Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/72234.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Alex_Rider_-_Horowitz
  Relationship:
      Yassen_Gregorovich/Alex_Rider
  Character:
      Alex_Rider, Yassen_Gregorovich
  Additional Tags:
      100-1000_Words, Slash, Dubious_Consent, Dark, New_Year's_Eve, Community:
      flash_rider, Coercion
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-03-19 Words: 732
****** Interrogation ******
by loony_lucifer_(LoonyLucifer)
Summary
     It's new year's eve, and Alex spills secrets.
Notes
     This fic comes with an illustration. Same warnings apply. (NC-17.
     Explicit Nudity. Underage. NSFW.)
     View_here.
-
Alex could hear the clock ticking. It was almost as loud as his unsteady
breath.
"Don't you have anything else for me, Alex?" Hot air tickled against his ear,
running down his bare skin, seeping into his spine and sending his body into a
head to toe shiver. Goosebumps that had descended only minutes ago rose again,
and Alex gasped as the hand on his bare thigh tightened its hold and the one
around his cock eased its pressure.
He had to think. He wanted to think. He had to have control over himself. There
had to be a way out of this, he told himself for the hundredth time that night.
The only problem was that he didn't want a way out of this, and with every word
that spilled from his lips, that was becoming increasingly apparent.
"Mrs. Jones." Breath. "Mrs. Jones lives in an apartment in Clerkenwell.
There's-" The hand began to move again, ever so slowly. "There's a wall of
bulletproof glass dividing it down the middle of the living room, almost
unnoticeable if you're not looking for it," Alex gasped out quietly.
Behind him, Yassen Gregorovich hummed in response, right into his ear. Once
again, Alex shivered. The assassin's hand didn't stop.
"She…." Alex began again, still soft as ever, "She keeps a bowl of peppermints
on her desk. I think she's the only one who eats them. Ahh--" Pressure.
Friction. Right there.
Alex's back was pressed into Yassen's front, and though his legs and arms were
bound, he was essentially sitting on the man's lap. Since this began, he'd felt
the man harden beneath him. The only barrier between them were Yassen's dark
pants, and every once in a while Alex would squirm just so, grinding himself
down and back against that hardness, just to feel like he had some control at
all over the situation, or over Yassen. Other than that, he didn't have much,
and they both knew it.
"What about Alan Blunt?" Lips moving against his bare neck now. Hot breath
coming into contact with his skin. Hand still moving with pressure on every
downward stroke. Alex whimpered, although he didn't mean to.
"I don't know where he lives." There was a clear note of desperation in the
boy's voice as if he could apologize for this lack of knowledge and still keep
Yassen touching him. "He's never given me anything. I swear." His voice had
raised a few notes higher, pleading. 'Don't stop'. Those words never passed
through his lips, but his head tilted back, trying to meet Yassen's gaze. If
his eyes could do the pleading instead, maybe the killer would forgive him.
Above them the clock ticked along, counting down its endless march.
They'd been at this for so long it seemed, and not nearly long enough. Yassen
took Alex through every detail the boy had on the inner workings of MI6. Before
now, Alex hadn't thought he would have much useful information. He'd held out
for as long as he could, but in the end…. There was nothing Alex could do.
That was a terrible lie.
He'd broken. He'd simply broken, and all Yassen had had to do was touch him.
Alex hadn't seen it coming. There was no way he could have expected this, nor
how much he was willing to give up for it, and that broke him apart inside.
"They keep records…." Alex had to drag the words out of himself. The Russian's
mouth closed over the juncture between the boy's neck and shoulder, biting,
then licking, biting again, and sending tingles down Alex's frame.
The ticking clock echoed through the small, dark room, more muted than Alex's
gasps and moans, which were ever increasing in volume.
Yassen's grip was tightening. He was pulling the boy back against him more and
more, but he kept his pace steady. Alex couldn't stand it.
He came with a soft cry, mouth falling open in an expression that could easily
have been misread as pain and freezing that way. His head tilted back into the
assassin as much as he could, trying to increase their contact. Above him the
clock chimed midnight with twelve bells that reverberated through Alex like
aftershocks of his orgasm.
"Thank you, dear Alex," Yassen whispered into his ear.
As fireworks began in the distance, Alex knew he'd never be able to face MI6
again.
-
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