Yassen had been dead for ten months when Jack died. Sorry, when Jack was murdered. Alex died himself inside. He was a zombie, a walking corpse, cold, numb, broken. He was promised a new start, a proper family life, but California was too bright and too happy. Too many smiles, too many parties, too many happy happy successful people. Edward and Liz tried to help Alex but he slid into his emotionless shell. Alex dressed like a hobo, didn't wash, didn't interact at school and stopped eating. He disappeared for days at a time. Edward was at his wits end when he talked to the school psychologist. Alex didn't even connect with Sabina. Alex reluctantly agreed to see a psychiatrist, who diagnosed PTSD, depression and anorexia. After a violent incident at school, Alex was committed for his own safety.
Alex's world became a drugged haze. He treated the hospital like any other imprisonment he's endured. He was sarcastic and spent most of his time provoking the staff. His sixteenth birthday passed in the secure unit. In the end the fact he'd been kidnapped didn't register until he woke up groggy in a strange bed.
The Interpol Alert went out within hours of Alex disappearing. The CIA, FBI and MI6 had no leads. Toxic gas had rendered everyone on the secure unit unconscious. The security systems had been wiped. No forensic evidence. No hits were reported on any border crossing, ports or airports. Alex Rider had disappeared into thin air. Analysts stated the boy was either dead or as good as. An unknown Scorpia operative or cell was the top suspect.
Alex shifted in a large, comfortable bed and a voice from his dreams spoke "Good Afternoon, Little One."
Alex was fully awake in an instant and stared at the blond haired, blue eyed, good-looking assassin whom he had first met nearly two years previously and who had died over a eighteen months ago. Either Alex was dead or he'd finally snapped. "Yassen?"
"Its Gregori, my little one." Alex saw the familiar strange half knowing smile on Yassen's face. So, Yassen was now known as Gregori. He'd faked his own death.
Alex slipped into russian. "You're alive. I saw you die"
"I could say the same for you. Was that hospital not a living death?" Yassen's intense gaze looked through Alex. "You are now clean of all the drugs they pumped into you. Those fools did not realise you needed connections to life not separation. Did you not sleep with the beautiful Miss Pleasure?"
"No. I'm still a virgin."
"Oh little one, Sabina was not to your tastes."
"No."
A curtain was drawn open and the dark room was filled with bright light. "Welcome to my home, Sashenka. I live a life of luxury now." Alex was puzzled by the nickname, but he supposed he too was someone else now.
Alex did not know where he was, all that mattered was that Yassen had come for him from his self imposed exile.
Yassen fed the too thin teenager who had become skeletal since they had last met almost twenty months before.
"Did the Pleasures not feed you?"
"I kinda moved out. Fended for myself. They didn't understand me." Alex then explained more. "When I spurned Sabina's advances, Edward thought I'd been raped. They forced me to see a shrink. How do you tell a shrink about a year where you were used and abused by your own government? Blackmailed into doing their dirty work. Killing people. Being tortured. Left for dead. My silence really wound everyone up."
"And not eating?" inquired the russian.
"I just didn't feel like it. I was hungry. I just wanted my home back. I liked Jack's bad cooking." Alex smiled sadly as he thought of his sister and her cooky quirky ways. "She only did uncooked things well. She made truly excellent sushi. Great sandwiches and salads. Her gazpacho was to die for. As was her tapas." Alex sat up and wrapped his arms around himself. Talking to Yassen was easy. Yassen understood that MI6 had fucked him up. Ian and Blunt were the reason he was a nutcase. "I had a fucked up upbringing. Did you know I taught myself to cook when I was 6. Ian forgot to come home for five days when we lived in Paris. Our housekeeper was away. Marie arrived back to me stood on a stool by the stove heating up tinned soup. She took me to social services. Ian did something because Maria ended up being arrested. Four months later he did the same thing in Barcelona, left me to fend for myself. Then Jack moved in. I loved her completely. We were like super weird siblings." Alex then let himself cry for his lost family. Yassen held him as the grief that had been bottled up for months broke as a wave of pure anguish. Alex wept until he was exhausted. Alex woke to Yassen sleeping next to him.
They ate cold soup for breakfast. Borscht made by Yassen. It was delicious. The next few days Alex spent in bed talking to Yassen and eating Yassen's strange cooking. Alex had never eaten russian food before. Alex told Yassen about normal life, about school, Life with Jack and his best friend Tom.
"What about Tom? Is he still in London?"
"He escaped to live with his elder brother in Italy. His parents thought London was too dangerous after the shooting incident at Brooklands. I get the occasional email, thats it. Now I'm no longer a spy, just a fucked up teenager, I'm not so interesting anymore."
Alex finally talked of Raszim and Julius and his last mission in Egypt. Blunt blackmailing him and Jack and then them falling for Scorpia's plan. The whole kidnapping, torture, Jack's murder and how Alex had finally killed. Alex discussed his fears of morphing into Julius, like in his nightmares.
Yassen told Alex of his own escape. His "corpse" had disappeared on the way to the morgue as the russian enacted his plan. Damian Cray was always going to be his last job. Yassen was sick of being at the beck and call of madmen under the thrawl of Scorpia. He had spent his own convalesce here on Cuba during the previous year.
Alex states, after a long silence, he thinks he has agoraphobia. He has not moved from the bedroom and ensuite for ten days. Yassen just smiles and says "When your ill you tend to stay in bed."
Alex felt better than he had all year, "Have I been ill?"
"Yes Sashenka, you have a broken heart. You grieve for all you have lost, your innocence, your love, your family and your life. Take all the time you need to heal. If you want to stay in here" Yassen shrugged "Its fine, but I have a terrace and pool. Beyond the gate is white sand and the warm sea."
Alex hasn't asked where here is. It immaterial. He hears the birds outside, the wind and sea. He has seen the garden and palm trees. Yassen lives in paradise.
Alex is carried onto the terrace by Yassen. A light blanket around his thin legs. "A doctor is coming to give you a physical. He can be trusted, he is my physician after all. Ok Sashenka?"
"Yes, Gregori." Alex's grasp of Russian was improving and his accent was modeled on Yassen's quiet modulations. Alex spoke like a true Muscovite.
Alex was quiet as the doctor examined, weighted, and measured him. The doctor spoke with Senor Gregori and Alex listened. He was underweight, in need of a good diet, sunshine and exercise to stimulate his appetite and growth. Alex read his identity papers, which stated he was Aleksandr Mikhailovich Lutkin born Odessa raised in Moscow. Come to live with his guardian, Gregori Artemovich Ivanov after a shooting accident. Yassen was going to homeschool him. He was too frail for an academy on the main island.
Yassen's little hideaway was a small enclave of russian ex-patriots on a small island off Cuba's north coast. Alex and Yassen continued to do everything together. Alex's nightmares started to abate after the first month. Then Alex's hormones resurfaced. Alex was mortified after his first wet dream in nearly a year. Alex ran from the bed to clean himself up. Yassen did not make a fuss, he just changed the bed linen.
After Alex avoided Yassen for hours, the older man confronted the teenager. "What did you dream about this morning?"
Alex looked at his feet embarrassed and bit his nails, not answering Yassen.
"Was it Sabina?"
Alex shook his head
"Tom?"
Alex again shook his head and in a quiet but clear voice stated. "I dreamt you were touching me." Alex was afraid of both rejection and acceptance of his growing attraction and feelings.
"What do you want Sashenka?"
Alex did not answer with words, but he leaned up and kissed Yassen. Soft the barest touch of lips. Yassen then grabbed hold of Alex's face and deepened the kiss. "You are mine now, Sashenka."
Yassen led Alex to the bed and asked "Do you require explanations of sex or just demonstrations."
"I've always applied myself better with practical demonstrations." explained Alex, remembering the cripplingly embarrassing talk he had had from Ian at the age of 10.
The two both stripped off their clothes. Alex and Yassen were both comfortable in their skin and both had no problem with nudity. Yassen drank in the sight of Alex and requested the young man "Tease yourself, I want to see you masturbate."
Alex knelt on knees on the bed and stroked himself hard, playing with his balls. "Now, touch me, Sashenka." commanded the ex-assassin.
Yassens cock was already half hard. Big, thick and beautiful like the rest of Yassen, Heavy balls soft as silk. It was strange touching someone else. Alex lifted his hand to his mouth and tasted Yassen's precome and Yassen groaned at the sight, talking both their cocks in his hands Yassen started to jerk them both off. Delicious friction. Hard hot cocks in the russians rough hands. Alex came. Yassen had not. Alex even in the aftershocks of his orgasm, took hold of Yassen and brought him to completion watching as his face relaxed, no longer the emotionless man of stone.
"Thank you for finding me Gregori." Alex whispered as he lay on the bed.
"My pleasure, Sashenka."
Alex, the next day learned about blow jobs. He had much fun wearing out Yassen with his practice sessions. Alex loved the taste of Yassen. Alex wanted to be able to deep throat Yassen's huge dick before he fully gave himself to the older man.
In the end it took several days practice for Alex to perfect his technique. The maid walked in on Alex knelt before Senor Gregori. Just as Yassen came down Alex's throat.
A tired policeman called the next day. Alex supposed he still did look underage. The stress of the assassination attempt had meant he looked like a thin and lanky fourteen year old still, not his actual age of 16. He did not even shave yet. The policeman looked over the papers Senor Gregori Ivanov produced. Alexei Lutkin was seventeen, born in Odessa, raised in Moscow. Orphaned son of Gregori's old Army buddy, Misha Lutkin. Alexei's residency papers were signed by the Director of the Interior himself. The Policemen suspected the boy was underage but what could he do, the paper work was perfect.
"So is homosexuality illegal in Cuba?" Alex stated after the policeman had left.
"No. Don't worry we are perfectly safe here." Yassen reassured Alex.
That night Yassen prepared for Alex to loose his virginity. A massage, an enema, a shower and Alex lay in the bed, apprehensive of the task at hand. "Relax. You must relax. First I will prepare you with my tongue and fingers."
"Tongue?" Alex was still unsure of anal intercourse.
"Yes Sashenka lie on your stomach and I will fuck your beautiful hole with my tongue"
Alex was not convinced this was going to be pleasurable for the one on the receiving end. Yassen was huge, it was bound to hurt a lot. The ghosting of Yassen's breath on his arse was a complete turn on. Kisses and caresses of his bottom followed by Yassen parting his cheeks and licking along the crease. The tongue then prodded, licked, sucked and kissed. Alex gripped the pillow and groaned. It was so sensuous. Alex was completely boneless when Yassen started to stretch him with his fingers. Alex was on his knees held up by Yassen when Yassen started to fuck him. His long cock slowly entering him. It still burned and was uncomfortably full by the time Yassen had fully breached him. Alex was no longer a virgin. It was slow and gentle, then Yassen shifted position slightly and Alex jumped and yelped. "Oh christ! Do that again!" and Yassen did. "Oh God, fuck me harder!" Alex breathed. Yassen's long strokes hit that spot again and again, then the older man reached around and started to stroke Alex. Three strokes and he was coming and so did Yassen.
Alex woke to Yassen cleaning him up. "I love you, Gregori."
"And I you Little one."