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Yassen opened the door gingerly, stepping into the warm house. He took of his coat and shoes neatly, placing them on a coatrack and in a shoe rack respectively. Walking through each room, he felt a sort of discontent, grumbling louder and louder inside him until he reached where he wanted to go.
The door to the basement.
Reaching out to the doorknob had his mind, once merely grumbling turn to lowly wailing, almost begging him to fling the door open, race down the stairs and never look back.
But Yassen kept his composure, releasing a quick cold breath as he turned the doorknob.
The stairs seemed to stretch down into an endless vat of darkness, but Yassen knew better.
Steeling himself, he made his way down the stairs coolly, coming to another door more menacing then the last.
This one, unlike the other, had an array of locks, chains, and various security measures to stop anyone from getting in.
And to stop someone from getting out.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Alex lifted his head sleepily from where he was lying on a plush mattress, to see the same figure he was faced with everyday stride into the room.
“Hello, Sasha.” Yassen said, his face warming as he looks at Alex. However, since Yassen’s face was so determinedly cold, it looked closer to a condescending smirk.
Alex grimaced and rolled over as much as he could with his left wrist cuffed to the bedframe and a noticeably bruised face and ribcage.
They were in a lovingly decorated room, clearly designed specially for one person, and to keep them occupied for hours.
In other words, to make sure they wouldn’t want to leave.
Alex’s cuffed wrist was a testament to his disagreement, stemming from his unwillingness to be there turned into a destructive rampage that ended up with the smashed consoles, controllers, mirrors, various pieces of destroyed furniture taken away, and him beaten and cuffed for the unforeseeable future.
“Come now, my Sasha, don’t be like that.” Yassen said gloomily, walking over to the bed to sit next to Alex’s dormant form, caressing his face lovingly.
Alex responded by sneering and using his one free hand to smack at the one on his face.
Yassen’s face iced over immediately, and he snatched Alex’s hand before leaning in close and saying, “Sasha. I thought we were past this, had grown from it. It does not please me to know that you are still acting so childishly. Have you not learned from you past misbehaviour? Or—” he pressed viciously on Alex’s ribs, making him cry out, “—do you need another reminder of what happens to bad boys?”
He removed his hand, and Alex gasped for air. Then, as if nothing had happened at all, his face defrosted back into admiration, and he resumed stroking Alex’s face with all the love in the world.
“Well?” Yassen said, almost playfully, while Alex was fighting tears.
“Y-yes, Yassen. I remember...” Alex choked out, refusing to meet his eyes.
Yassen retaliated by grabbing his chin, forcing his bruised face parallel with his own, almost knocking their noses. “Then surely, today you will be good for me?”
“Yes, Yassen…”
“Good Sasha.”
Yassen placed a sweet kiss on Alex’s lips, before moving up the bed and unlocking Alex’s cuffs. “I hope I can also trust that you won't act not unlike a toddler throwing a tantrum, destroying all in sight?”
Alex cast his eyes downward shamefully, nodding slowly. “Yes, Yassen.”
With Alex’s cuffs undone, he brought his left wrist close, cradling it. He sat up next to Yassen, still staring at the floor.
Yassen eyed him expectantly, before launching into conversation when it was obvious Alex was going to remain silent.
“Today was very boring, I spent a few hours in the training facility before sitting down for a few meetings about potential contracts.”
“…”
“I do not know if I will take any of them, none of them pay especially well and they all seem very mundane.”
“…”
“I was thinking maybe I could bring you some food from this new café. They have much advertising about an English breakfast, I thought maybe you would like a taste of home. What do you call it? A... ‘fry-up’?”
This made Alex look at him, though not with the love or desire that Yassen prayed for every day.
“Yassen, that sounds lovely. But you know what would be a better taste of home? Actually going home. I have done nothing all day except stare at various parts of the room and figure out which lying down position hurts that least. That, and starve. So, it’s great that you want to let me know about your positively boring day on the outside, but I promise you that I have had a significantly worse day trapped inside, and no fry-up will make me feel better about it, also considering that there are probably far worse days to come.” Alex says, deadpan, growing more irritable with each word.
Yassen considers this, mouth downturn and tight. “Sasha-”
“No! Not right now. That is not my name, and I hate when you call me that!” Alex was getting unruly, standing now and throwing his hands in the air. “I have no idea how I can tell you that a million times over, and yet you insistently call me Sasha, or your Sasha, or even fucking ‘Little One!”
Alex stands in front of Yassen, fuming and points his finger directly in his face.
“You do not care in the slightest for me or my wellbeing, regardless of how you try to convince me you do! What, this expensive room and expensive meals and expensive treatment is supposed to make me forget how you kidnapped, drugged and locked me in here like some delicate fucking trophy!”
“Alex-”
“No, I’m not gonna sit down, or shut the fuck up, because I do that every day! And every day, it sucks a little more, when you make me put my head in your lap, or make me cuddle with you, or let you feed me because I am NOT a doll! I don’t get why you are so dead set on keeping me here, stowed away from the rest of the world like I need protecting or something!”
“Alex.”
Alex was pleading now. “It’s been months, Yassen! I feel deathly pale every time I see my reflection in the glass, I crave sunlight so badly! Why can you not just let me out? Please! I am going crazy in here, forced inside with only the light glimpses of sunlight from when you leave the door wider open, so—” he was back to angry, “—when will you clock that I am not made of porcelain, and I will never love you if you don’t let me just—”
Alex was cut off with a hand snatching his wrist.
“Alex. If you do not calm yourself, I will have to resort to unsavoury measures, and I know that you are not a fan of those. Sit down, collect yourself.” Yassen guided a now crying Alex to a soft loveseat, holding Alex close to him and guiding Alex to sit on his lap with his head on Yassen’s chest.
Alex, thankfully, did not resume his fit and instead wrapped his hands around Yassen’s torso, wailing into his chest.
Yassen placed a delicate kiss onto the top of Alex’s head, stroking while keeping his face firmly in Alex’s hair.
They sat, Alex crying and Yassen caressing, until the cries ceased.
The stroking did not.
“I think I might hate you.” Alex whispered, staring into the wall through teary eyes.
“You would not be the first, little one.” Yassen closed his eyes, burying his face in Alex’s hair and inhaling.
Alex’s eyelashes fluttered, being next to someone so warm made him sleepy.
“Is it bedtime, Sasha? I too am quite tired. I have not slept very well without you these past nights.”
It goes unsaid that Yassen still slept, if only slightly less without Alex in his arms while Alex tossed and turned before giving into his persistent consciousness and just waiting the night out.
When Alex was being punished, Yassen typically left him alone for usually about a week.
The worst time was the better part of 2 months, with Alex shaking, crying, screaming and scratching at the door until his nails bled just so that he could see, touch, or even speak to Yassen.
This punishment had him alone for 2 days.
Alex nodded sleepily, and Yassen lifted him wordlessly into a bridal carry, placing him on the king bed, trying to be mindful of his injuries.
With Alex situated and asleep, Yassen cosied up behind him, turned off the lamp, and whispered a fond “Goodnight, my sweet little Sasha.” before pressing a kiss behind his ear and giving in to sleep.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
When Alex woke up that morning, it was with strong arms around him and a warm presence behind him.
The realisations of being back a square one hit him, being awfully reminded with a sick sense of déjà vu about this being exactly how he woke up the first morning he found himself in Yassen’s basement.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Alex woke up, warmer than normal in an exceptionally soft bed. When the warmth behind him moves, he keeps his eyes closed to try and gauge where he is.
The air is stuffy, they’re in a confined room, likely high above ground or somewhat below.
There’s no one else in the room, and he feels as though he has a similar frame to the person holding him, so Alex could probably fight his way out of here.
The person behind him is not awake, so they are either writing him off as ‘not a threat’ or the world’s worst kidnapper.
Alex decides to take the risk and open his eyes, seeing a decadently furnished room, clearly newly renovated and filled with luxurious items, ranging from the newest consoles to a lavish jewellery stand on the other side of the room.
Alex shifts so he can see his kidnapper, and promptly scrambles out of the bed, frazzled, confused and scared.
“What the fuck?? What are you doing here? What have you done to me??” Alex screeches, getting to his feet and placing his back to a wall.
Yassen Gregorovich rouses from his slumber, staring at Alex sleepily.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Unlike the first time, Yassen is awake when Alex wakes up and presses a soft kiss to the back of his neck.
Morbidly, Alex thinks that this is somehow worse than the first time.
“How did you sleep, my Sasha?” Yassen says, turning Alex over peppering kisses all over his face.
“I’ve slept worse.” Alex replies, mildly disgusted by all the kissing.
“I’m glad. So, would you like me to get you that ‘fry-up’ for breakfast?”
It feels like right then, Alex is done with fighting.
“Yeah, I guess that sounds nice. Thanks, Yassen.”
Yassen, not used to the manners, blinks, and then kisses Alex sweetly. “No need to thank me, Sasha. I would do anything to see you happy.”
When Yassen kisses Alex after that, he no longer has the will to resist.
Maybe it’s better this way.
Isn’t that what all victims think?