asscreedkinkmeme | Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed [Fills]

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assassin's creed

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed [Fills]

We're about to reach the posting limit on pt.1&2, this is for those who wish to continue/write on prompts on both these parts.

Writers! It is your responsibility to link back to the original prompt.

There are no request in this part of the meme.

List of Kinks
(Livejorunal) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Discussion

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

this is wonderful. i needed a really fantastic fic to read rn and stumbled across this one. thank you for writing and sharing this.

this was fabulous! i was having a bad day and it was just what i needed. i loved their childish interactions (ie. the ear flick and the whispered what?). this was perfect.

F-Fantastic!? If that's true then you're welcome!

Hi Bluster! Got here via Ac Daily, I'm so glad you're continuing this! *hugs*

I crave plot with my porn, and you're delivering here. I love how the key to get Mailk back is to basically remind Altair that he will always have someone to strive against, and the key to Altair back seem to be for him to have feeeeeelings. Out Loud!

Also, the porn from 'The Wound' is way burning hot, in case you're wondering.

OP Anon is ecstatic to see that more has been added~!
Can't wait to hear more on Naji's story.

I love Altair in this. Unlike in Malik's trip he knows how the Apple works. He knows it's function and the way that it manipulates what he sees. Now I'm starting to doubt if what Malik saw was really real or if it was just the Apple's illusion...

Also young Malik is so very... Malik. Unlike Altair who freaked out and attacked Malik young Malik listens and tries to pretend he isn't interested while at the same time being very interested. It's all very IC, which is greatly appreciated :D

I will always enjoy hugs, no matter where they came from!

Ah, I cannot accept the responsibility for that, as it basically came from the OP!

Oh goodie!

I couldn't reveal any more on the subject of the Apple, that would be giving spoilers.

Thank God that they are in character. I always worry when I write them.

There would have been more, more including the rest of the first chapter, but my file somehow got corrupted after I finished it, and I lost the entire end. So now I'm pissed off and rewriting it, and it's taking me a little while due to frustration.

Afterwards though, hopefully updates will be sooner and more frequent, as the first chapter is the one I've been fighting to get through. I have so much crap written for the other chapters it's just sad that it's taken me this long to finish the first.

Well, ok! THANK YOU OP for our plottyness!

original thread: http://forkinsocket.livejournal.com/19860.html?thread=5689492#t5689492

Prompt: Mpreg, Malik/Altaïr with Malik as the pregnant partner.

I started this quite some time ago and only finished the first part now... so here we go! First fanfic for these two, though. It's also unbeta'd, so I hope there aren't too many mistakes. Or at least none that take away from reading the story.

Untitled for now, brb as I go listen through iTunes for one.

Also, let's not talk about how horrible I am at breaking up text in an even manner.

*

"God damn it," Malik murmured, his fingers hooked into the belt loop of his pants as he wiggled and moved. The jeans were fine up until they hit his hips, a bit of a squeeze but he could make it. It was the button that was the real trouble--the material stretching taut over his belly as Malik attempted to one-hand wrestled the jeans closed to no avail. He had never had any problem with these jeans before.

That only meant one thing.

"Kadar!" Malik shouted, throwing open the door to his room. He found his brother at the kitchen table, a brownie poised halfway to his mouth, frozen in fear. "What did I tell you about putting your laundry in with mine! Do your own, you lazy asshole!"

Kadar snapped out of his daze quickly, placing his brown down on his plate with a frown. "But I didn't... this time," he defended weakly, not having much merit in his argument. "Well, maybe a sweater or two, but definitely not jeans. Come here."

Malik looked dubious, making his way over to his brother with murder still written over his face. He turned around when Kadar prompted him to, not all that concerned when his brother's hand went into the back of his pants to look at the tag.

"These aren't even my size," Kadar reported. "Here, turn around and I'll try to close them."

A lot of Malik's pride was hanging in the balance of his decision--as a man unwilling to admit he'd gain weight and as a person who was disabled unwilling to admit he needed help. But it was just Kadar, who looked at him with earnest eyes and had even put his brownie down for him, so Malik acquiesced. He turned, tilting his hips out a little so Kadar could grab both sides of the jeans and attempt to pull them together.

Attempt poorly.

"Suck it in," Kadar said through gritted teeth. He jerked Malik closer, pushing him back and forth by the jeans in an attempt to loosen the material and bring it closer together. Malik grunted, resting his hand against Kadar's shoulder to steady himself as his brother shook his hips.

"I am sucking it in! Try harder," Malik hissed instead, staring down between them as he watched Kadar's hands try to force the material together.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

Both brothers' heads snapped up, Malik looked towards the door while Kadar looked over his shoulder to find Altaïr in the open doorway to the apartment. There was a plastic bag on the floor, dropping in his surprise. It took Malik a couple of seconds to register their positions, the way Kadar was moving his hips, and oh... oh.

Malik jerked back and away from his brother, Kadar whining out, "Malik got fat and accused me of sneaking my jeans into his laundry!"

"You keep your genes to yourself!" Altaïr shot back. Malik couldn't help the sour bite of bile that rose into his throat at the thought of... oh god.

Kadar seemed confused at first, face tilted slightly before realization dawned quickly. He let out a chuckle first, turning into a genuine laugh before saying, "Hey! That was funny. And... oh, ew. He's my brother!"

"You're sick," Malik hissed, watching Altaïr shrug and pick up the plastic bag before shutting the door.

"You forget the times I've woken up to find you in his bed instead of ours," Altaïr pointed out. The plastic bag went in front of Kadar, the boy beginning the rustle through it with great interest as he found three sandwiches and some chips in there. The brownie was quickly forgotten, as was the entire pseudo-blowjob issue.

"He's afraid of thunder," Malik said through a sigh, looking down at his still open jeans. He couldn't have put on that much weight without noticing. After all, he had just worn the jeans a few weeks ago. Maybe it was just because they were fresh out of the dryer, still practically warm.

Altaïr's hand along his stomach brought him out of his thoughts, his fingers curling in an attempt to tug Malik's jeans close. "No go," Altaïr murmured, humming out after. "What have you been eating lately?"

Malik huffed, tugging his body away from Altaïr. "Oh, you know. I've been sneaking in a pizza and a chicken between breakfast and lunch. It gets me through the day," he responded dryly, disappearing into their room to tug the damned jeans off. He had been wearing nothing but his loose dress pants and sweats for such a long time, too exhausted to do anything beside go to work and then pass out on the couch. Or during sex, as Altaïr had taken to reminding him.

The sweatpants made him feel a little better, tucked into a hoodie he thought to be Altaïr's. He sat down heavily at the island in the kitchen, the stool protesting with a low squeak that had Kadar snickering. "Fuck you," Malik snapped sourly, opening his sandwich and looking at it with little desire.

"We'll go for a run tomorrow morning," Altaïr said through a mouthful of his own sandwich, elbows on the table and eyes on Malik. "It's been a while."

"Fine," Malik answered, pushing his sandwich towards Altaïr to grab an apple and water from the fridge, instead.

*

Malik was dying.

It wasn't as though he was out of shape--no. He was in perfect shape, not even out of breath at all. But every step made his head pound, his stomach constantly tossing and turning to the point where Malik's vision was beginning to blur. Altaïr was talking, a warm presence beside him in the cold winter morning, entirely too early for anyone to be awake and yet there they were, going for a run.

"You okay?" Altaïr huffed out, the touch against Malik's wrist the only reason why he heard him. Well, no, he wasn't okay, but he wasn't going to tell Altaïr that. His pride had taken one too many hits in the past twenty-four hours for him to admit that something didn't feel right in his body. It wasn't even as though Malik hated running. He loved running, he just hadn't had time to as of late. Even after a break he stilled loved running, though, loved the feel of his body getting back into the groove again.

His body just wasn't cooperating.

The first stumble was apparently enough of a warning for Altaïr, Malik trying not to jerk out of the firm hold on his bicep. He stumbled and moved, dragging Altaïr with him until he could manage to find a bush to bury his face in and vomit.

Altaïr was there, rubbing his gloved hand against Malik's back. Suddenly he was too hot and too cold, his body trying to empty his stomach only to find nothing there. The dry heaves were painful and loud in the early morning, his breath foggy with the cold. Altaïr somehow managed to keep them both up, his arms wrapped around Malik and trying to whisper soothing things into his ear.

It took ten minutes of pain and cold sweats before Malik could stand, leaning heavily against Altaïr. His mouth tasted sour and his body was trembling, listening as Altaïr called the apartment four times before Kadar finally picked up. His voice sounded sleepy on the other side of the line, contrasting against Altaïr's concern-rough voice.

Malik's face was hot and painful as he pressed it into the curve of Altaïr's throat. The man's morning stubble hurt, but not nearly as bad as the pounding in his head. It was a strange feeling, the overwhelming sense of confusion and vulnerability that came with vomiting on the side of the road. He couldn't even find it in himself to feel ashamed with how he was attempting to practically burrow into Altaïr, whimpering quietly when his stomach gave another lurch and he was leaning over to pour some more bile over the poor, unsuspecting bush.

"Okay," Altaïr said after he had hung up, using his now-free arm to wrap more securely around Malik. "Now I'm officially worried."

*

"Altaïr," Malik said evenly, staring at the man who was watching him expectantly. "You really don't need to be in here."

There was a harmless whistle from Altaïr, holding up the hospital Johnny and the lap cover. "Come on, take your clothes off. You heard the nurse--all the way down to the skivvies," Altaïr said instead, grinning widely. Oh how Malik missed the mixture of concern and somberness that he had seen only thirty minutes ago on that stupid face.

Malik was too tired to argue, though, stripping off his sweatshirt and shirt with one fluid motion. He threw them at Altaïr, pushing down his sweatpants and kicking them out of the way before snatching the Johnny and shrugging it on. Altaïr folded all the clothing appropriately, handing Malik the lap cover as he sat on the low check out table.

"Last time we were here together you had just shit your pants," Altaïr said, causing Malik to groan and fall back against the wall.

"You said you wouldn't mention that again," Malik accused, opening an eye to glare at Altaïr. "Besides, I had the flu and sneezed too hard. You did the same thing a few days later."

Altaïr's hum was infuriating in itself. Malik shut his eyes tightly, until everything went white and he could forget about all the fear that was settled in his chest. It was a heavy lump in his throat, still stinging from the vomit session both in the street and as soon as they got to the apartment. Kadar had show up sleep-mussed and worried, sitting with him in the backseat while Altaïr completely disrespected any speed limit sign he saw. They had lucked out though. Malik’s doctor had an opening at nine, and here they were.

The hand on his knee was warm and supportive, as were Altaïr's eyes when Malik finally opened his own to meet them. "You'll be fine," he soothed, his thumb rubbing circles against Malik's knee. And for some reason, some beautifully illogical reason, he believed Altaïr. Maybe it was because if there was another person in this world that knew Malik's body better than himself, it was Altaïr. Though maybe Altaïr's expertiece only extended as far as sexual pleasure.

There were three sharp raps on the door, followed by a pregnant pause where Malik debated on saying anything. Altaïr just straightened in his seat, crossing his legs comfortably when Malik's doctor walked in.

"Malik," Dr. Mullen greeted warmly, reaching out to shake his hand. Malik reciprocated, still slumped back against the wall with sweat beading against his brow. The doctor reached out to shake Altaïr's hand as well, "And Altaïr, good to see you again, as well."

"Likewise," Altaïr responded, his hand still settled on Malik's knee as a warm weight.

Dr. Mullen tinkered with the computer for a moment, going through pleasantries with them, reading over whatever the nurse had put in earlier. "Vomiting and dizziness," he read aloud, swiveling on the stool to look at Malik, "Correct?"

Malik's nod was slow, his head swimming in the motion regardless. "We went for a run and something didn't feel... right. Then the dizziness came, and then the poor bush, and oh god--"

Altaïr made it just in time with the waste basket, shoved under Malik's mouth as he wretched and wretched until his face was wet with tears and sweat. He was shaking and gasping, eyes screwed tight against the pain of his stomach trying to exit his body in the most inconvenient way ever

"Isn't he beautiful?" Altaïr said through a smile, rubbing his back once more.

*

Dr. Mullen sent him home with some vitamins and an order for tons and fluid and bed rest. Work was out of question for the rest of the week, and since it was Thursday, Malik wasn't too worried. He slept most of the way home, his red face pressed against the window of the car with Altaïr singing along with the radio quietly.

"I can carry you up," Altaïr offered when he helped Malik out of the car. While Malik knew the offer was completely sincere, he could help the heavy glare and snarl at the implication of it. He didn't have an arm, walking up the stairs when he wasn't feeling well couldn't be much more difficult than that.

Kadar was sleeping on the couch when they got to the apartment, a quilt tossed over him and the news playing on low. He woke with a start when Altaïr dropped the morning paper on his face, lifting his legs for Malik to sit and placing them in his lap.

"What'd he say," Kadar asked, voice a little scratchy.

"Ickle sicky-kins is dehydrated," Altaïr reported dryly. "Probably from him working too much. He's ordered to bed rest and fluids, as well as out of work for the rest of the week."

"Nice," Kadar said, using his socked foot to prod Malik into a state of semi-alertness. "Go take a nap. I'll make you some soup before work."

Malik opened an eye. "Are you ordering me around?" he asked, his head falling back against the back of the couch.

Kadar shrugged, sitting up enough to kneel on the couch and feel Malik's forehead. "Someone's gotta take care of you, you big grump," he murmured fondly, frowning generously at Malik before tugging him into a hug. "I was worried about you, you know."

Malik returned the hug as best as he could, squashed into Kadar's chest. "'M fine," he mumbled, his tongue still feeling swollen and his head still pounding. But he did feel a little better.

It was Altaïr that hauled him to his feet, one strong arm around his waist and the other against the nape of his neck. It was an awkward shuffle to the bedroom like that, but soon enough Malik was falling back into bed and the door was shut with a soft click.

"How do you feel?" Altaïr asked, sitting down and beginning to remove Malik's shoes. Malik didn't like the helpless feeling of the situation, open and still slightly feverish. He kicked his feet in protest, only to have Altaïr's fingers around his ankles in a vice grip. "How do you feel?" he repeated evenly, working off both of Malik's sneakers and socks.

"Tired mostly, the nauseous is gone," Malik answered honestly. His sweatshirt and undershirt were apparently next, smelling slightly of vomit and more strongly of sweat. He heard the garments hit the floor, absently calling out, "Laundry basket, Altaïr."

There was a grumble from somewhere at the right of the bed, the pointed sound of clothes going into the laundry basket moments later. Malik's smile was pleased, opening his eyes as Altaïr's fingers hooked into the waistband of his sweatpants.

The kisses that Altaïr placed to his hipbones were soft and slow, his skin looking winter-pale against his own dark tone. It was with great effort that Malik lifted his hand, resting against the back of Altaïr's hair and sliding his finger through the short strands warmly. "You were worried," he pointed out, voice oddly quiet to match the room.

Altaïr nodded against his skin, burying his face into the warm skin of his groin. "I was," he admitted, eyes flicking up to Malik, "You know I don't like seeing you hurting."

"Softie," Malik accused, letting his fingertips slide against Altaïr's jaw. Altaïr's smile didn't quiet reach his eyes, settling his cheek against the thatch of wiry hair just above Malik's cock.

They stayed like that for a while, Altaïr's hands smoothing over Malik's sides while he toyed with his hair absently. They hadn't had much time with each other lately, both of them too busy with work and little things to do anything besides collapse into bed at night and maybe take a shower together in the morning. It was nice to feel Altaïr's breath fan over his hipbones, to have his hair slip through his fingers. It was more comforting than he would ever willingly admit.

"Are you going to work?" Malik asked eventually, his head settled against his pillow and body lax.

He managed to catch Altaïr's gaze over the curve of his cheek, looking a bit sheepish. "No," Altaïr said, propping himself up on his elbows and probably anticipating Malik to object. And Malik wanted to, badly, more for appearances than anything else. But stripped bare, warm in his bed after spending the morning emptying non-existent contents of his stomach in various places, he found that appearances didn't matter much.

Altaïr was quick to strip after Malik nodded, slipping into bed and molding himself to Malik's back when he turned onto his hip. It had taken years of practice to know where to press and pull in order to get comfortable, Altaïr's arm ending up curved around Malik's under the pillow while his other hand rubbing soothing circled over his belly.

*

Malik woke up a few hours later, Altaïr still snoring against the nape of his neck. The sky was a cold grey with snow, making him sink a little deeper under their comforter. The headache was definitely gone, and the nauseous was toned down greatly. His mouth tasted sour and fuzzy, though, and there was a steady line of drool cooling along his skin and pillow.

Altaïr made a sleepy noise when Malik pulled away, slipping out of the bed and tugging the blankets up over his lover’s shoulders. He found the closest sleep pants and pulled them on, grabbing some slippers to ward against the cold of the hardwood floors and tiles. He didn't see Kadar in the open kitchen and living room, the door to his bedroom open to reveal that he had probably gone to work.

Malik took his time in the bathroom, brushing his teeth until he felt like they were sufficiently cleaned before flossing. Altaïr came in to take a leak despite Malik's muffled protests. He pressed himself against Malik's back, washing his hands with a sleepy head down against his shoulder, rolling his eyes when Malik spit some paste onto his hands.

"I see not even illness can ward away your bitchiness," Altaïr mumbled, washing his hands again and glaring heavily at Malik in the mirror.

Malik just shrugged.

There was a note on the stove, sitting on top of a pot of soup that had been heated long ago. Kadar's handwriting looked like a drunk four-year-old's, a quick scribble of eat soup! rest! don't let Altaïr touch you inappropriately! love Kadar on a blue Post-It note. Altaïr snatched it from his hands with a deep frown, rolling his eyes at the message.

"Why does he live with us again?" Altaïr asked aloud, turning the burner back on to heat the soup once more. He trapped Malik with a hand on the counter at either side of his hips, kissing a warm bridge between his collarbones.

"You technically live with us," Malik reminded him, head tilted back at the kisses.

Altaïr snorted. "And yet we pay the majority of the rent and utilities."

Malik sighed when Altaïr kissed him and bit onto his bottom lip. "He's a good boy," Malik defended, his hand falling to Altaïr's bicep before kissing him back. It was a relatively tame kiss, considering how they usually went at it, but when Altaïr tried to slip him some tongue and push his hips forward, Malik pulled away with a faint smile.

"Malik," Altaïr whined pathetically, his head falling onto his shoulder. Malik chuckled quietly at the impatience, his hand coming to rub at the back of Altaïr neck. "Sex. Please. You've been remiss in your duties as of late."

"My duties, huh?" Malik mused, tilting his head back when Altaïr's lips fell to the pulse at his neck. If nothing else Altaïr was incredibly talented and knew Malik's body too well, licking and sucking at the skin at his neck until Malik was groaning out low and arching his hips up.

"I'll even bottom," Altaïr murmured, his teeth scraping over the curve of Malik's ear as he continued to attempt to convince him. "You can just lay there and I will literally do all the work, all you have to do is not fall asleep and pretend you like it."

That had Malik chuckling, fingers catching in the hair at the nape of Altaïr's neck to pull his head back. "I do like it, you know that," he mumbled, pressing a warm kiss to Altaïr's mouth. "I'm just... tired. And you're being patient, I know. So tonight, yeah?"

The excitement in Altaïr's nod was barely concealed and made something in Malik ache. He knew that he had been busy lately, too tired or too worked up to do much of anything besides maybe a sleepy hand job and a rut in the morning shower. Altaïr just seemed to be made out of a calm sort of energy, never really looking as exhausted as he felt. And then there was another pang, because Altaïr worked just as hard, just as much, and yet always tried to make time for Malik.

"I'll make it up to you," Malik said, cupping Altaïr's jaw to kiss him fully, like a promise.

*

The soup was good and Malik was full enough to be lulled into another nap, his head in Altaïr's lap while the other man read. He drifted in and out, an eye opened to watch the Discovery Channel or Altaïr's face. More often than not it was Altaïr's face, the man's face concentrated and handsome with the glasses perched at the edge of his nose. They stayed like that until interrupted, a rapt on the door having Malik groaning and sitting up.

"You get it," Malik said, leaning against the back of the couch as he drew the blanket tighter around himself.

Altaïr shut his book, looking at Malik from over his glasses. "Because you're sick?"

"Because chances are it’s one of your family members," Malik responded just in time for, "Cugino bello!" to be yelled through the door.

Altaïr frowned. "Point taken," he said, standing and moving to their bedroom first for a shirt before coming to the front door and opening it with a jerk of his arm.

Ezio was all smiles from the other side of the door, wrapping Altaïr in a customary bear hug before scanning the apartment for Malik to receive the same treatment. "Leave him alone," Altaïr warned, coming back to sit at the couch with a low sigh. "He was vomitting all day. Who knows what'll happen if you squeeze him too hard."

The fall of Ezio's shoulders was a bit sad, sitting beside Malik with a warm hand against his back. "What's up?" he questioned, the concern evident in his voice.

Malik's shrug was sleep heavy, turning his head to meet Ezio's eyes. "Dehydration, says the doctor. I'm fine, really. Just tired."

It always amazed Malik how Altaïr, Ezio, and Desmond could have the same face and yet wear it so differently. With Altaïr, it had taken years for Malik to learn what the subtle changes of his faces meant, which emotions would flit across his face that would seem impassive to the unknowledgeable person. Ezio was open and shameless, handsome in his own right and the only one of the three that could support a decent amount of facial hair and not look dirty.

"I'll have Claudia make you something," Ezio said firmly, his tone offering no room for objection.

Malik's faint smile was apparently a suitable thank you, Ezio smiling back warmly before leaning against the arm of the couch to face them both. "I came over to tell you some wonderful news," Ezio reported, Malik and Altaïr immediately going on edge.

"You're getting a vasectomy?" Altaïr offered hopefully, ignoring the absolutely wounded look on his cousin's face with practiced ease.

"Mio dio do not kid, Altaïr," Ezio said sternly. "No, no. I plan on asking Leonardo's hand in marriage!" The blank stares were apparently not what Ezio had in mind for a response to his news, frowning generously before asking, "What?"

"Ezio, you tell us this every other week," Malik pointed out, sighing a little as he rubbed over his eyes. Altaïr caught the blanket as it slipped, tucking it over his shoulders once more as a reflex in comparison to a gesture of affection.

"So much hurt in this apartment today," Ezio sighed out to no one in particular. "But this time is in seriousness. Look!" Malik's eyes widened when Ezio went fishing in the pocket of his pants; Altaïr let out a choking noise when a small box was produced.

"Holy shit," Altaïr said, leaning forward in order to snatch the ring box from Ezio's outstretched hand. "You've got to be kidding me."

Ezio looked oddly smug as Altaïr opened the box to reveal the silver band inside, elegant and simple. Malik shuffled a bit closer to look, head tilted against Altaïr's shoulder before whistling out.

"Sentiments shared. You're seriously going to propose?" Malik couldn't help but be a bit more than incredulous. In the ten years he had known Ezio, he and Leonardo had been in what could have been easily considered an open relationship from Ezio's point of view. Technically, Leonardo was also more than welcome to sleep with whoever he wanted as well, but refrained, unless it involved Ezio and another person. Malik assumed it had something to do with being the older of the two.

Meanwhile, Ezio was quite frankly a slut.

"Well, I'll be thirty soon, and quite old," Ezio began, holding his hands as if to ward off the protests from the two men. Altaïr and Malik, both being over thirty, blankly stared once more. "No, no, don't try to convince me otherwise, dear friends. I know I'll be old. I think I've sowed my wild oats enough for a life time."

"Several lifetimes," Altaïr mumbled, earning a punch from Ezio and a grin from Malik.

The box was handed back and pocketed once more, Malik staying against Altaïr's side. Malik didn't like the look Ezio was giving them, however, the narrowed, knowing look sinking a little too deep. "Yes, well, I figured you would be absolutely thrilled. I suppose I do not have the support of my family, then" Ezio said, turning his head away from them.

"Oh, come off it," Altaïr said, rolling his eyes. "You know we support you, love Leonardo, all that jazz. We're just not surprised. Take it as a compliment or something. Like... we've known all along that you two belong with each other."

"We do, don't we," Ezio said fondly, his smile private as he looked down to his hands. It made Malik's chest feel oddly warm. He chalked it up to the illness.

"When do you plan on doing it?" Malik asked instead of dwelling.

Ezio's face lit up once more, the wide smile back in place that made the notch of a scar stand stark white on his face. "Tonight, actually," he said, coming to stand with a brush of his pants. "I'm off to see dear Des, and then I'm going home to set up our love nest."

"Gross," Malik said before he could help himself, Altaïr's catching Ezio's wrist as he went for a punch.

"Gelosia is the ugliest trait, Malik," Ezio said with a faint smirk, narrowing dodging the swinging kick Malik had aimed for his nuts. "And so is violence. Good bye, mia famiglia! I'll either make Des stop by with some soup for you or the beast herself, yeah?"

"Yeah," Malik echoed, curling up on the couch again with a soft yawn. "Thanks."

"No problem. I'll call tonight to let you know how it goes!" And with that, Ezio was sweeping from the room. Not before pressing a kiss to the top of Altaïr's head, skirting away before he could lash out.

"Fake-Italian bastard," Altaïr mumbled with a sigh, scratching his fingers over the stubble there. "Leonardo needs to stop teaching him things."

"Ezio told me Leonardo loves it when he calls him maestro in bed," Malik answered, falling over to lay on the couch once more. He pressed his face into Altaïr's thigh to suppress a yawn, tilting his head up when his fingers settled into his hair.

The tug was sharp, causing Malik to hiss and glare up at Altaïr. "Why on Earth did you feel the need to share that?"

"So I don't suffer alone with that knowledge?" Malik offered with a shrug, laughing when Altaïr grabbed the nearest pillow with the intent to smother him.

*

When Malik woke up he found Kadar staring at him intently, brows furrowed and a frown pulling his face.

"Go away," Malik mumbled, pushing his face away with his hand and turning away from his brother. The action pushed his face into Altaïr's crotch, the man above him giving a low groan and resting his hand against Malik's head.

"Baby, please. Not in front of your brother."

It was with a harsh sigh that Malik pushed himself up to sit, glaring at a smirking Altaïr. "You're an ass," he accused, his attention turning to Kadar after, "And what do you want?"

"I wanted to know if you were feeling okay," Kadar said defensively, crossing his arms loosely over his chest as he moved from his crouching position to sit in front of the couch now. "Pardon me for worrying."

Malik rubbed the sleep from his eyes slowly, leaning against the opposite arm of the couch and propping his feet up in Altaïr's lap. "How long have I been asleep for?" he asked through a yawn, looking out to see the sky dark and cold.

Altaïr flicked his wrist to check his watch, pushing his glasses down to bring it to his face with a squint. "Five hours. My ass is numb," he reported, shutting the book he had apparently been reading the entire time and standing with a stretch. "And you drooled on my crotch. I really hope that isn't foreshadowing for tonight."

Kadar's noise was nothing short of a wounded animal being kicked, recoiling and standing with an almost dry heave. "Stop! Ew," he said, his hand going to his tie to loosen it with irritated jerks of his hand. "Seriously. Get a room or something!"

"How about you get your own apartment?" Altaïr called out, smirking as Kadar slammed his door shut in response.

Malik's temples were throbbing again, painfully so, glaring heavily at Altaïr with displeasure written all over his face. It took a few moments of glaring for Altaïr to stop looking so damn smug.

"What?" Altaïr asked, frowning.

"Stop teasing him," Malik snapped out.

The phone ringing interrupted whatever Altaïr had been poised to say, instead reaching over to scoop it off the arm of the couch and answering with a sharp, "Hello?"

When the voice answered, Altaïr's face softened in a way that told Malik it was Desmond on the other line. Altaïr, for all his stubbornness and shortcomings, loved his brother. His entire family, actually. There was little he wouldn't do for them, little they wouldn't do for him. It smoothed away a bit of Malik's anger. It had been that love and softness that had first convinced Malik that maybe there was something there, between himself and Altaïr. That maybe it was worth it. It had reminded him so much of his love for his own little shit of a brother.

Malik smiled fondly at Kadar when he left his room in a towel. Kadar just stared back strangely before disappearing into the bathroom.

The conversation was brief, with Altaïr holding that fond smile the entire time. Malik watched as he hung up, looking down into his lap for a long moment before turning to him.

"He's going to come over and bring some food. I guess Shaun is sick so Claudia just keeps making them stuff," Altaïr reported, resting his arm along the back of the couch. "Now where were we?"

The anger came back, quick and fresh, like they hadn't been interrupted. "Leave my brother alone," Malik hissed out, dangerous and low.

Altaïr's scoff was infuriating. "Malik, he's twenty eight--"

"He's twenty-two, Altaïr."

"--Regardless. He's a grown man. He can take care of himself."

Malik's glare was a sharp one, dry and pointed. "And Desmond was the same age when you were making him call you and talk to you on his way back from work at three in the morning to make sure he didn't get attacked."

"That was different!" Altaïr defended, flaring up immediately. "He could have been in trouble! Kadar hadn't managed to open a tin can in years without getting cut!"

"Stop fighting about me!" Kadar yelled through the bathroom door.

"Shut up!" they both yelled back, prompting Malik to snap, "Don't tell him to shut up!"

Altaïr snarled quietly. "You just did, too!"

"He's my brother!" Malik yelled, standing up quickly. Too quickly. His head spun a little and he felt dizzy, but he held firm. It was more of a stalk than an actual walk to their bedroom door, pausing in the frame. "That's it. Sex is off tonight. You can suck your own dick!"

"Ew!" said the bathroom door.

Altaïr paused, clearly looking torn then. Finally, anger won out. "Fine!" Altaïr said, crossing his arms over his chest loosely. "And if I could, I wouldn't need you around!"

"Ew!"

"Shut up!" Malik roared, to Altaïr or Malik it was unclear, before slamming the door to the bedroom shut hard enough to, ironically, send a picture of all four of them to the ground.

*

Malik must have dozed off once again, curled up in their bed with Altaïr's pillow on the floor, because the next time he looked at the clock it was nearly an hour later and Altaïr was coming into the room.

"Desmond's here," he informed, shutting the door behind himself and leaning against it as he stared at Malik. "So you want to stop being a bitch for five seconds and come say hi?"

Malik sighed out, a hand pressed to his forehead as he sat up and glared at Altaïr. "You're being a bitch," he mumbled, not the most clever thing he could have come up with but he was working with little patience and a lot of headache.

Altaïr's sigh was a tired one, walking the short distance to their bed. He paused on the way to pick up his pillow, eyes narrowing to Malik but apparently decided against opening another can of worms when Malik narrowed his eyes back at him. He placed the pillow on the bed before laying down, settling his head into Malik's lap warmly.

Malik wanted to protest. Maybe punch him in the nose. But Altaïr was right--he was being a bitch. They both were. Probably because they didn't know any other way to be with each other.

"You feeling any better?" Altaïr asked, his eyes fluttering shut as Malik began cording his fingers through his hair. It was getting longer with the winter months, brushing against the tops of his ears. There seemed to be an ever present stubble along Altaïr's jaw, as well, a tired look to his golden eyes. Malik still thought him to be the most handsome man he'd ever seen, though.

"I'm very tired," Malik murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of Altaïr's ear. "If you couldn't tell by the fact I've slept the entire day. But I’m hungry. And Desmond is waiting for us."

Altaïr sat up slowly, leaning against Malik's side and pressing his face into his neck. "Kadar is keeping him busy," he reported, lifting his head with a slight smile.

Malik returned the smile after a brief roll of his eyes, leaning forward to seal their mouths together in a warm kiss. Altaïr's response was immediate, and the hunger there almost startled Malik. It played second to the concern, though, the worry that Altaïr must have been harboring all day. Enough to let him sleep on him for hours, to miss work.

"I would still want you around even if I learned how to suck my own cock," Altaïr mumbled out as soon as Malik pulled back, licking his lips.

"Good to know," Malik responded, shoving Altaïr away in favor of standing. He grabbed his shirt from the desk chair, slipping into it and scratching over his stomach. "You mentioned something about soup?"

"Minestrone," Altaïr confirmed.

That had Malik's stomach rumbling happily, his interest peaked. He opened the door without another word to find Kadar and Desmond going through some plastic bags, putting things into the cabinets and fridge.

"I thought Ezio said Claudia would bring over something, not an entire kitchen," Malik commented, coming to sit at one of the stools by the island in the kitchen. Desmond came over to give him a brief hug and a kiss to the top of his head, brushed off with a slight grumble from Malik.

Desmond laughed. "Good to see you to, Mal. And yeah, I think she's ovulating because she's making a shit ton of food and acting very motherly." There was a heavy pause, Desmond wincing slightly before continuing with a grin. "I think it might be scarier than how she usually is."

"Don't talk about your cousin ovulating," Altaïr admonished, taking the stool beside Malik and resting his elbows on the island. "And what did you bring?"

"Minestrone for the sicky, some shrimp scampi for you and Kadar," Desmond reported, placing a bowl in front of Malik and a container in front of Altaïr. "No peppers for you, Kadar," Desmond continued, grabbing another container with a large K sprawled across it. Kadar took it happily, settling himself at the table and digging in immediately.

The soup did look good. And Malik knew it would be good. But, at that moment, he just didn't want to eat. The thought about earlier, all the vomiting and sweat and tears, made the idea unappealing. If stomachs could frown, Malik was certain his would be.

"What's the matter?" Altaïr asked, voice quiet to avoid disturbing Kadar and Desmond's conversation. The boys were fast friends, dealing with overprotective, short tempered older brothers. Said older brothers used to take advantage of the friendship in order to sneak off and do dirty, dirty things to one another. But now, it was comfortable. The happy family that neither of them ever had.

Altaïr's free hand settled at the small of Malik's back, rubbing soothing circles. And, well, that felt nice. It even got Malik to take a few spoonfuls of soup, despite his lack of hunger. "Did Ezio tell you the news?" Malik asked after he swallowed, attempting to contribute to the conversation instead of staring down his dinner.

Desmond's expression was so similar to Altaïr's it was creepy--a mix of exasperation and fondness. "Yeah, he stopped by to tell Claudia. I heard him from my side of the duplex," Desmond said with a short laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. Another action that was eerily similar to Altaïr. "Then he came over, but I didn't let him stay long. Shawn's even more of a bitch when sick."

"Sounds like someone I know," Altaïr hummed out, earning himself a sharp jab in the ribs from Malik's elbow.

"You deserved that," Desmond pointed out, leaning back against the counter with his hands on either side of his hips for balance before pushing himself up to sit on the clean surface. "But I'm happy for him. It was kinda obvious that it was going to happen sooner or later. Especially after Ezio accidentally gave Leonardo crabs and they still stayed together."

Malik smirked faintly. "Leonardo still hasn't forgiven him for that one."

"And I learned a new word!" Kadar chimed in. "Granchi. Sounds kinda like raunchy... which is what that entire situation is."

"Amen," Desmond agreed, kicking his feet enough to make him bang his heels against the cupboards. A stern look from Altaïr had him stopping, though, dipping his head sheepishly and jumping down. "Well, it's been fun. But I should leave. You know, Shaun's sick and all."

Altaïr's frown was a generous one, coming to stand, as well. "You just got here," he protested, even as Desmond ignored him and grabbed his coat.

"I know, I know. But hey, I'll swing by this weekend, okay?" Desmond soothed, smiling at his brother. Altaïr didn't look pleased, and Malik knew he wasn't, but he wouldn't argue about this subject. That would mean that he would have to admit how deeply he cared about his brother, and how upset he was that they hadn't seen each other in quite some time.

"Fine," Altaïr said, sitting back down and motioning to Kadar. "Take him, too."

"Why?" Kadar asked, looking down at himself. "I'm in sweats and I haven’t even showered from work."

Malik didn't like where this was going. Even Desmond had paused, watching the situation with an eyebrow arched.

"Because I'm going to take Malik's temperature--" Altaïr began, only to be cut off by Kadar's, "Then why can't I stay?"

There was a brief pause, barely anything, before Altaïr responded, "With my dick. So leave.

Gagging noises were heard from both siblings as Malik contemplated drowning himself in his soup. Altaïr remained impassive, though, staring at Kadar who looking as though he was about to vomit.

"Come on, Kadar," Desmond said, tossing him a jacket. Kadar caught quickly, slipping it on and grabbing his carton of food. They moved swiftly, looking suspiciously around the apartment as though they could see their brothers fucking on every surface possible. "You can crash at my place. Enjoy your night, sickos."

Malik finally came to his senses as the door shut, turning sharply and practically sucker punching Altaïr in the ribs. He couldn’t get much of a windup, but he still felt Altaïr’s ribs sink in at the impact. The man groaned, grabbing the assaulted area and dipping his head down.

"What?" Altaïr hissed, moving onto the other side of the table when he noticed the murder all over Malik's face. "It got rid of Kadar, so we can, you know. Consummate. Remember? Remiss in your duties..."

Malik's sigh was harsh, fingers going through his hair and tugging at it roughly. "Sometimes I really, really want to beat you," Malik growled out, fingers pressing into his eyes.

Altaïr shrugged carelessly as he tossed his finish carton of food into the trash. "You're more than welcome to try. Actually sounds a bit kinky..." he responded, coming over and wrapping his arms around Malik's middle from behind. And Malik let him, because the contact felt nice. And he did love Altaïr, despite being as subtle as getting hit by a bus.

So when Altaïr tilted his face for a slow kiss, Malik returned it almost eagerly. More eagerly than Altaïr had apparently expected, considering he let out a little noise of a surprise and kissed Malik harder.

"Okay, okay," Malik conceded, pulling back with a flushed face and wet lips. Altaïr looked to be in a similar position, eyes dark when he watched Malik carefully, the way his lips moved to make words. "I need to shower first, but afterwards, yeah?"

"Yeah," Altaïr breathed out, sounding a little too excited before tugging Malik into another kiss.

It was more biting than actual kissing, teeth against lips and even the brush of Malik's teeth against Altaïr's tongue. He pulled away with another laugh, pressing their foreheads together. "Go. Bed," Malik directed, turning on the stool to stand. Altaïr was more than happy to comply, though not before winding an arm around Malik's back to grab his ass and tug him forward for a dirty kiss.

"Go," Malik groaned, shoving at his shoulder and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Altaïr's salute brought him back to their earlier days, with too much sand and sweat. Dressed in uniform, washing their weapons before themselves. Kisses that always tasted like blood and desperation. The memories weren't usually pleasant, but there was still a hot wave of lust that went through him, settling at the apex of his thighs, when he thought about returning to his tent to find Altaïr there. He was always only dressed in his boots and pants, scars along his body and patches of gauze taped to new wounds. He had always been so lean and cut, eyes glittering with the mischief that they lacked these days.

Malik was hard even before he entered the shower, making sure to clean himself carefully in the body wash Altaïr loved that he had been too lazy to use lately.

*

The shower took longer than Malik expected--probably due to the twenty minutes of just enjoying the hot water on his tired body, and then the ten minutes spent debating jerking off so things didn't end embarrassingly quickly. By the time he was done, he was still hard, but much cleaner. He had even shaved.

Malik didn't bother with a towel as he made his way from the bathroom to their room, finding the door slightly ajar. He tried on his sexiest smirk in one of the mirrors on the wall, ending up rolling his eyes at himself before pushing the door open with a solid hand.

Altaïr's soft snore broke the silence in the room, Malik torn between amusement and affection. The man was sprawled out on his stomach, one knee hitched up enough that Malik could see the oil between his legs from where he had apparently already stretched himself. The sight was arousing, without a doubt, but...

Altaïr had been worried all day. Aside from the nap he took after the doctor's appointment, he hadn't slept much. He hadn't slept much in weeks, and Malik knew that he was tired. More tired than he would ever complain about.

So while he cock cried a few sad, salty tears, Malik turned off the beside lamp on both of their sides. He slipped into bed with minimal movement, successfully starting Altaïr out of his sleep regardless. Years of training to sleep light remained active long after the war was over.

"M'lik," Altaïr mumbled, voice a little hazy as Malik slipped an arm around him. He couldn't help but sigh against Altaïr's shoulder as his cock pressed against Altaïr's hip. "Sex?"

"Sleep," Malik soothed, kissing that spot behind his head that made Altaïr go soft around the edges. "There's always tomorrow."

They pushed and pulled, until Altaïr was resting his back against Malik's chest completely, the sheets tugged up around their waist and Malik's face buried in the crook of his neck.

And then they slept.

*

author's notes

End of the first part! Any criticism/cheers/loves is very much appreciated! I'll be working on the second part asap.

—

Malik narrowed his eyes as he looked up, not moving his head, at Ugo who was hanging off the partition between their desks. He had this peculiar look on his face. “What?” he growled out still looking at Ugo from under his brows.

“You talked to Ezio lately?” he asked.

Malik’s fingers stopped on his keyboard for a second. He hadn’t spoken to Ezio since Halloween, that had been a little over a week ago. He was sort of expecting it; Ezio licking his wounds and trying to regain his battered pride. After all it didn’t take a genius to know Ezio had an ego, a rather big one, and after the blow Malik had dealt to it he wouldn’t doubt the man was still recovering from it. Also he’d pretty much been a huge ass to Ezio who… well he’d been a huge ass too. They’d both hurt each other but damnit Malik wasn’t going to be the one mending bridges first this time. He only had been a bridge builder for the past twenty-five years he’d known Ezio. Ezio could rebuild his own damn bridges. Besides. Malik was still pissed at him and himself. He didn’t even want to see the ‘Italian stallion’, much less talk to him.

“No,” Malik said gruffly looking back at his screen and wishing Ugo would not bother him, bad enough that Rauf did it regularly. The only reason the bearded man hadn’t commented already was because he’d taken a coffee run. As for Daniel. He was probably high or freaking about finishing late work; thusly not paying attention.

“Hmm. Me neither,” Ugo said thoughtfully. “Rosa neither. It’s really weird. You know anything about it?” he tilted his head at Malik.

“I’m his friend, not his keeper,” Malik growled.

Ugo blinked at him, “I thought you two were dating?”

“Man Ugo where the hell have you been?” damnit Daniel. He glared at the young blonde with too many piercings as he poked his head above the wall. “They broke up,” he grinned at Malik cheekily.

“How the hell does the stoner know that and I don’t?” Ugo demanded, sounding seriously offended.

“You were busy kissing Vidic’s ass when Rauf wrung the answer out of him for why he was moping around like a lovesick dog on Wedns- HEY!” he yelped when Malik threw his stapler at him. It wasn’t a very big stapler but still probably hurt when it clipped his shoulder.

“Daniel. Shut up-

“Are we playing harass the minor again?” the three all turned at Rauf’s voice and he stood just behind Malik with a travel mug full of steaming coffee.

“I’m twenty thanks,” Daniel sneered at Rauf looking about as impressed as a half drowned dog.

“Like I said, minor,” and Rauf lifted his mug just slightly before taking a sip of the bile they called the public coffee, brows up in a self satisfied manner. Daniel rolled his eyes, made a sort of disgusted noise in his throat and vanished back behind the separating wall between himself and Malik.

“Did you know Ezio and Malik broke up?” Ugo asked Rauf in an accusing tone.

“Yeah, what of it?” Rauf took another sip of coffee. Malik did his best to ignore them. It was really hard though with Ugo right above his head and Rauf at his back.

“You didn’t think it a good idea to tell me?”

“I thought Ezio would have told you. Or Rosa. You know that girl knows everything about Ezio’s sex life… or lack of,” Malik could feel them both looking at him and his ears burned in embarrassment.

“Not my fault the idiot is a virgin,” Malik sniped out.

“Ouuu, ouch,” Ugo actually winced. “Tough break Mal. No wonder you two broke up-

“Yes, this is all very fascinating. You two discussing my sex life. Now please shut up and go back to work. At least gossip like teenage girls when I’m not around to almost kill you.”

Rauf laughed, “As amusing as the idea of you trying to kill us is Malik-

“Rauf,” Malik turned around and glared at him so hard that the other man was mildly surprised he didn’t suddenly burst into flames. “Drop. It.”

Rauf raised one hand in surrender and mouthed to Ugo ‘at lunch.’ With a huff Malik turned back to his work with a sour disposition. “So you haven’t talked to Ezio?” Ugo asked.

“No. Now shut up,” Malik growled.

“Fine,” and he missed the look Ugo shot Rauf as the bearded man went to sit at his desk.

Malik was about ready to throw his phone when it buzzed on his desk. He just quickly grabbed it and glared at the screen a few moments before looking at the message he got. It was from Altair. Actually Altair too and not through Kadar’s phone. He’d bought a go phone a few days ago, Malik only knew about it because in the middle of work he’d gotten a text message under the name “Altair” asking where the hell he’d hidden the vicodin because his gunshot wound had hurt. Malik had just told him to suck it up and take some lesser pain meds. He’d gone home to find Altair on the couch, high on ibeprohan; he hadn’t even know you could get high on them. Apparently a three quarter empty bottle proved otherwise. He was still irritated at Altair about that, just a bit, especially since the previous night he’d seemed just fine, after all he couldn’t have hurt that much if he could still pin Malik to a door.

‘Don’t make lunch plans.’

Malik squinted at the phone. His lunch break started in about ten minutes.

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m about five minutes away from your building.’

‘What did you do to Kadar?’

‘What makes you think I did anything.’

‘He wouldn’t just volunteer where I work.’

‘He so did. Own free will and everything. I didn’t even have to show him my knife,’ he knew Altair was being sarcastic but that didn’t mean it annoyed Malik any less.

‘What are you planning?’

‘I’m not planning anything. Why do I have to be planning anything? Do I honestly look like the kind of guy that plans things?’ Malik was in the process of a short three letter word response when another message popped up: ‘Don’t answer that.’ And he snorted. Then, ‘I’m taking you out to lunch. Happy? Now you know my plan. I’m such a grand schemer aren’t I?’

‘You’re a fucking ham is what you are?’

‘A what? Gross.’

‘Figure of speech imbecile.’

‘Why would you call someone something as dirty as part of a pig…. Are you calling me a pig Malik?’

Malik had to press a hand over his mouth to not laugh. As it was Rauf just sent him a look from over their wall. ‘No. I’m not. Don’t be so juvenile.’

‘Whatever. I’m standing in front of your building right now.’

“Hey Mal,” Rauf said and Malik looked up. “Lunch?”

“Uh… no thanks,” Malik said.

Rauf rose a brow, “Why not? We always go out to lunch-

“Got plan. Just came up. Sorry,” he said and knew he could ditch for his lunch break a few minutes early so saved all his data, put his machine to sleep, grabbed his stuff and left the floor. Rauf and Ugo both watched him go, brows furrowed curiously but he didn’t give a crap about them.

He got downstairs and out the lobby before most people had and looked around surreptitiously. Then he felt something come up on his left side. He turned to look; no one. When he faced back front Altair was standing there with a cheerful smirk on his smug mug. Malik jumped, a bit startled. “Hello,” Altair said.

Malik grabbed his chest, “Fuck Altair,” he growled, “Do not sneak up on me you ass.”

“I thought I was a pig. First a pig, now an ass. What’s next Malik? Going to go through the entire menagerie for your insults,” he said in a cheeky way, not actually insulted. Malik rolled his eyes. “C’mon,” and without asking grabbed Malik’s hand.

“Where are we going?” Malik asked. “Also, you said you were taking me to lunch. Where the hell you get the money for that, or your phone?”

Altair rolled his eyes at Malik, “You forget who I’m related to, obviously. That’s the only reason you would ask such a dumb question,” Altair stated. Malik was about to say he wasn’t stupid when Altair himself had said that his aunt and uncle didn’t even know he was here. He didn’t get the change to. “That and they don’t just send us places without being able to pay for things. All cash.”

“Great. How dirty is this money?” he asked with a roll of his eyes.

“Squeaky clean,” Altair said and squeezed Malik’s hand. “Come on, I’m an assassin, not a crook,” he almost sounded insulted by that one.

“Okay okay, fine, where are we going than Mr. Squeaky Clean?”

“Surprise,” Altair said and they stopped at a T station.

“Not even a hint?”

“Nope.”

“C’mon, just one?”

“You’ll like it.”

“Well that’s no hint at all,” Malik huffed.

“You ever had traditional food?” he asked.

“What sort of-

The train came up to the stop, the bell dinging and breaks screeching. Altair pulled him onto the train and ran his ticket through the machine twice. They managed to find seats before the lunch rush truly set in.

“Now c’mon, hint,” Malik said sternly.

“Who makes the best Lebanese food?” he asked.

“Huh? What sort of hint is that?” Malik narrowed his eyes, Altair laughed.

“The only one you’re getting.”

“Jerk.”

“Maybe a little,” Altair admitted and leaned around the upright bar that separated their seats and pressed his lips to Malik’s cheek.

“It better not be far.”

“Brighton.”

“Altair,” he groaned. “You’re dragging me all the way to Brighton?”

“Shush,” he scolded. “You only get one chance to do anything. So why not take all those chances to do something great every time?”

“Altair my break is only for an hour.”

“So you go over a bit one day. Live a little,” and he nudged Malik in the ribs with his elbow. Malik just sighed and rolled his eyes upward but didn’t complain further.

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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed [Fills]

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Author!Anon

Re: 3; The soothe [5/?]

(Malik/Altaïr, mpreg) Untitled, 1.a/?

(Malik/Altaïr, mpreg) Untitled, 1.b/?

(Malik/Altaïr, mpreg) Untitled, 1.c/?

(Malik/Altaïr, mpreg) Untitled, 1.d/?

(Malik/Altaïr, mpreg) Untitled, 1.e/?

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(Malik/Altaïr, mpreg) Untitled, 1.g/?

(Malik/Altaïr, mpreg) Untitled, 1.h/?

(Malik/Altaïr, mpreg) Untitled, 1.i/?

(Malik/Altaïr, mpreg) Untitled, 1.j/?

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(Malik/Altaïr, mpreg) Untitled, 1.l/?/author's notes

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