besides just the shock, the man had actually managed to look like he fit right in to this club scene, despite being twice Alex's age. Black jeans, tight black shirt, studded belt, hanging white waistcoat left unbuttoned, and blond hair that the assassin had let grow out, a little. Even looking directly at the man's face and seeing the age in it, he seemed like he was molded and formed just for tonight.
Swallowing, he said, "I guess I just happen to have good taste."
He may backlog, a little, but he wasn't a living MI6 black ops agent for no reason - he still caught everything, no matter what.
Yassen smiled, and leaned in a little, until his face was only inches away from Alex's. "So I am ‘good taste', then?"
Alex shivered as he felt that warm breath trail along his jaw and neck and brush across his lips, but he didn't move. He wasn't entirely sure if he could, and he wasn't about ready to try and test it out, now.
"It would certainly seem so," he said, turning his own breath towards Yassen.
The assassin laughed, and despite the fact their bodies were still far apart, Alex could swear he felt it. "It seems we have similar tastes, Alex - the fairer hair, rather than the fairer sex."
Alex took a deep breath, and said, "But my taste is usually also targeted towards people who are alive. So I must ask about you…"
Yassen smirked again, and the half-drunk Alex fought to keep his center as he tried to process everything at his usual pace…which really did not work so well. The assassin reached out and took Alex's hand in his own, and pressed it against his chest, right above his heart.
Alex could feel warm skin, a nipple, and a heartbeat through his fingertips.
"Oh…I am definitely alive…" Yassen said. He let go of Alex's hand, but Alex didn't drop his, not moving his hand at all, entranced by the movement of the man's body as he breathed, his rising and falling chest and fluttering pulse-point and the glide of his neck, and damnit, he didn't know why! He normally had much better control over himself than this, even when he was completely smashed.
"I believe you," Alex said, a little breathlessly, completely forgetting everything else, quite possibly even his own name. Who needed stupid little things like that, anyway?
Yassen laughing, again - and this time, Alex could feel it, through his hand - and used that hand that directed Alex's to wrap around his hip, and tug, slightly, bringing their bodies fractionally closer.
"Why don't you come with me, Alex, and find out just how alive I truly am?"
And Alex, damn his soul, did. Tom smirked at him and winked as he left the club, dancing with his own bloke and waving Alex off, having no idea who it was that Alex was with. And somehow, he was inside some bloody expensive sports car and Yassen, all that bastard did was stroke up Alex's side, from his hip, to his chest, before focusing completely on driving and leaving Alex to fight to keep what little control of himself as they sped through the streets of London.
He wasn't quite sure whether Yassen went through a small-scale hotel or a really posh flat complex, but the halls were carpeted, and he took Alex through a door with a brass number and letter on it which seems to say…something…except he couldn't really remember what.
And suddenly, he felt himself being pushed onto a chic bed, and he didn't have time to appreciate the feel of the ridiculously soft sheets because Yassen was on top of him, pressing him down and he was hard and hot and all powerful, lethal muscle, bearing down on the young spy.
Yassen never kissed him, really - more like assaults his mouth with savage lips and a sharp, suggestively thrusting tongue, and teeth nipping at and even splitting Alex's lips in the process. Alex melted into the abuse, and for a moment, wondered absently how much he was going to regret this the next morning.
Then Yassen's hips were digging into his, and he couldn't care less.
Alex's hands reached up to undo the man's fly, but Yassen batted them away, before using his hands to grab both of Alex's wrists and pin them down by Alex's head.
"I will do it," Yassen growled.
Alex tugged against his fleshy restraints…but Yassen's hands barely moved. He looked up to see Yassen smirking down at him.
It was only then that Alex realized just how helpless he truly was.
His face went blank to hide his panic, and Yassen rolled his eyes, before he leant down and pressed his face into Alex's neck.
His face went unblank, melting into reluctant pleasure, his eyes scrunched up, but his lips parted, as if he were trying to draw Yassen in, closer.
Yassen mouthed his way, slowly up Alex's neck and jawline, before he kissed Alex again, this time incredibly gentle.
His hips ground into Alex, who bucked up to meet his, their erections brushing through the denim they both wore, and his kisses matched, before he pulled away and said, "I do not need to hold you down the entire time, will I?"
No fair - he was still gyrating his hips against Alex's.
Alex shook his head quickly. Yassen let go of Alex's hands, though he kept them close by, and Alex didn't move them beyond their natural jerks from his writhing, trying to make Yassen go faster, harder, anything…
Yassen chuckled, something from deep in his chest, and he reached over to a nightstand and pulled open a drawer, grabbing something Alex couldn't quite see or tell what it was-
And suddenly, he couldn't see anything - there was a blindfold around his eyes.
He panicked again, but before he could move, his wrists were both grabbed by one hand, and he was somehow handcuffed to the headboard in an instant.
Damnit.
"Do not worry, Alex," Yassen crooned into his ear. "I will take care of everything."
He wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing. It took an extraordinary amount of effort, but he managed to keep himself flat against the bed as he waited for Yassen to move, despite wanting nothing more than to thrust back up and lose himself into the sensation.
"It's okay," Alex said, somewhat breathlessly. "I'm pretty fucking good at taking care of myself. You should know."
Yassen shifted sharply, and he lowered himself so his breath landed on Alex's lips again.
"That does not mean that you have to, all of the time. Sometimes…it is best to lose control and let someone else…take it."
Alex's eyes widened. No, no, no no nonono…he couldn't lose control.
He tugged on the handcuffs. "Let me go! I'll-"
"What, Alex?" Yassen crooned again, his body still pressed flush against Alex's. He dug in his hips and crotch again, and Alex gurgled, slightly, but didn't respond, instead trying to rub his head against his arm to get that damn blindfold off and-
"None of that, now, Alex," Yassen said, sounding like he was talking to a bloody pet. Like Alex was anyone's fucking pet...
"What are you-"
The blindfold tightened dramatically, almost painfully, and the assassins hands were on his elbows, holding his arms completely still, as he pushed himself up, his body heat disappearing from Alex's front.
Alex hated that he suddenly missed that feeling.
His dick responding to the friction Yassen was causing, Alex growled, and said, "What, know you can't just fuck me, so now you have to rape me?"
"I do not believe I will be raping you by the end of tonight," Yassen said coolly, twisting his hips again. Alex bit his lip and whimpered again, but did not respond.
The man's body heat was back, and his warm breath was against Alex's ear as he said, "Let go, Alex."
Alex shook his head, vigorously, trying and failing to pull away from Yassen's tongue against his neck, half-crazily wondering what would happen if the man bit down on his carotid artery right now.
He'd come across weirder ways to kill people.
"N-no," he got out. "I'm not the kind to just ‘let go'."
"That is rather sad, too," Yassen said, mournfully, before his tongue flicked out and licked along the edge of Alex's earlobe. That nearly undid Alex's resolve, right there. "I have heard of your extraordinary control."
"Then let me the fuck go, before I have to bloody hurt you to get out of this-"
"You will not be able to, Alex," Yassen said, resting the back of his head against Alex's neck, a bizarre parody of actual lovers. "And you know it."
Didn't mean he wouldn't try.
"Besides," Yassen said, turning to face Alex, again. "Tonight is all about bringing you to that brink, to let go, and let me take control."
Alex shook his head, shutting his eyes and squeezing tightly, but that helped very little when Yassen's lips were against his, again, possessive and claiming, and Alex kissed back, before remembering, no, no, no, he's not supposed to-
One of Yassen's hands released Alex's elbow and slid down along the arm, and down Alex's side, before gripping Alex's waist, kneading it gently and slowly, and, mm, Alex's soft spot was right there…
This time, when Yassen twisted his hips, Alex bucked up to meet it, trying to create more friction, and yet, god, no, this was wrong, he was in control, always, always, always!
"Lemme go…" Alex mumbled, breaths coming short and fast, tugging on the handcuffs, even as he tried to bend his knees to bring Yassen just a little bit closer.
"Are you so sure?" Yassen murmured, and Alex's breath hitched as he felt the man unbutton Alex's fly, before slowly bringing the zipper down.
Alex gasped, and when Yassen started tugging his jeans off, he twisted his hips, and he didn't know whether he trying to them pants on or get them off, but they came off, and so did his underwear. Yassen slid his hands against Alex's stomach, pushing up his shirt, until it was over his arms and pulling them close together, another layer of bonds.
Alex was naked, and he shivered as Yassen ran his eyes over him, and then Yassen was using his tongue, trailing from his neck to navel, then leaving to take Alex's cock in his mouth.
When Alex looked down and saw Yassen's head bobbing up and down on his crotch and the warm, wet feeling of mouth and tongue on so many nerves, he gasped and mumbled incoherently, "Going t'…gon't…"
Yassen slowed his pace, and raised his eyes, still sucking Alex. When his eyes met Yassen's smoldering gaze, he lost it.
He lost control, and he came.
And a moment later, when Yassen was hovering over him with a leer on his face, he knew that his night was far from over.
And that he was going to hate it and enjoy it.
~*~
"Have a fun night?" Jack asked as Alex came stumbling in the next morning. He blinked in semi-hungover, possibly-half-drugged confusion.
"Huh?"
She just laughed. "Go clean yourself up, then tell me about it."
Alex nodded, and slipped up the stairs, still feeling rather stiff, and…and…
Confused.
He hated that feeling.
Cleaning himself up and taking some Nurofen to deal with the headache, which was all he had, thankfully (one upside to being drugged and drunk so many times on his missions), he went back downstairs and sighed in relief to see Jack pushing some orange juice and toast his way, even though she had a rather devious smile.
"So," she said, starting on her typical post-fuck conversation. "Was it a guy or girl, this time?"
"Bloke," Alex said, taking a bite out of his toast.
"Mm…what'd he look like?"
Alex already knew what she was looking for. "Blond - about half as long as mine - blue eyes…sharp face…lean and muscled legs…six-pack abs…just a bit taller than me…" He had a few more descriptions of Yassen, but stopped there. Just in case - Jack had become shrewder, over the years, adapting to Alex's job, and as such, he didn't know how many more details it would be before she could recognize Yassen from it.
"Mm…" she said, dreamily.
"You have a boyfriend," Alex said.
"So? Keep going," she said. "Where, and/or how did you meet him?"
"Bar - he sat next to me." Another smudge-up of the truth. Ah, well - he's done plenty of those, before. The way he met Yassen was far more complicated than that - and not a story he'd be willing to share over toast.
"Dance with him at all, or just go straight home with him?"
"Straight home,"
"My, my, horny, weren't you?"
"Very," Alex said, dryly. "Driving to his place in a sports car didn't help."
She laughed. "So…how long ‘til you got to the actual ‘fucking him' part?"
He adjusted in his seat with a wince, and said, "Never - I bottomed, this time."
Her eyebrows rose. "This is getting interesting - you never bottom. How on Earth did this happen?"
"Um…" he just shrugged. "Our pants were off, he lubed me up, and he fucked me…I think…"
Actually, Alex already knew he'd be fucked from the moment Yassen pinned him to the bed. Or maybe from the moment Yassen sat next to him at the bar, he didn't know. But it was long before his pants moved even a fucking millimeter towards ‘off'.
"Oh, wow," she said, with a laugh. "C'mon, more details."
Alex honestly wanted to tell her - tell her about him being helpless, him being out of control, him being fully at Yassen's mercy, about him knowing that if the other man wanted Alex to die or live, it was Yassen's choice, not Alex's, about how he had no say, no expectations…about how his mask fell…
But he couldn't. It was too complicated, beyond how she could help him. And besides, she didn't know how much he needed his mask, anyway.
"I don't remember much else," Alex said. "Same old, same old, really - I was a bit too smashed to really make sense of it."
She sighed. "Aw…ah, well - you'll just have to tell me, next time."
Alex nodded. "I promise."
She got up and grabbed her own plate, and Alex picked up his, but waited hesitantly while she was at the sink.
Jack paused, her arms dropping, before saying, exasperated, "Come here, Alex…"
Swallowing, Alex came up to her side, trying his best not to touch her - not here.
"Alex, I'm not going to die standing here, so help me with the dishes."
"Jack…last time…I nearly broke your arm off!"
"Actually, you only managed to snap my wrist - and either way, you didn't break my arm off. I'm fine. Now, c'mon - dishes."
Alex nodded, but was extremely careful, just in case.
Dishes with Jack reminded him how dangerous last night was - how dangerous it was for him to lose control.
So why did he want to go back to it?
~*~
The next time, though, Alex knew was entirely his fault.
He had just finished up a low-profile internal sweep mission in France, out in the country. He had been driving through the town, having picked up a souvenir for Jack, when he saw Yassen sitting in a café.
He pulled up to a stop and got out. Yassen smirked at him.
"You knew I was here," Alex said calmly, lowly, from the passenger side of his car, leaning against it, arms crossed, as he faced Yassen.
The assassin, for his part, remained seated. He calmly sipped his drink.
"Of course."
The spy shut his eyes. "Why are you following me?"
"Because I want to," Yassen said idly. "Because you are mine to follow."
"…I'm not anyone's but my own."
"I'm sure," Yassen said, as if humoring him.
He glared at the man, and his ability to wind up Alex's tension so much just by sitting there, sipping his drink, eyes never leaving Alex's body.
Alex opened the door to his car, and gestured in.
Fifteen minutes later, they were in the little cottage Alex had rented to have a place where MI6 had no hold. He kissed Yassen passionately, feeling his back being slammed into several surfaces along the way and not even caring as they made it to the bed.
"Close your eyes, Alex," Yassen crooned, on all fours over Alex, who was writhing in the sheets for no particular reason, because he wasn't even being touched yet. Except then, he was, Yassen pushed up his shirt and left it at Alex's wrist, the only restrains, and he had his jeans off again, and, andand-
"Let go for me," Yassen whispered into Alex's ear.
Alex had closed his eyes. He shook his head now.
Yassen sighed. "You will."
Alex didn't respond, except to thrust his hips up into the air when Yassen palmed his cock through the trousers.
This was wrong, so wrong, completely wrong…
He keened once his trousers were off and Yassen was fingering him directly.
He kicked out.
Yassen kept going.
"I don't…I don't know…" Alex moaned out as Yassen put in two fingers, opening Alex up. "I…"
"Shh…" Yassen said. "For tonight, you are mine to do with as I please. Just for tonight."
Alex cried out as Yassen aimed a particularly sharp jab at his prostrate, hips jumping up without his control.
He brought up a knee in response, not sure whether to shove off or encourage. It hit Yassen in the side, sending him rolling.
For a moment, memories of Jack and her wrist and the sink filled his mine, before suddenly, Yassen was above him again, using his thighs to anchor and cradle Alex in.
"I said you are mine, Alex," Yassen breathed out, seeming more amused by Alex's unintentional outburst than anything else. "I meant it. What you do does not matter."
Alex gasped as Yassen thrust his cock relentlessly into Alex.
And with Yassen's words ringing between in ears, he knew the man was right.
He let go.
~*~
Alex's hands were shaking as he put away the dishes and he nearly dropped them, several times, and counted it as a victory that he hadn't.
This last mission had been…had been…
He bit his lip and shut his eyes, leaning against the sink, horror and terror of unfamiliar proportions running through him at the simple memories of the mission…
…he wasn't sure how much longer it would be before he snapped.
"Alex?"
Oh, no, not Jack.
"…can you please leave me alone?" Alex pleaded quietly, wanting to have his breakdown in peace.
He knew Jack could see him trembling and quivering and he hoped she would take the hint and leave-
But the footsteps were coming closer, closer, and fuck he just wanted to be alone, not talk to her…
He hated his job. He hated his life. He didn't want to die. But he did.
He felt someone touch his shoulder, and he only reacted, did exactly what his life has ingrained into him.
His arm shot out, grabbed the wrist, and snaptwisted it
And his blood froze as Jack's scream rang in his ears.
He let go and stepped away, horrified, seeing her backing away, too, clutching her arm and staring in shock.
"J-J-Jack?" he said in horror.
She nodded slowly.
"I…I'm sorry," he said, voice still pleading, shaking.
She shut her eyes. "…get me to the hospital."
Alex did all he could and more, knowing it would never be enough.
~*~
When Yassen had come and pulled out of Alex, collapsing beside him, Alex realized the man had a few bruises on his chest.
Alex's arms were covered in red finger marks and angry purple spots.
"Did I do this?" he murmured, looking between them, loosening his hands from the shirt binding him.
"Yes," Yassen said simply, wrapping his arms around Alex. "You tried."
But Yassen was stronger.
~*~
"How was your mission, honey?" Jack asked when she hugged him at the door.
"Um…went well," Alex said, tiredly, the events of the night before wearing thin on his core. It was too much, all too much.
She grinned, setting his bag on the couch and seating him at the kitchen table. "Well, sit, because I'm making lemon cake and it's almost done."
He smiled shakily as she puttered around the kitchen. Watching in silence as she pulled out the pan and quietly pulled out the cake and set it on a small platter, Alex breathed in the smell of something like home.
She set down a slice on a plate before him, then sat opposite him.
Then she took one look at him and said, "Bad one?"
The mission.
He bit his lip. "…it's complicated."
"Do I want to know?"
"Probably not."
"Then eat your cake," she said with a smile.
Alex took the fork and after a few bites, forced himself to admit to Jack that yes, this was a good cake, and she beamed and preened jokingly and went back to her own slice.
Halfway through, he set down his fork. "How do you do it?" he pleaded.
She slowly finished her bite, and set down the fork. "Why do I get the feeling you're not asking me about the cake?"
"…I broke your arm," Alex said. "I saw that you were afraid of me. How did you manage to stay with me? Why do you? You know how dangerous I am by virtue of my existence. How?"
She smiled.
"Alex…when you broke my arm…I saw your eyes, too. You were afraid, probably more than me, and in just as much pain as me."
"But that doesn't-"
"I know you," she said. "You go through much worse than me on a regular basis. I remember dealing with you after you were tortured. I'm here to bring you back where that place in your head where your missions take you. A broken arm, a few more broken limbs - they're a small price to pay."
"…you shouldn't have to pay," he said hoarsely.
"Yeah, well, I shouldn't have to pay my broken limbs for your recovery, you shouldn't have to pay your sanity for the sake of the world, and none of us should be paying our souls for our security. But we do - and it's worth it."
He stared down at his fork.
"I still-"
"Alex," she said, reaching out and putting her hand over his. "I know you, I know what you're like, and I know your limits. I know that however far you would have or could have gone, you have a line you would not have crossed, not with me. I know that whatever it is you're dealing with…you'll find a way."
He remembered his night with Yassen. He remembered letting go for the first time in years. He remembered the feeling of relief of letting someone else take the lead, hating and loving it at the same time.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Just…yeah."
She smiled.
"Good - now eat your cake."
He smiled back.
~*~
A week later, Alex was by the fountain in the middle of Trafalgar Square, looking around, eyes scanning even though he doubted he would see this coming.
He was right.
A man was suddenly seated right next to him, and underneath the hat, sunglasses, bulky winter coat, Alex recognized Yassen.
The man looked at Alex, and took a firm grip of the boy's hand.
"You're coming with me," he said softly, pulling himself and Alex to their feet, leading away.
Alex followed without thought. He didn't need to think. He didn't need to lead. He could just fall to his needs.
Yassen would catch him.
"Sure thing," Alex said as he fell in step with the man.
Yassen smiled, and Alex returned the sentiment.
This could finally work.
The End
Recipient: k155-me
Title: Control
Characters/Pairing(s):Alex/Yassen
Summary: The first time Alex ran into Yassen ...
Rating: R
Disclaimer: All Alex Rider characters herein are the property of Anthony Horowitz and the Penguin Group. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): None
Word Count: ~5,000
Author's Notes: N/A
Control
The first time Alex ran into Yassen, it was on his tenth official mission (sixteenth overall), and Alex hadn't even known Yassen was alive, by then.
To run away from the building he just blew up only to run into Yassen - literally - was quite the shock. He only barely managed to keep his gun in his grip.
"How the fuck are you alive?!" Alex asked from his sprawled position on the dirty downtown Moscow pavement, completely forgetting his Russian in light of this shock, and switching back to his native English. It wasn't like his cover was worth shit with this man, anyway.
"Hello to you, too, Alex," the man had said simply, with a sardonic smile.
Cursing, Alex pushed himself up. "There's…no way…" he cursed again. "I don't have time for this-"
"On the contrary, Alex," Yassen said. "I believe you have all the time in the world, now - or at least all night, until that smoke dies down and MI6 come to collect you."
Alex's eyes narrow. "So…what? More than two years after you die and you expect me to just walk off with you in the middle of a mission? Dead or not or whatever, I've got other things to be doing."
Yassen just smirked, and, ignoring how much Alex wanted to go with him, for a variety of reasons ranging from wanting some answers to wanting some flesh, he turned on his heel and continued running through the streets of Moscow. He had a bloody mission to finish…if only so he could talk to that certain assassin without it bearing down on his mind.
He could control himself. He had to.
~*~
"Alex?!"
"Jack!"
"Alex!"
Alex laughed as Jack wrapped her arms around him. Coming home from the mission, he'd forgone calling her and simply waited in the living room for her to come home from her job at the art museum.
Releasing him, she dumped her bag on the sofa chair, next to Alex's overnight bag, and said, "God, Alex - a whole month, this time! Where've you been?"
"All across Russia," Alex said, and launched into his recount of the mission.
He skipped the part about Yassen.
"Oh, god, Alex," she said, hugging him again. "At least it wasn't as bad as…well, I can name a few missions…it's just great to have you back home, again."
Alex smiled, and as Jack wrapped him in a hug again, his eyes trailed down her arm and to her right wrist.
She caught him staring as she parted, and her smiled saddened, but didn't leave her face.
"Alex," she said sternly. "It healed completely almost three months ago - it's fine. It's been fine for even longer. Now stop feeling guilty and go grab a jacket - we're eating out."
Alex smiled again, guarded, though - he never did quite let go of his mask completely, despite what he let Tom and Jack and everyone else think.
It was all he truly had left.
~*~
The second time was about as planned.
Alex never did get the chance to go trolling about the streets of Moscow, again, in all the chaos that mission had entailed, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to. He had some considerable time off, right now, and had not only caught up with the studies for his A-Levels, but even managed to nudge ahead, a little bit.
So, he felt perfectly entitled to a night out for some illicit partying in the club which currently housed an only semi-sober Alex, ogling a pair of models (possibly fraternal twins) just down the curve of the bar, one bloke and one bird, and in this club, with a bass beat pounding through his body and the flashing lights all around clouding his vision, Alex considered his chances of sacking these two at once, tonight. They both looked so edible, and he wondered, if he couldn't get them both, his chances of at least one…
Sighing, he raised his bottle to his lips and drank, the alcopop buzzing pleasantly down his gullet, now that he was sufficiently half-smashed on all the beers and cocktails he had just before this.
"Nice choice, Alex," an ever-so-slightly accented voice breathed into his ear, freezing Alex's blood, despite all the alcohol running through it.
Slowly, he turned around to see none other than Yassen-fucking-Gregorovich on the barstool right next to him.
"Blonde, blue eyed, muscled, well-figured, lithe…" Yassen continued to check off, smirking slightly, now also looking at those models. "It sounds rather familiar, actually…"
Alex was too busy using his eyes to drink in Yassen's appearance to really process this. Besides just the shock, the man had actually managed to look like he fit right in to this club scene, despite being twice Alex's age. Black jeans, tight black shirt, studded belt, hanging white waistcoat left unbuttoned, and blond hair that the assassin had let grow out, a little. Even looking directly at the man's face and seeing the age in it, he seemed like he was molded and formed just for tonight.
Swallowing, he said, "I guess I just happen to have good taste."
He may backlog, a little, but he wasn't a living MI6 black ops agent for no reason - he still caught everything, no matter what.
Yassen smiled, and leaned in a little, until his face was only inches away from Alex's. "So I am ‘good taste', then?"
Alex shivered as he felt that warm breath trail along his jaw and neck and brush across his lips, but he didn't move. He wasn't entirely sure if he could, and he wasn't about ready to try and test it out, now.
"It would certainly seem so," he said, turning his own breath towards Yassen.
The assassin laughed, and despite the fact their bodies were still far apart, Alex could swear he felt it. "It seems we have similar tastes, Alex - the fairer hair, rather than the fairer sex."
Alex took a deep breath, and said, "But my taste is usually also targeted towards people who are alive. So I must ask about you…"
Yassen smirked again, and the half-drunk Alex fought to keep his center as he tried to process everything at his usual pace…which really did not work so well. The assassin reached out and took Alex's hand in his own, and pressed it against his chest, right above his heart.
Alex could feel warm skin, a nipple, and a heartbeat through his fingertips.
"Oh…I am definitely alive…" Yassen said. He let go of Alex's hand, but Alex didn't drop his, not moving his hand at all, entranced by the movement of the man's body as he breathed, his rising and falling chest and fluttering pulse-point and the glide of his neck, and damnit, he didn't know why! He normally had much better control over himself than this, even when he was completely smashed.
"I believe you," Alex said, a little breathlessly, completely forgetting everything else, quite possibly even his own name. Who needed stupid little things like that, anyway?
Yassen laughing, again - and this time, Alex could feel it, through his hand - and used that hand that directed Alex's to wrap around his hip, and tug, slightly, bringing their bodies fractionally closer.
"Why don't you come with me, Alex, and find out just how alive I truly am?"
And Alex, damn his soul, did. Tom smirked at him and winked as he left the club, dancing with his own bloke and waving Alex off, having no idea who it was that Alex was with. And somehow, he was inside some bloody expensive sports car and Yassen, all that bastard did was stroke up Alex's side, from his hip, to his chest, before focusing completely on driving and leaving Alex to fight to keep what little control of himself as they sped through the streets of London.
He wasn't quite sure whether Yassen went through a small-scale hotel or a really posh flat complex, but the halls were carpeted, and he took Alex through a door with a brass number and letter on it which seems to say…something…except he couldn't really remember what.
And suddenly, he felt himself being pushed onto a chic bed, and he didn't have time to appreciate the feel of the ridiculously soft sheets because Yassen was on top of him, pressing him down and he was hard and hot and all powerful, lethal muscle, bearing down on the young spy.
Yassen never kissed him, really - more like assaults his mouth with savage lips and a sharp, suggestively thrusting tongue, and teeth nipping at and even splitting Alex's lips in the process. Alex melted into the abuse, and for a moment, wondered absently how much he was going to regret this the next morning.
Then Yassen's hips were digging into his, and he couldn't care less.
Alex's hands reached up to undo the man's fly, but Yassen batted them away, before using his hands to grab both of Alex's wrists and pin them down by Alex's head.
"I will do it," Yassen growled.
Alex tugged against his fleshy restraints…but Yassen's hands barely moved. He looked up to see Yassen smirking down at him.
It was only then that Alex realized just how helpless he truly was.
His face went blank to hide his panic, and Yassen rolled his eyes, before he leant down and pressed his face into Alex's neck.
His face went unblank, melting into reluctant pleasure, his eyes scrunched up, but his lips parted, as if he were trying to draw Yassen in, closer.
Yassen mouthed his way, slowly up Alex's neck and jawline, before he kissed Alex again, this time incredibly gentle.
His hips ground into Alex, who bucked up to meet his, their erections brushing through the denim they both wore, and his kisses matched, before he pulled away and said, "I do not need to hold you down the entire time, will I?"
No fair - he was still gyrating his hips against Alex's.
Alex shook his head quickly. Yassen let go of Alex's hands, though he kept them close by, and Alex didn't move them beyond their natural jerks from his writhing, trying to make Yassen go faster, harder, anything…
Yassen chuckled, something from deep in his chest, and he reached over to a nightstand and pulled open a drawer, grabbing something Alex couldn't quite see or tell what it was-
And suddenly, he couldn't see anything - there was a blindfold around his eyes.
He panicked again, but before he could move, his wrists were both grabbed by one hand, and he was somehow handcuffed to the headboard in an instant.
Damnit.
"Do not worry, Alex," Yassen crooned into his ear. "I will take care of everything."
He wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing. It took an extraordinary amount of effort, but he managed to keep himself flat against the bed as he waited for Yassen to move, despite wanting nothing more than to thrust back up and lose himself into the sensation.
"It's okay," Alex said, somewhat breathlessly. "I'm pretty fucking good at taking care of myself. You should know."
Yassen shifted sharply, and he lowered himself so his breath landed on Alex's lips again.
"That does not mean that you have to, all of the time. Sometimes…it is best to lose control and let someone else…take it."
Alex's eyes widened. No, no, no no nonono…he couldn't lose control.
He tugged on the handcuffs. "Let me go! I'll-"
"What, Alex?" Yassen crooned again, his body still pressed flush against Alex's. He dug in his hips and crotch again, and Alex gurgled, slightly, but didn't respond, instead trying to rub his head against his arm to get that damn blindfold off and-
"None of that, now, Alex," Yassen said, sounding like he was talking to a bloody pet. Like Alex was anyone's fucking pet...
"What are you-"
The blindfold tightened dramatically, almost painfully, and the assassins hands were on his elbows, holding his arms completely still, as he pushed himself up, his body heat disappearing from Alex's front.
Alex hated that he suddenly missed that feeling.
His dick responding to the friction Yassen was causing, Alex growled, and said, "What, know you can't just fuck me, so now you have to rape me?"
"I do not believe I will be raping you by the end of tonight," Yassen said coolly, twisting his hips again. Alex bit his lip and whimpered again, but did not respond.
The man's body heat was back, and his warm breath was against Alex's ear as he said, "Let go, Alex."
Alex shook his head, vigorously, trying and failing to pull away from Yassen's tongue against his neck, half-crazily wondering what would happen if the man bit down on his carotid artery right now.
He'd come across weirder ways to kill people.
"N-no," he got out. "I'm not the kind to just ‘let go'."
"That is rather sad, too," Yassen said, mournfully, before his tongue flicked out and licked along the edge of Alex's earlobe. That nearly undid Alex's resolve, right there. "I have heard of your extraordinary control."
"Then let me the fuck go, before I have to bloody hurt you to get out of this-"
"You will not be able to, Alex," Yassen said, resting the back of his head against Alex's neck, a bizarre parody of actual lovers. "And you know it."
Didn't mean he wouldn't try.
"Besides," Yassen said, turning to face Alex, again. "Tonight is all about bringing you to that brink, to let go, and let me take control."
Alex shook his head, shutting his eyes and squeezing tightly, but that helped very little when Yassen's lips were against his, again, possessive and claiming, and Alex kissed back, before remembering, no, no, no, he's not supposed to-
One of Yassen's hands released Alex's elbow and slid down along the arm, and down Alex's side, before gripping Alex's waist, kneading it gently and slowly, and, mm, Alex's soft spot was right there…
This time, when Yassen twisted his hips, Alex bucked up to meet it, trying to create more friction, and yet, god, no, this was wrong, he was in control, always, always, always!
"Lemme go…" Alex mumbled, breaths coming short and fast, tugging on the handcuffs, even as he tried to bend his knees to bring Yassen just a little bit closer.
"Are you so sure?" Yassen murmured, and Alex's breath hitched as he felt the man unbutton Alex's fly, before slowly bringing the zipper down.
Alex gasped, and when Yassen started tugging his jeans off, he twisted his hips, and he didn't know whether he trying to them pants on or get them off, but they came off, and so did his underwear. Yassen slid his hands against Alex's stomach, pushing up his shirt, until it was over his arms and pulling them close together, another layer of bonds.
Alex was naked, and he shivered as Yassen ran his eyes over him, and then Yassen was using his tongue, trailing from his neck to navel, then leaving to take Alex's cock in his mouth.
When Alex looked down and saw Yassen's head bobbing up and down on his crotch and the warm, wet feeling of mouth and tongue on so many nerves, he gasped and mumbled incoherently, "Going t'…gon't…"
Yassen slowed his pace, and raised his eyes, still sucking Alex. When his eyes met Yassen's smoldering gaze, he lost it.
He lost control, and he came.
And a moment later, when Yassen was hovering over him with a leer on his face, he knew that his night was far from over.
And that he was going to hate it and enjoy it.
~*~
"Have a fun night?" Jack asked as Alex came stumbling in the next morning. He blinked in semi-hungover, possibly-half-drugged confusion.
"Huh?"
She just laughed. "Go clean yourself up, then tell me about it."
Alex nodded, and slipped up the stairs, still feeling rather stiff, and…and…
Confused.
He hated that feeling.
Cleaning himself up and taking some Nurofen to deal with the headache, which was all he had, thankfully (one upside to being drugged and drunk so many times on his missions), he went back downstairs and sighed in relief to see Jack pushing some orange juice and toast his way, even though she had a rather devious smile.
"So," she said, starting on her typical post-fuck conversation. "Was it a guy or girl, this time?"
"Bloke," Alex said, taking a bite out of his toast.
"Mm…what'd he look like?"
Alex already knew what she was looking for. "Blond - about half as long as mine - blue eyes…sharp face…lean and muscled legs…six-pack abs…just a bit taller than me…" He had a few more descriptions of Yassen, but stopped there. Just in case - Jack had become shrewder, over the years, adapting to Alex's job, and as such, he didn't know how many more details it would be before she could recognize Yassen from it.
"Mm…" she said, dreamily.
"You have a boyfriend," Alex said.
"So? Keep going," she said. "Where, and/or how did you meet him?"
"Bar - he sat next to me." Another smudge-up of the truth. Ah, well - he's done plenty of those, before. The way he met Yassen was far more complicated than that - and not a story he'd be willing to share over toast.
"Dance with him at all, or just go straight home with him?"
"Straight home,"
"My, my, horny, weren't you?"
"Very," Alex said, dryly. "Driving to his place in a sports car didn't help."
She laughed. "So…how long ‘til you got to the actual ‘fucking him' part?"
He adjusted in his seat with a wince, and said, "Never - I bottomed, this time."
Her eyebrows rose. "This is getting interesting - you never bottom. How on Earth did this happen?"
"Um…" he just shrugged. "Our pants were off, he lubed me up, and he fucked me…I think…"
Actually, Alex already knew he'd be fucked from the moment Yassen pinned him to the bed. Or maybe from the moment Yassen sat next to him at the bar, he didn't know. But it was long before his pants moved even a fucking millimeter towards ‘off'.
"Oh, wow," she said, with a laugh. "C'mon, more details."
Alex honestly wanted to tell her - tell her about him being helpless, him being out of control, him being fully at Yassen's mercy, about him knowing that if the other man wanted Alex to die or live, it was Yassen's choice, not Alex's, about how he had no say, no expectations…about how his mask fell…
But he couldn't. It was too complicated, beyond how she could help him. And besides, she didn't know how much he needed his mask, anyway.
"I don't remember much else," Alex said. "Same old, same old, really - I was a bit too smashed to really make sense of it."
She sighed. "Aw…ah, well - you'll just have to tell me, next time."
Alex nodded. "I promise."
She got up and grabbed her own plate, and Alex picked up his, but waited hesitantly while she was at the sink.
Jack paused, her arms dropping, before saying, exasperated, "Come here, Alex…"
Swallowing, Alex came up to her side, trying his best not to touch her - not here.
"Alex, I'm not going to die standing here, so help me with the dishes."
"Jack…last time…I nearly broke your arm off!"
"Actually, you only managed to snap my wrist - and either way, you didn't break my arm off. I'm fine. Now, c'mon - dishes."
Alex nodded, but was extremely careful, just in case.
Dishes with Jack reminded him how dangerous last night was - how dangerous it was for him to lose control.
So why did he want to go back to it?
~*~
The next time, though, Alex knew was entirely his fault.
He had just finished up a low-profile internal sweep mission in France, out in the country. He had been driving through the town, having picked up a souvenir for Jack, when he saw Yassen sitting in a café.
He pulled up to a stop and got out. Yassen smirked at him.
"You knew I was here," Alex said calmly, lowly, from the passenger side of his car, leaning against it, arms crossed, as he faced Yassen.
The assassin, for his part, remained seated. He calmly sipped his drink.
"Of course."
The spy shut his eyes. "Why are you following me?"
"Because I want to," Yassen said idly. "Because you are mine to follow."
"…I'm not anyone's but my own."
"I'm sure," Yassen said, as if humoring him.
He glared at the man, and his ability to wind up Alex's tension so much just by sitting there, sipping his drink, eyes never leaving Alex's body.
Alex opened the door to his car, and gestured in.
Fifteen minutes later, they were in the little cottage Alex had rented to have a place where MI6 had no hold. He kissed Yassen passionately, feeling his back being slammed into several surfaces along the way and not even caring as they made it to the bed.
"Close your eyes, Alex," Yassen crooned, on all fours over Alex, who was writhing in the sheets for no particular reason, because he wasn't even being touched yet. Except then, he was, Yassen pushed up his shirt and left it at Alex's wrist, the only restrains, and he had his jeans off again, and, andand-
"Let go for me," Yassen whispered into Alex's ear.
Alex had closed his eyes. He shook his head now.
Yassen sighed. "You will."
Alex didn't respond, except to thrust his hips up into the air when Yassen palmed his cock through the trousers.
This was wrong, so wrong, completely wrong…
He keened once his trousers were off and Yassen was fingering him directly.
He kicked out.
Yassen kept going.
"I don't…I don't know…" Alex moaned out as Yassen put in two fingers, opening Alex up. "I…"
"Shh…" Yassen said. "For tonight, you are mine to do with as I please. Just for tonight."
Alex cried out as Yassen aimed a particularly sharp jab at his prostrate, hips jumping up without his control.
He brought up a knee in response, not sure whether to shove off or encourage. It hit Yassen in the side, sending him rolling.
For a moment, memories of Jack and her wrist and the sink filled his mine, before suddenly, Yassen was above him again, using his thighs to anchor and cradle Alex in.
"I said you are mine, Alex," Yassen breathed out, seeming more amused by Alex's unintentional outburst than anything else. "I meant it. What you do does not matter."
Alex gasped as Yassen thrust his cock relentlessly into Alex.
And with Yassen's words ringing between in ears, he knew the man was right.
He let go.
~*~
Alex's hands were shaking as he put away the dishes and he nearly dropped them, several times, and counted it as a victory that he hadn't.
This last mission had been…had been…
He bit his lip and shut his eyes, leaning against the sink, horror and terror of unfamiliar proportions running through him at the simple memories of the mission…
…he wasn't sure how much longer it would be before he snapped.
"Alex?"
Oh, no, not Jack.
"…can you please leave me alone?" Alex pleaded quietly, wanting to have his breakdown in peace.
He knew Jack could see him trembling and quivering and he hoped she would take the hint and leave-
But the footsteps were coming closer, closer, and fuck he just wanted to be alone, not talk to her…
He hated his job. He hated his life. He didn't want to die. But he did.
He felt someone touch his shoulder, and he only reacted, did exactly what his life has ingrained into him.
His arm shot out, grabbed the wrist, and snaptwisted it
And his blood froze as Jack's scream rang in his ears.
He let go and stepped away, horrified, seeing her backing away, too, clutching her arm and staring in shock.
"J-J-Jack?" he said in horror.
She nodded slowly.
"I…I'm sorry," he said, voice still pleading, shaking.
She shut her eyes. "…get me to the hospital."
Alex did all he could and more, knowing it would never be enough.
~*~
When Yassen had come and pulled out of Alex, collapsing beside him, Alex realized the man had a few bruises on his chest.
Alex's arms were covered in red finger marks and angry purple spots.
"Did I do this?" he murmured, looking between them, loosening his hands from the shirt binding him.
"Yes," Yassen said simply, wrapping his arms around Alex. "You tried."
But Yassen was stronger.
~*~
"How was your mission, honey?" Jack asked when she hugged him at the door.
"Um…went well," Alex said, tiredly, the events of the night before wearing thin on his core. It was too much, all too much.
She grinned, setting his bag on the couch and seating him at the kitchen table. "Well, sit, because I'm making lemon cake and it's almost done."
He smiled shakily as she puttered around the kitchen. Watching in silence as she pulled out the pan and quietly pulled out the cake and set it on a small platter, Alex breathed in the smell of something like home.
She set down a slice on a plate before him, then sat opposite him.
Then she took one look at him and said, "Bad one?"
The mission.
He bit his lip. "…it's complicated."
"Do I want to know?"
"Probably not."
"Then eat your cake," she said with a smile.
Alex took the fork and after a few bites, forced himself to admit to Jack that yes, this was a good cake, and she beamed and preened jokingly and went back to her own slice.
Halfway through, he set down his fork. "How do you do it?" he pleaded.
She slowly finished her bite, and set down the fork. "Why do I get the feeling you're not asking me about the cake?"
"…I broke your arm," Alex said. "I saw that you were afraid of me. How did you manage to stay with me? Why do you? You know how dangerous I am by virtue of my existence. How?"
She smiled.
"Alex…when you broke my arm…I saw your eyes, too. You were afraid, probably more than me, and in just as much pain as me."
"But that doesn't-"
"I know you," she said. "You go through much worse than me on a regular basis. I remember dealing with you after you were tortured. I'm here to bring you back where that place in your head where your missions take you. A broken arm, a few more broken limbs - they're a small price to pay."
"…you shouldn't have to pay," he said hoarsely.
"Yeah, well, I shouldn't have to pay my broken limbs for your recovery, you shouldn't have to pay your sanity for the sake of the world, and none of us should be paying our souls for our security. But we do - and it's worth it."
He stared down at his fork.
"I still-"
"Alex," she said, reaching out and putting her hand over his. "I know you, I know what you're like, and I know your limits. I know that however far you would have or could have gone, you have a line you would not have crossed, not with me. I know that whatever it is you're dealing with…you'll find a way."
He remembered his night with Yassen. He remembered letting go for the first time in years. He remembered the feeling of relief of letting someone else take the lead, hating and loving it at the same time.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Just…yeah."
She smiled.
"Good - now eat your cake."
He smiled back.
~*~
A week later, Alex was by the fountain in the middle of Trafalgar Square, looking around, eyes scanning even though he doubted he would see this coming.
He was right.
A man was suddenly seated right next to him, and underneath the hat, sunglasses, bulky winter coat, Alex recognized Yassen.
The man looked at Alex, and took a firm grip of the boy's hand.
"You're coming with me," he said softly, pulling himself and Alex to their feet, leading away.
Alex followed without thought. He didn't need to think. He didn't need to lead. He could just fall to his needs.
Yassen would catch him.
"Sure thing," Alex said as he fell in step with the man.
Yassen smiled, and Alex returned the sentiment.
This could finally work.
The End