
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4399457.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Original_Work
  Additional Tags:
      Abusive_Relationships, Emotional_Manipulation, Hurt, Underage
      Prostitution, supporting_a_family, Refugees, impasse, Dystopia, hopeless
      situation, Dependence_-_Freeform, Forced_Prostitution, Psychological
      Drama, triggers_maybe
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-07-22 Updated: 2015-07-27 Chapters: 9/? Words: 6492
****** A brighter, darker future ******
by Austrianity
Summary
     A very dark short story, set in the future, after the so-called
     American-Russian war, about dependence, abuse, rape and prostitution.
     Russia and eastern Europe are full of refugees, the prospects are
     bad, as the war is not over and diseases spread. People are without
     home and money, and although there is humanitarian help, it's not
     enough.
     Andrew Granger, a London psychologist, is close friends with Russian
     Vladimir Saizew and his family. Vladimir is killed in the war, and
     Andrew visits the Saizews frequently. Due to a lack of financial
     means, he can't help them - until Elena, mother of Vladimir's
     children, begs him to take one of her underaged children with him to
     London, and an idea is born, based on the dystopian laws of the new
     world.
     He takes twelve year old Ivan Saizew to London with him, where he
     prepares him to earn money for his family in an illegal way...
     POV changes between omniscient narrator, Ivan's POV and Andy's. It's
     going to be short chapters. English is not my native language, I beg
     your pardon for any mistakes.
Notes
     Introduction to Ivan's story. Ivan is 17 years old now, remembering.
***** Introduction *****
When Ivan was just twelve years old, Andy took him away from his family. No,
that wasn't true. Ivan went with him out of his own free will. He was needed to
ensure a better, a brighter future for his family, his mother kept telling him.
And there he went, into the unknown, to encounter a brighter future. At the
same time, his own future darkened.
And today all he wanted was to have died back then.
To just have died, to just have stopped breathing, just like Dad had, and
Maria, and Alexej, to escape the responsibility, the guilt, the worry he had to
bear alone. The weight of the family he had to support lay on his shoulders
alone, but it wasn't enough for their joined demons to just press down on his
shoulders. No.
Responsibility crushed his shoulders, broke his bones, wore him thin and
stretched, hollow.
Responsibility was the one frail thread, the one fine string preventing him
from falling to the ground, when all he craved for was to fall.
***** Retrospect I *****
“Andy. Please.” Ivan heard his mother beg mechanically. He felt wretched, like
they all felt most of this days, his skin feeling grey, uncomfortable,
invisible against his bones. He gently hushed baby Ana to sleep, as his mother
had told him, and watched the stranger from his seat at the metal framed bed.
Uncle Andy. He heard Uncle swear, and saw him pacing back and forth. Back and
forth.
“Elena, what do you expect from me? I don't have nearly enough money to help
you out of this mess, you know that, sweetheart.” Elena looked up at him again
blankly, her frail, tired figure tiny in comparison to his. “Please.” she
repeated hollowly.
Ivan watched Andy look away. He didn't know then, but Andy couldn't stand
looking at her misery for too long. But there wasn't anything to look at that
didn't scream of the refugee's misery in here.
The whole scene took place in a refugee's camp at the outskirts of former
Poland. The American-Russian war had savaged vast parts of eastern Europe, and
the refugees were too many to be dealt with. Ivan knew they had been lucky to
get into a camp at all – outside people died. Just like that. It was miserable
here: too many people, much too few beds, toilets, food.
Still. Outside it was more miserable.
Another curse, and Andy's hand ruffled his hair in helplessness. “Believe me,
Lena, there is nothing I wouldn't do to help you and your cubs, especially now,
after Vlad's... But I can't! You know my situation at home. Concerning money,
you know I struggle. There is nothing I can give...” - “But you struggle in
England. Not here.” Elena said, voice faint, like it always sounded those days.
Andy grimaced. “I know, Lena, everywhere is better than here, but what do you
want me to do? I can't smuggle your whole lot outta here! We're not even
relatives or something...” - “But one of us. Only one. Couldn't you take one of
my children with you?” Elena insisted, and Ivan watched Andy huff with
frustration and anger. “And when one of your cubs is in England, what shall I
do then? Your children are too young to work there! And I can't afford to send
them to school in Great Britain. They would be lost there! That wouldn't do you
any good!”
Andy's loud voice startled little Ana, and she started to cry. Ivan tried to
calm her, cooing gentle Russian words to comfort her, stroking her head. Andy
and Elena looked at them, Elena reaching for Ana. Ivan handed her to his mother
and sat back. That was when he noticed Andy's glance lingering on him, thoughts
forming a deep wrinkle on his forehead. “They are too young to work in Great
Britain legally.” Andy repeated. And Elena looked up to him. “Please, Andy.”
And to Ivan's surprise and confusion, Andy suddenly nodded.
That moment, Ivan's future ended.
***** To England *****
Two weeks later, twelve-year-old Ivan Saizew had found himself at Heathrow
Airport, London.
Uncle Andy wore a dark blue suit and looked professional, walking Ivan towards
the exit. Right now, Andy was in a somewhat distant mood, not talking to him,
but Ivan was busy thinking anyway. During the flight to London, Uncle Andy had
filled him in on the situation. Despite being called uncle by Ivan and his
siblings, Andy wasn't related to the Saizews. He was very close to the family
through a life-long friendship with Ivan's father Vladimir Saizew, who had been
studying in Great Britain before the American-Russian war.
Before, but especially since Vladimir had been killed, Uncle Andy had visited
them regularly in Russia, witnessing all the misery the war had brought over
the inhabitants of eastern Europe.
Ivan had asked Uncle Andy why he couldn't give his mother money, as he had said
back in the refugee camp. And Uncle Andy had explained – while he earned enough
money with his job as a house psychologist at a big company in London, since
his wife Beatrice had divorced him he didn't see too much of this money. What
was left of his pay after the rent for his small flat was drawn was spent on
food and clothing, and the tiny little rest made up Andy's humble savings, not
nearly enough.
He had taken Ivan to Great Britain for Elena, and parting ways with his family
hadn't been easy, and confusing.
His mother had almost crushed him with what strength she had left in that
fragile arms of hers, whispering over and over how much she loved him. That
wasn't the confusing part though.
She had looked at him with that horrified eyes, broken beyond repair, her voice
dripping with regret. “You're doing this for us, Ivan. You make us live, my
sweet boy. And when times are better, we all will be with you in England, love.
Don't forget us. We love you.” she kept rambling in Russian, and when she
squeezed Ivan the last time, he heard a faint “I'm so sorry.”, and didn't
understand.
***** Revealing England *****
Later that day, Ivan found himself in Andy's small flat. It was tidy and neat,
and clean. It contained of a tiny kitchen next to a living room, spacious in
comparison, and the bathroom, restroom separated from it. There was only one
bedroom. The windows were surprisingly big, and now the typical rainy London
weather pressed itself against the glass, hoping to escape the darkness dawn
brought.
Andy made them some supper, a simple pasta dish, and encouraged Ivan to make
himself comfortable with the flat while he was making tea. Ivan claimed a big
and old, but cosy armchair in the living room, and Andy put a hot cup of tea in
his hands. Andy went over to the cupboard and fetched a bottle, pouring some
Rum into his tea before sitting down on the sofa, half-facing Ivan.
Dawn had fallen, and Andy hadn't bothered to switch the lights on, so now they
sat in semi-darkness, the light of the street light beneath the window casting
long, darker shadows into the room, painting the room in a strange atmosphere.
Ivan took a nip of his tea, and instantly liked the taste of it. It was
sweetened with honey, and held a fruit flavour that tickled his tongue.
It was this moment that Andy said: “Ivan, I've got plans for you.” Ivan looked
at him. “We need money to help your family. You and I are going to make that
money, but it will take some time. Years.” Ivan nodded, but Andy didn't look at
him. Curiously Ivan dared to ask: “How will we make that money?”
Silence.
As if to postpone the moment of truth, Andy stated: “You're too young to work
here legally.” Ivan frowned. “I know, but how are we going to make money then?
Why did you take me here?”
Andy still didn't look at him. He fixed the cup in his hand, his elbows on his
knees, his back bent and his shoulders sagging, dragged down by a heavy weight.
Ivan wasn't afraid, just curious. He trusted Uncle Andy after all. So he
repeated his question. “Why did you take me here, Uncle Andy? And what can I do
to help Ma?”
The word “uncle” seemed to hurt Andy. “Because you have a really pretty face,
Ivan, and when you're grown up just a little bit more, you will have a nice,
appealing body. And please don't call me Uncle anymore... please.”
Ivan was confused. He was still sitting there, tea cup in his hand, trying to
figure it out, when Andy got up, exhaling with resignation.
“Undress.”
***** Routine *****
After the first few weeks a kind of routine settled in their day. Andy arranged
a home teacher for Ivan, a 19-year old student named Allison, to teach him
proper British English and get rid of his Russian accent, as well as to give
him an educational basis. Allison was a literature student, and had few classes
this semester, so she had a flexible time table with Ivan to teach him at home.
Of course she wasn't a proper teacher, but she was good enough to go through
all the stuff children learned at school with him. After each year, Ivan would
attend exams for externals, Andy told him.
Allison was a typical cheerful, sweet girl-next-door that put great effort in
educating Ivan. They would meet every day, either in the afternoon or in the
morning, studying together. Andy had signed Ivan up for kick-boxing lessons as
well as breakdance lessons, which occupied four afternoons the week. Kick-
boxing would ensure that Ivan could defend himself if he was treated badly.
Breakdancing would make him flexible and strong and would form his body. Andy
said he saw the money he spent for Ivan on education and training as an
investment, and that it would pay off later.
Andy left for work every morning, and gave Ivan books and DVDs and explained
the TV to him to keep him occupied. He inculcated the importance of education
on Ivan, so Ivan tried his best to educate himself when he was alone. Andy
always told him that their current “agreement”, as he called it, although Ivan
had never agreed to anything, would not last forever and change in a few years,
and after they had succeeded he wanted Ivan to have all the chances in life he
could have.
Ivan thanked him for that. Or so he told himself, over and over. Like he told
him that he still trusted Uncle Andy. Like he told himself that there was a
future.
He wanted his family back so badly, and he was scared. Scared out of his wits.
Because every night, after their shared evening tea, Uncle Andy would teach
him.
He said he'd rather use the time they had to prepare Ivan for serious business.
Ivan got used to see the agonized expression in Andy's face, mixed with wicked
pleasure, when Andy taught him how to suck his cock properly.
Afterwards his uncle would tell him countless times that he was sorry. That he
didn't want to do this. But this was all they had, the only chance for Ma and
his siblings to have a better future. Because Andy had a plan.
And that plan scared the wits out of Ivan, but he clung to it like a drowning
man would clutch at a straw.
***** The need to learn *****
Chapter Notes
     There is a dystopian idea behind how Andy is treating Ivan. It will
     be revealed in a later chapter.
One month before Ivan's thirteenth birthday, after 9 months in Britain, Andy
decided to teach him how to be fucked.
It was evening again. Ivan had nuzzled into his oversized sweater, knees hugged
tightly to his chest with one arm, the other one holding his tea cup. He took a
sip. Marvellous. Andy had bought him his favourite tea again.
He took another sip, lost in thoughts. Living with Andy was strange. Ivan still
liked him. And Andy made an effort to make Ivan's life as comfortable as
possible. Ivan thought that Andy liked him too. That would explain the self-
loathing expression that appeared on Andy whenever they talked about Ivan's
future.
There were three sides of Andy, Ivan thought to himself. First, there was his
uncle Andy, who cared about him, his education and for his family, who worked
hard to achieve their goals. Uncle Andy who took him to the cinema sometimes,
who played games with him, who ruffled his hair sometimes and talked to him
friendly. Then, there was business Andy. Business Andy crept out of Uncle Andy
when evenings passed, after their evening tea. Business Andy would teach him,
would talk to him about sex and prostitution bluntly. Business Andy would make
him undress, dress, and undress countless times, to teach him how to strip
properly, how to make his counterpart want more. Business Andy would
shamelessly touch him. Business Andy was brutally honest about the most
embarrassing things. And he insisted on absolute obedience on Ivan's part.
Business Andy would hurt him if he didn't obey, to punish him, but also to
prepare him for what awaited Ivan.
And thirdly, there was guilty Andy. Guilty Andy would hug him gently in their
shared bed after the lessons. Guilty Andy would tend to his bruises and soothe
him and stroke him. Guilty Andy would tell him how sorry he was. Guilty Andy
would tell him of a better future. Guilty Andy said so many things to comfort
Ivan, and so many more things to comfort his own conscience.
“Ivan.”
Uncle Andy's call would rip Ivan out of his thoughts, and he quickly took
another sip of tea, bracing himself. He risked a glance at Andy's face and knew
instantly. It was business Andy's turn now. His heart fell a bit, like it used
to do. He just looked at Andy, careful to control his emotions.
What would he be taught tonight?
He had learned to strip in so many different ways.
He had learned how to please himself, how to masturbate in an alluring, teasing
way.
He had learned how to jerk Andy off in so many different ways.
He had learned to suck his cock, to swallow, to deepthroath.
Uncle Andy was a perfectionist, and so Ivan was very well educated in all of
those things, having them practised over and over.
Andy leaned back into the cushions of the sofa, looking at Ivan. “Get up,
Ivan.”
With regret Ivan thought that his tea would be cold afterwards when he put the
cup down and got up immediately.
“Strip.” Ivan calmly met Andy's glance. “In which way?” he asked. Andy frowned.
“You shouldn't ask, Ivan. You should know your customer's wishes, you should be
able to read him. So, don't ask, but tell me in which way I want you to strip.”
Ivan stood there for a while, thinking. “I think you just want me to undress,
not to tease you.” Andy nodded in approval. “Well done. Now strip.”
Averting his eyes, Ivan first pulled of his socks, then his sweater, followed
by his pants and underwear. Naked, he stood in front of Andy. Andy's glance
ghosted over Ivan's body. He was pleased. Ivan was very mature for his age. It
would only take two or three years for him to look like a desirable, young,
lean man. Ivan had a really pretty face for a boy, fine and even, very
symmetric, with a cheeky nose, fine lips and dark, expressive eyes beneath his
perfect eyebrows. His silky hair was a colour between blonde and light brown,
and as he didn't cut it because of Andy's orders it was quite long by now,
tickling his neck. His body was pale and slender, and with proper training and
age he would look gorgeous, muscular in a lean way. Right now, he was stuck
between boy and man. But that wasn't a problem. Andy had already found a first
customer for Ivan. But before he could send Ivan to him, he had to teach him
sex.
“Come here.” Andy said, and Ivan immediately moved towards him, sinking
smoothly to his lap, straddling him. Andy smiled unwillingly. Then he looked
Ivan in the eyes. “I'm going to teach you sex today.” Ivan's eyes slightly
widened, but he nodded obediently. “At first, I'll prepare you and explain
things to you, you're allowed to ask questions. Then I'll fuck you at a gentle
pace, afterwards I'll go harder on you to get you used to be fucked. That's it
for tonight, okay?” Ivan nodded again. “Okay.” Andy said. “Let's move this to
the bathroom.” Wordlessly Ivan followed him.
In the bathroom Andy instructed Ivan how to use the enema kit he had bought and
let him try it a few times. After Ivan was cleansed, Andy took a towel, lube,
condoms and latex gloves with him and lead him to the bedroom.
Ivan lay down as he was instructed, still naked. Andy sat down beside him,
looking down on him. “Anal sex is a weird experience. You need to be as relaxed
as possible. Good preparation is a great deal when it comes to relaxation. To
prepare you I'm going to stretch your anus with my fingers and lube. Remember,
stay as relaxed as you can. Come here.”
Ivan obeyed and crawled over Andy's knees. “Spread your legs.” Again, Ivan
obeyed. He looked up, not able to face Andy in this position, and Andy noticed
the move. “Will it hurt?” was all Ivan said, with a voice so completely
stripped of emotions it hurt Andy. Knowing he would curse himself for his
weakness later, he gently ruffled Ivan's hair. “It might. But I'm trying my
best to avoid hurting you.” Ivan nodded, and lowered his head again, forehead
touching the bed's sheets.
Andy didn't lose any time. He coated his latex-covered fingers in lube and
began massaging Ivan's hole, not inserting his finger yet.
Relax, relax, relax was what Ivan told himself while he felt panic. He didn't
know why, but he had the feeling that this was too much for him. The thought of
having another person buried inside him was agonizing. The thought of being
that exposed, completely at someone's mercy made him feel sick. He was by no
means ready for this.
When he felt Andy inserting one slick finger into his anus, he lost his cool.
“No! Please!” he whispered, his muscles cramping against the intrusion. Andy
stopped, and for a moment there was a dangerous silence.
Ivan was paralysed with anticipation and fear. Would business Andy answer him,
with harsh words and punishment? Or would Uncle Andy answer, with guilt in his
voice?
Ivan involuntarily winced when he felt Andy's free hand caressing his back.
“Shhhshhh, my good boy.” Andy said gently, and started rubbing patterns to
Ivan's bare back. “I'm sorry. You have to do this, Ivan.”
A sob got caught in Ivan's throat, and he fought against his burning tears.
“But...” - “Shhhh...” Andy silenced him, still rubbing his back comfortingly.
“Be a good boy, Ivan. For Elena.”
A wild, big feeling of agony started to rise in Ivan's chest and would have
suffocated him, if Andy's finger moving further inside him hadn't made him
choke out a sob.
***** Breaking Point: The First *****
Chapter Notes
     directly continues chapter 6.
Ivan fought so hard not to cry. It distracted him from the second and third
finger entering his butt, but on the other hand it made it impossible to relax.
“Breathe.” He heard Andy's instruction, and forced out a breath, frantically
trying to swallow down his sobs. “In and out. Breathe in and out. Relax, Ivan.”
Ivan felt sick. He wanted to shout: I'm fucking TRYING!, but had neither the
guts nor the strength. In and out, in and out, he kept telling himself, and
tried not to think about how those fingers did just that inside him.
It took him some minutes until he had collected himself again, ready to breath
steadily, and some more minutes until he got used to the intrusion of Andy's
fingers.
Andy bent down to whisper in his ear: “Okay now, Ivan?” Ivan nodded. “Fine. Now
I want you to move. I'll hold my hand steady, and you'll move your ass.
Understood?” Again Ivan nodded, and couldn't help the starting tremble.
It was always like this. The first time was the worst. Ivan couldn't help
feeling dirty, used and stripped of his dignity. He felt so utterly wrong,
knowing how bad this was, how wrong. But until he knew exactly what he had to
do he couldn't let himself fall into the role he had to play.
Just like Andy had three sides, Ivan had started to develop a second Ivan. He
controlled this Ivan with a cold mind, acting, playing his part, actively
seeing him as “not me”. Moaning shamelessly came naturally to this other Ivan,
as did moving according to the rhythm, rolling his hips, teasing. But it was
the real Ivan that had to experience all those first times, before second Ivan
could enter the stage and play his part. It was hell.
Ivan noticed he had hesitated, and tried to get a grip on himself. Andy made an
impatient noise, and trembling, Ivan moved his hips, causing Andy's fingers to
go deeper. He tried a few times, legs shaking, then picking up a steady pace,
back and forth, in and out, in and out.
“Roll your hips with every thrust, Ivan.” Ivan shuddered, then obeyed, as
always, and made Andy's fingers go even deeper, the intrusion tugging at Ivan's
inner walls as well as at his heart.
It was so much worse than being stretched by Andy's fingers. It was setting
Ivan at war with himself, and he tried not to think about that he was fucking
himself on Andy's fingers.
Andy felt Ivan growing loose around his fingers. A wicked smile tugged at his
lips, but he fought it down in a flash of guilt. He didn't do this for his own
amusement, and he didn't do this to hurt Ivan... he did this for Elena, for
Ivan, for his family, he did this because of the plan that would save them all.
He was a psychologist, so it was easy for him to comprehend Ivan's feelings at
the moment, and he knew that his next move would deeply disturb the boy,
unbalancing him for hours, but he thought it was the best. He coiled his finger
upwards a few times, feeling Ivan twitch at the strange feeling, until he hit
his prostate. A surprised gasp escaped Ivan's lips, and Andy didn't need to see
him to know that his eyes were wide open.
Ivan stopped abruptly at the searing hot feeling that shot straight into his
stomach, electrifying him, stunning him, before pleasure rushed through his
body into his brain, spilling over his lips in a genuinely lustful sound.
Before Ivan could think straight again, Andy said: “That spot was your
prostate. As you've experienced, it's very sensible and can bring you pleasure.
My advice for you is to search for the right angle to get it hit during sex. It
will make all of it more bearable for you. Now try to find the angle.” Ivan
reacted immediately, pushing his hips into Andy's hand, varying each thrust to
find his sweet spot again, and Andy heard a sigh, nearly a moan, with
satisfaction when Ivan had found the right angle. He could feel Ivan's cock get
hard between his stomach and Andy's thigh.
This was terrible, Ivan tried to think, but he couldn't quite manage. It was
terrible and terrifying and horrible and wonderful. That feeling... it was
horribly pleasuring. And he felt himself making another move without his
genuine consent. It completely wrecked him, as his hips rolled against Andy's
hand, desperately trying to make his fingers hit the spot.
Andy let him thrust a bit longer, until he removed his hand and gave Ivan a
smack. “Get up and lie down on your stomach, legs spread, ass up.” he commanded
while he unfastened his belt and got rid of his trousers, starting to stroke
himself even while he was still in the process of undressing. It didn't take
him long to accomplish his tasks – clothes were gone, condom was in place, and
he rubbed lube onto his member.
Ivan still trembled, thoughts racing in his mind. He felt so guilty, so soiled.
He knew exactly it had been him, his real self, that had reacted to this with
pleasure. This was so wrong! His heart missed a beat when he felt the mattress
sink behind him as Andy positioned himself on the bed. Andy's hairy legs
touched his thighs, and the sick feeling returned as he felt Andy's hard cock
prodding at his back, leaving a wet streak of lube.
“Remember: Relax.” he heard Andy's voice behind him, and shut his eyes.
Andy's cock spread him wider than his fingers had, and Ivan held his breath and
tried, tried so hard not to tense up.
Andy was gentle, as he had promised, letting Ivan get used to his cock. Minutes
were passing, and as much as he wanted to, he did not move it that hot, tight
hole of Ivan's.
Ivan kept his eyes shut. He didn't even want to think about how Andy's length
was up his ass, deep inside him, intruding, impaling him. When Andy moved, Ivan
couldn't help but hiss – hiss at the strange feeling, hiss at the pain it
caused him, hiss at the unwanted, hot skin pressing against his back. “Shut
up.” he heard, and muffled himself with a fistful of linen sheets.
Andy fucked him gently at first, allowing Ivan to have a little control,
allowing him to adjust their position so he could find that sweet spot again.
After some time, he had indeed found that spot, and Andy witnessed a sweet
sound escaping Ivan's mouth. It took all his control to keep up the slow pace,
when all he wanted was to fuck him, fuck him hard. But he managed to keep it
up, and found Ivan's hips rocking in rhythm with his own.
Over that sweet sensation Ivan could almost forget how wrong this was, how this
violated his whole self, his status as a human being, as a child, degrading him
to something being trained to obey, like a dog. Almost he could forget over the
real lust he now felt, almost he could forget how ashamed he was of that lust.
But then Andy destroyed it.
“Ready to go hard?” Andy panted, and Ivan tensed, his fragile escape bursting
into pieces as he developed panic. “No!” he winced, all to aware of that cock
inside him, of his aggressor right inside him, having absolute control over
him. He tried to pull away from Andy. “No, please, I don't want this!”
With fear clutching at his heart he heard Andy huff, and felt an iron grip at
his hips. “Stay, Ivan!” Andy growled. He almost lost his control. “You need to
learn this.” But now Ivan was struggling for real, trying to get away. “No!
Please, no! Please, Uncle Andy, stop it! I don't want it! Stop, please!” he
cried, and something stung in Andy's heart. “I told you not to call me uncle!”
he hissed and grabbed the boy's hips mercilessly. “Learn it! For your mother's
sake, child! We both are doing - this - for - her!” he grunted, accompanying
each word with a sharp thrust, now losing his control and fucking him really,
really hard.
That was the point when Ivan broke.
***** Integrity Lost *****
Later that night, Ivan felt Andy's hands ghosting over his body, wiping away
sweat and semen from his skin with a rough towel. Ivan just kept his eyes
closed and lay still, petrified with what had happened.
He had not wanted that. He had hated it. He was scared, oh so scared of it.
Deep inside, somewhere between his stomach and his chest, a deep wounded
feeling had started to bleed into all of his other body parts. If he were a
painting, Ivan thought numbly, he would something abstract, a white human-
looking thing, without expression, just a frame, with a red, ugly bullet hole
blossoming on his chest, blood soiling the perfect white, guilt.
He had not wanted it. He had lost something, something precious to him, but he
hadn't quite figured out what it was. And over this strange, bleeding feeling
of loss, he despised himself.
His body had reacted to the stimulation after all, hadn't it? Some part of this
horrifying experience had felt incredibly good. Some part of him had moved his
hips according to Andy's rhythm. He had come, after all.
Right now, he felt in strange disunion, body and mind fighting each other,
accusing each other, struggling over control. He didn't even now where to start
sorting out this mess out. He felt empty, and hollow, hollow and empty enough
to fill all of the universe, it's cold and haunted space, it's timeless dark.
And at the same time, he was so small, so insignificant, a nearly thirteen-
year-old boy lost in the tousled sheets.
He didn't belong here. The room was clean now. The used latex gloves and the
condom had disappeared, as had the lube. For Ivan, the room was almost sterile,
the complete opposite of his soiled, used self, the faint odour of sweat and
sex cast away by the cool night air invading the room through the open window.
Andy came back and Ivan realized that he hadn't noticed his leave at all.
Another time, the mattress sank where Andy's weight pressed into the material.
“Ivan.” said Andy, and it startled Ivan, because he actually said “Ivan” like
it was supposed to be said, with a sharp, pointed Russian I, not that
alienation to another, softer name the English pronunciation caused.
He heard Andy sigh, and knew that it was guilty Andy's turn now. Andy rolled
over from his side, watching Ivan for some time, before he gently hugged him
from behind, untangling Ivan's arms from his desperate clutch at his knees with
mild force.
“Ivan. Please try to relax.” Ivan sensed Andy's hand caressing his cheek with
long, comforting strokes and opened his eyes to stare at the wall. He felt
Andy's warm body clothed in his pyjamas pressed against his back, and his
breath in his ear as Andy said: “I know you're in a conflict with yourself now.
And I'm so sorry Ivan... you know we need to do this, don't you? I wish I could
think of another way to get your family out of their misery, but this plan is
all I have. I'm not smart enough to come up with another one. And believe me,
I'm blaming myself more than you could ever do.” Andy sighed again, giving the
boy in his arms a light squeeze. “But that's not the point for now... I know
you struggle with yourself, Ivan. You didn't want it, you were afraid, but yet
your body betrayed you, enjoyed some of this, made you come.” Ivan shivered
violently at the brutality of those words. It was exactly how he felt,
betrayed. Ripped apart in two, in disunion with himself.
“Shhhh...” Andy whispered, still caressing his cheek and hugging him from
behind. “We need to solve this problem, Ivan, or you could really damage your
mental health. I've got a solution for you. It's by no means ideal, and I would
never advise any of my patients to do this, but this situation is so very
unlike anything I encounter in my job... so, I've got a solution. Do you want
to hear it?”
Silence, while Ivan considered. He was almost glad to feel fear clutch at his
heart violently, yanking him out of his numbness. His mental health was in
danger?
He could not cave in to that. He wouldn't allow himself to shatter, he wouldn't
allow himself to... to un-become Ivan. His family needed Ivan, he himself
needed him to be and stay himself. So he nodded.
“Okay.” Andy said softly. “Try to let your body win... allow yourself to let
go. Give up control over your body and silence your mind.” Ivan shivered again,
not believing what he heard. That was a solution?! “But how am I supposed to do
that...” he whispered into the semi-darkness of the bedroom.
“How about this, Ivan.” Andy suggested,, almost kindly. “Whenever you are in a
situation like this, try to trick your mind. Tell your head you want this, you
need to do this, tell your head you have chosen to do this. Tell your mind it's
okay to enjoy it. Resolve that disunity between your body wanting it and your
mind restraining that want. Give up the fight.”
Ivan kept silent for some time. “You mean, I could actually trick my mind into
wanting... wanting sex like this?” he asked then, voice failing him. He felt
Andy's nod. “Yes, in a way, at least. It would make things easier for you.”
Ivan shook his head slightly. “But Uncle Andy... I don't want to want it.
It's... it's wrong.”
Another sigh, and Andy hugged him tightly, embracing Ivan in the warmth of
another human body, giving him what comfort he could offer after what had
happened. “I know, my boy, I know. And I'm so sorry... But there is no other
way. And really, it would be very sensible. I mean, you need to do this anyway,
so why not allow yourself to enjoy it?”
It took some time, but then Ivan nodded. He had made up his mind; he would try
his best. Lost in thought and silent, he let Andy help him into a t-shirt and
boxers for the night, thinking, thinking, deciding on something.
He would try to give up resistance against this violation of his own free will.
He would toss the integrity aside, the integrity of being human, being worthy,
being asked. He needed to.
He would surrender.
***** Red *****
It was nearly a week later and several underground stations away, that a
nervous Andy met Ivan late in the evening.
“Ivan.” he said with relief. “I've already been waiting some time and was about
to decide whether or not I should go get you.”
Ivan wore a thick grey sweater, hood pulled up, hands buried in the pockets of
his tight jeans. “Getting dressed took me a while, sorry.” he murmured. Andy
felt the uncomfortable atmosphere tingling in the air, and shifted his weight
in unease. “Why?” he asked and felt stupid, as Ivan gave him a clearly
reproachful look. “Have you ever tried to get into those damn jeans when
covered in sweat?” he hissed and started walking towards the underground
station. Andy only hesitated for a split second, then followed him.
They spent the ride home in silence, although Andy was practically shaking with
morbid curiosity, but held it together, feeling an ashamed, moral compulsion.
But Ivan remained silent and distant, looking at anything and anyone but Andy.
To Andy it seemed as if Ivan had grown overnight – yesterday he had faced a
terrified boy who begged him to cancel the meeting with O'Rourke, shaking with
tears unshed, tormented by unspoken terror.
Today nothing remained of that trembling, scared core. Today Ivan's desperation
was clad in a chilling, distant cool.
Andy fumbled with the keys for some time, before he unlocked the door and let
them in. Ivan got in first and didn't even stop to take off his shoes, heading
off into the flat.
“Where you going?” Andy asked in a raised voice, eyes following Ivan. “Shower.”
was the answer he hardly caught. Then the bathroom door slammed shut.
Andy closed the front door, taking off his shoes and his coat, feeling like the
cold trickled off his shoulders like rain. He approached the bathroom door and
knocked cautiously. “I'm going to make tea. Want some?”
A short silence followed. Then a muffled “Yeah.” fought it's way through the
closed door to Andy's ear. He sighed softly and went into the kitchen.
Ivan stared at his own reflection in the mirror, studying his facial features,
O'Rourkes hoarse voice still ringing in his ear: “Damn, lad, you're pretty.”
Ivan wanted nothing more than to unhear those words.
Just minutes later hot water pearled down his skin and he breathed in water
vapour, thinking. How was he going to do this? Should he go through his normal
shower routine? Should he first erase all signs of unwanted touch on his body?
He was stuck between those two options, and found it remarkably difficult to
choose. Hot water searched its way down his body, slipped so easily into all of
his private zones in its own subtle way, forced itself into his privacy. But in
contrast to former intrusions Ivan welcomed, invited the water. It made it easy
to believe he would be clean again.
He had finally decided on what to do and started with washing his hair. After
that, Ivan began to scrub his skin with soap and a sponge. And didn't stop.
Andy sat in the living room, two cups of steaming tea on the coffee table, and
wondered what took Ivan so long.
Unwillingly, memories flashed from that hours before. Helpless... he had been
utterly helpless, invaded and possessed... what would he give to never have
heard O'Rourke's disgusting grunts and moans, to never have felt that man
inside of him... He knew there would be bruises on his hips, his thighs, his
wrists tomorrow. If he could just escape from his own skin...
Andy waited for another ten minutes, then he got up from the sofa and walked
towards the bathroom door. “Ivan?” The water was still running, but he got no
answer. Worried, half-thought thoughts spun inside his head as he opened the
door and was embraced by damp, warm water vapour. “Ivan!”
Within a few steps he had reached the bath tub and yanked the curtain away.
Ivan didn't even look at him, but concentrated on rubbing the sponge hard
across his reddened, swollen skin. “What are you -? Stop it!” Andy said and
wrested the sponge out of Ivan's shaking hand. “Enough shower for you today,
mate.” Andy said, not showing his worries, and switched off the water.
Gently he managed to get Ivan out of the bath tub and dried him with a soft
towel, careful not to abrade his skin further. Angry red covered parts of his
body where Ivan had desperately scrubbed his skin, in a faint try to get clean,
never clean enough.
Ivan just watched him out of his dark, expressive eyes. After Andy had wrapped
him in his own bath robe, he moved his lips in an inaudible whisper.
Andy saw him. “Pardon?” he said, while fastening the belt around Ivan's waist.
Again Ivan moved his lips, eyes fixed on Andy, and this time, Andy caught the
few, breathless words:
“I hate you.”
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