Fandom: Alex Rider books by Anthony Horowitz
Word Count: 850 words approx
Summary: Alex has a favourite memory of Yassen. No spoilers.
A/N: Set when Alex is nineteen, looking back to an occasion when he was sixteen. In other words, legal.
Alex woke hot in his bed, covers tangled round his feet. In his dream, he’d been angry again, exhausted yet running as if his life depended on it. He lay still for a moment, trying to hold onto the images of what he’d been running from.
Yassen Gregorovich. No surname, just name and patronymic. The mysterious half-known stranger still haunting his dreams after three long years.
Never moving, never smiling, his pale face expressionless, he stood silently in Alex’s dreams every night.
~ ~ ~
Around them, the dust settled. The last of Yassen’s hired thugs was dismissed with a glance and he hurried out of the room, heading for the stairs. After his footsteps receded, the shrieks from the room below faded and fell silent, and finally Alex felt able to ask the question he’d been rehearsing for so long. The answer was much as he had feared.
“I do not fuck little boys.” A faint tightening of the mouth. “Much as they might deserve it.”
Alex moved closer, looking from Yassen’s face to his crotch and back again.
“But you want to, don’t you? I’ve seen you looking at me, and you like what you see.”
With all the confidence of a sixteen-year-old who has so far succeeded at everything of importance he has attempted, Alex struck a pose and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He took another step forward, speaking quietly but clearly.
“Would you like to see more, Yassen? Would you like to - touch me?”
Yassen didn’t move a muscle as Alex ran his fingers lightly over his own nipples, moaning theatrically at the touch. He stared Yassen straight in the eye and moved his hand provocatively over his growing erection, still convinced that once Yassen saw he was serious he would give in and accept what Alex was offering.
Instead Yassen watched impassively as Alex, high on nerves and adrenaline, drew down his zip slowly and took hold of his cock with a sharp sigh and a shudder. He was determined to see this through and besides, he was already too far gone to stop. Yassen still showed no overt interest, focussing on Alex’s face as he stroked himself.
The cold gaze burning into Alex’s eyes was somehow more of a turn-on than anything he had ever known. He tightened his fist around himself and moved faster, his entire consciousness focussed on those eyes as he acted out his desperate need for - something.
Too young yet to have learned the virtues of holding back, and finally living the fantasy he had entertained since the day he first saw this man, Alex didn’t last long.
“Jesus… I… I…oh Christ…Yassen, please!” Alex came, spurting over his hand in triumph and humiliation. Yassen was still watching him without expression as Alex dug out some tissues to mop himself up and dropped them defiantly on the floor at Yassen’s feet.
“That’s the first time I’ve ever done that with someone else in the room. You’re my first, Yassen, whether you like it or not.”
“And I will be your last, Alex Rider, unless you remember your mission and leave now. You are not safe here. Go.”
Alex met the steely blue eyes one last time before choking back his feelings and remembering his instructions. He nodded curtly and did up his trousers over the remains of the sticky mess then turned on his heel and walked out of the abandoned factory.
The calm voice followed him down the steps.
“Come back when you’re grown up, little Alex, and we’ll see then if you have anything to interest me.”
Alex still wasn’t entirely sure whether he’d meant his skills as a spy or something more personal.
But Yassen had indeed been his last; MI6 had kept him so busy in the intervening years that he had had no time for relationships. Alex had fallen into a pattern of dreaming about Yassen, wondering where he was and what – or who - he was doing.
Part of him knew Yassen wouldn’t really be interested in an untried boy, but the part of his mind that kept him going when things looked bad wasn’t listening to dull reason. Instead he enjoyed his memories of their last encounter, each time feeling the Russian’s eyes caressing him in a way that, strictly, hadn’t happened. It had been too long now to keep reliving the shame.
“Oh please… right there, that’s so good… oh god…Yassen!” Alex would come in a breathless rush, falling down the other side and tumbling back into sleep.
And every morning he would wake alone in brief hope and lingering disappointment.
Now Alex swung himself out of bed, moving automatically into his morning stretches while he watched the early news.
By the time he’d finished his toast and coffee there were still two hours to go before he needed to leave for his meeting with Blunt.
Plenty of time for a shower, and while he was in there perhaps he’d do another re-enactment of the scene in the factory.
Who knew, perhaps this time Yassen would smile.
~ ~ ~