They had returned home after a rather tense meal. Niall a mix of upset over their tiff and worried about his lover's erratic outburst.
Alex was the first to clear the air. "I'm sorry… I need to be honest. I can't allow the lies to creep back. I do that then I start erecting masks again and it becomes a vicious circle and before you know it I'm back in the game of shadows and lies. No, you need to be a good dom about this. You should have kissed me or used our safe word." The dancer was tense, his muscles rigid. "I need correction… I've been pushing your buttons… I love you but I'm edging into mania again."
The man mused on all that had been said. Dom was the wrong word. He might top, might instruct and apply correction, but it was his forthright and wonderful lover who called the shots, whether for vanilla sex or role play. They only ever crossed from lovers to playtime at his sub's insistence. The two were separated as the attic was only used for BDSM. "Get upstairs, the attic, not our bedroom. Be kneeling, naked for when I get up there. No preparation, no getting anything ready. Do not touch yourself. I'm calling all the shots tonight. The only word you can speak is your safe word if you need time out." He had never spoken of this to his niece and he often wondered if she knew he was into the scene before she played matchmaker. Probably from his nonplussed reaction to her confession at working in that sort of club at 18 with Sasha. He had always carefully chosen his previous partners; away from any established clubs or meeting places, too afraid of being outed when still in the Army. Sasha was perfection in his eyes, difficult, needed careful handling, but nothing worth having was easy. He then went to the bedroom to change clothes. Tonight was not about rest or sex or violence. It was about trust, love and caring. The attic, part office, but the desk used for play as well. Only the most observant would guess from its height, the fact it was fixed to the floor and decorated with metal rings in odd places. The armoire was locked and contained not important documents but items for play.
Tonight, he'd keep it simple to moderate correction, possibly bondage for control and then lots of aftercare once Sasha got balance in his zone.
….
No promises, no plans, no marriage, he'd wanted all that in the past, twice before. No, with his sergeant, it just was them together, one day at a time. Sasha held onto his lover's wrist when he moved to get up at five, no need for an alarm as years of waking early had conditioned him to rise early and get on with things.
Still sleepy after only a couple of hours sleep, Sasha wanted comfort. "Come back to bed after your ablutions. I need you… I want your morning wood buried to the hilt in my arse. I feel like riding you like a horse for hours. Karen can cover the early shift today. I'll text her and then we can get on with more important things. She's the manager downstairs now anyway, she needs to cover deliveries."
"No, I'll text her. I'll let her know whats expected, you don't deal with the morning rush. There's two special orders this morning, I just need to let her know the specifics." said the tall grey haired barista.
Karen lived two streets away, the former city broker had decided to turn on, tune in and drop out; just from the city not as an entrepreneur. She had bought the lease on the coffee shop and was learning all about sourcing, supply and getting the best for your customers as a trainee barista, helped by Niall and Sasha. The cash-rich young capitalist had smelled the possibility of long term moola, maybe even expansion into a chain, one offering a real coffee experience. Sasha was on the lookout for his next property to do up and sell on. Niall waited until after his much needed visit to the john. "Hi, Karen. The shops all yours this morning, if you have any problems we're only a phone call away. The delivery list is on the notice board. Two pre-orders are all listed. Sasha needs a bit of TLC today… yeah, it was a bit of a heavy visit….. No, I think everyone gets he needs time to get everything together still. I may suggest we both go back to New York for a bit.…See you about 10ish, Remember Don't panic. "
As the lovely late spring morning sun moved to its zenith, Alex lay in bed, his fingers playing with the plug in his anus, enjoying the small jolts of pleasure as it brushed his prostate. Therapy by sensory overload was perfection. Nothing but the best feeling in the world, pleasure and lingering aches from true bliss. On the bedside table, his phone alert buzzed not one but three times, which meant it was Pytor signalling him that he really wanted to talk. He clicked onto FaceTime to see the Vladimir's eldest son with really bad bedhead and only lit by his bedside lamp.
"Whatsup?" Alex said smiling at the fact it was obvious he was naked in bed.
"Shit, are you still in bed? You never sleep in? Sasha, I need advice. I still go to dancing lessons and class every week… I put in for the Julliard Summer School and well I got turned down. I got a place at their summer camp and Dad says he can get me a sponsor no problem, but it's like over seven grand in fees and with the flight, too much. I wanted to be good enough that they'd take me no questions and fees paid. Was it like this for you? I'm caught between thinking are they were just pandering to the name.. the legacy and not seeing me or am I just moderately OK and they are damning me with faint praise?"
"So, you want to dance professionally" Sasha queried, as the application would have gone in last December.
"You have shown me that dance can be more than just stagecraft, it is art in itself. The purity of your own form as the medium. Art school, maybe film school is a possibility but your stuff with Dave Meadows that is just on the edge."
"Want me to talk to Dave about an apprenticeship this summer? Or do you want to train and perform with me and Genevieve. I have to warn you she is one hell of a partner and teacher. I will pay for class with her, no problem. I'm also happy to pay for your airfare either here or to Geneva. Give me a couple of weeks and I can pay for camp. You need to do this properly to get in at the right level. I have to say the only thing that's held me back was not having exams and missing the move from corps to soloist in a company. You say you don't want to do that route, but it's a rite of passage. You have options and you can always try for the Summer School at Julliard again next summer or try for the Royal Ballet School summer school. If you really want to freak your dad out send your application for the senior placement in Perm, Moscow or St. Petersburg. I can talk to Grennady for you or Graeme. Lots of options"
The teenager hugged his knees on his bed three thousand miles away and pondered his rejection and other doors still open. "I think going guerrilla with you and Dave is my best option, but mom and dad will veto it. I'm still a fifteen year old kid. You, you had lived a lot more at 15."
"Do not use anything I did before 16 as an example of how to live your life. Are you drinking? Taking drugs? By that I mean charlie or horse, cause a few joints, speed or ecstasy is not major in my book. Have you fucked half of Bogata? I mean I know I am a good example of being lucky to the extreme. I survived … but am I sane, settled or thriving. I'm still running, Petrushka. Constantly moving, I'm lucky to have a guy that wants to keep moving with me." Alex exhaled "Talk to Luci… and Vladimir. Your dad is the best sounding board in the world. He was happy for me to move in with Manfred after I talked it through with him. You have three years until big decisions over college, work and moving out are reality. I'll butter Dave up. I'm at his studio this afternoon. Can you send through any art work you've done or any ideas for concepts? You post videos, send him the links. He might point you to someone working in New York. No decisions until I do a background check though. Plenty of creeps out there. Best to stay safe. I'll speak to you later."
"Thanks Sasha, I've been really down about it. You always have great ideas. Later, bro." Pyotr then lay down to sleep.
…..
Ten days later, Pyotr was shaken awake at 4:30 by the gruff tones of Bernard Niall Cooper. "Rise and Shine, Petrushka. Get up, get breakfast as our lift is here in 20 minutes. Your kit better be packed. Do not forget your passport."
The fifteen year old grunted and wished for another seven or eight hours in bed.
"You can sleep all the way to Paris after we get on the train at St. Pancras." As the retired sergeant pulled off the duvet and left to go downstairs to triple check stock and deliveries before their trip.
The young dancer pulled on jeans, t-shirt, socks and sneakers and joined his mentor/teacher and unofficial brother in the kitchen.
"Egg and bacon butty with ketchup is the breakfast of the day. Orange juice is poured for you. Niall with be here in five minutes to take the bags down and Genevieve has texted that her lot will meet us on the train."
"Why the train? Surely flying's faster." All said by Pyotr with a mouthful of sandwich.
"Factor in travel & security, the Eurostar is the fastest way to the centre of Paris. We will be there for our 11am class. 2pm for our rehearsal and 6pm for our shoot at the Lourve. Niall is our security and gofer. Dave is already there and has organised the permits and the TV crew. You have Louis, Dan and Suki to keep you entertained. So, its four teenagers for the weekend not just you stuck with the boring oldsters."
…
On the answerphone in New York, the irate and upset voice of the cuckoo spoke with clearly annunciated diction, "Vladimir… Luci… pick up … its an emergency…. I will keep ringing until you answer….."
Vladimir snatched the phone on the bedside table and almost screamed "How is Pytor? What has happened?"
"Your son is fine. Boris is dying… he's asking for me, so I need to go to Moscow. I have an embassy official here. Do … Can I take Pytor with me? I will be there until the funeral and yes its a certainty, he has gone into renal failure and he is old. I can put Petrushka on a plane home today on a direct flight, Paul has a jet available for me to go east. For some reason the Russian's won't give Niall a visa. I think he did something spooky back in the day and is on a blacklist."
"You are rambling, Cuckoo. I take it you will be staying with your friend Dimitry?"
"No, Alia has already texted me that we can crash at her place. I can't stay with Dima. He's not cool with me being me. He's also being very judgemental thinking Niall is just another abusing bastard. I come out as gay and half my friends think I'm just crazy." Alex knew he was making his mouth go because he was nervous. "I know you don't want Petrushka to go to Russia. There's seats on the Air France flight Paris Charles de Gaulle to JFK at 7. Its your call, Niall can take him to the airport and then the airline will chaperone him."
"Put Pyotr on the phone."
"Hi, Tough guy, I need you to look after Sasha for me and your mom. You know he talks big but he needs family and at the moment that is you. Watch him for all the warning signs that were discussed in our family sessions. You can call me or mom at any time. I will text you Director Titov's number in case of any emergencies. You have Paul Roscoe's email, trust him. Do not trust Dimitry Ivanov or any of Boris Kiriyenko's friends; although that old bastard's daughters are OK. They are both outspoken political activists for freedom of speech and democracy. Look after yourself, enjoy Moscow. Remember, you are too young to drink vodka no matter what anyone says."
The fifteen year old looked pensive as he switched off the phone, knowing his father was asking and trusting his son to walk in his shoes. "So, where are we meeting Paul?"
…..
Pyotr was sat on the business jet listening in to Sasha talk to his old friend Paul Roscoe on the way to Moscow. His carefully structured plan for four weeks of work experience had gone out of the window during the second day they were in Paris with the artist Dave Meadows. The evening performance had gone without a hitch and the artist had asked the fifteen year old to post his edit by 9 tonight. He was meant to be working, but he kept hearing snippets of things the cuckoo kept secret. The teenager knew he had gone to boarding school in France, but they were talking about clones, assassinations and kidnappings.
"Remind me never to get on your bad side, Paul. You are one paranoid mother fucker. All completely justifiable, like myself. Grief fucked you, me and Dima completely. Julius … I can still look in the mirror and see him grinning back at me. You and Dieter have the tightest security on the planet and well, Dima works for Russian Federal Security on the fast track to being President one day. I'm still in no-man's land, so to speak. Niall's back up plan is hilarious. I'm not telling you but he seems to be the most pleasant, capable person to all, but is a sneakily and outrageously dangerous man who was completely delighted with my rainy day supplies and very liquid and non-traceable funds. I have safehouses and supplies stashed if I need to make a run for it. He plans to join me. I gave you the low down on moving and living outside the system. Fuck it, Paul, you own a least two islands and can afford your own army, navy, airforce and spies. Sorry, you already have your spy network. We're going to have to talk about the weather as Pyotr has switched off his iPod and is listening in."
Paul shrugged "He will know all this already if he paid any attention to you. You disappeared last year and only that bastard Byrne knew where you might be. You were not even trying to disappear. You went to Lola to become human again. She told you to stick with Maria and Vladimir in 2003. She also told you to trust your heart. So, you and your sergeant… thank god, you'll stop trying to get into my pants."
"Threesome? Niall can spank you while you fuck me. Interested?"
"Not a suitable topic with a child present."
Alex barked out a laugh "Fifteen, just think what we were doing at that age. You were spying on your mother and had got a full dossier together for your planned liberation. All while at boarding school with James, Nicolas and Cassian in Switzerland. I mean using that prenuptual agreement to cut her out of all influence from both you and Roscoe Industries was masterful. The lawyer was only there for show."
Paul lifted his glass of water to toast his companion "You stopped saving the world at fifteen, Alex. You disappeared without a backward glance. That was the reason I divorced my bitch of a mother. You spoke to James after Jack died. I begged that woman to get you into therapy, for us all to go to school together in Geneva. You could have healed there. She called you a delusional liar when I spoke of how you escaping down that mountain, fought with the SAS to free me and took out that helicopter with a jet ski. I think she still preferred Napoleon to me. Fucking bitch. It will be a cold day in hell before I have anything to do with her again. She accused me of being besotted with you. It reminds me of the hard truth of my life. I loved my father, despite our differences. She killed him as much as Grief did."
The billionaire looked at his watch, "landing in 30 minutes. There will be a helicopter waiting for you. I'll be only five hours late to Mumbai. Do not get angry at Boris. He has to accept you as you are. He knows you're gay. Don't bullshit about being bi, you only sleep with women who don't procreate and only then to play the game of being the Alex people want you to be."
