http://blusterby.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] blusterby.livejournal.com) wrote in [personal profile] asscreedkinkmeme 2011-06-02 02:55 pm (UTC)

Second Fill! [15.a/16-ish] - NSFWish

When he awoke Shaun was exhausted, his back ached from being pressed uncomfortably against the van floor, there was a tell-tale tightness of the skin that suggested he had scratched the skin open on stray sharp rocks and they had bled in the night, he felt grimy, and a sudden movement at his side left a burst of cold air over his exposed collarbone and chest. An alarm screeched on the other side of the room. Desmond jogged towards it. Shaun grasped the edge of his sleeping back cover (open, and that seemed a bit strange until his mind finally woke up a little and reminded him of the sleeping arrangements he and Desmond had made in the wee hours of the morning) and pulled it over his head. It smelt of Desmond and Shaun and garlic and the dust from the floor and he inhaled deeply, rubbing the side of his face into his pillow. The alarm cut off suddenly. Rebecca commented on Desmond's liveliness. Desmond laughed. Rebecca commented on his scuffed knees. Desmond lied about stumbling into the fountain and flumped down on the bedroll Shaun lay next to. He fought the urge to reach out a hand from beneath his thin sleeping bag and touch him. Suddenly the day seemed like it might be more of a torturous experience than the last, a fleeting memory of Desmond's hot and heavy breath on his neck and his tongue in his mouth. He was supposed to be going through an 'I can't keep my hands off of you' stage, but who could do that when such a development in their relationship was kept under wraps from their close-quarters team mates? Who could do that when, to said team mates, such a development would seem unfounded, sudden, out of character and out of the blue?

A heavy hand landed on the round of his shoulder and rocked him back and forth a little. On Sunday, should Desmond take the day off, he would sleep in without interruption.

“Shaun, you awake?” Desmond said, and through the rustling of his own sleeping bag he could hear Lucy and Rebecca clambering up and someone passing the two of them on their way towards the ancient passages behind Altaïr. He gave a muffled and incoherent mumble in reply, sighing heavily.

“I'm going to wash up.” Lucy's voice echoed and Shaun pulled his bedding down to blearily watch her leave with a small wave, gaining one with more enthusiasm in return from Desmond.

“Okay, see you in a bit.” Desmond's hand squeezed Shaun's shoulder as Lucy finally rounded a corner and ascended out of sight. Then he swiftly stretched out on the bed beside Shaun and brought his hand to rest of his jawline. “Good morning.”

“Is it really?” Shaun grumbled in return, Desmond's eyes rolling exasperatedly as he leant in and stilled any other dry comments with his lips.

“Yes, it is.” He mumbled against Shaun, pressing in again. Shaun gave into temptation and reached out a hand to curl around Desmond's hip, hold tightening briefly before resting on the fabric of his boxers. “How on earth am I going to keep my hands off of you?” Desmond sighed. Shaun scrunched up his face inappreciatively.

“One; morning breath. Two; you're going to bloody have to. Rebecca and Lucy cannot find out.” Shaun, despite his argument, then kissed Desmond again, bring his hand up to linger on the man's neck.

“Why?”

“Because if we were to-” Shaun tensed as Rebecca called out from the passage something about needing to go out and buy more toilet paper as they were nearly out and flew up into a sitting position, mouth far away from Desmond's and hopefully looking innocent. “I'll tell you later. I need to bathe tonight anyway.” He mumbled as Desmond sighed deeply.

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