Alex Rider, fanfiction: Tangled Web Woven, Part 1 of 2
Title: Tangled Web Woven, 1/2
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 7,534
Warnings: DUB-CON and explicit gay sex. Also, use of non-recreational drugs and non-recreational restraint, and powerplay Oh, yeah. ^_^
Summary: Wanting this man was incredibly dangerous, Yassen knew, for so many reasons - but desire rarely ever listened to reason.
AN: Um - yeah. Informally beta'd by Von,
miso_licious , and became far more graphic than I was expecting. *g* Hopefully worth a go!
**
Yassen hated feeling off-balance, and he really hated being tied up; and he'd never had enough experience with either of them to get used to it. He'd always been the one steps ahead of everyone else, the one predicting events and then calling the shots. How anyone had got the drop on him - him! - was honestly beyond him.
Unable to move, a complicated kind of gag preventing him from speaking, and with no idea how he got here, he started to examine 'here'. It looked like a perfect normal hotel room, right down to the filmy net curtains, thick white sheets and fake-wood furniture. He'd been unconscious when he got here - probably drugged, his body still held that sleepy, heavy feeling which spoke of the residue of drugs of some kind in his system - and his captor had laid him on the bed then tied him to it. There was little to no give in the bonds - plastic-clad metal wire, Yassen saw as he craned his head back to look, thick and only just malleable. To make up for the stiffness of the metal, rather than give Yassen too much leeway, his impromptu jailer had gone the other way and wrapped it almost too tightly around his wrists. If he'd entertained any idea of breaking the headboard to get away, he would have ripped his wrists to shreds in the attempt.
As it was, he hadn't been tied to the headboard anyway - he'd been tied to a long metal bar, slid between the wall and the headboard. Yassen swore to himself in Russian. With the pressure spread out like that, there was more chance of him cutting his own hands off with the wire than breaking the headboard with the bar. Worse, he couldn't even pull the wire - fed from the bar to his wrists through the slats of the headboard - off the bar; it had been melted on, the plastic stripped off and the thick wire underneath melted until it was one with the bar.
Whoever his captor was, they'd come prepared.
Yassen was a long way from stupid and he knew when to fight and when not to bother. The gag would stop him from shouting words and would muffle any wordless sounds, the bonds would stop him from moving... the only weak point in this set-up was his captor, the one area with potential for human error. Unless it became obvious that he'd been left here to die - and really, why bother with the hotel room if that was the case? - he'd wait to exploit the weak point.
Besides. He was curious to meet this person.
**
When he next woke, he knew immediately that he wasn't alone in the room. A man was sat at the shoddy desk in one corner of the room, typing something on a laptop too upmarket for the hotel. Whoever he was, he was dark-blond, slim, the one forearm Yassen could see muscled but not bulging - but apart from that, he was a mystery. His profile was obscured by his position, his hands were typing too rapidly for Yassen to get a good look at them to check for standard things; wedding ring, tattoos, distinctive scars, and so on.
The room was much the same as he'd last seen it, though a small black bag stood by the desk, and next to the laptop was a small silver gun. Taking advantage of what he knew would be his last moment of honest reaction with his captor in the room, Yassen swallowed. Things were not looking good.
The man turned when he heard Yassen shift deliberately on the bed, and smiled widely when he saw he was awake. Yassen's heart jolted with - fear? surprise? - and his fingers twitched involuntarily in the wire. Of all the possible suspects, he had never even considered this one.
It had been six years since he saw Alex Rider, and the Alex Rider of six years ago hadn't been anything like this - beautiful. And he hadn't had that cool assessing look in his eyes, one which didn't shift even as he smiled.
"Yassen! So glad you're awake," Alex said warmly, "I'm afraid I mistook your dosage a couple of days ago, and you must have woken up on your own. So rude of me when I'm playing host - I let you wake up this time so I could apologise for that. Among other things."
If Yassen hadn't had years of experience, he would have stiffened at that. 'Dosage'? 'Days'? How long had Alex been drugging him? And what with?
"Oh, I'm sure you have lots of questions," Alex picked up the gun and came towards him, and an effort of will kept Yassen still and relaxed, "Would you like the gag off?"
Yassen pretended to consider it, pausing to think before nodding. Alex smiled again.
"I thought so." he knelt on the bed over Yassen, and then unexpectedly Yassen felt the cold press of the gun against his cock through the thin denim of his jeans. "And I can trust you to be quiet, can't I?"
Yassen nodded again, slow and deliberate, no signs of desperation or panic showing.
"Good!" Alex said cheerfully, removing the gun and reaching over to undo the gag before sliding himself off the bed with a surprising grace. The angry, talented teenager had grown into a sleek, gorgeous man, and Yassen was being given front row seats to observe the effects of that transformation.
He spent an unhurried couple of moments rotating his jaw, which was as stiff as though he really had been in the gag for several days at least - then he said calmly, "Nice to see you, Alex."
Alex beamed at him, looking - proud of him? Like a fond parent. Yassen shivered inwardly. "And you, Yassen."
"Charming as the reunion is, might I ask why...?" he glanced round the room meaningfully.
"Oh! Of course, so sorry." Alex sounded almost offensively English now, "Well, your involvement with the group was going to pose something of a problem for me."
"It is part of my contract to get rid investigation by any government," Yassen agreed calmly.
But strangely, Alex just laughed, "Investigation? What on earth made you think I would be investigating you and your friends?"
For once, Yassen allowed himself to externalise his reaction, frowning at Alex's words, "MI6..." he started, and Alex shook his head.
"Bunch of useless tossers," he said calmly, "I ditched them as soon as I was old enough; strictly free-lance now."
"So who were you investigating for?" Yassen asked curiously.
Alex's grin was oddly knowing, "If I was investigating for anyone, I'd have to be very stupid to tell you."
"If you were investigating?"
"I'm not. Or," he corrected himself, "I'm not at the moment. I suspect I'll be brought in to look into what happened here once it's all over; I have friends all over the place, and I'm really very good at finding out who shoved the spoke in the wheel - strangely, it's never me. You see, Yassen, my bread is buttered on both sides."
Yassen frowned inwardly, but stuck on topic. "So, if you weren't investigating, what were you doing?"
"Stealing," Alex said simply. "I stand to make a very neat profit, and that unfortunate explosion will get rid of everyone who might have come after me, and all the evidence." In a less controlled man, Yassen's expression would have been called staring. "You're lucky that I couldn't have you running around whispering things about me in ears I didn't want whispered in, or you'd be dead too... again."
Yassen shrugged, "I suppose you'll kill me now?"
"Don't make this into a bad Bond film, Yassen, of course I shan't. You were already paid half your fee, I've shown you how dangerous I am, and you weren't ideologically linked to that rabble anyway. You won't come after me - and I might want you in the future at some point."
"Won't I?"
"You'd be very stupid to," Alex said candidly, "And very stupid to seriously suggest that you would right at this moment, when I've told you I'm considering just letting you go."
Yassen considered this. "You have a point. So - when will you release me?"
Alex looked regretful. "I'm afraid I'm not sure just at the moment."
A raised eyebrow. "May I ask why not?"
"Oh, of course! I haven't played the game through to the end yet, you see, Yassen, and once I do, I'll have to sort out all the loose ends to my satisfaction... as I'm sure you can see, letting you go before all that's settled would make me very stupid. And I am many, many things, Yassen, but I'm not stupid."
Yassen, one of the world's best contract killers and currently tied to a bed with a length of plastic wire, could certainly attest to that. "Of course."
Alex smiled kindly at him, "But don't worry. The game is nearly over. And I'm so glad we understand each other." Alex turned to his desk, and bent over the computer for a moment, typing rapidly before coming back to Yassen, kneeling on the bed next to his head. He cupped his cheek with one hand, stroking his thumb over Yassen's cheek bone, his eyes warm as he looked down at him, "I mourned you, you know. I've always wondered whether we could have been friends."
Yassen opened his mouth to reply, then felt a needle slide into his bicep. Before the drug knocked him out again completely, he felt Alex lean down and press a kiss to his mouth. "I'm so sorry," he heard in a whisper.
Then nothing.
**
The room was dark when he woke up the third time, the sky black and starless through the thick hotel curtains, all the lights off. He wondered how many days he'd lost this time, rather hopelessly, then ignored the issue in favour of the differences in the room; spilt milk was never worth crying over.
Firstly, he was under the covers rather than on top of them - and although the window was open, he was far too hot. Secondly, Alex was in the bed with him, cuddled next to him, head thrust into the join of Yassen's neck and shoulder, one leg thrown over him, inserted between his.
It was surreal to be cuddled by his captor, Yassen knew, and yet being cuddled by Alex wasn't quite as unpleasant as he would like to pretend. Alex was apparently interested, old enough, gorgeous and dangerous. It wasn't exactly relationship stuff, but it was enough for Yassen, who'd been celibate for a while. The added spice of danger could only help things along.
Still, it was all pipe dreams and darkness bringing this on; in the morning, he'd be back in his right mind, and wouldn't want Alex at all. The man was verging on psychopathic, half enthusiastic child, half murderous mastermind, a leftover from MI6, damaged and shattered. It didn't frighten Yassen, but it did mean he was a liability, dangerous to those around him in more ways than the obvious. Wanting such a man was - well, dangerous.
Desire though, Yassen had found, rarely listened to reason.
He might have been fine - might have talked himself back into sense by the next morning - if Alex hadn’t started moving, writhing in his sleep and moaning. He thrust against Yassen’s thigh, and though Yassen craned his head to look down at the younger man (was Alex awake at the moment or not?) , he could tell the moment Alex woke (stopped pretending?) from the way his body stilled. He pulled away from Yassen, his eyes rather wide as he looked down at his captive, propped up on one elbow.
They stared at each other in the night-time silence, then Alex, still in silence, reached out and cupped Yassen’s half-hard cock, his eyes never leaving the Russian’s.
“It’s the one thing I forgot,” he murmured, “Keeping you here all this time. Washing and feeding you and keeping your water and nutrients levels topped up, “ he moved fast, shoving the duvet back and straddling Yassen, hips aligned as he leant down to the other man’s neck. He mouthed the rest of his words into Yassen’s skin, “All of that was just like having a pet. But of course you’ll need this as well.”
He shifted sensuously against his captive, the friction forcing Yassen’s cock to take an even greater interest than before - and though Yassen wanted to refute that, wanted to say that he didn’t need that, thank you very much, he couldn’t get the words out. Alex’s teeth glinted white as he grinned, bringing one hand down to undo Yassen’s jeans, stroking his cock gently, teasing it into hardness. Yassen’s breath hitched.
“I’ve always wanted to break that control of yours,” Alex purred with a lascivious grin, “Let’s see if I can.”
He slid off Yassen, who hardly knew whether to be relieved or disappointed and who watched, unable to do anything else, as Alex carefully untied his captive’s boots, pulling them and his socks off, followed by his jeans and underwear.
A part of Yassen said he didn’t want this - really didn’t want this - but common sense had gone to sleep for the night, and the part of Yassen which knew how to make the best of things knew that, since he couldn’t do a damn thing to get out of whatever was coming, he might as well try to enjoy the ride. Whichever way things turned out.
Not to mention, he wanted to know this new Alex, find out about him and get - close? No, not close to him, but... he needed to, somehow, regain the advantage in this situation so he could follow the way Alex thought, and sex was a great way of getting someone at a disadvantage.
So when Alex’s warm hand closed around his cock, he didn’t fight it, didn’t try to thrash away, thrusting up for more friction instead.
“You are clean, aren’t you?” Alex murmured against his ear, and Yassen nodded, only half-hearing the question, but already knowing the answer. It was the same as practically every encounter he’d ever had - with added unexpected bondage. “Good.”
He didn’t whimper as Alex left again - too controlled even in the heat of arousal - but he wanted to, resenting the loss of friction until Alex returned from the bathroom, naked with a small bottle in one hand. He climbed onto the bed over Yassen, knees spread either side of him, so low that his balls brushed Yassen’s cock. He smiled down at him tenderly, touching his face once, very gently. “You’ll be more comfortable after this,” he promised, and the slick-wet feeling his fingers left behind reaffirmed what Yassen had assumed was in the little bottle.
He watched, almost dazed, as Alex reached behind himself with those slicked fingers, and relished the sigh Alex gave as he slid - one finger? Two? - into himself.
“Oh...” he murmured, “I may be a bit tight, sorry,” he said, quietly, “It’s been a while. You won’t mind that, will you?”
At that moment, Yassen wished more than anything that his hands were free so he could prepare Alex himself, could grip and bruise those slender hips and hurry things along. He didn’t care how tight Alex was or wasn’t, he wanted to fuck him, half in punishment, half sheer lust.
But his hands weren’t free, and he was going to have to go at whatever speed Alex chose. That galled more than anything.
And apparently, that speed was ‘slow’.
Alex moaned low in his throat, and Yassen imagined he’d added another finger, and imagined him stretching himself, fingers scissoring in and out of his hole. He thrust up involuntarily, heat coiling low in his bell, and Alex smirked. Then he arched his back, eyes sliding shut - another finger slipping in, Yassen decided, wishing that the thought of Alex stretching himself for Yassen’s cock didn’t dry his throat out completely.
Alex finally, finally pulled his fingers out of himself, wiping the excess lube off on Yassen’s cock, and paused. “This will be more fun for you than that was,” he decided, and slid down Yassen’s body on one long, slow, sinuous move. Yassen’s mind whited out momentarily as Alex sucked his cock into his mouth, cheeks hollowing out around the head before he pulled back again. Yassen couldn’t quite contain his disappointed whimper - all thoughts of wanting this to end had long since gone.
Alex just grinned and began licking Yassen’s cock as though it was some kind of obscene lollypop, drawing a broad stripe up the underside, then tonguing the slit at the top, flicking the sensitive spot under the head, licking and licking until he deemed it was wet enough. When he crawled back up Yassen’s body, Yassen resisted the urge to glare at him.
“D’you want to fuck me, Yassen?” Alex asked, bizarrely childlike, “D’you want me?”
Even the tone of voice couldn’t put Yassen off now. If Alex stopped right at this moment - while Yassen couldn’t relieve himself in any way - he was going to find him and kill him the moment he got free.
Luckily for him, Alex didn’t stop, taking Yassen’s stiff nod for the approval it was. He took Yassen’s wet cock in one hand and positioned it, raising himself up on his knees before sliding down onto it, sinfully slowly.
He was deliciously tight, Yassen thought dimly, and gorgeous with it. Alex’s knees were spread either side of Yassen’s hips, his hands braced behind himself on Yassen’s thighs and he arched up on Yassen’s cock before letting himself fall back, impaling himself on it again. He was only lightly tanned - winter in England? - but subtly muscled and gorgeous, slender and unselfconsciously sensual, fucking himself relentlessly on Yassen’s cock.
After all the build up - the uncertainty and anticipation, watching Alex prepare himself, the half-blowjob - it wasn’t that surprising that Yassen didn’t last half as long as he would have liked. Alex clenched just so, and he thrust up and came with a groan. Alex giggled - actually giggled - and murmured something about control. But he stopped moving, sitting in Yassen’s lap with his cock softening inside him, and put one hand on his own cock, pulling gently then fisting it faster and faster until his head tipped back and he came over his own hand.
Yassen winced as the muscles of Alex’s arse clenched around his oversensitive dick, but Alex just gave his come covered hand a thoughtful look, before bringing it to his lips and beginning to lick it clean. Inside him Yassen’s cock twitched. Alex grinned.
“Maybe again in the morning,” he said kindly, rolling off him and barely wincing as Yassen’s cock slid out of him with an obscene plop. “You needn’t be awake for it, after all.”
The post-coital daze had never lasted long for Yassen, but the sight of Alex walking away from him, naked with Yassen’s come sliding out of his arse, slowed his reaction a little. And then Alex was back, leaning over him and whispering,
“I hope that’s relieved things a bit.”
The needle slid in again - another half-remembered kiss - then more darkness.
**
Yassen woke briefly (how many days later?) to find Alex sucking on his cock, but the arousal, and the explosive orgasm Alex’s talented mouth pulled out of him, hazed the memory out of his mind. How many times had Alex done this since? But he was drugged back to sleep before he could wonder further.
**
How many days this time? Was his first thought when he next woke. It was blazing sunshine, the rich gold of mid afternoon, and he couldn’t tell how long it had been since he last woke. How long had he been gone now? A week? Two? How long till Alex was done with him?
His head spun and suddenly, he had to get off this bed, out of this room. Alex hadn’t bothered redressing him - how many times had he fucked himself on Yassen’s cock since that first time? Had that even been the first time? - and he could see his jeans and shoes on the floor where they must have been dropped that night, however many ago it had been.
He pulled frantically at the bonds round his wrist, almost panicking, and barely realised when the wire broke the skin of his wrists, or when blood dripped onto the cheap white cotton of the pillowcase. It didn't matter if it got him out.
Yassen had been held prisoner before, had had any number of torture methods used against him, but there was something about this set up - the near total restriction of movement, the shocking normality of the hotel room, the loss of time, Alex - which was beginning to get to him. Staying in this room, suddenly, just wasn't an option.
He froze only as the door clicked open, lettign Alex in. Alex's face was creased into a petulant frown, mouth turned down into a near pout, and a defiant, miserable look in his eyes.
"You and your friends," he said, voice demanding, "When did you start all this?"
Yassen swallowed, "Why should I-"
"Don't try it!" Alex screamed, "When did all this start!?"
Yassen had never caved so fast since before he started in his line of work. There was just something about Alex. "I was contracted in April," he said quietly, "I think it had been going for some months before I arrived."
Alex's face crumpled angrily, and he whirled, kicking the tacky desk so hard that the thick leg cracked, though thankfully it didn't break. Frighteningly, when Alex turned back to him, his face was totally calm, though his breath was coming in uncontrolled pants, "And where," he asked carefully, "Do their shipments come from?"
It was awkward, shrugging whilst your arms were above your head, but Yassen gave it a go, "All over," he said vaguely, "I was never involved in that-"
Alex pulled out his gun just as fast as he had turned to kick the table, and it was cocked and ready before Yassen could blink, "Don't try your misdirection bullshit," he repeated, "Or I'll start at your feet and work up - very, very slowly. I know exactly how to keep you alive."
"The powder comes from Columbia, mostly, sometimes Guatemala," Yassen said quickly "And the rocks from Sri Lanka." His contract hadn't been so lucrative that he wouldn't rather save his own skin than sell out his employers. Anyway, Alex already knew who they were; Yassen was just filling in the background.
"How often do they come?" Alex demanded unsteadily.
"Twice a week, normally."
"Those lying cheating cunts!" Alex screamed at him, finger wavering horribly on the trigger, "They lied to me!"
Yassen wanted to keep his mouth shut, but he just shook his head, "They're drug dealers and illegal diamond merchants," he said, his mouth apparently going it solo, "Did you expect them to be bastions of truth?"
Alex calmed as quickly as he'd blown up, and actually smiled, nearly giggling. Whatever MI6 had done to him before he'd cut and run, it had shattered his mind into tiny pieces. "I suppose not. Where do the shipments come in?"
Yassen explained what he knew of the set up, giving him what information he could and hoping to keep his limbs intact; Alex still hadn't removed the gun from its line on him, and the safety wasn't on. Once he finished speaking, Alex paused, then pulled the gun away and clicked the safety on. "Wonderful," he said sweetly, "You've been so helpful, Yassen, thank you." He bounded round to the side of the bed and pressed an enthusiastic kiss to his captive's lips. "Wonderful." he repeated firmly, and then Yassen felt the increasingly-familiar prick of a needle in his bicep, and the world went black again.
**
He came in the dark, with Alex sat at the desk. Several nondescript bags were sat at his feet, including the small black one Yassen had seen before. Alex's face was impassive and Yassen was too groggy and off-balance to understand what was really going on. Alex picked up a magazine from the side table and showed Yassen the bullets in it, before slotting it into his silver gun, and pointing it at Yassen. He refused to shut his eyes. If he was going to die lying on a bed, he wasn't going to whimper and cry before it. Death was such a simple thing, anyway...
Alex knelt on the bed next to him, the gun held to Yassen's temple; the safety was still on, but given how fast Alex had prepped his gun to fire before, that meant nothing. Something cold and metallic brushed against his bound hands - they were pasty white from the awkward position, but he could still move them so Alex had evidently been exercising them while he was out.
And then the wire cut through, relaxing some of the tension in Yassen's arms, releasing him, his wrists sore and swollen where he had cut through them. Alex threw himself backwards off the bed, keeping the gun trained on Yassen, and gestured at the door as Yassen crawled off the bed, the world spinning, suddenly vertical again.
"You have a very short time window to get out of here," Alex said, his voice calm and serious in a way it hadn't been when Yassen had been talking to him before. "So I'd get moving."
Yassen frowned, hazy and confused, then opened his mouth.
"Shut up and get out." Alex snapped firmly, and although Yassen wanted to argue, he didn't bother. He staggered to the door and fell out of it.
**
It took him a ridiculously long time to get to his rented flat in the middle of the city, his legs barely cooperating with him. He knew that passersby thought he was drunk, weaving his way through the streets, but he didn't care. Absently, he accepted copies of 'The London Paper' and 'The London Lite' as they were shoved at him, tucking them under his arm and feeling the weight of his keys in his jeans pockets.
He almost fell through the door of his flat, ridiculously grateful to be back - it was stupid, this feeling of being off-kilter and off-balance... but he couldn't shake it. Methodically, he showered and treated and bandaged his wrists, moving on auto pilot, before moving to the kitchen, still in a daze, heating some soup and making toast - something light to ease his stomach back into this sort of food after God only knew how long away.
He turned on the news, letting it fade into background noise, grabbing The London Lite and scanning the front page.
His eyes caught on the date - Wed. 27th June 2009 - and he shook his head. Had he been handed an old copy? Alex had implied, surely, that he'd been under for days and days, but the last thing he remembered was a quick hit on a man at the shipping yard in St. Catherine's who was trying to be obstructive. And that had been on the twenty fourth.
There was no way he had only been gone for three days. There was no way.
He tuned in on the news, waiting for them to give the time and date, then headed to his computer, waiting impatiently for it to turn on and checking the news sites, the sites of major newspapers - according to every site he visited, it was the twenty seventh today.
Alex had tricked him, keeping him off-balance and wary, constantly keeping him on the edge of certainty. Thinking he'd been drugged for so long had just - frightened him, more than he could say. And Alex, somehow, had played on it, just as he must have - played on everything Yassen knew of him.
His immediate reaction was to head for the base of headquarters for those he'd been working for, but he hung back. Yassen had a finely developed survival instinct, and he didn't know whether Alex had been joking about the explosion - not to mention, these men weren't likely to take kindly to a contract killer who'd grassed them out. Better to wait and do some covert investigation of his own - tomorrow, when he had some strength back.
Head whirling, Yassen checked and rechecked his locks, set his alarm system, and went to bed.
**
When he woke the next morning, it was a pleasure to be able to swing his legs over the side of the bed and get up; logically, he knew he'd only been there for three days, but it had felt longer, and the simple act of getting out of bed was one he wouldn't be taking for granted for a very long time.
He showered, dyed his hair temporarily brown, put in some hazel contacts he kept for this kind of thing, and dressed in a black leather jacket and jeans he wouldn't normally even consider being seen in. Simple, simple precautions, but if Alex had succeeded, the place would be in such uproar that no one would be looking for Yassen - and if Alex hadn't, it would get him close enough to see so, and time enough to get away. But he slipped a shoulder holster on just in case.
The covert dock in St. Catherines - no longer a real dock in normal circumstances, but people could be made to look away from anything if you pushed hard enough - was, as Yassen had thought it would be, in uproar, but it was an entirely different uproar than the one he had been expected, an ordered kind of chaos: men in black with guns, cases going out, men in white coats supervising things, and, over in one corner, two suits. One was a short dumpy woman with black hair cut in an unfortunate bob, and the other was a tall, slim blond man. They were turned away from him, but Yassen would have recognised that figure anywhere now.
For one moment, the world stood still with shock; Yassen had been played, by a boy seventeen years his junior. Every deranged giggle, every terrifying mood swing, he'd believed it all - Alex would have convinced the most hard-bitten, over-qualified psychatrist. And all this time...
Played, Yassen repeated bitterly to himself, by a child.
For a moment, a heavy, painful moment, he considered killing Alex, and then realised that he couldn't, even if he had really wanted to. No sentimental reasons, but Alex was surrounded by MI6 at the moment, and Yassen was too close and underprepared. He wouldn't risk it.
And he didn't want to kill Alex - not until he'd stopped wanting him like this. No, he didn't want to kill him, he wanted to get even.
And that would have to be much more creative than death.
**
Yassen waited very patiently for his chance to get back at Alex, staying in London, taking only small jobs and keeping a very close eye on his quarry. Alex was far too good to have routine of any kind - he came and went at random, shopping at different stores every week, buying different things everywhere... he didn't take the same bus at the same time, he could never be counted upon to be anywhere twice in a short space of time.
So a month into his vigil, Yassen finally took an opportunity where he could get it. Alex stumbled out of a club with some friends from school, seeming far more drunk than he was - Yassen had watched as he ordered drink after drink, spilling them or abandoning them by accident, drinking maybe one of the eight or nine he'd bought. But with his friends there, he wouldn't fight as much.
He slid up behind him, slipping an arm round Alex's waist and mouthing at his earlobe. "Hey babe," he said sweetly, "Did you miss me?"
He was almost disappointed as Alex's friends showed no visible surprise, but he hid it well, and then Alex turned in his arms, wrapped his own arms around Yassen's neck and kissed him, long and slow and hot, exploring Yassen's mouth with leisurely skill.
"That answer your question?" he purred back, rubbing himself against Yassen like a cat in heat. "Guys, sorry," he was almost slurring his words, "I'mna have to ditch you, I've got other things to be - doing." he gave them an embarrassingly obvious wink, and one of them, short and dark, laughed loudly.
"Alex, you're going to hate this memory in the morning. C'mon, guys, let's leave Alex to his fun."
Yassen let Alex watch as his friends filed away with him, and was about to say something when Alex turned back to him. "How do you want me?" he asked, low and sensual, and Yassen frowned, "In the alley, back at your place... back at mine? Where?"
He frowned, "Alex-"
"Mmm?" he leant forwards, mouthing at Yassen's neck, tonguing the pulse point.
"Stop it!" he frowned, "You know why I'm here."
"Mmm, I have an idea," he agreed, "But that's boring. I have much better ideas for what we could do... and you know how much you enjoyed it last time."
Yassen paused, then thought about it. It was speeding up his plans something shocking, but in a way that was good. Now he knew that Alex was firmly in his right mind, he could predict what he was doing to a certain extent. He was trying this to keep Yassen off balance, and so long as Yassen knew that, he wouldn't be too shocked by that.
"Alley," he said firmly, and guided Alex into the alley at the back of the club.
Alex turned his back to the wall, swaying closer to Yassen and smiling just as he had back in that room. Yassen, on good terms now with what had happened, smiled back. He twisted them round, leaning himself back against the wall before he yanked Alex closer.
“On your knees,” he purred into Alex’s ear before biting the lobe, hard, “And suck my cock.”
He reached round into the holster he had low on the left hand side of his back, whilst Alex slid to his knees in one fluid movement; Yassen pulled his gun out of the holster and placed it just behind Alex's ear. To anyone glancing at them, it would look like was just a man cupping the head of the person giving him a blowjob - but Alex paused momentarily at the cold, metallic touch, and Yassen smiled benignly down at him when he glanced up.
"I'd make it very, very good if I were you."
Alex licked his lips. "Not like I need the incentive" He purred, his own hands sliding around the back of Yassen's thighs, palms hot even through the denim.
Another line was coming, Yassen could tell - “I do everything well”, or something similar - and he didn’t want to hear it.
“Then get to it,” he said sharply, and Alex reached for his fly, pulling out his cock and stroking one finger up the underside before following the part of his finger with his tongue, teasing it to full hardness. Done, he took the first few inches of it into his mouth and sucked, glancing up at Yassen with a wicked, mischievous look in his eyes. Yassen let his head thump back against the bricks - it should have hurt, but all his nerves seemed to have stopped working except the ones in his cock. But he never relaxed the hold or position of his gun. A dangerous opponent had a very sensitive part of him in his mouth - letting his guard down too much was not an option.
Alex seemed to be doing his best to make him, though, pulling back until just the head was in his mouth and letting his teeth graze the sensitive nerves just under it - very gently - following that suggestively dangerous pressure with is tongue. He soothed away any pain with broad, loving licks, sliding down the shaft a little way and working his tongue against the underside. It was better than Yassen had thought to expect, even from Alex’s last time with him, slicking up Yassen’s cock with his tongue.
To his shock, Alex didn’t stop when the head of Yassen’s cock hit the back of his throat, but continued to swallow down, bobbing his head, lips tight around the base, before pulling back and repeating the process - slowly down to the base, lots of tongue, long, slow suck, back up again, special attention to the head. Even the repetition was marvellous, and Yassen could feel pressure building low in his belly, feel himself about to crest the wave, and abruptly put his other hand down, yanking Alex off by his hair and holding him in place. He jerked sharply on his cock, just twice, and came on Alex’s face with a certain sense of triumph. Instead of wiping it off, he rubbed a finger through it, smearing it and rubbing it in, fascinated by the play of it across Alex’s face.
“An unusual moisturiser,” Alex murmured, and the moment broke. Yassen, tidying himself up, growled and yanked Alex up, twisting them round and slamming Alex against the wall. He shoved the gun against Alex’s side and snapped the other man’s trousers open, fisting Alex’s cock - already hard - in grim silence, uncaring as to whether or not he hurt him, movements vicious and precise. It took hardly any time at all for Alex to shudder, coming all over Yassen’s hand, letting his head fall forward onto Yassen’s shoulder. He shrugged him off and took advantage of Alex’s one unguarded moment to manoeuvre himself into a position in which he was pinning Alex to the wall with his own body - then he reached into his back pocket with his free hand and uncapped the syringe.
“I’m so sorry,” he said insincerely and stabbed the syringe into Alex’s arm as he kissed him savagely.
He smiled as Alex’s eyes glazed with the drug - a very specific chemical which would keep Alex awake but very subdued, on this dosage at least. Any passerby would see a man helping his drunken friend back home. There would be no trouble.
And there wasn’t - a few looks, some disapproving glances, but nothing too much. Yassen manoeuvred Alex up the stairs to his flat and laid him on the bed; he couldn’t be quite as thorough, but then he didn’t want to be. Eventually, he wanted Alex to escape - he wanted Alex to be wondering, for the rest of his life, what Yassen would have done to him if he hadn’t managed to get away.
He tied him to the bed, in an echo of the position Alex had put him in, with thin black cord, tight around his wrists, and knotted and knotted again to the headboard. Then he stripped him completely, cutting his shirt off him - Alex would have to take something of Yassen’s with him when he escaped that way, and Yassen liked that idea - and leaving his trousers and shoes on the floor.
That accomplished, he retrieved the lube and toy he’d bought earlier and headed back to Alex’s side, stroking a hand down one pale, muscled thigh before cupping the back of one knee and gently spreading those long legs apart.
“Hmm, very nice,” he murmured, running one slick finger over Alex’s hole, glancing at his face. The best part of this was having Alex aware and totally unable to fight back.
Instead of the drugged horror he’d been expecting - hoping? - to see in Alex’s eyes, contrary to all Alex’s earlier bravado, there was only a hazy, lazy sort of enjoyment, and Yassen abruptly looked away, stabbing his finger into Alex sharply, almost hoping to hurt him. Alex just sighed, sounding almost blissful. Surely he was too drugged to be playing him now? Maybe this kind of rough play was what Alex enjoyed?
Yassen shook those thoughts off and stuck to the plan, preparing Alex sloppily before shoving the dildo in. Then he dragged himself up Alex, letting the coarse slide of his denim rub against Alex’s cock and relishing in the huff Alex managed at that, and kissed him hard. Alex was too drugged to respond properly, a fact Yassen took full advantage, before he pulled back, murmuring mockingly,
“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”
Another dose of the drug sent Alex straight out.
He jerked Alex off again, very clinically, and left the result on Alex’s stomach. In an hour or so - after he’d eaten and decided on his plan of action - he’d come back and do it again, possibly using the dildo again. He wanted Alex to wake up wondering what had been done to him, just as Yassen had. Reason told him that Alex couldn’t have done all that much to him in three days, but Yassen didn’t know, and he was going to make Alex pay for his uncertainty.
He killed a couple of hours - he’d never needed much sleep - finalising his plans and listening to the news in Japanese to keep his hand in. Tokyo might be nice this time of year. Maybe once this personal business here was complete, he’d go there.
But now, it was time for part two of his plan.
**
Alex was, as he’d known he would be, still unconscious when Yassen reappeared in the doorway of his bedroom. He took a moment just to look at Alex, long and lithe and gorgeous... then he sat on the bed and spread the other man’s legs again, grasping the dido and beginning to pump it in and out of thee boy, angling it carefully until it was hitting exactly the right spot. He thrust deliberately roughly - Alex was going to feel this when he came round - and then pulled the boy to completion, once again leaving Alex’s own release drying on his stomach.
Alex was breathing heavily, still far from awake, flushed with an arousal he would never remember, and Yassen stared at him for a few moments again. Dammit, he wanted him horribly badly, still. Alex’s deviousness, his mindfuckery, just added to the frisson. Yassen couldn’t even be put off by the way he’d been so totally out of control when Alex had fucked him the first time, and the way Alex had played him just impressed him. Try as he might, he couldn’t tamp down the feeling of want in his stomach.
And now he had him.
Absently he reached down and palmed himself through his jeans. Why not? Alex’s tricks of a month ago had been the first time for a while - Yassen was far too careful to let his urges rule him, and he lived a mostly celibate life. This was the first time he had burnt like this since he was a teenager.
And really, why not? Why not indulge himself this time?
He pulled himself out of his jeans and covered his hand with some of the lube he had used to slick Alex open - then he slid his hand up and down, just once, revelling in the feel of it, repeating it again very slowly. The heat of it was intoxicating, and he closed his fist tightly around the top, maintaining that tightness all the way down to the base, where he twisted his hand very slowly. Glancing at Alex - unconscious, covered with come, his legs spread wide and his hole stretched by a large black dildo - had him pumping has hand faster, his hips jerking once involuntarily. When he came, he wiped his hand clean on Alex’s chest.
**
Yassen woke a couple of hours later to the sound of moaning; and though for a moment he was a little worried, it was dispelled the moment he looked over at Alex.
His eyes were slitted with pleasure, his cock hard and ready against his stomach, and he was moving his hips desperately against the mattress, trying to fuck himself with the dildo. Yassen’s mouth went dry, and he stilled Alex’s hips firmly.
“What do you want, Alex?” he asked, kindly.
What do you think?” Alex panted, a little of his amazing control slipping.
“I really couldn’t say,” Yassen said, “You’d have to ask - very, very nicely.”
Alex’s eyes shot to his and he moaned, without a hint of theatricality, as Yassen traced the large vein in his cock with on finger. “I want to come,” he gasped.
“Ask nicely.”
“Please,” Alex said, apparently beyond shame, though it was possible that he simply realised that refusing would draw out Yassen’s pleasure when he finally did give in, “Please let me come.”
He pinched his fingers at the base of Alex’s cock, and Alex keened high in the back of his throat, arching up unashamedly. “The only way you come is if I do,” Yassen told him sweetly. “I’m open to suggestions."
**
There! Only a lot more sex bit more to go!