Page 5 of The Bright and Hungry Future of Hawks

Aleksey had no idea at all what this meant, but suspected it had something to do with the fish course. He was beginning to feel dizzy. He was still picturing the Marines.

"Wait.Oh, Golly. They're naturally that ravishing colour! Revive me someone, I'm going to faint with jealousy."

"Stop talking to me."

"Ohh. Totes ridiculous but delicious at the same time."

Aleksey had admitted defeat.

Which solved the puzzle, therefore, as to why he now, two years later, had the irritant kneeling at his feet and sucking—pretty inexpertly if truth be told—his substitute-Marine cock.

Defeat indeed.

But it was all very well wanting to leave the Nikolas Mikkelsen life behind and escape to the freedom of being Aleksey again, but being Nikolas gave him a welcome respite from the inherent complications of being General Primakov. He occasionally now enjoyed exercising the flip side of his nature. On his return from driving to Sennybridge in the rain, the more advantageous outcomes of his death and resurrection into the life of an idle, dissolute, dilettante member of the English ruling class had occurred to Aleksey, and he was loath to give them up.

Englishmen in the Foreign Office appeared to have cock for lunch with less inhibition than they sipped their bloody tea. So here he was. With The Dishonourable. Being dissolute.

Sennybridge.

That fucking pole and sagging flag haunted him.

There was a constant tug at the edge of Aleksey’s awareness, his thoughts wanting to dwell on another body he had seen then and another set of eyes that couldn’t be forgotten or mistaken in shade, but he clamped down on the temptation of allowing those memories and on the vertigo those recollections produced. Each step of thisNikolasexistence, every moment since his instant, impetuous decision to kill his brother and steal his life had been trod with a razor-sharp awareness of the need for him to stay under the radar and live the life he’d stolen in all its mediocrity and perfidiousness.

Dilettante or not, he had a life of idle ease interspersed with the private amusement of fucking with his enemy’s security, and that was worth protecting.

Sennybridge, and what he had seen there, was a threat to all of this. He’d known it the moment the fall had begun. A removal of a hood, a stare into the sunlight-through-jade exotically shaped eyes of a stranger, and the solid ground beneath his feet had given way, a plunge as physically real as if he stood on an unstable mountainside in some Godforsaken earthquake region of the world—a sickening vibration and then a sloughing away, and, he, entirely unable to break the fall.

He’d suffered a dizzying tip into a well of longing that, some weeks later, was continuing unabated.

Walls rushed past at an alarming speed if he allowed one tiny memory of horizontal rain.

Occasionally, when Aleksey heard the name Rupert, which being in Whitehall he did fairly often, he staggered, and had the unpleasant sensation of not being able to breathe.

He was all weakness in this burning descent, and it was completely intolerable.

He had yet to actually crash and burn, however. Falling was better than landing. If he could distract himself long enough, he knew this temporary insanity would pass.

And hence the other—ah, hazel—eyes, which were now lifted and focused upon him.

He was offered a knowing, sly smile, which he didn’t acknowledge.

He peeled off the condom with revulsion, dropping it to the bed, stretching to his full height and easing some kinks in his back before heading towards the shower.

“What about me?”

Aleksey didn’t turn at the voice but continued into the luxurious, marbled interior of the expensive suite. The hot water revitalised him, but he felt a spark of annoyance when he sensed the young man’s presence at his side.

“Oh, rather. Let me do...where are you going?”

Occasionally, Aleksey wondered if he’d made an error picking men over women as his preferred partners. Increasingly he had noticed that the clinginess could be indistinguishable. He moved into the bedroom and checked his discarded clothes. They would do to meet the PM. He liked always being better dressed than the ex-Etonian. Small victories.

“Why do you have to go? You always do this. I need to see more of you.”

“I would have thought you had seen quite enough this afternoon.”

The Honourable circled around to Aleksey’s front and put a hand on his arm to prevent him fixing his tie. “Please. Just give me…something.Anything. You know I jolly wellloveyou.”

Ever generous and considerate, Aleksey leant down and tossed him the soggy condom before quietly exiting the suite.

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